#such a deeply unnecessary fucking extra step

[psqqa]

tumblr’s up to some fun new shenanigans i see

[incarnadinedreams]

What do you like about jc?

Oh my goodness what don't I love about him!

Well, first and most importantly, he has a purple lightning whip.

Secondly, you know how the elements of a tasty dish are salt, fat, acid, heat? Well he's salty, he's acidic, he's a spicy Yunmeng boy, and some sources of mixed repute claim he's got a nice fat ass. All the elements for a delicious snack are right there!!! He has the range, the depth, the complexity!

Jokes aside, a lot of it really is just based on vibes. I just... liked him pretty much immediately. My heart was won at "I'm his uncle. Any last words?" and it only got better from there. He's got most of my favorite lines in the book - whether funny or completely heart-wrenching, both directly in his dialog or about him. His sarcastic comments are always hilarious, and he's often enough actually a voice of reason and responsibility (promptly ignored). The vast majority of the time when he's not in some absurdly extreme and traumatic situation he's being pretty normal and seems perfectly likeable to me.

I enjoy that from the start he's mostly pretty practical. One of the first times we see him, he desperately wants to smack Lan Wangji but he's run the cost-benefit analysis in his mind and it's not worth it, so (grumpily) he does not. Some people point out his 'definitely don't start a petty fight unless you know you can win' reasoning as some sort of point of cowardice, but my reaction to that scene was thank god, finally someone in a fantasy novel has some common fucking sense!

Except, of course, on one very specific topic: Wei Wuxian. And then there's like a 50/50 chance all that consideration goes out the window instantly. A little pinch of unhinged obsession adds so much extra flavor! With the amount of overtime he's pulling in sect conferences he deserves a little derangement from time to time, as a treat. And that intensity goes both ways.

That fervent certainty that Wei Wuxian would be back some day, that not even death could hold him - a conviction bordering on madness, except in the end he was right? Hot.

On the other end, he's willing to sacrifice himself for Wei Wuxian and other people who loves over and over and over again throughout the story (even if he's mad about it), until he can't do that without throwing other people he's responsible for under the bus.

To the point that when we get to the big reveal after Guanyin Temple about how he was captured by the Wens... once the shock fades, you step back and think 'wait, why was that even a surprise to me at all?' The guy just took a sword through the chest for Wei Wuxian like an hour earlier (even if it was unnecessary and therefore mostly embarrassing), and was about to run back into that cave at the Second Siege with no spiritual power and a sword he couldn't even lift three days before that, and yet we're surprised he gave himself up back then?

And of course, the same goes for his nephew and I just love them so much. He doesn't hesitate for a moment to offer himself as a hostage instead of Jin Ling at the temple. He may sometimes struggle to express his love in a way that's more palatable than the prickly sharp thing it can sometimes be, but it's undeniably there. When Jin Ling is crying after the Second Siege, it's Jiang Cheng he goes to without hesitation - and that "Who did this to you?!" line, the way he doesn't hesitate to pull him away somewhere private and stick by his side.

Even things that are meant to cast him in a bad light, like his 400 spirit nets fiasco, show him also anxiously helicopter-uncling his way through baby's first "solo" night hunt, complete with undercover agents just in case, is proof that he at least cares very deeply. I think if you look beyond the surface, it's also pretty obvious why he'd spare no expense and use any method to give his bullied nephew the best debut night hunt possible in a society where talent and prestige are incredibly important to his future ability to consolidate power as the Jin heir. He wants to shield him from the same insecurities and pain he felt, especially where being overshadowed was used against him in ways that had specific negative impacts on his ability to protect people he cared about.

Another of the reasons I love him so much is because his grief is so intense that it's palpable. Those scenes post-fall of Lotus Pier where he's oscillating between numbed shock and fury, just... feel so real, and relatable, and resonate in way that's just horribly accurate. It's like his grief jumps off the page, you can feel the hurricane of horror and loss crashing into him. The scene at Nightless City, that moment where he says "Didn't you say that you could control it, that it would be fine?", where the last of his faith in Wei Wuxian shatters and the fracture is complete, like two halves of a whole have finally snapped apart and there's nothing left... I just love the intensity and desperation.

But even more, he keeps going after. He's stubbornly alive, despite it all, and I don't think he gets nearly enough credit for the fact that he's actually able to handle things pretty well, considering the situations involved. He has a breakdown about it and then he picks himself up and gets back to work. He's remarkably resilient, in ways that aren't necessarily flashy or obvious at first. Too much is made out of the ways he's broken or bitter when for the most part he's actually remarkably functional in the face of horrible traumas!

I have been trying very hard not to just spam my favorite quotes in here but this is really my favoritest favorite (from chapter 61) because it just sums him up so beautifully:

... the most laughable one was the YunmengJiang Sect, the people of which either had been killed or had scattered, leaving only Jiang Cheng, who was younger than even Lan XiChen and was still a child born yesterday, who had nobody in his hands but still dared call himself sect leader, holding up the banner of rebellion as he recruited new disciples.

Because he does the hard work, day in and day out. The boring, tedious, constant work - the endless late nights dealing with the constant problems. But he does it, and he mostly accomplishes what he sets out to do.

It's so sad that all the things he does very well get overshadowed by his insecurities, because in the end, hasn't he done incredible things? Hasn't he survived? Hasn't he gone from the youngest sect leader with nothing and nobody that Wen Ruohan could only laugh at, to "No matter which clan you choose to offend, you shouldn't offend the Jiang clan, and no matter which person you choose to offend, you shouldn't offend Jiang Cheng"?

He might be a little scarred, but isn't he succeeding all the same?

(He should probably hire a PR firm to handle the rumors his resting bitch face causes though.)

[glitchbirds]

currently on day 4 post-top surgery

pain was bad first couple days but has mellowed out to the point where im mostly just uncomfortable, finally. i was a bit in a rush to stop taking the prescribed percocet/oxycodone because i didnt like the side effects, and tried to switch to plain acetaminophen the same day as surgery- horrendous mistake. dont do that. in some ways i felt worse on the first day post-op than i did the day of surgery, because of that. i switched do acetaminophen yesterday afternoon and that was a much better time for it, it definitely doesnt dull the pain As well as percocet but it works well enough

the drains make me deeply paranoid and i haaate that i have to wear them two extra days because my surgeon rescheduled my post-op a week before surgery. theyve consistently only drained small amounts (and less each day) and i keep freaking out over the idea that theyre either clogged somewhere where i cant see/reach, Or that ive accidentally pulled them partially out of place when stripping them as directed

surgical binder is arguably even more annoying to me than the drains- starting on day 3 it started hiking up my chest constantly and putting unnecessary excess pressure on wherever it folded onto. and every time i readjusted it it would just slip back into the wrong place the next time i stood up or sat down. i was finally able to readjust it today in a way that it hasnt gotten messed up again, so thats a relief

for the first couple nights sleeping or even just lying down was fucking horrible. oxycodone would make me drowsy under an hour after taking it, but lying down or sitting back up from a lying down position would cause a sharp pulling feeling in my right side. i used wedge pillows and stacked more pillows on top of that, which sometimes helped but usually just made me sleep fitfully because i was on top of an uneven lumpy pile (oxycodone made that worse- i would get vivid, half-dream half-hallucination visions and sensations and drift in and out of sleep every 5-10 minutes until it wore off). the day after surgery, the first time i tried to sleep in my own bed, i woke up a few hours later to take my next dose of pain meds and the pain from prying myself out of bed was So excruciating that i spent a full half hour sitting on the edge of my bed trying to will myself to lay back down again. i eventually limped my way to the living room couch and fell asleep sitting up with my back leaning on some pillows. i still woke up once or twice an hour that night but had no pain from getting up or lying down. the next night i slept better- woke up even less-, and last night i braved my own bed again and it was nowhere near as painful as that first time… thank god for that

in general i seem to have been more awake/lucid/active than most ppl at this stage of top surgery? esp the first couple days, i spent a lot of time restlessly pacing around the hotel room (and later the apartment). obviously still doing my best to limit upper body movements and not get complacent with my slowly improving range of motion and overextend myself. at least walking around has been good for me in terms of minimizing blood clots in my legs…? and hopefully me being bad at falling asleep hasnt caused any notable issues with the healing process. hopefully.

scotty has been a little angel of a cat, he already is very gentle and avoids stepping on people (and if he does you can barely feel it). binx on the other hand, historically, loves clambering on top of my chest and he has no concept of his own weight and it hurts like hell, so ive been rebuffing his affection a lot the past few days and having to stop him from putting his paws on my chest and climbing on. which he is heartbroken about. absolutely mournful yowling in the halls

oh also my surgeon sent me a bunch of documents with instructions around what to do but the document says that i was given “nipple sparing double incision mastectomy” and the document occasionally mentions nipple care, and i assume this is just like, a generic form and they dont have a specific version of this document for ppl who opt to have nipples removed entirely, but im just gonna say rn if they left nipples on me after the surgeon and multiple other doctors+ nurses asked me directly half an hour before surgery to confirm that i did not want nipples, im going to go fucking crazy. i cant tell through the bandages if i have them or not- i don’t think i feel anything but im reluctant to poke around there too much

[cabin12kid]

I haven't technically finished the epilogues but I need to vent some Lost Metal feelings.

Also apologies I spouted shit on Twitter too forgetting I could do so one here with spoilers better tagged/hidden.

Also belatedly will add spoilers for Oathbringer and Rhythm of War.

So off the bat I just want to say Wayne just died for me and I'm not even finished with Marasi's epilogue and I'm still upset so that'll likely color all of this.

Genuinely though? This book sucked for me as a cosmere fan. I joke how I just chose the wrong bitches with Elhokar and Teft but like... This is becoming a consistent thing.

Having a character go through their arc and then die at the end of that book has never been satisfying to me. Having them die in a gut-wrenching dramatic way doesn't do any extra good for me, it actively makes the situation worse.

Elhokar's death was meant to be this could-have-been tragedy, and I admit that most of my personal feelings on it are incredibly biased options. Detaching from my attachment to Elhokar, I can see how this was a fairly well done tragedy. Allowing for a bit of attachment though, but not completely flying into a blind biased rage, I do however feel that it was unnecessary. I understand not wanting to bring back too many characters lest death feel cheap, but I still feel like Elhokar would have served better as an example of how people can grow in that series.

Teft is by far the worst out of all of these for me. His arc was incredibly fucking rushed and felt like an afterthought most of the time. We saw him take a huge, powerful, emotional step in Oathbringer, only for his presence in Rhythm of War to feel very "all better now!" and not having much further use for him, killing him off. Personally, I feel like we already understood the horror of this new weapon through Navani. And Moash using this to further press Kaladin into literally offing himself-- actually that's a separate rant. The biggest thing though, is it-- to me-- left Teft's death ultimately feeling cheap. I could see it coming a mile away, it felt like this character was thrown away, and ultimately I don't think it was fucking necessary? Like I genuinely would not have been this mad if Teft had just randomly been pushed to the background. Which fucking sucks. That is NOT the kind of emotions I think you want readers to feel for what should have been an emotional character death.

With Elhokar I felt cheated, but I understood. With Teft, I felt even more cheated and felt his whole arc was simply discarded. Mentally thinking the I Don't Want To Play With You Anymore levels of discarded.

Now, Wayne. This wasn't nearly as bad as Teft and he was given more time than Elhokar. But for me it still suffers the same problem. I'm repeating myself, but having a character go through their arc only for them to end up dead isn't inherently satisfying. Quite frankly, as I write this, I am so gutted that I don't really care what happens next. There were so many interesting possibilities posed throughout this book both for Scadrial and the rest of the cosmere, but quite frankly I don't have it in me to care. I'm gutted. I feel too much despair (and disappointment as well as anger) to bring myself to care. And hopefully that'll change as I take time to process but like? Genuinely?

Elhokar made me want to stop my OB read for a month. Teft almost made me put down the cosmere for good. Wayne? I've resigned myself to be too interested in the world building and writing lessons to put down the cosmere, but genuinely I'm worried I won't actually, deeply care about the stories or the characters going forward. It'll be interesting, but more like watching a lecture for a subject I kinda like instead of really feeling the universe. Investing in it, if I may. And as such... Lost Metal was a bust for me.

Again I hope my feelings change as I go through it, but this...sucks. plain and simple.

This feeling definitely dropped a whole star for me. It made me genuinely disappointed in the writing, which I hate to say and cannot stress enough hope I get over but like. Genuinely I no longer trust Sanderson to write deaths. Period. I'll probably try to make a separate posts on the deaths that were fucking great and satisfying despite being equally gutting but I need to grieve. But there is one other problem.

Honestly? A good portion of this book felt like I was reading a cosmere textbook with a gun to my head. Or a manual to stop the detonation. Like. There are TONS of really cool and interesting tie ins for the rest of the cosmere. The Emperor's Soul is my favorite Cosmere work so this was a huge fucking W for me. But also? It felt... Too much. And like. Yeah they were necessary in the situations they were put in, but they didn't feel strictly necessary.

This was an infinity war type mash up I was hoping for, but in the end it just felt... Too much. Like there wasn't ever time to really process everything. It was one punch after another and no time to like. Appreciate any of it.

I'm burning out tho and that's basically all I can say without going in circles but yeah as it stands, unfortunately, this not only has to be the worst Mistborn Era 2 book for me it also is sitting at an even 3/5 stars.

[runnning-outof-time]

Right in Front of Him | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: Tommy Shelby threw himself into work after his family became deeply fractured from his own doing. (Y/N) is his new secretary, who's just been hired into the company and wants to make a good impression. This leads to Charlie making a solo trip to Small Heath and Tommy realizing that he may not be able to win the fight with his feelings this time.

Warnings: language

Word Count: 4256

A/N: I just hope this one makes sense. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR THOUGHTS & COMMENTS HELP ME WRITE!

Let me know if you want to be tagged in future stories like this one!

"Good morning, Mr. Shelby," (Y/N) greeted her boss when she noticed him entering the office. His response to her was the same as it was every day. He glanced over in her direction, his eyes on her as he continued walking to the doors of his office. As he got closer to her, he nodded his head in a silent greeting without missing a beat in his step. She would have missed it if she wasn't looking, but in the few months she'd been working for The Shelby Company Ltd., she learned to look up.

Thomas Shelby was a man of few words. He liked to come into his office to get his work done and leave. He had no time for extra conversations, especially those that didn't regard business.

Business was the only thing on his mind. He had nothing else. His family was in prison because he put them there. Ada was back in Boston because he sent her there. His son, Charlie, was home without a father. The boy probably didn't even love his father anymore. After all he was the reason why his son got kidnapped. At times, Tommy was afraid to go near him. He was afraid that doing so would put the boy in harm's way again.

(Y/N) came onto the staff of the Shelby Company Ltd. after Tommy told Lizzie that she could take some time away from her job. It wasn't a surprise to him that she jumped at the opportunity. He could tell that she harbored resentment towards him for what he did to his family. He didn't blame her for it.

(Y/N) was young, but she knew her place. She did her work and she kept to herself. She didn't ask Tommy questions about the things that she had to complete. He liked that about her. He liked that she was punctual. He liked that she was thorough with the tasks that she took on. He liked her. But he couldn't let those feelings get in the way of his business, so he pushed them aside.

The end of her shift was approaching when a man entered the office. He greeted (Y/N) before telling her that he had some urgent items that needed to be given to her boss. She signed for them before taking them into her hands. After thanking the postman, she turned and made her way to the doors of Tommy's office.

"Mr. Shelby..." she started after she'd gone through the motions of knocking on the door and listening for him to let her in. She knew he was in there, but she still respected his authority. "An invoice was just delivered. It's from Mr. Solomons in Camden Town," she informed him from the doorway. Tommy glanced up from his desk as she spoke, and wordlessly waved her over to where he was sitting.

(Y/N) listened and moved so that she was now standing in front of his desk. She then gave him the invoice and waited silently as he looked it over. "Fucking hell," Tommy muttered under his breath as he dropped the paper onto the stack he'd amassed already.

Alfie had been hitting him with unnecessary charges after a smaller export operation of his had been found out by authorities. At times Tommy didn't even know why he was still working with the man. All he'd become was a thorn in the Birmingham gangster's side.

"I can send a reply asking for more information if you'd like," (Y/N) suggested after he finished mumbling about how his associate only sent him the amount that was due.

"No, it's fine (Y/N)," he waved off her idea as he rubbed his temples. He cleared his throat then before looking up at her, "thank you."

"You're welcome, Mr. Shelby," she responded, nodding her head slightly before she turned to leave his office.

"(Y/N), wait..." Tommy called after her, making her freeze in her place and turn to face him.

"Yes?" she asked.

"I..." he paused, trying hard to find the words that he wanted to say to her. What did he even want to say to her? "Nevermind," he eventually waved her off, letting her go back to the work she'd been doing. She didn't question his change of mind and instead nodded once more before leaving his office.

"Good morning, Mr. Shelby," (Y/N) greeted her boss as she heard the sound of footsteps on the hardwood. She was finishing writing something in the book on her desk, so she wasn't able to look up right away.

"Who are you?" the voice that asked didn't come from her boss, but instead from a woman.

"Excuse me?" (Y/N) asked as she finally looked up to see an older woman standing in the entrance to the offices; a woman she hadn't met before. Her words held no attitude behind them. She was simply caught off guard by the question she got.

"Who are you?" the woman asked again, her eyebrows raised. (Y/N) could instantly pick up the intimidating air that she had around her.

"My name's (Y/N). I'm a secretary here," (Y/N) responded, a polite smile forming on her face.

The woman scoffed then. "The bloody nerve of that boy...puts his own family in prison and then completely changes the structure of the company. How old are ya, love? You don't look a day over twenty."

"I'm sorry?" (Y/N) was taken back by the woman's sudden outburst, as she had no idea where it came from and why she was so mad. "I don't believe I've met you before," she said then after refusing to answer the question of her age. She didn't see why that was important.

"We haven't met. I've been sitting in a cell for the last six months," the woman snapped back, although it seemed like her attitude wasn't being directed at (Y/N), but rather at the situation itself.

"I...I'm sorry to hear that," (Y/N) stammered out, unsure of what else to say. She didn't have a clue as to why this lady was speaking to her like this.

"He's really kept you in the dark on a lot, hasn't he?" the woman then asked as she quirked her eyebrow upward. (Y/N) stayed silent, which made the woman scoff again as she shook her head. "My name's Polly Gray, and I was the company treasurer. I'm not sure if I still hold the title, or if Thomas has pawned that off also," she introduced herself finally. "I came to find out."

"Mr. Shelby's not in today, Ms. Gray. I'm sorry," (Y/N) informed her then, her statement making Polly sigh again.

"If he's not in, and you're his new secretary, I'm going to need you to take this to him," she stated, holding out a sealed envelope then.

"Excuse me?"

"This needs to get to him. It's urgent," Polly explained further.

(Y/N) was still confused. "And I need to bring it to his home?" she asked.

"Assuming that that's where he is, yes," Polly nodded. (Y/N) stayed silent and thought about it for a moment. Then she took the envelope from the older woman's hand, deciding that making a house call to her boss might be better than facing whatever consequences Polly might have. In the short time since she'd met her, (Y/N) had found out that Polly was not a woman that you messed with. "A company driver will take you there. Thank you, (Y/N)," she informed her, nodding once more before she turned to leave the office.

(Y/N) let out a sigh as she moved to grab her jacket and purse. She made sure that the envelope was secured in her purse before she went out to the car that was waiting to take her to her destination.

The drive wasn't a short one, and it gave (Y/N) enough time to worry about what she was getting into. Surely her boss would be upset if she showed up at his home unannounced. There also was the possibility that he wasn't even there.

(Y/N) gazed up at the mansion in awe as she was helped out of the car. She knew that he had a big home — he was the CEO of a rather successful company, but she never thought she'd be seeing it in person. The enormity of it blew her away.

She walked up the small set of steps to the door and knocked on it, waiting a few moments until an older woman came to answer it . Of course he wasn't going to answer it himself. "Can I help you?" the lady asked.

"I have something to give to Mr. Shelby. I'm his secretary. Ms. Polly Gray wanted me to deliver it to him," (Y/N) explained the reason behind her being there. "Is Mr. Shelby in?" she backtracked when she realized that she should have asked that first.

"He is," the woman nodded, "I'll show you to his office," she said then before letting (Y/N) walk into the house. She was led through a few halls before they stopped in front of a closed door. The woman then knocked on the door and stepped inside, leaving (Y/N) out in the hall. She returned a few seconds later. "Mr. Shelby is on the phone at the moment. He should be finished soon," she informed (Y/N), who nodded her head. The woman then explained that she needed to attend to other duties in the meantime and that she couldn't stay with her.

So (Y/N) was left alone in the hallway. That was until the sound of little feet pattering off of the hardwood was heard. It made her look to her left, where she saw a young boy making his way toward her.

"Hello!" the boy chirped, a smile on his face.

"Hi," (Y/N) smiled politely.

"Who are you?" he asked then, quirking an eyebrow upward. (Y/N) knew then that this must've been Tommy's son, Charlie, because the boy looked so much like him when he pulled that expression.

"My name is (Y/N). I work for your dad," she answered, hoping that she was correct in inferring the boy's relationship to her boss.

"Do you want to come play with me, (Y/N)?" he asked then, a sliver of hope in his eyes.

The door to Tommy's office opened before she could say anything. "You can come in," he said, making (Y/N)'s eyes snap to him. "(Y/N)?" he questioned when he realized who was waiting for him. He'd opened the door and called for whoever it was without looking first.

"Hello, Mr. Shelby," she said softly as she felt her cheeks heating up just by looking at him. He looked different now. He wasn't in his usual three-piece suit, but instead only had on a plain button down and some trousers. His hair was haphazardly pushed off of his forehead. Even though his attire looked comfortable, he still gave off the aura that commanded respect. It pained (Y/N) to admit it, but she found the entirety of it attractive.

"She was gonna come play with me, dad," the boy that (Y/N) just remembered was standing next to her, said with a slight whine.

"She's here for business, son," Tommy responded to him, looking away as a pout formed on Charlie's face. The boy was really good at pulling it, and Tommy found it to be one thing that he often caved to.

"Maybe I'll come another day to play with you," (Y/N) told the boy without thought, making the child's expression perk up. She immediately wanted to backtrack on her statement when she realized that she was essentially inviting herself over to their home again, but no one questioned it.

"Ok," Charlie nodded before he turned and left the conversation.

"Come," Tommy said as he opened the door wider for her to follow him into the grand office. "What do you have for me?" he asked once they were seated across from each other.

"A note. It's from Ms. Gray. She said that it was urgent," (Y/N) explained as she handed it over.

Tommy suppressed a scoff as he heard what she said. "So you've met my aunt," he said as he opened the envelope.

"I have. She had some interesting things to say about myself and the company in general," (Y/N) responded, thinking back to the conversation she had earlier.

"We're not exactly seeing eye-to-eye at the moment. Which is why you were the one asked to bring this here, I'm guessing," was all Tommy said about the situation as he put his glasses on to read the contents of the paper in his hands. (Y/N) watched him carefully as his eyes glanced over the paper and she stayed silent as he scoffed at the end. "Figures," was all he said, and (Y/N) felt like it wasn't her place to ask him for more context.

"Is there anything you'd like for me to deliver back to Ms. Gray?" she instead asked, hoping that she could be of some service.

Tommy shook his head. "No. If I have something to say, I will say it to her directly."

"Oh. Ok," (Y/N) nodded as she dropped her gaze to her lap.

"I'm sorry you had to come out here because of family matters," Tommy said then as he dropped his glasses back onto the stack of papers on his desk.

"It's ok," (Y/N) practically repeated her last statement, not knowing what else to add to the conversation. "I'm just doing my job."

"Thank you for doing so. You're welcome to leave now."

"You're welcome, Mr. Shelby. Have a nice day," she said as she stood from the chair.

She then showed herself out of the office once she realized that he wasn't going to be leading her. She went through the several hallways she was led through earlier, hoping that they would bring her to the front foyer. She was almost out when she heard her name called from one of the rooms. "Charlie?" she questioned, seeing the boy peeking out from behind a door.

"Come play with me please, (Y/N)," he asked her, a slight pout on his face. (Y/N) stayed in her spot as she thought about his ask. She really shouldn't be sticking around; her boss told her that she could leave. But the pout he wore was so damn convincing.

"I don't know, Charlie..." she trailed off, but the boy was already exiting the door and grabbing hold of her hand. "Charlie," she tried again as he started leading her back the way she'd just come. This couldn't turn out well.

"My playroom's back here," the boy stated as he continued leading her further into the house.

"What are you doing, Charlie?" the voice of the very person (Y/N) was afraid would see this happening spoke from the end of the hallway the boy'd just turned down.

"I'm taking (Y/N) to my playroom," Charlie responded.

"She needs to leave, son. She can't be stickin' 'round to play with you," Tommy told the two and a half year old.

"No one comes here now, dad," the boy was now pouting, his head dropped in defeat. (Y/N) couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

"She needs to go back to work."

It was evident that Tommy wasn't going to change his stance, so (Y/N) turned to the boy before crouching to his level. "How 'bout I'll come over another time? We'll play then," she wagered with the boy, again making a promise she really couldn't keep. She hoped that maybe he'd forget about it in a few days.

"Ok," he said softly while shaking his head.

(Y/N) also nodded and smiled softly before she stood to look at her boss again. "I'm sorry, Mr. Shelby. I'll be leaving now," she told him, only glancing in his direction. She turned and left the hallway before either of the two Shelbys in it could say another word.

(Y/N) was just about ready to finish up for the day when she heard the door to the offices open. It was later in the afternoon, so she figured that her boss had returned from his business trip. "Mr. Shelby, you're..." she started speaking but then caught herself when she looked up to see just who had entered the office. She got the surname correct, but the person standing in the doorway was certainly not her boss. "Charlie?!" she practically exclaimed, her eyes wide.

"Hi, (Y/N)," the boy greeted with a smile, as if there was nothing out of the ordinary...like him being there was normal.

(Y/N), on the other hand, was freaking out. "How did you get here, Charlie?!" she asked as she stood from her desk and hurried over to him.

"I asked a driver to bring me," he gave another nonchalant answer.

"You shouldn't have come here. You're only two. You could have gotten hurt or taken or something," she started rambling, still internally freaking out over the fact that her boss' son had just shown up by himself. She was now checking all over his body to make sure that he wasn't hurt while he giggled at her actions.

"I'm going to be three soon," he told her between his giggles. (Y/N) couldn't help but let out a laugh at the boy's answer.

"That still doesn't give you the ability to go on long drives by yourself, Charlie," she tried to stress to him.

"I got lonely, (Y/N). Dad’s away and sometimes the ladies in the house don't even want to play with me. And you said you'd come over to play but you never did." The pout was back, and (Y/N) was already about to shatter under its weight.

There was a moment's pause before she let out a long sigh. "Ok, Charlie. How about I come over now? Huh? You wait here for a few more minutes while I finish up and then we'll go back to your house and play," she suggested, hoping the kid would go for the plan.

Charlie was nodding before she was even done speaking. "I'd like that," he told her, a smile on his face. (Y/N) let out a breath of relief before she ushered him over to one of the empty desks and gave him some paper to draw on while she finished the rest of her tasks.

The two left the office en route to Warwickshire in under a half hour, and for the entire car ride home, Charlie couldn't stop talking about the toys he wanted to show (Y/N) and the activities he wanted to do with her. (Y/N) couldn't help but smile. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

Every day after Charlie arrived at the office in Small Heath, (Y/N) made sure to go to his house after she was finished working. The little boy was beyond thrilled to have a new playmate. According to him, the other ladies in the house played with him, but they never got down onto the floor or into the game that they were playing like (Y/N) did.

Today, Charlie had orchestrated a plan to act out a story with his stuffed animals. He was the horse, of course, and (Y/N) was given a small dog. In the story, Charlie's character was the savior, and (Y/N)'s was the one in danger.

"Oh Mr. Horse, please come down and save me!" (Y/N) exclaimed in a dramatic voice as she sat on the floor right next to the couch. The dog she had was laying on the ground, looking hopeless.

"I told you, (Y/N), my name is not Mr. Horse, it's Sir Orion the Savior!" Charlie corrected her, a bit of a glare on his face.

"Forgive me, Charlie, but that's a tough name to remember," (Y/N) responded while trying to hold back her giggles. Not only was it tough to remember, it was also funny to say.

"Just try to remember it," he settled and she nodded before making her animal reach out again. "Save me!"

"I'm coming, Fluffy!" Charlie called out, giggling as he said the name (Y/N) had chose for her character. He then hopped down from the couch to scoop up the dog in his arms and bring him back up to 'safety'. "There you go, ma'am. I've saved you," Charlie spoke through his character then, his voice now dropped down an octave as he tried to sound tough. It just made (Y/N) giggle.

"Oh thank you, Mr...."

"Sir."

"...Sir Orion the Savior!" she said while stifling giggles that stemmed from the child correcting her.

"You're welcome," Charlie chirped in his normal voice, a wide smile on his face.

Clapping came from the doorway of the sitting room before anything else could be said, and (Y/N) couldn't stop her cheeks from heating up as she looked over to see her boss standing there. The thought of him coming home while she was there hadn't crossed her mind for some reason, and she felt rather shy all of a sudden. She stood from the floor and smoothed out her dress in an attempt to make herself look presentable.

"Mr. Shelby, I...I'm here because Charlie..."

"That was a wonderful play you two put on. I only saw the end of it, but I enjoyed it nonetheless," Tommy cut her off as he walked into the room. He'd been watching them play from the doorway for several minutes, and he found a large part of himself wanting this to be what he came home to from now on. "You found yourself a new friend, eh, Charlie boy?" he asked the smiling child as he ruffled his son's hair.

"I did. (Y/N) loves to play with me. She never says 'no' to any of my ideas," Charlie beamed up at his father.

"Never?" Tommy emphasized the word, his eyes widening as he looked down at the boy. (Y/N)'s cheeks were getting redder by the second.

"Never," Charlie shook his head definitively before he smiled over at the woman they were talking about. "I like (Y/N)," he said then, his statement making (Y/N)'s heart swell despite how shy she was feeling.

"I like her too," Tommy agreed, his eyes also on her. The gaze he gave her made her want to shrink into herself.

"Mr. Shelby, I'm sorry that I came over your house without asking you first. It's just that Charlie showed up at the office one day saying he needed someone to play with and..."

"Stop," Tommy held his hand up before she could continue. "You don't need to explain yourself," he shook his head then.

"Charlie, time for bed," one of the maids then stuck her head into the room to call for the young boy.

He began to protest, but his father gave him a look. "Go," he told the boy softly before kissing him on the top of his head. Charlie then nodded and hopped off the couch, moving over to (Y/N) to hug her legs before he exited the room through the open door.

(Y/N) couldn't stop her heartrate from picking up as she found herself alone with her boss…who was still looking at her a certain way that made her want to implode. She wasn't supposed to have feelings for him, right?

Tommy was the first of the two to speak. “I’ve been fighting my feelings for you for some time now, (Y/N)...” he started, his sudden confession almost making (Y/N) choke on her spit, “I’ve been throwing myself into work and ignoring everything else. But I can’t let my feelings sit idle anymore.”

“I...I don’t know what to say, Mr. Shelby...” she trailed off when she realized that she didn’t have the proper words to address his statement.

“Well, I’d hope you’d say ‘yes’ to a dinner invitation,” was his next statement; his smooth way of asking her on a date.

“And if I say yes?” she raised an eyebrow, finding a bit of confidence.

“Then I’d be a happy man,” he admitted, the corner of his lips tugging upward.

“Then yes,” she affirmed, a smile on her face.

“Mr. Shelby, Miss (Y/N)...Charlie wants you to say goodnight to him,” the same maid that brought Charlie up to bed said as she entered the room again.

(Y/N) glanced over at Tommy, unsure if he’d want her to join him in something private like that. Even if the maid had included her name in the ask, she still felt like that was family business. Tommy didn’t seem to mind though. “Let’s go say goodnight to him, eh?” he suggested, a soft smile on his face. (Y/N) nodded her head and let him drop his hand to the small of her back so that he was able to lead her out of the room and up to Charlie’s bedroom.

Tommy would have never thought that a new beginning was right in front of him this entire time. Thankfully, his son was there to make him realize that he needed (Y/N) in his life.

Tagged: @alreadybroken-ts @magicalxdaydream @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @golden-hoax @elenavampire21 @peaky-cillian @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @julyzaa

MASTERLIST

[tainted-wine]

Caring For Your Hormonally-Charged Bird

Hawks x Reader (NSFW)

(I didn’t mean for this to turn into a monster with over 7k words, but I finally finished it. This is based off of my mutant headcanons and also takes some inspiration from user kazooli’s awesome thirst posts about Hawks. Happy Springtime, everyone!)

Edit: Now there’s a Part 2!

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

The songs of lovestruck birds rang across the streets. Freshly bloomed cherry blossoms rained petals down onto the pavement. Butterflies and bees hovered around the flourishing flowers. It was undoubtedly a beautiful day. Too bad you had to spend it in an office with an oncoming headache. A familiar voice spoke behind you.

“Wow, look at that. I don’t know what’s more gorgeous; the scenery outside or the lady staring at it.”

Hawks’s charm doesn’t affect you when he has pissed you off so many times in such a short span.

You’ve had the ‘privilege’ of working for the Hero Public Safety Commission for several years, from supporting public events to endless desk work. The pay was generous and life was overall more comfortable. All you had to do to stay on their good side was comply with every demand, ignore the condescending tones of the bigwigs, and turn a blind eye whenever you witnessed the occasional sketchy practice.

When they offered you a job as the personal handler of one of the top heroes of Japan, you almost fainted. You have always been a fan of Hawks. Fast, handsome, charismatic, he may not have the godly strength of All Might, yet he still felt just as flawless. You’ve been helping and guiding the winged young man since last summer and learned that he’s even more than what you imagined. He wasn’t just good-looking, he wasn’t just a sweet-talker…

He was also a fucking nightmare to work with.

You turned around to see said man ogling you a bit more than you were used to, his trademark crooked smile on his face, but you ignored that and went straight to business. “Your carelessness is trending again for the third time this week, Hawks.”

He drew a sharp breath in an exaggerated gasp. “Again? Oh, what could they possibly be on my ass for this time? Was I smacking on chicken wings too loudly in public? Did they catch the moment I almost flew into that crystal-clear window?”

You whipped out your phone, already prepared to show him a news page with a rather shocking photo. A man with an elegant and sleek appearance was beaten and bruised, his dazzling peacock tail fanned out behind him. The attacker was none other than Hawks, who was gripping the other man by the collar, his wings fully spread out with several sharpened feathers floating around his victim as an unnecessary precaution. It was a very aggressive display.

‘HAWKS LAYS SMACKDOWN ON PERVERTED PEACOCK’ was the headline.

“This is beyond excessive force. You could have just as easily restrained him with your quirk.” You scolded, fixing him with the steely authoritarian stare that you’ve been working on.

Hawks flinched, but you couldn’t tell if he was just playing with you or not. “Ma’am! I was simply defending the girl’s honor! She was very clearly uncomfortable and besides, wouldn’t flashing his tail like that be considered indecent exposure?” Yeah, that tone told you that he was clearly not intimidated.

“No, and even if it did, indecency and harassment wouldn’t excuse such a violent subduing. Furthermore,” you gestured at his threatening wing display in the photo. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were demonstrating similar behavior.”

He simply shrugged. “Just showing him who the bigger bird is around here.”

Your eye twitched. “For God’s sake, Hawks, you’re not an animal. Part of my job is ensuring that you maintain a friendly image that will keep the public at ease. This is not friendly. Shall I go through some of the comments for examples?” You scrolled down and cleared your throat in preparation. “Anyone else put off by how violent Hawks looks here? I didn’t know he had it in him to beat someone down like that. He’s usually all about being quick and efficient.” You scrolled down to the next one. “What’s the deal with Hawks? I was there and it was like watching a cockfight.” You clicked on a reply to that particular comment. “I know, right? I always wanted to meet Hawks in person, but after that, I was honestly too scared to-”

“Hold on, babe, I know you’re cherry-picking here,” Hawks, the little bastard, had taken out his own phone while listening to your reading. “Because those are nothing like my personal faves that I found on my Tweeter page.” You watched with silent frustration as his eyes scanned his phone until he found what he was looking for. “Ah, here we go. ‘Oh my GAWD, that look, those spread wings, he looks like such a beast!” He had raised the pitch of his voice for a mock feminine tone. “Leave it to Hawks to make all of us women feel safe. That pervert deserves to lose a few more teeth.’ Oh, and here’s the winner right here. ‘Just as I always expected, that hunk of a bird knows how to dominate. I can just imagine him towering over me, giving that same look while I take his big fat-”

“Hawks.”

He paused, but his shit-eating grin didn’t fade when he noticed your head being held in one of your hands. You hoped he didn’t notice that you were trying to hide the red that crept into your cheeks.

“…cock.”

You groaned loudly enough to most definitely be heard outside of the office. There truly were days when he would cut you some slack and be easy to deal with, but he has become downright unbearable for the past few weeks. His teasing has increased ten fold, yet he’s also been keeping his distance from you for whatever reason. It had taken you a while to notice, but he was normally more than happy to get in your face and ruin your professional act, but now, even when you’re the one trying to approach, he would casually step back to prevent the gap between you from closing.

And then it hit you.

Shit, it shouldn’t have taken you this long to connect the dots. You had even noticed how his wings appeared to be a shade brighter for the past few days, but dismissed it as a trick of the light. No, he had grown in his spring plumage.

“Uh, babe? You still there? Did the ‘C’ word break you?” Watching you stare into space was getting him a little concerned.

“You’re rutting,” was your simple reply.

Hawks’s face flashed into something more serious for a split second before giving a ‘tsk’ and looking away. “Took you long enough,” he scoffed. “Surprised the Commission hasn’t fired you for letting me go wild for so long. They must not have any replacements available right now.”

“Watch it,” you ordered. You pondered for a moment before asking, “Have you not been taking your hormonal medication? I know that you’ve been prescribed some for this time of year.”

He sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck, as if he was the one who should be feeling annoyed right now. Bitch, please. “Sometimes,” he muttered.

“Sometimes? They don’t work if you only take them sometimes, Hawks. I know you’re a busy hero, but you can put some effort into keeping track of your dosage.”

“Look,” it was the first time you’ve seen a genuine scowl on his face, the expression taking you back. “I just really hate that stuff, okay? They sap all of my energy and I put on a few extra pounds.”

You shook your head at his complaints. “Is that really worse than what you’re dealing with right now?”

“Yes. I’d rather be a horndog than a slug that doesn’t even have the will to move. It wouldn’t even be so bad if I could just sleep around every now and then, but that’s more trouble than it’s worth. I don’t wanna make your job that miserable.” He eyed you up and down for a minute, while you tried not to shy away from his piercing gaze. “Or I could find just one loyal partner that will help me scratch the itch?”

You stepped back, your heart racing at the unspoken request. “E-excuse me?” you stuttered.

Hawks raised his hands harmlessly. “Hey now, it’s just a suggestion. I’m pretty into you, you’re obviously into me, this could work out pretty well.”

An array of emotions were flowing through you, but you were more upset than anything else. “And what exactly makes you think I’ve been ‘into you’, as you’ve said?” Denial. You’re pretty sure that’s what this is. You know that you’ve been attracted to him since before you even met, but you weren’t going to let this overgrown brat have his way.

His sudden burst of laughter startled you. “You’re kidding, right? I still remember that look you had the first time we were in this room together, and it wasn’t the innocent ‘I wanna support my favorite hero’ look,” He was willingly approaching you for the first time in what felt like forever, every step sounding like thunder to your ears. “It was a ‘bend me over the desk and fuck me’ look.”

You were the one stepping back this time. You wanted to remind him not to use such foul language, to berate him for making such vulgar claims, but your voice was caught in your throat.

“We’d be doing each other a favor, right?” he continued, wings slowly expanding. “Keeping me in top shape is part of your job, isn’t it? I promise you that I’m gonna feel a lot better after this.”

You bumped into his desk, leaning back slightly as he finally closed the distance. His wings draped around each side of you, filling your peripheral vision with pure red. His face was only inches away from yours as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

“You’ve been smelling so damn good lately. Been afraid that I just might pounce you if I get too close.”

A thickly gloved hand reached out and cupped your face with such a surprising amount of tenderness, you couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel bare. You were so entranced by his lustful gaze that you couldn’t find it in you to resist as he leaned in, feeling his hot breath as his lips drew closer to yours.

The door busted open accompanied by a shout. “Hawks sir! Your help has been requested at-OH!”

A genuine growl rumbles through Hawks’s throat and damn, that makes you tremble. By the time he turns toward the stumbling sidekick, he was already back to his cool and friendly self.

“Don’t stop on my account, buddy,” he beamed the younger man with an unwavering smile. “What’s the request?”

———

The next day, you tried very hard to pretend that little office incident never happened. You were not going to let something so unprofessional ever happen again. That was a promise.

Hawks, on the other hand, was being a persistent bastard. You were determined to win this battle. If he wanted the urges to go away so badly, then he can take his damn medication like he always has, not use your lack of authority and experience as an excuse to rebel. The only reason you haven’t informed the Commission about this is because you know that your head will be on the chopping block as well as Hawks’s. You will most definitely be in some shit once they realize that you can’t keep their most prized possession in check.

And to be fair, as the week went on, you really were wondering if you were cut out for this job. With his wings getting more vibrant, his advances becoming more frequent, and his feral rivalry against other men growing more severe, Hawks has officially become too unruly for you to handle, and you’re the goddamned handler. You couldn’t lose this job! What if they terminated you completely and you couldn’t get another position from the Commission?

You paced back and forth in the empty office. Hawks was late this morning, leaving you alone with your endless worries. He may act lazy, but he was never actually late for his meet ups. Looks like you’ll have to call him and pray that nothing serious has happened.

You jumped when your phone vibrated before you even reached into your pocket. Ah, looks like Hawks reached out before you did. You held your phone up, prepared to answer, and froze.

It wasn’t Hawks. It was the deputy, the very man that was kind enough to give you this job. He hasn’t called you since your first few days here to help get you started. With your progress, you doubt he was calling to give you a raise.

Well, as much as you wanted to throw the phone out of the window and find an appropriate place to bury yourself, you didn’t make it this far by cowering from these guys. Taking a deep breath, you picked up and greeted the man on the other side with a steady voice. “Good morning, Deputy.”

He addressed you with the same bored and unimpressed tone that you hear from every member in this cursed organization. Jeez, if you keep working here long enough, are you going to eventually sound as soulless as them? “I assume you are aware of Hawks’s current condition?” he asked.

Dammit. “My apologies, sir. I know that I have been neglectful of Hawks’s health and his behavior during this time. I have been doing my best t-”

“That isn’t the issue I am talking about, but thank you for confirming that you have indeed failed in keeping Hawks’s unsavory habits under control.” You flinched. Way to rat yourself out. “Hawks had managed to find and subdue the troublesome villain Libido.”

“Ah, of course. I have been informed of that, sir.” Libido was a cunning little criminal that has been causing trouble all over the city of Fukuoka. His ‘Love Breath’ quirk gave him the ability to exhale fumes with powerful aphrodisiacal qualities. The guy even made his own gas bombs, releasing them among unsuspecting crowds in the public. He was less of a villain and more of just a chaos-loving hoodlum that was too slippery for his own good.

The deputy carried on. “One of the sidekicks has told us that Hawks was exposed to his quirk.”

Oh. Oh dear. That’s some strong stuff to be subjected to.

“We have ordered Hawks to go home immediately and wait patiently instead of heading to a hospital. We will be sending treatment his way.”

Some of the tension left your body. “That’s good to know, sir. May I ask what kind of treatment he will be taking? I know I haven’t convinced you yet, but I want to do anything I can for his well being.” You hesitantly asked. Please, oh please let me make up for everything that has been happening.

You heard a faint chuckle from the other end. “That’s very good to know, because the treatment is you.”

You’re glad he couldn’t see the confusion on your face. “I’m sorry, sir. Are you saying I’ll be the one to doctor him? I’ll need to know what medicine he needs and how much rest he’ll be expected to-”

“Do you know how people affected by aphrodisiac quirks are normally treated?” he interrupted you for the second time. He didn’t even give you a chance to answer before continuing. “Given your questions, I’m assuming that you don’t. We can indeed offer drugs to weaken the effects, but Hawks will still be in great distress and will take a long time to recover, especially since he’s neglected to take his hormone medication with the help of an incompetent handler.” Ugh, you get it already. You screwed up. “But the quickest and most efficient remedy is, without a doubt, sexual contact and allowing the quirk to run its course. That is what we expect you to provide for him.”

What.

You took a full minute to collect your thoughts and ensure that you heard everything correctly. The deputy waited patiently. How kind of him. Once you gathered yourself, you conjured the most constructive response you could think of.

“Huh?”

An overly loud sigh sounded in your ear. Hey, it’s his fault for dropping this bomb of a request on you. “We can’t have the number two hero out of action for too long. The alternative is to strap him to a bed and sedate him for an uncertain amount of time. His rut has enhanced the quirk’s effects; this may even strengthen his arousal for the rest of the season.”

Your face paled. That sounds ten times worse than the way Hawks was already acting. “So, if I were to…be with him,” you blushed at the very thought. “That would provide the best relief?”

“That is the gist of it. You told me you would do anything for Hawks’s well being. Can I hold you to that?”

Your pounding heart was almost drowning out his voice. You didn’t mean to corner yourself like this. “O-of course. I’ll see what I can, um, do.” This discussion was getting uncomfortable.

“I didn’t expect you to be so hesitant. You’re a loyal fan of his, aren’t you? You should be thrilled. Few fangirls get this opportunity.” He laughed at his own joke. You sure as hell weren’t laughing with him.

“Yeah, of course, sir,” you grumbled. “I suppose I shouldn’t leave Hawks alone for too long. I’ll be on my way soon.”

“Excellent,” he said. “You’ll need to take some precautions, of course. Here’s what you need to keep in mind…”

———

You walked out of the local pharmacy, cradling the pills tightly to your chest like some sort of security blanket. The deputy’s advice echoed in your head.

“It’s best that you take contraceptives. Hawks’s mind will be clouded with feral cravings, such as the urge to breed. He is not going to accept condoms.”

You tossed the pills onto the passenger seat in your car.

“Again, Hawks is suffering from both the magnified effects of Libido’s quirk and his annual rut. It’s possible that he will not be of sound mind. If things get out of hand, you have the right to protect yourself.” the deputy paused for a moment. “Just try not to leave any marks on him, if you can. Hawks must look presentable at all times.”

Well, you did have a stun gun that you thankfully never had to use, and hopefully it will stay that way.

The deputy’s help made you way more anxious than before. Were you about to have sex with a horny man, or tame a dangerous beast? You still didn’t know what to make of this predicament.

You take your phone and select Hawks’s number. It’s probably best not to surprise him at his door. Hopefully he wasn’t too riled up and ignores your call.

The phone rings once, then twice, then you hear…whimpers? Shit, was it getting that bad?

“Hawks? Are you there?” you asked calmly.

“Babe.” Goodness, his voice was rough. He sounds like he just ran across the country. “Oh thank God. Talk dirty to me, baby.”

“Wha—no.” This was a mistake. You really weren’t prepared for such levels of horniness. He just blurted that out like it was nothing! “Look, um, I heard your urges are becoming too much to handle. I’m heading on over there to…help you.”

For a while you just heard what sounded like breathless laughs and weeping. Hearing him in such a fragile state had you genuinely concerned. “Y’serious? We’re-ah-we’re gonna fuck?” He was panting heavily between words.

Heat was gathering in your face. “Yes, that’s the plan.”

“Oh, fuck yeah. Get over here-fuck-so I can stuff you, babe. You’re gonna be mine. Oh I can’t wait to fucking have you.” This sounded like a goddamned porno and you couldn’t handle it. There was a strange sound in the background as he rambled, something like wet smacks. You kept hearing it in sync with his grunts and…

Oh.

“Just hang in there, alright?” You said quickly, wanting to end this call right now. “I’m coming.”

“Well, I’m not. My hand’s really not doin’ it for me. Gotta be inside you, babe. Gotta cum in that tight-“

You hung up.

You banged your head against the steering wheel harder than intended, but at least the pain got your mind off of…whatever all of that was. You can’t believe you just heard your favorite hero breathlessly talking about how he wants to bang you while jerking off. You didn’t know it was possible to feel this mortified, but that wasn’t the worst part.

The worst part was the tingle between your legs.

Hawks, one of the top heroes of Japan, the heartthrob of the generation, was lusting for you. It had you both excited and on edge. You remember the deputy’s comment.

“You’re a loyal fan of his, aren’t you? You should be thrilled. Few fangirls get this opportunity.”

You probably would indeed be thrilled if the circumstances were less dire. Your fantasies normally involved something simpler and more romantic, not saving him from his own sex-hazed mind. You still weren’t sure what you were walking into, and that was admittedly a different kind of excitement.

There was no time to waste with the state Hawks was in. Calming your nerves, you started your car and began taking the route to his place.

———

Here you are, at the doorstep of Hawks’s house. His place was surprisingly humble for a top hero, it made this encounter just a little less nerve-wracking. Pressing a finger to the buzzer, you waited anxiously, rocking back and forth on your heels. You really hope he’ll be dressed decently when he answers the door.

Your heart skips once you hear a click and the doorknob twists. It feels like it takes an eternity for the door to open and reveal…nobody.

Instead, you were greeted by a small flock of feathers suspended in the air. They slowly floated a distance away from you before stopping, as if they were waiting for something. You cautiously stepped inside, some of the feathers closing the door behind you. You don’t know what type of welcome you were expecting, but it wasn’t this. The feathers guided you, drifting up a flight of stairs and into a room with its door hanging open. You can hear harsh breathing inside, reigniting your fear. “Hawks?” You hesistantly called out without getting any closer.

A cracking voice cried out your name. “Help me. It fucking hurts. I’m so hot. Make it stop.” He sounded like he was crying. The desperate pleas prompted you to mask your fears for the umpteenth time and approach the room, taking in the sight of the man that has been waiting for you.

Hawks was naked, not to your surprise, but still to your absolute horror. He sat on his bed, skin glistening with sweat and a deep blush spreading throughout his upper body, making him look more feverish than aroused. His chest heaved with the irregular breaths that left his hanging mouth. His hair was even more unruly as usual, some of his locks sticking to his damp face. Your eyes locked onto his, pupils dilated and looking right through you.

He looked awful.

You came closer, trying your best not to stare at the very swollen and throbbing member between his legs. “I’m sorry,” you said softly, stopping right in front of him. “I didn’t think it would get this bad. I-I want to help. Just tell me what to do.”

He was on his feet the moment you finished, nude body just inches away from yours, but you kept your feet planted where they were. As his large wings slowly opened and enclosed around you, you noticed how brilliantly hued his feathers have become, practically glowing a vivid scarlet. It was captivating.

Two clammy hands came up to hold your face, the same hands he was furiously pleasuring himself with just a moment ago holy shit, and his mouth was on yours before you could even react. You gasped in shock of it all, allowing his tongue to slip past your lips. It was less of a kiss and more of just him hungrily ravaging every inch of your mouth, your own tongue wrestling with his to keep him away from the back of your throat. One of his arms lowered to wrap around your waist and pull you flush against his bare form, making you yelp when you felt his erection pressing against you. Hawks’s dick was on you.

You were too overwhelmed by his restless mouth and his DICK to notice the stray feathers hovering over you. A tug and a loud rip made you jolt. Hawks held you still, the sound of expensive fabric tearing making you flinch as your skin was slowly being exposed. The feathers were shredding your clothes.

You pulled away from his suffocating mouth just enough to take a breath and attempt to speak. “Hawks! Wha—” only for him to smother you once again.

“Don’t move,” he uttered between kisses. “Don’t want to cut you.”

With a few more slashes, your cherished suit was now scattered on the carpet in tatters, revealing your body to him, but the feathers weren’t done. The floating blades carefully slid under your panties and bra. You stood completely still, Hawks kissing you with less aggression in an attempt to soothe you as the feathers sliced through the last of your clothes. You were now just as bare as him. He simply held you tightly, face rubbing against yours with the occasional lick against your heated skin. Your eyes were closed shut, unable to process his frantic tongue, his surrounding body that felt like fire, his cock that was now pressed to your stomach you were going to drop dead holy shit.

“Smell so good. Tastes so good.” he groaned, still sounding short of breath. His mouth went down to your neck, sucking at it hungrily and giving the occasional nip, forcing a faint moan out of you. He continued his descent and reached your breasts, molding them roughly and attacking your nipples with hard sucks. Despite the rough treatment, a tight heat was building up in your abdomen, your hands cradling his head as he explored you. He ventured lower, now on his knees with his face right at your womanly mound.

Your heart was pounding when he leaned in, his nose lightly touching you as he drew in a long breath and giving a pleased sighed. His nose pressed in further and poked at your glistening pussy, your thighs clenching in surprise while he happily took in your scent. Fuck, he was really just kneeling between your legs and smelling you. You were ready to protest and tell him that this was getting too embarrassing before something wet and hot slid against your folds, replacing your planned words with a yelp.

Hawks apparently approved of your taste, strong hands grasping the back of your thighs as he brought you in closer to fully devour you. Your cries were impossible to hold in while he lapped at you, mind becoming too clouded with pleasure to stay modest. He moaned loudly into you, the erotic sound vibrating against you, tongue fondling every inch of your folds before his lips closed around them, sucking greedily and almost making your knees collapse. You were getting close, grasping onto his head in a desperate attempt to stay balanced, his mouth now assaulting your sensitive bud. Your blissful whimpers joined the filthy sounds of his feasting when your orgasm washed over you like throbbing magma. Once your legs lost the last of their strength, Hawks set you down gently on the floor, still licking your sensitive lips.

“Ah, Hawks…too much…” You whined weakly.

He got the message and pulled away to immediately climb over you, giving you a clear view of his face glistening with your juices. Bright wings were fully spread out once more; it feels like you were about to be taken by an angel, the most savage angel you could ever imagine.

He came down for a sloppy kiss, spreading your own womanly nectar all over your lips. “Hope you’re nice and ready now. Ready to take everything I’ve got.” He mumbled against your mouth. You couldn’t help but smile and feel grateful that even in such a frenzied state, he was still kind enough not to jump you the moment you were within sight.

You brought a hand up to caress the side of his face, watching his eyes flutter shut as he leaned into your touch like the needy animal that he was at the moment. His body was still unnaturally hot and he was still breathing harshly. It’s time to finally give this poor man some relief.

“Go ahead, Hawks. I’m all yours.” You were indeed ready for everything he has.

Hawks said no more, gripping himself and aiming right for your opening. The moment his head was pushing past your lips, he thrust forward, filling you completely and knocking the wind out of you.

You honestly thought he came right then and there with the totally profane howl that left him. “Fuck…!” he choked, looking on the verge of tears. Despite the seemingly paralyzing pleasure, he wasted no time in moving, his pace quickening at an alarming rate. Your pussy was still sensitive from his wonderful licking, his dick currently sending painfully powerful shocks that you just weren’t ready for, and yet heat began to pool within your core for a second time. Your arms were wrapped around his sweaty form, nails biting into his skin and forcing rugged grunts out of his throat.

The wet slaps of your bodies rang throughout the room, your limbs quivering as he pumped into you faster, his heavy balls slapping against your ass, full and prepared to pour every drop of its contents into your womb. Hawks had buried his head into the crook of your neck, letting you feel every breathless moan right against your ear.

All you could do was hold on and take the increasingly rough pounding. His rhythm was sloppy from the start, but the thrusts were becoming even more irregular as a sign that he was already reaching his peak. Not surprising, given the state that he’s been in all day. One well-aimed thrust hits your sweet spot, making you moan loudly against him.

The sound eggs him on, driving his hips at a bruising pace and fuck it feels so good it hurts. Your eyes shut tightly as another orgasm breaks free, your feminine walls clamping around Hawks, squeezing his own climax out of him. You gasped at the powerful throbs of his cock as it shot out stream after stream of cum inside you. The purely animalistic growl that rumbled through him had you shaking in the best way while you watched his wings twitch and flap, hitting you with a light gust.

After an impressive amount of spurts, Hawks collapsed on top of you. He was heavy, but having his weight on you like this was pretty nice. You rubbed soothing circles around his back, listening to the rather inhuman cooing sounds he made in response.

You just had sex with Hawks, your favorite hero and the very man you were paid to look after. Oh man, how badly have you screwed up your relationship? Not that you two had much of a bond in the first place, but now things will most certainly get even more awkward.

A twitch inside you interrupted your thoughts. What the hell? Hawks’s breathing was accelerating again as he suddenly lifted his weight off of you, and that’s when you realized even though he came, he was still hard.

With newfound energy, he pushed your thighs towards your chest and rammed into you before you could even register what was happening. His new angle had you seeing stars with each thrust, hitting you even deeper than before. The sensation was dizzying, your overstimulated body beginning to throb all over. Hawks had the most obscene expression on his face, glazed eyes watching your tits bounce while his mouth hung open, drool trailing down his chin. You didn’t know such a look existed outside of adult videos, and having it aimed at you was enhancing your stinging pleasure.

Looking down granted you the view of his drenched dick pushing into you, each slam of his hips rocking you into the carpet, which honestly burned like ouch. Thankfully Hawks was reaching his tipping point once again, his hips moving at a bruising pace before one final smack. You were spoiled with another wonderful image of his head thrown back as a choked moan escaped him, another round of cum shooting into you.

He finally slid out of you as he sat back to catch his breath, wings limply dropping to his sides. Finally. You didn’t know how much more your womanhood could take. The strain of moving your legs made you wince. Did he have to pin you so roughly?

Hawks watched silently as you pushed yourself up. You felt behind your back and…dammit, you really did bruise back there. Maybe you should go find a mirror; hopefully it didn’t look too bad. You noticed that Mr. Horny Wings continued to just stare, pupils still enlarged and his dick was still hard what the fuck. He suddenly shifted onto all fours and crawled behind you. The light brush of fingers over your blemished skin made you shiver. They weren’t big enough to be that painful, but you still hissed when he applied a little too much pressure, making him pull away.

“Sorry.” His voice was still raspy as he apologized.

You shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Could’ve been wor—AH!”

Hawks shoved you forward, manhandling you until you were properly on your hands and knees. Fuck, your entire lower body was starting to ache, and here he was, ready to go another round. The head of his still-swollen dick was already pressing at your entrance. Grasping your hips, he pushed past your puffy lips and re-entered your heat. You bit your bottom lip and took the limitless strength in his hips, his balls sometimes smacking right into your clit and bringing you closer to your next climax.

His pace slowed down briefly in order to lower himself and suck at your bruises. “Nnngh, fuck, Hawks!” The combined pain and pleasure had your insides burning. He moaned and panted into your back, kissing up to your neck and sucking there as well. A pair of strong arms wrapped around your torso, pressing your body against his in an intimate embrace as he plunged into you more deeply.

It was impossible to not moan after each stroke. His face rested on your shoulder, and you reached behind to bury a hand in his hair. Shit, this was all getting so intimate. He was holding you and was so close, you could feel the ripple of his muscles as he caressed every inch of your inner walls. Your third burst of pleasure had you quivering against him as he continued to chase his own orgasm, stars appearing in your vision with each thrust. Hawks sank his teeth into your neck before bottoming out and releasing more cum inside you.

Both of you were lost in your sensual spasms before you collapsed. Hawks didn’t lay on you completely this time, his sweat-soaked form crouched over you, close enough to still be inside of you…

And rock hard.

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.

You stayed as you were, your face down and your ass up, as you felt him humping away at you again. You could barely whimper as your tender pussy took another pounding. Christ, why wasn’t he getting tired? If the quirk was getting any closer to wearing off, it sure as hell didn’t feel like it.

It wasn’t long before he came again, grunting with each hard buck as he filled you with his apparently endless supply of cum. Was he done? Please be done. You turned your head just enough to check the state of his erection.

Nope.

Hawks had enough mercy to carry you to his much more comfortable bed before continuing. He took you again.

And again

And again.

You were positively ruined, no more strength left in your body as he repeatedly claimed you with fervor. Whenever it appeared you were getting uncomfortable in a certain position, he would simply switch things up before carrying on. Despite how utterly exhausted and raw you felt, your orgasms kept coming, every surge of pleasure clouding your mind more and more.

You had lost track of time. Was this his fifteenth go? seventeenth? Keeping count was becoming a drag. It didn’t help that Hawks was in too much of a trance to even speak, giving you nothing but moans and growls. At least he didn’t sound on the verge of tears anymore, so maybe he was making progress.

Another orgasm was approaching; could your tired body even handle it? You were laying on the edge of the bed as Hawks stood and fucked you. Even through all of the overwhelming passion, you never got tired of staring at his wings, the dazzling red never failing to mesmerize you. They fluttered rapidly as the tension in your core spilled over, your mouth opening in a silent scream and a blackness closing in on you with every blink.

Your body was finished.

———

Everything hurts.

That’s the first thing you noticed when you woke up and made the mistake of stretching. Your arms and legs ached, a sharp pain shot through your back whenever you shifted, and between your legs…well, the throb down there didn’t at all feel pleasurable anymore.

Still, you fought the pain to sit up and examine yourself. Your nether regions were surprisingly clean, almost as if someone had already taken care of it. With all of the cum Hawks pumped into you, it should frankly be an awful mess down there.

Speaking of, where was the guy?

“Hey.”

Oh, there he was leaning in the door frame. He had obviously tidied up, no longer a flushed and sweaty wreck, and was now sporting a pair of loose pants and a tee. You had never seen him looking so casual. It was probably a privilege very few had, and knowing that ignited something in your chest.

He glanced around before looking back at you. “You alright?”

Realizing you were just gawking at him and haven’t said anything yet, you coughed to ensure your voice was still clear and functioning. “I’m fine.”

He snickered. It was a sound you were used to whenever he knew he had the upper-hand in some way, but something about it felt softer this time. “I just fucked you into high heaven for a whole day.” He could’ve acknowledged it in a less shameless manner, dammit. “I just wanna know if you’re alright. You look pretty stiff.”

A jolt shot through your lower back in perfect timing with his statement, making you flinch. “Yeah, I’m—I’m pretty sore. Very sore,” you admitted.

“Ah,” He stood up straight. “I’ll go get some, uh, pain relief. Be right back.” And with that, he was out of your sight.

You waited patiently for his return, actually observing his bedroom for the first time. It was surprisingly bare, the room of someone who didn’t spend much time at home. There was a window that you didn’t notice and holy shit he was right. It was nighttime; you spent the entire day in Hawks’s bedroom. The fangirl in you was squealing in delight. You told her to shut the hell up.

The man returned with a glass of water in one hand, a pill in the other, and a set of clothes draped across his arm. “Here,” he handed the water and medicine over before sitting beside you on the bed. You gulped down the capsule, sputtering a bit as the cold water flowed down your dry throat. “I’ve got some clothes that might fit you well enough. Sorry about your suit. I’ll give you some money for a new one.”

He’s never sounded so wooden before and you couldn’t stand it. You let out your best good-hearted laugh as you took the offered clothes. “Stop that, Hawks. You sound as bland as your bosses right now,” you joked.

He laughed along with you. “Heh, sorry babe. Just worried that I came on a little too strong at the beginning there.”

You simply hummed in response. His clothes were so warm and smelled like him. Despite being surrounded by his strong scent for hours, you still welcomed it.

“So…looks like you’re feeling better.” You took in his appearance again now that he was closer. There was still a tinge of red in his face, but he seemed overall back to his usual relaxed self.

“Oh yeah, much better. The feeling’s still there, honestly,” he saw your eyes widen and instantly blurted out, “Just barely! I can ignore it and think clearly just fine now.” A boyish smile spread across his face. “Looks like I’ve got a hero. You really saved me back there.”

A ridiculous snort left you after hearing such praise. “Is that all it takes to be the great Hawks’s hero? I’m flattered.”

“Hey, I’m serious,” He looked you square in the face, and you couldn’t look away from his sincere expression. “It’s never been that bad before. Not gonna lie, I’m embarrassed you saw me like that. That was worse than all of my teenage ruts combined. Damn villain’s quirk really messed me up, felt like I was going fucking rabid. I don’t know what state I’d be in if it weren’t for you.”

Your mouth opened and closed, unsure of how to respond to his gratitude. “You’re welcome,” was all you could say. “You don’t need to feel bad about it. It’s…” You looked down at your feet. “It’s not like I didn’t like it. It was very draining, honestly lost track of time at a certain point, but it, uh, it was an experience.”

Hawks nodded in response. “Sure was. Never thought I’d rail a girl so hard and for so long that she’d pass out. I’m impressed with myself.”

“Hawks.”

He hung his head in mock shame. “My apologies, ma’am! I completely forgot that such vulgar language isn’t tolerated around you.” And there’s the infuriating grin that you were beginning to miss.

Both of you were laughing, slowly melting away the tension and stress that filled the room since morning. This…this was nice.

“So, you probably still don’t feel all that great, sooo…” Hawks rubbed at the back of his neck. “You wanna stay for dinner? Already ordered a chicken pizza with some wings.”

“Oh?” You raised your eyebrows. “Taking me to dinner after the sex?”

“Hey now, you know me. ‘The hero who’s too fast for his own good.’ Sometimes I miss a step or two.” He winked before getting up to leave. “You just lay there and rest, and go pee already. Don’t need an infection on top of everything else you’re going through. I already cleaned up the horrifying scene between your legs.”

You shuddered at the crude comment before falling backwards onto the poor mattress that had endured so much today.

Tomorrow, it will be back to professionalism. Back to pretending that you’re Hawks’s superior. Back to sucking up to the Commission. You’re going to cherish every minute of tonight, enjoying the company of Keigo Takami, not Hawks.

A shout echoed from downstairs. “The bathroom’s still empty, babe! Get your ass in there and pee!”

[chocominnie]

Can you trust me? | knj

⇢ pairing: namjoon x reader (idol! Namjoon)

⇢ genre: Angst because Namjoon may or may not be an asshole about important things but also fluff because of sweet-talking

⇢ word count: 3k

⇢ warnings: Arguements but honestly thats it because the rest if fluff lmao.

⇢ Copyright:  please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken

⇢ Summary: Namjoon keeps making excuses of not meeting up with you and given that you guys have been having fall outs recently, things are about to be put on the line. Will you guys break up? Or will you stay together? Can you trust him..

You have reached the voice mailbox of-

You shake your head lightly as tears feel the brim of your eyes. This is the third time today. You knew that in this relationship with Namjoon would mean that he wouldn’t always have time for you. But for him to not even give you a quick text or just even answer his phone is absurd. You’ve been talking about this meet-up for the past two weeks. Although he is mostly busy majority of the times, a dinner for one night surely wouldn’t affect his schedule right?

Especially with all the things going on between you and him. This date tonight would of approached everything that has been happening. The arguments you guys have are just nerve wracking. Especially when he argued with you for being clumsy because you had spilled fruit juice in his studio.. on the wooden floor. You just didn’t get how it would be a big deal as it was not carpet so an easy clean up. At the end of the day, you guys knew how to get on each others bad side and that’s not good at all.

So here you are now, dressed  in an elegant black dress with that Swarovski crystal bracelet he gave you for your 1 year annivesary. Atleast, that’s when he actually gave a fuck about the relationship. Actually, you can’t even count the amount of excuses he’s made within the past months to not spend time with you. The last time it was because he was washing clothes and didn’t have any to wear right now. In which you had called bullshit because he has more clothes than anybody could ever.

Needless to say, you had ignored his calls and texts for two days to give him a piece of your mind. Namjoon wasn’t the type to over-react on such things so it wasn’t a win situation for you. Instead he sent you some of your favorite chocolates and flowers as an apology as you weren’t speaking to him. Yes, you gave in because who wouldn’t over the dozen of roses and Switzerland made chocolate?

This time is something different though.

The waitress returns with a bottle of champagne with a bucket of ice in her hands, and while she sets it down, you quickly wipe the stray tears away and force a smile. You didn’t even notice they were there before.

‘‘ It seems as though my significant other..” You take the napkin from your lap and throw it on the table. “ Will not be joining me today. I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”

The poor waitress had been waiting for you to order your food for an hour now. You’d kept insisting to wait because Namjoon would’ve been there any minute. Turns out you were very wrong.

She smiles softly, popping the cork off the bottle and pouring a glass for you.  ‘‘Shall I give you the bill then?’‘

As if you would be the one paying for this, when he had broke his promise for you. Broken promises are a thing you hated and he knew that. Putting this on his tab wouldn’t bother him with your petty little antics. The boy is a millionaire, something like this doesn’t even make a dent. Somehow though, you wanted to pay him back for not even showing up.

‘‘Put it on Kim Namjoon’s tab. He’ll be the one paying for this.’‘ You mumble to the young girl. The girl nods her head and pulls out the tab and hands it to you.

You sign your signature on it, and place a good thousand dollar tip on it. The feeling of satisfaction soothes you. He’d surely be paying for his time away, and wasting this waitress’ time. You hand it back to her, waiting for her reaction to the amount. Sure enough she doubled back to you when she realized how much was on the tab.

“ Ma’m? You added two extra zer-”

“ My date wasted your time love. He’s deeply sorry for it. Do something good with the money yeah?” As if the sinister smirk to yourself wasn’t enough, you quickly get up from the table and thank her again before heading to the exit.

The taste of the sweet yet tangy wine soothes the emotions flowing through you right now. Kim Namjoon. A guy who cancels dates a lot. A guy who does not keep his promise.

The only place you knew he would be at rather than his apartment would be at the BigHit building in his studio. He’s always there rather it be snowing or sunny outside he’s just.. there. It always astonishes you how one can just lock himself in a room for hours. What is it about him and doing that? Last time you paid a visit here Namjoon was eating the dinner he ordered in the room, instead of coming over to your house as he promised.

You punch in the code to the brand new building and a charming sound lets you know you may enter. You smile at the two security guards who give a slight smile then back to the blank expression towards the outside world.

Your heels click against the cold tile making your way over to the receptionist. The air smells fresh, as if someone had just cleaned the room again. The receptionist politely stands up quickly and greets you with a smile and a slight bow of her head.

“ Miss Yn, how may I assist you today?” Her eyes are warm and bright, along with her small smile at you. You wish you could feel happy in this current situation right now.  

“Is Namjoon in his studio again.”

‘‘ Yes Ma’m should I tell him that you are coming in?’‘ She says, smoothing her skirt out before sitting back down about to grab the phone.

You immediately shake your head no. Since he doesn’t like showing up and canceling dates he doesn’t need to know anything at all.

You force a fake smile upon yourself to please her. ‘‘No. It’s a surprise since we have not had the time to see each other in a while.’‘ Oh yes, a surpise it will be.

She nods her head, ‘‘ Yes ma’m. Have a nice night with him.’‘

You say your goodbyes to each other and you go your separate way down the hallway of studios. Each door standing out in it’s own way makes you smile.

Mang Gae Deok Room

Hope world

Golden Closet

Genius Lab

And finally, Mon Studio.

You fluff your hair a little bit before turning the corner to the secluded area. But something takes you by surprise, it makes you tense up. Eyes watering and a little whimper chokes out of you. So this is what he’s been doing. This is what he’s been up to for the past weeks.

Its as if almost you feel your heart stop beating for a mere second. As if the blood in your veins went cold. As if what you’re seeing right now is only your imagination but in reality it is not.

There he is, sitting in his chair while a female takes it upon herself to casually take a seat on his desk, smiling and laughing and all. The pain in your heart makes it hard for you to keep looking. Sure, you guys argue, but ditching plans to do whatever it is with a girl is a low blow. That’s all you can take. That’s all you can manage to see right before he turns to look at you in complete and utter shock. There is no stopping the flow of the tears coming down your warm cheeks.

You look down at the boxed up food you had bought him and the bottle of wine that you had taken then back up at the door. Raising the box in the air, you throw it against the window making the food splatter everywhere leaving a mess. The two inside jump at your actions, but you ignore them and just walk away with utter disbelief.

Foot steps and yelling are heard behind you but you don’t stop. You continue walking, but then speeding up your pace passing the receptionist, who is confused yet concerned, and pass the two security guards with no expression.

Running to the open, vacant elevator you quickly wipe your tears and repeatedly abuse the close button to keep Namjoon from joining you. The image of him you get just before the door closes, is him running attempting to get the elevator door to open. You make sure to make eye contact with him just so he can see your pain.

You sniffle heavily while hanging your head low walking to your apartment. You could understand if it was one of the boys in the recording room. It doesn’t look like a great situation, but the girl did seem comfortable enough with him to sit on his desk. So that only leads you to think about how long has she been around him. The thoughts barricade your mind and before you know it you are face to face with someone standing directly on your doormat.

You dont bother to look up already knowing that body structure. Instead you try and shove past him to unlock your home, but there’s no use because next thing you know you’re being held by your upper arms standing in-front of him.

‘‘ Namjoon I don’t want to fucking talk about it.’’ You grumble, shoveling yourself out his arms quick enough to unlock your apartment enough for you to slide through and slam shut.

Knocks are loud on your door to cause some neighbors to wonder. Let them wonder they can scold him themselves for causing so much of a scene.

‘‘ Yn im coming in.’‘ He yells through the door.

You roll your eyes and stand a few feet from the door with your arms crossed on your chest. The door gives a charm letting him know the pin-code was correct. He shuffles in lightly through the door and closes it gently behind him. You stand there waiting for his explanation as you slowly walk towards him.

‘‘ Yn-’‘

Smack!

It felt good for your hand to connect with his cheek. How dare he disrespect the relationship of you two like this?

Namjoon holds his now sore, red cheek and gives you a serious look, ‘’ That was unnecessary. Let me fuckin expl-’’

Smack!.

Your nose flared in and out as you breathe heavily with your eyebrows furrowed in anger. ‘’ Another woman Kim Namjoon? You didn’t show up to our date because you were doing god knows what with another woman?”

Namjoon bites his lip hard as his eyes narrow, ‘’ Stop fucking smacking me. Let me got damn explain you brat!’’ He yells, pushing you to against the wall.

Your strength towards him was no match. You try to run away but he pins you back onto the wall. You were useless at this point.

‘‘ What’s your problem! Calm down!’‘ He semi-yells, grabbing your face to  make you look at him. You look at him, you look him dead straight in the eyes with anger all over you.

‘‘ Shut up. Shut the fuck up Namjoon. I planned the date to talk about everything happening but you don’t show up? Instead you were chatting it up with another girl.” You pause, ripping your arms away from him. “ That’s not a good look for you.”

Namjoon steps back, scoffing in disbelief. That only pisses you off even more, but you decide that it had been enough smacking him for the night. ‘‘ I wasn’t cheating if you think that. You and I both know I wouldn’t do that, right?”

You glare at him, ‘’I don’t know you fucking tell me.’’

That one single sentence sets him off. Trust is something you two really try to have with each-other but lately that’s been all over the place. Questioning his loyalty to him is like a stab in the back with a sharp, piercing knife. Namjoon puts his hands on his head in shock while walking towards the kitchen. You follow him because the last thing he was going to do to you, is ignore the entire fucking conversation.

The silence is rough. You sit yourself down on one of the island chairs as you watch him pour himself a glass of wine. The one you had bought from the restaurant. The way his jaw locks with a serious pout on his face lets you know, he has some choice words to say. That sharp tongue is just holding it in.

But did you over-react? Perhaps you did? Either way, it wasn’t a great scene to walk in on. Your man and another woman alone in his studio. You can’t help but to have reacted that way. Wouldn’t any other person would? It’s not that she was there, it was the way she was very comfortable around Namjoon to the point of doing what she did. She was also a person you had never met.

Namjoon puts the tip of the glass to his lips, making direct eye contact with you as he takes a long sip of wine. You roll your eyes at his dramatic action.

He clears his throat, ‘‘ Im still young. I have female friends and I have male friends. I would love to have time with them before you start barking up my ass.”

Barking up his ass?

‘‘ So you’re saying that all you were doing was having fun with her cause you’re still got damn young huh? Is that what i’m hearing Namjoon?’‘ That rage begins in your stomach again. Simmering in you like boiling water.

You continue, “ It’s like you just don’t care you left me at the fucking restaurant looking stupid right?”

‘‘ No I wasn’t having fun with her. You ran out without letting me explain, instead you were all dramatic throwing fucking food at my windows.”  The sound of the glass clinking against the counter-top is sharp. You wince at the sound of it.

Maybe you did over-react. But in your defense, you still had no idea who the girl was.

“Yn, how childish can you be right now? Did you ever think that me, one of the members of a worldwide known boy-group will be busy? Hmm? Yes, I should of told you that I couldn’t make it beforehand. I honestly thought I would be able to join you, but I overlooked my schedule wrong. That is my fault. The girl came because she was scheduled to work on our collaboration tonight with me.”

Oh gosh. The guilt takes over your body all at once. This was the last thing you wanted to happen. You really outdid yourself now. During all your rage and tantrum about this situation, you had failed to realize that you had indeed signed up to live this type of relationship with him. Of course he’d be busy, he’s an idol. Not once did you take his feelings and thoughts into consideration this entire time.

“ I don’t know Yn, I don’t know if we can continue our relationship together. You and I seem to be clashing a lot now-a-days. You questioning my loyalty really hurt me. We should think about taking a break, or ending things.”

Tears well in your eyes but you just let them fall. Those words you never wanted to hear ever. Sure couples clash with each-other, but isn’t that what makes them stronger? It’d be One year and a half down the drain if things were to go south now. Namjoon is a sweet guy, but your recent over-reacting scenes is becoming too much for him.

There goes that silence again. You two just sit there, not saying a word. The tension is thick as wood. This isn’t right. This won’t be right. Th emotions in you are running high. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Things were only said in the heat of the moment. You were tired of him always canceling and didn’t even bother to let him explain. This could of been handled better.

“ I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve been wanting to spend time with you and you keep canceling on me Namjoon..”

He sighs, placing his now finished glass of wine in the sink. He runs his hands in his hair shaking his head again. “ I’m sorry for that. I should do a better job at telling you my schedule.”

It still hurts though. The way he said those words without hesitation. “ Do you.. still want us to take a break after this?”

“ I think that now that we understand each other a little more, we can work on being better together and not seperate.”

You’re happy to hear those words. Namjoon comes from behind the counter straight towards you where you were now standing beside the chair you were once sitting in. His arms snake around you and pull you into his chest, hugging you tightly. You sink into him, nuzzling your head into him with a small sigh.

“ I don’t like when we fight like this. You know I love you right? So much. So, so, much.” He whispers down to you. You nod your head in agreement. It’s something about being in his arms that soothe you.

You feel so complete with just the presence of him. He makes you happy, as you do him. Namjoon is understanding, caring, kind, and so much more to you. He was there for you on your worst days, and was there on your best days.

He plants a small kiss on your forehead, “ Let’s become better together yn. I want big plans for us in the future, and I don’t want to lose you.”

“ I want that for us too. I love you so much Namjoon. Even when things are bad for us, I care a lot about you.”

The butterflies in your stomach settle. Being in Namjoons arms is what home feels like to you. You’re secure and safe.

‘‘ Can you trust me next time? I promise from now on I will tell you in advance if I cannot participate instead of just leaving you wondering.‘

You nod your head, not caring about what he said but only caring about his embrace right now. The only thing you care about att he moment is him and his understanding.

‘‘ Can you trust me?’‘

[vecnawrites]

A Guide To ‘Wrestling’

A terminally innocent Joan finds one of Blake’s books and opens it just to see some funny positions with people. Immediately goes to Pyrrha telling her she found a funny wrestling book before showing her a copy of Kama Sutra and asking if Pyrrha wants to wrestle.

Joan hummed happily as she headed back to her dorm after turning in some make up work to Professor Goodwitch since she had been sick a few days ago, and was now free for the rest of her the day. She paused as she saw a hardcover book on the floor in the middle of the hallway. Blinking, the beautiful blonde walked over and picked it up, recognizing it as one that Blake always had her nose in when she should be paying attention in class.

Looking at the cover, the blonde titled her head. “Kama...Sutra…?” she tasted the words, her voice confused. What kind of book was this? Flipping it open, she blinked again, a puzzled look forming on her face. “Is it...a wrestling guide? Why would Blake have this?...and why are they naked?” she asked herself, before smiling. Maybe it was a wrestling guide for teammates? That would explain why Team RWBY was so close…

Tucking the book under her arm, Joan made her way back to the dorm with a bounce in her step, knowing that Pyrrha was waiting for her. Maybe she could do some of this with her?

Pyrrha Nikos sat on her bed in Team JNPR’s dorm, waiting for her precious, incredibly innocent partner to return. She, Ren, and Nora had pretty much come together to keep the adorable blonde from being taken advantage of by a great portion of the school, and the visiting schools as well. She had wanted to go with her, but Joan had insisted on going alone, saying that nothing would happen, leaving her to sigh and nod, trusting in her partner.

‘Speak of the angel…’ Pyrrha thought, relief flooding through her as the dorm room door opened, and Joan bounced in (doing magnificent things to her chest underneath her Pumpkin Pete hoodie) looking excited. “Pyrrha, guess what!? I found something we can do together!”

Pyrrha smiled sweetly at her partner and crush, despite the twitching her cock was doing in her panties. “What’s that, Joan?” Joan was very rarely ever unhappy with anything, but she also hardly ever this excitable, either.

“I found this book that Blake dropped,” Pyrrha’s eyes widened in complete horror, “And when I flipped it open, it showed all these wrestling poses for partners to do together! Look!” Joan opened the book and held it open in front of Pyrrha’s face. “Want to wrestle together?”

Pyrrha’s face burned. How had her lovable, so innocent partner mistaken a sex guide for a wrestling one? Fury at Blake filled her. She was going to skin that cat! Looking back up at Joan’s hope filled face, Pyrrha began to fumble for an answer. “A-A-Are you sure, Joan? I mean, the...the guide shows them naked…”

Joan giggled. “Pyrrha, we’re partners...and we’ve seen each other naked before in the locker rooms, you know? Heck, even in the dorms you all caught me naked by accident that one time I was changing!” she waved away Pyrrha’s concerns with a swipe of her hand.

‘Yeah, but you don’t know that most of those showers didn’t involve much actual showering…’ Pyrrha thought with guilt, her cock growing to its full length and popping out of the side of her panties, held fast to her thigh. She was thankful for that, otherwise her skirt would have flipped and Joan would have gotten quite the view.

Joan looked at Pyrrha, reaching out and cupping the blushing redhead’s cheek. “Are you uncomfortable with this? I could always go and ask someone else if they would like to do this with me? Ruby would probably find it fun!”

A dark fire filled Pyrrha at the thought of someone else taking advantage of Joan’s innocence and fucking her, using her and letting her just be a toy to them. She was worth so much more than that. “No!” she burst out, her voice far sharper than she had intended. She shook herself and continued. “No, that’s unnecessary, Joan...I’ll be happy to ‘wrestle’ with you.” despite the elation that filled Joan’s face, dread pooled in Pyrrha’s belly. She hoped she was strong enough to resist…

Pyrrha swallowed roughly, as she and Joan stood naked before one another. Joan’s massive, yet still perky breasts sticking out a great deal, no longer hampered or held back in any way by her bra or binder. Her wide hips flared out, leaving a significant thigh gap. The redhead was sure she her hand could fit in between her thighs and cup Joan’s core without being squeezed.

“Wow, Pyrrha! You’re so pretty! I’m jealous…” Joan pouted, looking over her partner’s body. Reaching out, she gently ran a hand over her muscled core, feeling the firm muscle under her skin. “I mean, you have just enough muscle, and your boobs aren’t so huge that you need custom bras, binders, and shirts…your butt is also the perfect size for your body...I mean, look at mine!” Joan turned and bent over at the waist, wiggling her plump butt. “I mean, mine jiggles every step I take, no matter how much I work out!”

Pyrrha groaned, her hard cock twitching mightily, drops of precum being thrown to the floor. How was Joan so innocent? There was no way she couldn’t know that showing off like this was effecting her...could she? She swallowed. She had to stay strong, she had to avoid pinning her beautiful, innocent, oblivious, sexy partner down and utterly fucking her into a senseless puddle of goo on her bed. “W-What pose do you want to try?” She couldn’t believe she was doing this. How was she going to keep herself sane?

Flipping through her guide, she smiled as she found the perfect one. “Here!” she chirped, showing Pyrrha eagerly, wondering why her partner suddenly made a choking sound. “Is...is this alright?” she asked, tilting her head.

Pyrrha could only nod, knowing that she was going to break because of this girl. There was no way she was going to be able to keep herself from breaking.

Joan giggled, squirming in Pyrrha’s hold. Her back was pressed against the redhead’s chest, and she was held up off the ground by Pyrrha’s strong hands by the underside of her thighs, leaving her lower legs and feet dangling.

Feeling Pyrrha’s penis brushing the inside of her thighs, Joan wiggled a bit more. “Oh!” she squeaked, feeling the tip prod against her lips, the firm head just grazing the surprisingly sensitive flesh…“Is that painful, Pyr?” she asked innocently, peering down between her spread thighs to get a better look.

Pyrrha whimpered as Joan wiggled and squirmed against her, that plump butt rubbing against her abs and pelvis, and feeling her cock being rubbed by those silky inner thighs, her tip just brushing against the entrance to what she was sure was heaven...she shuddered as she heard Joan’s question to her. “...yes…” her voice cracked as she spoke.

Joan frowned. “Well, do you want to put me down so you can make it better? I don’t mind waiting to wrestle together...I could give you a massage if you want?” she wiggled more, only to squeal as she was suddenly dropped, pussy speared by Pyrrha’s hard flesh.

Pyrrha begged for forgiveness from any deity that was listening to her, but damn it, he couldn’t take it anymore! Her partner offering to rub her dick was the last straw! She groaned as she dropped Joan on her cock, the tight grasping burning heat wrapping around her sensitive shaft. She buried her face into Joan’s neck, whimpering.

Joan breathed deeply, twitching as she slumped against Pyrrha, feeling herself flex and twitch around the beautiful redhead. “...ah...huh…?” she squeaked. She had never felt so good, so full before! She clenched down around the invader unconsciously, whining in pleasure.

Taking a deep breath and licking her lips, Pyrrha began to move, using her hands to lift Joan up off of her cock, before dropping her back down, thrusting her own hips up to give it that extra “oomph”.

Joan squeaked, fingers and toes curling and uncurling, shaking and quivering in Pyrrha’s grip. Her eyes rolled up in the back of her head as feelings she never knew filled her. She could twitch and jerk a bit, but not much else, being so overwhelmed.

Pyrrha groaned as she pumped herself into her suspended partner, pleasure coursing through her, along with elation that she was finally getting to be with the girl she loved so much. Guilt was the furthest thing from her mind at this point, her hips pumping upwards on autopilot.

Joan clenched again around what was inside her, her inner walls flexing every few seconds, feeling a knot forming in her lower belly, pleasure driving her up the wall. A long moan spilled from her mouth as the pleasure kept building, and building, and building...a loud keen spilled from her lips only getting higher and louder, until it culminated in a scream of ecstasy, her core clenching down on Pyrrha tightly.

Pyrrha gasped, stumbling back on the bed and dropping Joan on her cock, her balls pulsing and throbbing, eyes rolling back as she exploded, waves of thick cum shooting upwards into her precious partner’s unprotected core. She moved her hands, wrapping them around Joan’s midsection as it felt like every drop of cum was being wrung out of her balls.

Both lay on the bed, panting hard from the exertion they had gone through, attempting to catch their breath. Pyrrha, now that the orgasm haze was ending, felt shame fill her as she realized that she had taken advantage of her partner, despite the fact that her cock was twitching still, tucked within Joan’s warm core. How was she ever going to make it up to her?

Joan, however, was elated at bonding so much with Pyrrha, and seeing the book that allowed them this next to them, reached out and grabbed it, eagerly flipping through the pages for another position for them to try. Face lighting up as she found the perfect one, she acted.

Pyrrha squawked as Joan moved, twisting on her cock (a sensation that made her eyes roll back and her toes curl) and moving so she was sitting on her lap, face-to-face, an eager look on her beautiful features. “I found the next wrestling position that I want to try!”

Pyrrha could say nothing as Joan began to bounce on top of her, leaning forwards and smothering her face into the blonde’s bountiful tits. She whimpered, the sound being swallowed by Joan’s flesh. She couldn’t help herself, her hands darted out and grabbed Joan’s rear for purchase.

Joan whined happily as she bounced on top of Pyrrha’s lap, loving the feeling of her body. “Umm! Pyrrha...want to...keep doing this...all the time! Love this...bonding with you! Can we do it every day!?” Joan cried out as she felt the wonderful pleasure again, and knew it was all thanks to her beloved partner. She needed to do something nice for her...after a few more wrestling positions, of course!

Pyrrha squealed into Joan’s chest as she came again, her body somehow having more cum in it. She barely heard Joan’s words, but her cock twitched eagerly within Joan’s depths. Maybe Blake losing the book was a blessing in disguise?

[parvuls]

fic: in the space between (1/2)

the astronauts/scifi au literally no one asked for.   a 3k ficlet of eric bittle thriving in places the world thinks he can’t -- in every single universe.

(part 1 | part 2 | read on ao3)

-

    FABER 15 AIR-TO-GROUND TRANSCRIPTIONS

  00 00 00 34 CAPCOM L. DUAN

Just letting you know your trajectory is headed straight into Driucs, Zimmermann. Over.

00 00 00 41 COMMANDER J. ZIMMERMANN

Roger. We copy that, Houston. Changing courses now. 

00 00 00 48 CAPCOM L. DUAN

Get on that. Things aren’t looking good ahead. Over.

00 00 00 55 SECOND PILOT B. KNIGHT

Can’t believe you don’t fucking trust this guy. He’s already tense as shit, Lards, you got nothin’ to worry about. 

00 00 00 57 SECOND PILOT B. KNIGHT

Over.

00 00 01 06 CAPCOM L. DUAN

Keep it clean on the coms, Faber 15. Administration is already on your case. Over.

00 00 01 12 COMMANDER J. ZIMMERMANN

Roger. You’re welcome to come shut him up. Over.

00 00 01 19 CAPCOM L. DUAN

Wish I could, Zimmermann. Change courses, now. Or I’m stealing a ship and coming to beat your ass. 

00 00 01 22 CAPCOM L. DUAN

Off record, Houston. Delete from written transcriptions. 

00 00 01 24 CAPCOM L. DUAN

Just get out of dodge, Faber 15. Over. 

00 00 01 30 COMMANDER J. ZIMMERMANN

Roger. Trajectory adjusted, should be going around Driucs. Over.

00 00 01 36 CAPCOM L. DUAN

(Music: “It’s About Time”)

.

  Driucs is a ball of hot pink mottled with orange from the sandstorms raging on its surface. Shitty thinks that it’s pretty, wants to screencap the ship’s monitors so he can ask Lardo for a painting of it later. Jack thinks that it’s an unnecessary hazard ringed with a dense asteroid belt, and that all he wants to do is bypass it as quickly as possible without colliding with a mass of solid carbon.

“Chillax,” Shitty says to this, kicking his feet up to the control panel. His toes are edging the radar display, and Jack grinds his teeth, shoves them off without bothering to argue about it once again. He’s so tense that he doesn’t even comment on Shitty’s choice of socks; galaxy printed with tiny marijuana leaves, crisse. “Everything will be A-OK. Always fucking is, Jacko.”

Jack wipes his brow with the back of his hand, shifts his hold on the control wheel and tries to focus on getting them through safely. “You know I hate it when you’re being cavalier.”

The door to the flight deck slides open, and someone exclaims, “Oh, what a view!”. Jack doesn’t need to turn his head; Bittle walks up between the two piloting seats, leans right on the center panel to gaze up at Driucs through the big windows. “It’s absolutely gorgeous, ain’t it? We should make a stop there.”

It’s what he always says. Jack specifically asked Holster to keep Bittle in the sleeping quarters until they’re out of the Merudan System because he’s got no patience for this right now. “It runs a hundred and two degrees, Bittle. We can’t make a stop there.”

Bittle talks about everything like they’re driving Route 66 down to Arizona and landing on a foreign planet is just a stop at Wendy’s for a Vanilla Frosty mid-roadtrip. Some days Jack can’t believe NASA ever let him out of the Solar System; other days, he thinks that maybe they did this so he’d never come back.

Bittle either doesn’t notice Jack’s impatient tone or, most likely, chooses to ignore it completely. “A hundred and two degrees is just another hot day in Georgia,” he huffs, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Goodness, it must stop being winter in Canada sometimes, does it not?”

Shitty snorts. His feet are back on the panel again, scratching against each other absently. “I think he means a hundred and two degrees Celsius, brah.”

Bittle pauses, hovers over Jack’s shoulder for a moment. And then says, “Oh. Well, that is rather warm, indeed.”

.

  They picked Bittle up from a tiny space station right by Cleto, where they'd stopped for supplies. The order came from high up in Houston, and was very specific: Bittle was to join them on all ground missions until further notice, and was to lead all communication with nonhum species. They were provided with no background information or justification for expanding Jack’s crew, and Flight Director Hall hung up on Jack when he tried asking.

Bittle, the moment he stepped into the ship through airlock, pulled off his helmet to reveal a head of blonde hair and a radiant smile. His suit had pins of rainbows and bunnies on it next to the American flag, blatantly disobeying uniform regulations. He offered his hand for an enthusiastic handshake despite the bulky EV glove covering it -- without decontaminating first -- and Jack’s first thought was that all of it must be a joke. 

But it wasn’t. It’s been three months since orders came and no further notice was given. Instead, every day since has been filled with ceaseless chatter and pop music playing in the communal area and Bittle’s petulant morning complaints about intergalactic coffee being just not the same.

“You’re not even trying,” Shitty tells Jack nearly every night. He’s made a habit of crawling into Jack’s bunk since their first year on the same crew, gives bullshit excuses about how Jack keeps him warm in the cold, cold outer space. It’d be less troublesome if he at least bothered to put some clothes on to save Jack the uncomfortable conversations with Mission Control Center about workplace relations. “Do not motherfuckin’ lie to my face, Zimmermann -- you are not trying, you didn’t try once, Bittle is a tiny Southern bundle of delight and you’d like the shit out of him if you could get over your sorry ass and try.”

But Jack doesn’t want to try. Jack wants to get to his annual performance review and pass with spotless marks, which may as well not happen if Bittle insists on striking conversation with every nonhum race they encounter during the simplest of missions. Jack didn’t leave Earth to make friends, neither with crewmates nor alien species, and he certainly isn’t looking for friends who put his job at risk.

Shitty won’t stop pestering him about it, though, so Jack takes to pushing him out of the bed and shoving a pillow over his ears. It doesn’t make Shitty stop talking, but Jack is good at pretending to fall back asleep.

.

  Evor is five days’ flight past Dricus. Jack assembles a mission brief in the communal area the night before landing, gathers the boys around the large screens covering the rounded center of the ship. The screens are currently displaying all known information about the people of Evor, who are notoriously unfriendly and are especially inhospitable towards humans. There are reasons, Jack figures, but he never looked too deeply into it; he has no intention of contacting them at all.

“Mission goal is to extract soil samples from the mines on the mountainous side of the planet,” Jack says. The images on the screen behind him switch on voice command, are now a rotating photo of said mines. “It’s mostly unpopulated, so there shouldn’t be any run-ins with the locals. Mission estimated time is three hours on Earth clock.”

Ransom shoves his hand into the bag of chips balanced between Holster and him with a contemplating expression. “Sounds like child’s play. We all going in?”

“Yes,” Jack crosses his arms. He’s no doubt that any of the boys would like to stay behind and get a few extra hours of rest, but he doesn’t like taking unneeded risks. There’s strength in numbers, and he feels safer knowing that they have several eyes watching several backs out there. “Solid landing, no risk to the ship, no reason for anyone to stay here. Get your gear ready tonight.”

“Wait, Jack --” it’s Bittle. Of course it’s Bittle. Jack takes a deep breath and turns to him. He’s sitting in a single seat, legs crossed and hands clasped in his lap. “Listen, I’m not sure it’s such a great idea.” Jack’s scowl must be deeper than usual, because Bittle cringes and hurries to explain, “I mean, no offence to your -- mission planning, or. You’re usually great at that. I just mean, the Evor people don’t like strangers, and they sure as heck won’t like us, and they’re a people of warriors, you know, like, they make their money off lending their fighting skills to other armies --”

“Is there a point to this?” Jack cuts him off. It’s not that he doesn’t think Bittle means well, because he’s not blind: Bittle is made of nothing but good intentions and sunshine demeanor. His tendency to babble on and on simply isn’t welcome during mission briefs. Too time-consuming. 

“Yes,” Bittle insists. He looks unhappy, a tiny furrow wrinkling at his forehead. “Going in with more than two or three men can be seen as a threat, and I just don’t think --”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jack interrupts, “because if all of you will follow orders there’s no reason for us to come across them or stay on the ground for long enough to be perceived as anything but transients. Leaving crewmates behind is a risk that we won’t be taking.”

“But --”

“End of story, Bittle,” Jack says, and it’s louder, meaner than it usually would be. He can see Shitty frowning at him from the corner of his eye, can see Holster glaring into his handful of chips. He gets that they feel overprotective of Bittle, being the smallest and the newest, but if Bittle wants to be part of the crew he’s got to either get with the program or quit. Jack can’t lower his professionalism standards just because Bittle might be offended. “Any more questions?”

There’s silence, so Jack adjourns the brief and turns away. He can hear, muttered from somewhere behind him, “Yeah, what crawled up your ass?”. He chooses to ignore it and focus on turning off the screens, instead of giving it enough thought to start doubting himself.

.

  The worst thing is: Jack can’t figure out how the hell Bittle got there.

“I think he has a degree in like, sociology or something, man,” Holster told him a few weeks after Bittle had come aboard, while they were waiting outside the showers and listening to Bittle’s off-key rendition of a song that’d been in the radio maybe a decade before. “A master’s, I think, definitely no doctorate.”

Holster actually really liked Bittle, right off the bat; they all did, bar Jack, which just made the whole situation even more irritating. But they hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep that night and Bittle’s singing was truly awful, so Holster was probably feeling less kind than usual.

“Shitty’s got four PhDs,” Jack said, banging his head back against the wall, abstractedly thinking that a concussion might make the singing stop. “Ransom’s getting his second one now. While in space. You don’t think it’s fucked that some undereducated humanities kid from nowhere, Georgia is going through the cosmos like he’s on a third grade school trip?”

Because Bittle was terrible at physics, and he paled visibly whenever someone started talking about biomechanics, and Jack had once caught him snoozing while Ransom had been fervently explaining the primary composition of Krer’s atmosphere. The most insulting part of it all, probably, was that NASA used to demand a STEM degree to even qualify for a program, and Bittle barely had a dubious understanding of astronomy, while traveling space.

Of course, the moment the words were out of Jack’s mouth the singing stopped and the bathroom door slid open, Bittle standing behind it. He was wrapped in a towel, beads of water still lingering on his temple, dripping down his cheekbones. His face was red, blotchy, but the hard expression on his face made Jack think that the color wasn’t necessarily from the water temperature. 

“Excuse me,” he said, voice uncharacteristically cold. His shoulder knocked into Jack’s when he passed them, leaving behind a wet patch on Jack’s shirt. Bittle was small, and the door was adequately sized, and there were a good two meters between Holster and Jack, which left the obvious conclusion that it was most definitely on purpose. 

Holster followed his departure with bleary eyes, shifting the bundle of clothes in his hands guiltily. “I think he heard you, bro.”

Jack rubbed at the wet patch with his right hand. “No kidding,” he grunted, and couldn’t really find it in himself to care.

.

  Bittle seems wary from the moment they step foot on the jagged surface of Evor. Holster and Ransom force their way into the space by his sides, bracketing him like two towering bodyguards. They do their best at trying to get him to lighten up while climbing up to the mines; the crew figured out that they all played hockey at some point of high school, so Holster is animatedly explaining the rules of zero-G hockey, all of which he’s made up himself. 

“And sometimes we do full out matches when we meet other ships,” Ransom says, struggling with the unfamiliar gravity force to hoist himself up a big rock. “But a few months ago we were on Islikaru and there was this Russian crew, and this dude, Alexei, oh my god --”

A few small stones tumbling downhill bump into Jack’s boot, drawing his attention away from Ransom’s voice, and he mutes the coms to listen closely for any noises. There’s a rumbling coming from the other side of the mountain. It sounds like -- oncoming thunders, maybe, or a little like --

“Prepare for attack,” Jack turns the coms back on immediately, dives in front of Shitty to block the crew’s path up to the mines. Shitty stumbles, catches himself with one knee and both palms flat on the ground. “Abandon mission, now! Back to the ship!”

A dozen of Evor warriors descend from beyond the peak of the mountain, closing in on them faster than they can run. Jack’s crew doesn’t carry weapons. The Evor warriors are big, look like an odd mix of a gorilla and an elephant that’d be classified as some sort of reptile. Ostie de tabarnak, Jack knows next to nothing about them, and definitely nothing about how to beat them in a fight three-on-one. 

“We’d never make it back on time!” Shitty yells, clambering to his feet and shoving the rest of the boys back down the mountain anyway. He’s right, but Jack has no backup plans and less than no time to come up with any. This was not supposed to happen, there was no reason for this to happen. They’ve been on Evor ten minutes, not even that.

Bittle jumps from between Holster and Ransom, scrambling up to reach Jack. He grabs Jack’s arm, face white and rapid breaths fogging up the visor. His expression is just as terrified as the rest of them, but Jack has never seen him this determined. It makes his feature look sharper, less angelic. “Let me go talk to them! Jack, let me --”

“What?” Jack rips his arm away, tries to shove Bittle back towards the ship as fast as he can. “Bittle, are you insane, they’re coming to attack us --!”

“Because we seem like a threat!” Bittle yells. The volume of his voice catches Jack by surprise, gets him to stop racing down for a moment just long enough to remember that Bittle said the same thing at the previous night’s mission brief. That Bittle must be holding himself back from screaming, I told you so, and now look where we are. “Let me go talk to them, I can explain the situation --”

“No! They’ll attack you before you get a word out --”

“They won’t! I understand their culture, the way they work -- Jack, you just -- you gotta let me try!”

“You’ll die --”

“Oh, Lord, we’re gonna die either way, so what’ve you got to lose, Zimmermann? You gotta trust me to have your back! ”

Jack stops. His breathing is loud in his ears, heart pounding. Shitty, Holster and Ransom are ten meters down the mountain, staring at Bittle and he wide-eyed, waiting for a decision. The Evor people are fast, and they look furious; they’re ninety or maybe a hundred meters away, and closing the gap with every second. Jack swallows, tramps down the panic rising in his throat. 

“Go,” he says finally, voice gravelly. “Go, Bittle.”

Bittle gives him one last wild look, and runs towards imminent death. 

.

  FABER 15 CREW GROUND-TO-GROUND TRANSCRIPTIONS

  00 00 02 04 CAPCOM L. DUAN

Faber 15, Faber 15, this is Houston. Over.

00 00 02 06 CAPCOM L. DUAN

Faber 15, this is Houston. What is going on. Over.

00 00 02 09 CAPCOM L. DUAN

Faber 15, this is Houston. Answer me. Over.

00 00 02 11 CAPCOM L. DUAN

Goddamnit boys, what happened!

00 00 02 14 COMMANDER J. ZIMMERMANN

Houston, this is Faber 15 returning to ship. Over.

00 00 02 17 CAPCOM L. DUAN

Jesus Christ, Jack. Tell me what happened.

00 00 02 21 SECOND PILOT B. KNIGHT

Jesus’ got nothing to do with this, Lardo. This was all Eric R. Bittle.

00 00 02 25 COMMANDER J. ZIMMERMANN

Mission didn’t go as planned. Sending you a full report as soon as we’re back on board. Over.

00 00 02 29 CAPCOM L. DUAN

Roger. Tell me everyone’s okay, Zimmermann. Over.

00 00 02 34 SECOND PILOT B. KNIGHT

Alive and kickin’. Can’t get rid of us that easy. But seriously, tell whoever sent us Bittle that I’m getting them a fruit basket whenever I’m back on Earth. 

00 00 02 38 CAPCOM L. DUAN

Roger. I’ll tell them to expect that. Get that report done ASAP, Zimmermann. And never do this to me again. Over.

00 00 02 42 COMMANDER J. ZIMMERMANN

Roger, Houston. Out.  

.

  The boys all separate into their quarters as soon as they’re back in the ship, their postures slumping and their hair damp with cold sweat. Jack stays behind, twists the airlock chamber shut. It feels like his entire body is heavier than usual, and it isn’t because of the ship’s gravity. 

When he looks up, he finds that Bittle’s still there; there’s an uncomfortable pause when they both hesitate by the passageway. Bittle’s back is turned to Jack, muscles tense beneath the dark fabric of his undershirt, but his head is tilted over his shoulder, searching for Jack’s eyes. His face is closed off, looks as blank as it can get. Jack’s hands clench into fists by his side and it makes the rubber of the gloves creak. He works his jaw as he tries to find the right words to say.

“That was --” he begins, and then swallows with difficulty. Bittle doesn’t turn to fully face him, only lifts his gaze until their eyes lock together. There’s spots of furious red high on his cheeks, his mouth pressed thin. Jack has no idea how to translate this information into any sort of social clue. “You. Euh. That was good, Bittle. Good work.”

Bittle’s mouth parts, his eyebrows knitting together, but his chin drops down so his expression is hidden from Jack’s view before he can try to read into it further. His right hand, leaning on the passage frame and keeping him in the mid-motion of leaving, tightens almost imperceptibly.

“Thanks, Commander,” Bittle says finally. His voice is steady, neutral. He’s still facing away. “Just doing my job.” 

He carries on walking away, then, like his pause in the passageway never occurred at all. The insulating door slides closed behind him, and Jack is left standing in his gear, staring at the white expanses of the walls. He has this sinking feeling that he made a critical misstep has no idea how to undo.

[mimirexx]

Im super duper late for the jeanpikuweek i feel so bad ;-; but i finally finished this work! I chose the promts AU, saving and alliance and tried to put it into a fic somehow! Since it got a little long i divided it into three chapters and will post one chapter each day 😌

Read it on AO3 or under the cut!

Breakout

An AU where Jean is a shifter and got caught by Zeke and his men. Beside the torture he was receiving, Pieck visits him and the two start to get closer. They want to escape together - but at what costs?

TW: torture, beating, rape (no explicit rape, not between Jean and Pieck!), blood, violence, angst

Chapter one - Chapter two - Chapter three

Deep down in a basement where no sunlight reached sat Jean, a man unfortunate enough to have been captured and imprisoned during a failed mission. He had long forgotten what day it was, spent too much time in the darkness to distinguish between day and night.

Heavy chains hung around his wrists, not allowing him to move more than a few feet away from the wall. There was a thin mattress on the ground where he slept and a shabby piece of cloth that couldn’t be called blanket in any possible way. The cell he was locked up in was small, the stone floor so cold.

They ripped off his clothes before they threw him inside, leaving him in nothing but his underwear, mainly to ensure he had no chance to hide any weapons whatsoever but Jean had a feeling it was also to humiliate him. He was on enemy territory, so of course they would use every opportunity to humiliate and torture him. Nevertheless, he never gave away any information. They could do whatever they wanted, Jean wouldn’t lose a word.

Whether it was beating him up, burning his skin or slicing off his limbs, the shifter remained silent. There was nothing that could make him betray his friends and comrades. Their safety was the top priority, he would be fine as long as they didn’t kill him- which he didn’t think was their intention. At least not until they knew what they wanted to know.

He’d be fine until then.

~

“Why the long face?” A male voice spoke up, standing in front of his cell. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

Jean didn’t answer, instead just stared at the same spot on the wall he was staring at for hours. One would say there was something really interesting on it with how long and intensely Jean already stared at it. He was thinking deeply, thinking of a way to escape that cell.

Though, he had no idea where he was. Even if he made it out, he didn’t know where to go, which made him an easy target to get captured a second time and receive even worse treatment. The smartest move was to stay where he was and try to gain more information. Everything else would be suicide.

The male stepped into Jean’s cell, the sounds of his boots echoing as he approached the brunet. Only when he stood right in front of him did Jean look up and immediately received a kick in the stomach, making him groan.

Jean kept his volume as low as he could because he didn’t want to give anyone the satisfaction of hurting him. The man crouched down and turned Jean’s face towards him, his lips curled into a mischievous grin.

“My, my. You’re such a nuisance, you know?” He laughed. “Just tell us where your people are and you’re free. Are they really worth all this? I don’t think so, they aren’t even looking for you.”

The brunet looked up at the person that was Floch Forster, a man who betrayed the Survey Corps along with some others, and furrowed his brows in response. It could’ve been about a month already if Jean counted right and his chances of being rescued were shrinking with each passing day, but Jean wasn’t a person to lose hope. If his comrades didn’t come to help him out, he would find a way out by himself. Either worked fine.

“All of this could end right now,” Floch said while looking into Jean’s eyes. “You’re not who we are after. You don’t need to go through all this. If you tell me where the Commander is, I promise you will never have to see any of us again.”

“Fuck you.” Jean said very simply and spat into Floch’s face. “Different from you, I’m not a traitor.”

The redhead’s expression darkened at Jean’s action and his hand found its way around the other’s neck. “Hah, I just like being on the winning team. And I’ve been nice up until now but spitting at me? That’s intolerable.”

Before Jean had the chance to say much more, he was forcefully pressed down against the stone floor. Floch knelt down behind him and used his free hand to pull Jean’s underwear down.

“That needs to be punished, don’t you think?” He kept Jean pressed down against the ground and rubbed the tip of his member against his entrance.

Jean shivered in discomfort and cringed. That was about the most disgusting thing Floch could do, but not even that was enough to make Jean talk. He was convinced to keep quiet, especially in front of Floch.

“Just do what you have to do and leave me alone.” He muttered and closed his eyes. He wanted this to be over quick because any minute he spent without Floch around him was a minute well spent.

Floch didn’t need to be told twice.

Jean was left alone afterwards again and decided to lay on the mattress to spend the rest of the time there until he would fall asleep. It didn’t take long for him to do so and give his body and mind some rest.

~

When he woke up a few hours later, he was surprised to see that his blanket was draped over him. He blinked a couple of times before shrugging it off and looking around.

The second surprise was a person standing in his cell. After squinting a little, he saw that it was a very short person. The black hair gave it away and Jean slowly sat up. He winced a little, feeling sore, but managed to sit anyway.

“You look awful,” the ravenette hung up the torch on the wall and sat down in front of Jean.

“I’m sorry for not getting ready and greeting you properly,” Jean rolled his eyes.

Pieck giggled. “I forgive you, but only this once. Here, I brought you some stew. It’s still warm.” She carefully placed a tray in front of Jean as she said that.

He stared at the bowl of steaming stew and looked away. “I don’t want it,” he lied. The only things he got to eat were bread and sometimes an apple if he was lucky enough. Not that it affected him much, his titan powers allowed his endurance to grow stronger. He could stay weeks without food and would be fine if he wanted to. Not to mention that Pieck was the enemy.

A gorgeous, kind and caring enemy who brought him a little food whenever she came.

She was the only one who hadn’t made a wrong move on him yet. That didn’t earn her his full trust, however, he enjoyed her company. It was a nice change.

“It’s not poisoned or anything, look.” She scooped a spoonful of the stew and ate it, showing her empty mouth afterwards to prove her point. “It’s safe to eat and you need to eat something proper before you pass out or anything.”

“I’ll be fine,” he denied anyway and leaned his back against the wall. “Shifter and all.”

“I don’t care.” She lifted the bowl and filled the spoon with stew before holding it out for him. “Just eat it.”

“Will you tell me where we are if I eat it?”

“You know I can’t,” Pieck moved the spoon a little closer, “now open your mouth.”

Jean narrowed his eyes. He couldn’t deny that the stew smelled really good, and Pieck ate from it, it had to be safe. So he eventually opened his mouth and ate the spoonful, chewing it slowly while savoring the taste. It had vegetables and potatoes and even some meat. It’s been a while since he last had meat.

“...I can eat by myself.” He insisted and took the bowl and spoon from Pieck. It was a little embarrassing to be fed like a child.

Pieck let him and rested her hands on her lap. Her expression turned a little more serious, her brows furrowing. “What did Floch do?”

“The usual.” Jean replied nonchalantly.

“Can’t be, I don’t see any injuries…”

He paused to look up at her for a moment. “Healed. Not important.”

Pieck was quiet and lowered her gaze slightly. It seemed she put one and one together and didn’t need any further explanation.

As the cell fell into silence, Jean ate more of the stew, eating rather quickly so he would finish soon and avoid getting any of them in danger. But one question was on his mind.

“Why are you doing this?”

Pieck tilted her head. “Doing what?”

“Bringing me extra food and all… Is that your way of coaxing me to get information?” He raised a brow.

“Ouch, that’s not nice to hear. Although I understand why you think this way.” She shrugged and gave him a little smile, “that’s not my intention nor my job. I know we’re at war and that information is very precious but I do not like the way you’re being treated... You’re a human being just like the rest of us and I wouldn’t want one of my comrades to be treated like that if they were in a similar situation… So I’m trying to make it a little easier for you.”

Jean stared for a moment before he gave a nod and continued to eat. He wasn’t sure if Pieck’s words were genuine. She did sound like she meant what she said so, for the time being, he left it at that.

“Don’t you get in trouble for being here anyway? What if they find out you’re bringing me food?” Jean questioned next. Up until now, that was Pieck’s fourth or maybe fifth visit. She always brought him something small to eat. He did not want to draw any unnecessary attention.

“They won’t, it’s my turn to watch over the prisoners so I need to be here anyway.” She crossed her legs and leaned back against her palms. “And don’t worry about the food. I know what I’m doing.”

Jean was a little hesitant but nodded anyway. Nobody noticed that he was getting extra food or a chance to have a decent conversation with another person and he would rather keep it that way. “I see… I hope for you that this isn’t any kind of trick.”

“No way,” Pieck shook her head, “you’re too smart to play any tricks on. And I’m starting to like your company, so this is a win-win for both of us.”

“Mhm..”

The brunet was quick to finish the bowl and set it back down on the tray. “Thank you for the meal.”

Pieck smiled and leaned forward again. “You’re more than welcome. You know, talking with you is way more fun than talking with the others.”

“What, because I’m half naked?” He joked, making Pieck giggle.

“Of course not! Although I have to admit, that’s definitely a sight to behold,” she wiggled her eyebrows playfully.

Jean rolled his eyes and leaned back against the wall again. He couldn’t help the little smile from forming on his lips.

“What I meant,” she said, “talking with you, it feels so different. Makes me feel careless. It’s like talking to a good friend.”

“A friend, huh…” Jean repeated before shrugging. He missed his friends, they were all precious to him. What he would give to see one of them now... It’s been so long.

“Is there anything else I can get you for today?” Pieck spoke while taking the tray and standing up.

“How about the keys for these?” He lifted one hand, making the chains rattle. “And a map?”

Pieck smiled with sympathy and grabbed the torch. “Dummy. You have the keys and map to my heart, that’s the only ones I can give you. You know that.” She hummed and walked out of the cell, making sure to lock it behind herself before waving. “See ya.” And she disappeared in the dark.

Jean watched her leave and exhaled deeply. He already knew Pieck wouldn’t give him any of these but it was still worth a try. Even if only to humor himself.

It was after Pieck’s visits that Jean felt a little better. It was like she was restoring his energy so he could make it through another day or week. Talking with her was so calm and without any pressure, it was so easy.

He might not fully trust her but he still looked forward to the next time he would be able to have a chat with Pieck.

~

A few days or so later, Jean didn’t know how long it was, Zeke personally came down to his cell. He was in charge of these people and the whole mission, Jean learned. He was the one who suggested kidnapping one of the shifters to turn the tables. This far, it didn’t appear to benefit him much since Jean didn’t give away any information and the Survey Corps had yet to make a move towards them.

The brunet glanced up when the door of his cell was unlocked and the tall blond walked inside. Behind him stood a few other soldiers with rifles pointed at him. He stared at them before shifting his gaze up at Zeke.

“Jean Kirstein, am I right? I gotta say I’m quite impressed.” The blond stopped right in front of Jean and rubbed over his beard.

Jean just stared, the indifference obvious on his expression.

“You’ve been here for more than two weeks and haven’t lost a word. That’s quite exceptional.”

Just two weeks? It felt so much longer. But then again, Jean lost every sense of time he had. He couldn’t even tell if it was day or night at the moment.

Zeke hummed and tilted his head. “Aren’t you a smart man? You should know that your friends will not find you here, never. And you should also know that we will not stop searching for them. We’re at advantage. If you tell us where they are, we will let you leave. I will even prepare you a lunch bag for the way, how does that sound?”

“You don’t think I believe you would really let me go, do you?” Jean raised a brow before a sly grin came to his lips. “Kick and punch me all you want, tell your men to rape me as many times as your sick brain feels like. Do whatever pleases you. You’re not getting anything out of me.”

It was Zeke’s turn to stare. His eye twitched a little. He cleared his throat and nodded, “I see. Then we just need to continue trying out new things until we find something that works. Or until I’m sick of it and just feed you to someone.”

He waved two fingers, making one of the soldiers at the door enter the cell with something in his hands. Once he was close enough, Jean could see that it was some kind of bottle with a colorless liquid inside. At first glance, it looked like a bottle of water.

But Zeke wasn’t that innocent.

“Have you ever touched sulfuric acid?” He took the bottle and opened it, crouching down in front of Jean.

Well, that made him a little tense.

“Curious to know what this does to the skin?” Zeke’s glasses reflected the light of the nearby torch. The grin on his face didn’t make the situation any better.

Jean clenched his teeth and glared. “Tsk…”

“Where is your base?” Zeke questioned.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you climb some trees and search for it, Monkey?” Jean spat, unintimidated.

And that was when Zeke splashed a generous amount of the acid over Jean. It hit his face, stomach, arms and legs, causing Jean to cry out loudly. Every single drop of the acid burned in such a cruel way, turning his skin into a bright red mess with many blisters. It burned mercilessly through his flesh and Jean felt every drop of it having its effect on him.

He groaned and panted heavily, biting his lower lip in an attempt to stifle his noises. His body naturally began regenerating and steam rose to the ceiling. Jean looked at Zeke, shot him a look of disgust.

“Did that help your memory?” Zeke questioned with a dark expression. “Will you tell me now?”

Jean took a few deep breaths. Then he smirked. “H-hah? That only tick-tickled a bit... You-you gotta try better.”

The blond snarled and grabbed Jean’s face with one hand, shoving the bottle into his mouth with the other. “Then I’m sure you won’t mind this!” He tilted Jean’s head up so the liquid would run down his throat.

Jean tried moving his face away somehow while he tried to scream and felt how the acid burned his insides. From his air pipe down to his lung and guts. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling at all. In fact, that was the worst kind of pain he had ever experienced. It was a hundred times worse than just getting the acid on his skin.

It felt like he was melting from the inside, like he was decomposing while the acid devoured his organs and bones. He wanted to cough and throw up and breathe at the same time, wanted to get the acid out again. But chained up and held in place, he had no chance to defend himself. And for a split second, he was considering Zeke’s offer. The pain messed with his mind.

When Zeke finally pulled the bottle away because it was empty, Jean fell back and began wheezing. Breathing was almost impossible now and Jean was on the brink of passing out. Even though his body was regenerating itself, it would surely take a while and the pain was unbearable.

Zeke said something Jean didn’t hear. A few moments later, he did pass out and laid sprawled out across the floor. His mouth hung open, steam passing his lips with his body’s desperate attempt to heal itself.

This was rough. This Zeke was insane, a maniac, and he was sure he would get to experience even more of these psychotic torture methods in the next days.

But as crazy as Zeke might be, Jean was stubborn and strong. He just needed to hold on. And maybe he needed to find a way to escape earlier before all of this could cost him his life and pain wasn’t a pleasant feeling.

~

Jean groaned in discomfort and reached up a trembling hand to press it against his stomach. It already was much better from when the acid burned him but the soreness and irritation was still there. His body already healed most of the damage, Jean could tell, but it wasn’t fully done just yet.

His eyes blinked open tiredly to get a view of his surroundings. Still in the cell, still chained up. The only difference from the last time he was awake was that he was now laying on the mattress with the blanket over his body. There was something strange under his head too.

“Jean? Can you hear me?” He heard a tender voice by his side and turned his head slightly to look up at the person.

Upon seeing the worried expression on her face, Jean’s lips tugged into a tiny smile. “Your voice is… is soft like an angel’s... Not sure i-if I’m already dead…” He murmured and closed his eyes again.

“Oh, God… I’m so glad you finally woke up…” Pieck whispered, her hand coming up to run through Jean’s long hair.

“Don’t tell me... you were worried about the enemy. That’s.. That’s not how it works, Pieck.” He let out a small chuckle which ended in heavy coughing.

“Jean!” She exclaimed and turned him onto his side quickly, patting his back to help him ride out the cough. “Stop talking, you’re not in the condition to talk now. You need to rest so your body can focus on healing.”

Jean laid back once he got a grip of himself and let out a weak sigh. He glanced up at Pieck again and looked into her eyes. He wasn’t sure if he saw tears in them because he couldn’t focus too hard but it was easy to see that she was very sad.

“‘M fine,” he assured her and lifted his hand which Pieck took into her own. Her much smaller hands embraced his big one, squeezed him.

Pieck looked into his eyes and this time he saw rage in them, something he had never seen before. She always wore a smile on her face, so Jean never imagined how it’d look like if Pieck got angry. It was scary, in a way, to see her enraged, out of all people.

“You were unconscious for two days… Zeke went too far this time. He’s gotten so gruesome ever since all of this started, he’s not the person I once trusted anymore. I can’t trust someone who would go this far only for dumb information.” She stated, her voice loud enough for Jean to hear but still kept quiet.

“Jean.” She gave his hand another squeeze, “I’ll help you out of here. I thought Zeke was a good person- he’s clearly not. And I’m not gonna sit and watch how his actions will get worse from here on.”

Jean was silent for a moment, letting Pieck’s words process in his head. Surely, hearing that she would help him wasn’t what he expected, and he couldn’t tell if this was a trap or not. After what Zeke did, he had to be much more careful now.

“You just couldn’t resist my charm, could you?” He joked.

“Maybe that’s true too.” She reached one hand down and smoothed out Jean’s hair. “But I’m serious. You don’t deserve such treatment only because you're the ‘enemy’. I’ve made my decision.”

The brunet closed his eyes when he felt Pieck’s hand on his head. It’s been a while since he last received a tender touch and with Pieck it felt so right. He knew that it could be a trap but it was the most gorgeous and kindest trap ever.

For a moment, he wanted to believe Pieck’s words. Just for one moment.

When it was only him and her, Jean felt like everything was right. She always sounded so sincere and genuine and honest… always treated him as equal and even almost like a friend. Maybe that was how Pieck was and maybe she was honest about wanting to help him. This was a tough decision.

“Can you tell me where we are exactly?” He opened his eyes to look up at the ravenette, awaiting an answer from her.

Pieck gave a small nod. “We’re in an open area, about ten miles away from the nearest forest. They’ve spent weeks building this place to hold someone - preferably a shifter - captive. Right now, we’re underground. So if you planned to transform to leave, you’d have to get to the surface first or else you’ll be stuck in the ground. It’s too small.”

Her fingers entangled in his locks, giving him a few more strokes before she held Jean’s hand on her lap using both hands. “We’re pretty far away from any kind of civilization, so just running away won’t help, they’ll capture you again.” She explained, rubbing a thumb over Jean’s knuckles. “I would suggest going southwest, that’s where you can find the most people and hide until you know where to go.”

“I see.” He muttered and stared up at the ceiling in thought. If that was the case, he needed a plan to get out of the building and leave without anyone noticing to buy time. And he needed to be fully healed to be able to run that distance.

“I can sneak out the keys of your cuffs but I haven’t seen any kind of map here apart from the big one in Zeke’s room. I can’t give it to you but I will try to make a sketch of it for you from my memory.”

“Why?” Jean questioned, moving his gaze to her eyes. “Why are you doing all this for me? It can’t be only because Zeke poured acid over me. What’s the real reason behind all this?”

“...I don’t want Zeke to win. Not anymore. He’s my friend but his motives aren’t something I can agree on. If I can stop him or at least manipulate his plan somehow, I will.”

“What are his motives?” Jean was the one to squeeze her hand this time.

“...He wants to turn all subjects of Ymir infertile. He thinks that it’s better, that those who can turn into titans should no longer exist. He wants to rot them out and that’s wrong… but he won’t listen to anyone.”

“I see.” Jean said again and furrowed his brows a little. He didn’t only need to escape, they had to do something about Zeke and stop him. If his plan succeeded, it would be the worst outcome.

The brunet began pushing himself up into a sitting position, wincing a little when a particular move hurt too much. He exhaled carefully once he sat and glanced around the cell quietly.

While he looked around, he noticed that Pieck used her coat as a makeshift pillow for his head and couldn’t help but smile. Maybe she spoke the truth about wanting to help him out.

“Alright,” he looked up at Pieck, “will you be able to get me a sketch or something similar of the surroundings and this place by tomorrow? I’ll think of something to do against Zeke and his men.”

Pieck nodded. “I’ll do my best. And you don’t move around too much, your body needs to rest and heal.”

The brunet stared, a little deadpanned. He gave a short glance around the small cell, down to his cuffs and back up at Pieck. “Not like I have a choice?” He raised a brow in amusement.

“I meant it as in ‘don’t strain your body’.” She corrected.

Jean nodded quickly and held back a grin. “Oh, sure! I’ll just tell them not to beat me up too bad next time. Mhm, understood.”

“Jean!” Pieck pouted and gently slapped his arm. “You know what I meant, you big dummy.”

He let out a short chuckle. “I know, I’m just teasing you. By the way…” His voice became a bit more serious again, “what about you? I guess you will stay here?”

The ravenette gave a small shrug and looked around, scratching her head. “Not like I have a choice,” she repeated his words.

“Listen, if you really help me out of here and you really aren’t on Zeke’s side anymore…” he trailed off. “My people will understand. We can figure out something for you to stay with us, we could need someone intelligent and strong like you.”

“You expect your friends to welcome me with open arms after what I’ve done?” She tilted her head, brows furrowing.

“You were following orders.” Jean emphasized. “If what you’re saying about turning your back on Zeke is true, then I can talk with my people about this and we will figure out something. Whatever happens, I can assure you that you will not get this kind of treatment, even as one of Zeke’s soldiers.”

“Ah…” The ravenette looked down and scratched the back of her neck.

Jean reached out to touch her shoulder gently, making Pieck face him again. “I’m not telling you to make a decision right now. Zeke aside, I know you probably have close friends here. Just.. think about it and let me know once you made up your mind.” He offered.

Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy to just take her back with him, Jean knew that, but this place - and especially Zeke - were awful and someone this kindhearted like Pieck had nothing to do here. They could become really good friends if the circumstances were different, so Jean wanted her to go with him.

Not to mention that someone like Pieck would benefit them greatly. She was strong, she was smart. If Zeke lost her so suddenly, it’d be a big shock and a big disadvantage, that much was for sure.

Then again, only if what Pieck said was true.

Though, Pieck didn’t seem like the person who needed to lie to get what she wanted. Jean had a good feeling about it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, try to get enough rest.” She reached up to take the hand that was on her shoulder and pulled it down. Giving his hand a few gentle pats, she soon stood up and grabbed her coat as well.

Jean watched her stand up and gave a firm nod. “Be careful.”

After she left, Jean carefully laid down again and closed his eyes, both to let his body do the work of regenerating and to think deeply. He needed to concentrate and think of a plan.

[grayintogreen]

When I first mapped out the second chapter of shattered stage, it was going to be what happened in the actual second chapter + what happens in the third + what happens in the fourth and I realized that that was honestly super stupid of me, and it’s only getting worse. NONE OF THESE CHARACTERS CAN STOP TALKING. EVER. 

Also I’m writing EVERY SCENE of Chapter Three out of fucking order and god only knows when I will finish. It is eight pages long already and only two scenes out of six are written. AM I GONNA HAVE TO DIVIDE THIS BITCH UP AGAIN?? WE JUST DON’T KNOW.

Anyway, while I scream into a pillow here’s a preview of Chapter Three, featuring Molly and Lucien being shits to each other in the Raven’s Crest:

Both Kingsley and Molly couldn’t contain themselves from gasping at the hundred foot high steepled dome made entirely of stained glass that turned the formerly gray and colorless interiors seen previously into a kaleidoscope of colors in constant shifting motion. While they spun in place, taking it all in, Lucien lingered closer to the door.

“They had one of these in the Orders,” he said, his voice soft, and yet it carried in the chamber, drawing Molly and Kingsley’s attention to him. “Smaller… But they had one.”

The elven woman’s smile was serene as she studied him. “The people who founded the Orders came from this very temple. A lot of the architecture of the main compound’s temple was influenced by this one.”

Lucien just gave a small nod and tugged on his scarf until it fell away entirely and for the first time Molly was able to get a proper look at it. Whatever it was now, it was clear what it had been once- something sewn together from bits of the coat he currently wore, and the sight of Lucien possessively wringing the cloth in his hands twisted something in his gut and made him avert his eyes towards the true centerpiece of the room- a large pool filled with some deep crimson liquid that not even all the lights from the stained glass windows could penetrate the surface of.

“They had one of those, too,” Lucien went on, nodding towards the pool. “Which, by the way, <i>deeply</i> fucked making a tabaxi take a dip in that. It took Cree months to get the blood out of her fur. I thought we were gonna have to shave her bald.”

“So I don’t need to explain the process to you?” The elven woman said, again, not reacting to the extra commentary. Dedicated to her job, this one. “I’ll see myself out, then. I will send attendants in a moment.”

And she turned on her heels and exited the chamber, leaving Molly and Kingsley to turn to Lucien. “Sorry, did you just say that is a pool of blood we’ll be getting in?” Kingsley balked.

Molly crouched down low next to the pool. His fingers brushed the surface and came up stained crimson, and upon sniffing them, he stuck them in his mouth. The result was a disgusted gag. “Fuck. Well, it’s not tomato soup, that’s for bloody certain.”

“For fuck’s sake, sliver,” Lucien said, halfway out of his coat and rolling his eyes to the ceiling. 

“We’re gonna have a conversation about you callin’ me that.”

“And what a conversation it’ll be.”

Molly scowled and stepped away, starting to shed his own coat. He noted that while Lucien had tossed his carelessly down, he was still holding the scarf. “So what happened to my coat?” He asked, nodding to scarf, while he tried to gently fold his own and find a place to lay it down with the same care and consideration he didn’t plan to show for anything else.

“You’re wearing <i>your coat</i>. This one’s <i>mine</i>.” Lucien, as if sensing he was about to be accused of being sentimental, laid the scarf down on top of his actual coat with half-hearted abandon given it was not any danger of touching the ground. “Or was mine… ish. It didn’t suit me to wear it, but it didn’t suit me to not have it, so I made do.” Molly was giving him a positively disdainful look and he cut off any complaints, sharply. “The rest of it went to good homes- nothing went to waste. Everyone’s got a bit of it now.”

“I’m glad months of embroidery went into a very nice scarf and a few hair ribbons.”

“It’s not like I don’t remember every needle prick and fucked up stitch like it was me who did it.” Lucien made a sharp <i>tch</i> sound. “You’re bloody determined to take issue with me, aren’t you?”

“I can’t fucking imagine why.” He was working on the laces of his corset now and once free of that, he began the far more arduous process of removing his boots.

Out of nowhere, Lucien said, “You’ve still got the marks.”

Molly’s head shot up. He was half-naked, wearing one boot, and glowering even more now. “I have the what now?”

Lucien had shed everything now and now that he was free of all the accoutrement that individualized each of the three of them, Molly felt like he was staring into a mirror as he stared him down while he bridged the gap between them. He went rigid when Lucien reached up and turned his head sideways to get a better view of his neck.

“That is a <i>bold</i> fucking thing to do to someone when you’ve got your dick out,” Molly snapped, wrenching his way out of Lucien’s grasp. He stumbled back, thrown off balance by only being in one boot and the unnecessary force he’d put into trying to jerk away. At no point had Lucien intended to hold him there- he’d simply been trying to get a closer look… without permission, mind, but still.

“The nine red eyes,” Lucien explained. His expression had changed to something Molly couldn’t quite name. What he knew of Lucien could fill a handbasket and most of it was negative. Not a single thing he had seen so far had really given him much cause to debate that, including knowing that there was two years worth of <i>him</i> behind those eyes. “The Somnovem’s blessings?”

“I don’t know who or what that is.” Molly was testy. His temper flaring at the edges. It was such an undesirable way to be and all he wanted was to find some place he could make as much merry and joy in as possible to shake this feeling away, but instead he was stuck stripping down in an ice-cold temple, prepared to take a fucking bath in blood with two people he could have been.

Or perhaps could yet become. 

He shuddered in a way that had nothing to do with the cold in the chamber and began to remove his other boot.

“So you haven’t even met me yet?” Lucien went on. Molly exhaled sharply, visibly irritated, and looked up. His eyes, trying to find anywhere but Lucien’s face to focus on (god forbid he see that painfully mortal expression that made him less something out of a nightmare), wandered to their matching peacock tattoos. He hadn’t noticed before now that the eyes in all of Lucien’s visible tattoos (and all of them were on display now that he was naked) weren’t red at all- they were gold.  

“Maybe I won’t. Maybe you figured you’re better off wherever you are, and put whatever the hell you were doing-” He hissed, realizing his frustration was threatening to bubble over. He needed to calm down. “Look, I know people have been talking about it vaguely, but I haven’t paid attention to a word of it. I don’t <i>care</i>. I just want <i>this</i> to be over, so I can go <i>home</i>. None of th shite that happened to you or Kingsley or them has got anything to do with me. This does.”

Lucien had fallen quiet now and Molly took it as a victory. Glancing up as he finished tossing aside his pants, he noted that his double was looking a bit more miserable and far away than he had previously. Good. He deserved to. 

“I promise the last thing he thinks he is is <i>better off</i>,” he finally said, his tail thrashing back and forth.

If Molly had wanted to make a smarmy retort, he was cut off by the sound of something plopping down into the pool- it wasn’t quite a splash, given its viscosity, but it was most definitely the sound of something dropping in. Both he and Lucien turned and noted Kingsley’s clothes strewn about and the slight ripples as the blood pool shifted and put itself back together again. 

There was no Kingsley to be seen, and they had both somehow forgotten he was there, to begin with, until now.

“Did he just-” Molly balked.

Lucien chuckled, forcing his mask back into place. “I guess he was sick of us measuring our dicks.”

“They’re the same size.” They stared each other down, almost daring the other to look downwards, until finally neither could resist and their eyes simultaneously shifted in unison… and then back up again before they broke off and walked to the edge of the pool. “Like I said.”

“At least you didn’t pierce <i>that</i>,” Lucien muttered, before dropping down into the blood, leaving Molly alone at the edge, cursing, and unable to get the last word in. After a moment, he took a deep breath and dropped down into the pool like a stone and followed the other two to whatever the Raven Queen intended for them.

[star-killer-md]

Dream a Little Dream of Me Pt. 5

oh MY GOD. I swear this update bent me backwards and fucked me harder than Kylo Ren ever could. Like dear sweet jesus I don’t know why it was so hard for me to get this shit out of my brain and onto my google doc but she really just wasn’t having it. Anyway, here it is. Not entirely certain if I’m all the way happy with it, but it what it is and hopefully the weird symbolism and imagery came across well. I’m an english major so I can’t like not input that shit into my writing even if its a Kylo Ren smut fic. I hope you all enjoy this mess of an update. You’ve all been incredibly sweet and supportive and like you’re just great people. My lovely coworker beta’d this for me and more than one old woman definitely overheard us talking about Kylo’s dick while at work. 

As a side note, I am new to the game of writing smut for the most part (and like long form fic) and I want to branch out Into writing more kinks and such, so if there is anything you want to see from me, please send a message! I need the practice 😂

AO3 Mirror

Part 4

Warnings: nsfw, violence against the reader, violence against Kylo, they may or may not have a physical altercation in this, minor blood mentions (like very minor), dirty talking, inappropriate use of the Force, lots of angst, like oh god so much, cockwarming if you squint, some amount of softness cause the author is a little bitch 

Ship: Kylo Ren x Negotiator!Reader

Word Count: 7.6K (buckle up babes)

He wasn’t looking at you. 

He hadn’t looked at you all morning. 

You were looking though, couldn’t stop looking. Ever since you’d woken to find your bed empty and the Commander sat on the couch across from you, scrolling mindlessly through his datapad. There was a plate with crumbs left scattered on its surface and cup on the nightstand beside him.

You thought it might have been coffee. It was odd to think of him eating or drinking, for some reason you’d assumed before he didn’t need too. That seemed foolish now that you knew just how real he was. 

How did he take it, you wondered. With cream? Sugar to ease the bitterness? Or did he like the way it burned and tingled without anything to numb its acidic sting. 

On the small table in the corner, a silver room service tray sat abandoned. The fresh fruit was growing warm, filling the room with a sickly sweet scent that couldn’t even begin to cover the stench of avoidance that hung in the air. 

He hadn’t spoken to you all morning either. 

You both had yet to speak. 

You might have asked about the coffee, but then you noticed the very clear indent of a head on the pillow beside you. A few black hairs stood out starkly against the cream colored sheets. 

And then you remembered. 

Someone’s breath washing warm over your face, the glimpse of him bare from the waist up, your favorite mole, the shower water pounding over pink skin, his name in your mouth— 

And it became clear why he wasn’t saying anything. 

Because he knew what you’d done. 

And you knew he knew. 

And he knew that you knew he knew. 

It felt horribly awkward breaking the stillness of the room, so you didn’t move from the bed. Just sat up, letting the covers pool in your lap as the fruit slowly rotted and neither of you spoke a word. Once you thought he might have glanced at you from the corner of your eye, but when you turned, he quickly looked back down at the glowing screen in his lap. 

Eventually, you’d had enough. Throwing the sheets off your bare legs, you climbed out of bed and padded quietly into the refresher. You shut the door with a click and heard the immediate shuffling of fabric from outside. Soft footsteps and the sound of pouring liquid filtered in from the main room, but the extra clink of a spoon stirring or the dripping of cream was decidedly absent. 

He drank it black, then. 

The thought settled heavily in you. 

Your reflection in the mirror was pitiable, puffy, tired eyes staring back at you blankly. You ran the water, splashing some on your face and tried not to think about what you’d ‘seen’ the Commander do in the shower behind you last night. 

But one look at the slate gray tiles had images of his hand curling against them, the other wrapped around— 

You buried your face in one of the hand towels and groaned into it. Was he staring at your empty bed and thinking the same thing? Were scenes of you writhing on the sheets playing themselves on loop in the Commander’s head? Could he feel the lingering want for him in the air around you?

Outside the door, you heard something that sounded suspiciously like Ren choking on his coffee. 

Staring down into the basin, you felt a terrible realization cresting over the horizon. He knew about last night—that was a given. You had heard him, seen him, felt him in some ethereal way you could not explain. He’d been in you too, a presence in your head, an audience to all that you thought of him. 

But was that really the first time?

Because—now that you thought about it, really stopped and breathed it all in—the empty, lonely, half-filled and never completed feeling that sat deeply in your bones was only ever gone when he touched you—only ever relieved when he visited you in your sleep. 

And you had been blessedly free of it last night, when you lay breathless and trembling with a pleasure that did not belong to you. 

In fact, you did not feel it even now.

You thought of his face. Too identical, every mole and freckle right down to your favorite of them in the same place. The same eyes, same angle of his teeth, same ears just a bit too big and hair that fell in his face. The same baby curls by the crown of his head. 

It was simply impossible for your mind alone to have crafted such a perfect replica. 

There was no denying it. 

And it was only now dawning on you—that, in fact, it had always been him. 

The Commander Ren who drank black coffee and did everything in his power to enrage you at a moment's notice was one and the same with the Kylo who had plagued your mind for months. Whom you had not so secretly craved like he was ambrosia and you, a starving mortal at his feet. 

Your breath shook as it filled your lungs and clawed its way back out like the secret of it was trying to burst free from its prison in your ribcage. 

Outside, the Commander was moving again, and you listened, feeling the pull in each step—like he was walking through honey. 

The soft swish of his pants was the only sound apart from your shallow breathing. There was something alive in the air and it was waiting. 

The shadow of his feet came to a halt outside the door and you heard the soft thump of his hand resting against it. You were compelled by a force—the Force maybe—some unknowable tugging in your veins. Your feet found their way to stand toe to toe, palm to palm with Kylo Ren, nothing but the thin wood of the door between you. 

There was a stillness settling in the room, and when you closed your eyes, you could see it. 

He was there, clear as the void of space and twice as lovely—standing, staring through the barrier between your bodies. And you felt him see you too. Felt yourself full to the brim and fantastically whole. 

You wanted to touch him. 

Needed to touch him. 

And you knew he would let you. 

Because he always had before and you couldn’t stop your hand from pushing against the wood, prying it away to reveal Kylo, your Kylo, your Commander to you and then— 

Then it all shattered. 

The door between you was flung nearly off its tracks as someone rapped twice loudly from the hall. You barely had time to register the awful sinking sensation, like a knife carving you in two as the Commander met your eyes for the first time that morning and you felt nothing.  

The knocking came again and you gazed at him frantically. 

“Get in,” you hissed under your breath.

He stared at you with his pretty brown eyes, frowning like he always did. The man before you was simply your uncooperative Commander who could do nothing but cause unnecessary inconvenience. There was no more glimmer in his gaze to tell you the last few minutes hadn’t been just another dream. 

Your eye twitched as you stepped out past him and gestured towards the empty space left behind. 

“I’m sorry, would you like to be found out?”

The tapping on the door repeated itself and you pointed harshly at the bathroom until he finally slipped inside, knocking his shoulder into you as he went. You shut the door a little harder than strictly necessary.  

A familiar voice called to you from outside. 

“Miss Negotiator?” 

When you’d opened the door, Lem Alba was standing in the hall just outside. In his hand he held a small package. 

You apologized politely, “I was just about to get in the shower.” 

“Ah,” he nodded. “I won’t keep you too long then, just came to deliver this and to let you know that Representative Gahl has invited you to travel with his personal security team tomorrow morning.” 

“Oh, right,” you tried not to sound disappointed that he hadn’t forgotten your conversation, and took the parcel from his hand. 

It wasn’t that the gesture was entirely unusual, but Gahl didn’t exactly strike you as someone important enough to warrant a whole team of guards. You thought anxiously of Atreus. 

An example. 

“Why with his personal team, may I ask?”

“Well, I probably shouldn’t tell you this” Lem looked up and down the hall before leaning in conspiratorially, “but one of the staff was found dead a few hours ago, so we’re increasing protection to some of the more high ranking individuals.”

The shock on your face was mostly genuine, “Shit, that’s horrible.” 

Lem nodded and sighed, leaning up against the door frame, “Yes, well that’s what we’ve been dealing with all morning.” 

You chuckled, “Don’t you just love doing jobs that aren’t yours?”

That’s why I’m here, you almost said but thought better of it. Something told you your audience wouldn’t appreciate the comment. The hard, invisible pinch on your thigh confirmed your suspicions. 

“You got that right,” he mumbled and stood up straight. “And I should get back to it.” 

“Of course,” you gave him a thin smile and moved to close the door but Lem’s hand caught it at the last second. 

“Let me know,” he cleared his throat, “if that’s not the right fit. I can have another sent up.” 

Glancing down at the package in your hand, you felt your face grow hot, “I will.” 

You meant to shut the door quietly, Lem still smiling at you from the other side, but the knob was ripped from your hand and it slammed closed with a bang. After a few seconds you heard the bathroom door slide open revealing Kylo Ren, taking up the entire archway. 

His size might have intimidated you if you hadn’t been so angry. 

“Care to explain yourself, sir?” you’d asked, all mercy and craving for him dying away as he stared at you blankly, jaw set on edge. It really was so amazing how this man could flip your moods like a switch. Night and day. Your hatred of him was forever inevitable. 

“I should ask you the same, officer.”

Outwardly he looked unfazed, eyes flicking to the package in your hand, but you’d seen him like this back on the Finalizer. The eerie calm before he snapped like a bowstring and left destruction in his wake. Before the bodies of officers who wronged him littered the floor and you were left to clean up the rubble.

You were walking on thin ice and it was cracking. 

You took another step. 

“If you’re insinuating that I’m the one jeopardizing our position here, then you are sorely mistaken,” your voice came out in a harsh whisper and grated your throat. 

The coffee cup on the nightstand rattled. 

“Remind me,” he took a menacing step towards you, “who here was it that agreed to leave the district with a group plotting against the Order?”

You met him head on, “I’m sorry you’re so woefully ignorant of diplomatic proceedings, but it wasn't exactly as if I had a choice.”

Cracks skittered up the porcelain as Kylo’s hands flexed, curling into fists at his sides. A rush of slick warmth flooded you at the sight. You tried to beat down the rising wave of sick arousal, but truly you couldn’t help it. Not when he looked at you with those pretty eyes blown wide and black with some dangerous suggestions. Not when his fingers were biting into his palms and you were imagining the marks they could leave on you. 

“Watch your mouth,” he gritted out each word, perfect teeth flashing behind his pink lips. 

You didn’t. 

“At least I know not to leave a body for them to find!”

The slight twitch of his eye was the only warning you got before the cup across the room splintered. Shards sharp as knives exploded out in an arch catching on your clothes and littering the rug. In the same split second Kylo Ren pounced like a predator on the hunt. His fist connected with the wall next to your head, dusting the side of your face with paint chips as it crumpled under his hand. 

You stared, gaze flicking between his shaking arm sticking out of the newly formed hole in your wall and his wild eyes—feral, lovely. 

For a minute, neither of you moved, just stood breathing each other's breaths and waiting. Again, he was only inches from you and you wished that you’d gotten to glimpse him before. That you could have slid the barrier between you aside and seen him soft and melting instead of untamed and steel hardened. 

But it seemed neither of you could let go of this savage security blanket of rage for each other. 

And if this was the closest to him you could get, that would have to be enough. 

You felt yourself draining, deflating, shrinking and cast your eyes down in surrender. Kylo pushed off the wall a second later, turning his back to you and burying his hands in his hair. He folded onto the sofa, legs spread and elbows on his knees. 

You’d seen him like this in a dream once, held his face in your hands and begged for him to take you. 

His eyes flicked to you still standing against the wall. 

“You’ve done this before,” he mumbled into his palms. 

You gaped. 

“Um, could be more specific, sir?” 

The look that comment elicited nearly turned you to stone. 

“Oh, if you’re talking about the strategic murder of political elites,” you let out an uneasy laugh and moved to perch on the edge of the bed, “then yes, I’ve arranged them.”

 You weren’t exactly proud of that, but it came with the job description. Par for the course as they say.

It was a dirty thing to do in the world of politics, and you felt much more satisfied when you had properly manipulated your opponent into submission rather than just killing them off. Your throat began to grow tight at the thought of yourself, shot in the back walking away from the mediation table. Just like the man who had this job before you.

Everything in the First Order came stained with blood and you were being called to pay the piper. 

What goes around comes around...as they say. 

“And?” his short tone brought you out of your stupor. 

You furrowed your brow, “Commander, are you asking me how I’d plot my own kidnapping and murder?”

He waved his hand for you to continue as if it was the most natural thing in the world to be asking. You supposed, in this world it was. 

“Alright then,” you sighed and flopped back on the mattress. “I would do it somewhere big, somewhere with an audience so the message gets across. Instill fear and go out with a bang.” 

Kylo’s head shot up, “They're planning on broadcasting the campaign announcement and the Order’s endorsement.”

“What?” you lifted your head off the pillows. “Did the dead body tell you that?”

“He wasn’t dead at the time,” Ren clapped back and pushed himself up in one smooth motion. 

He reached for his helmet sitting by the arm of the couch and slipped it over his head without a word. You watched him replace his layers, clipping the large belt in place and tugging on his boots. 

“Well, if I was going to kill me that’s when I’d do it,” you said, rolling on your side to watch him tighten the laces. 

Kylo didn’t say anything to that. Just stood and marched his way past the hole in the wall and stopped by the door. 

“Don’t—”

“Leave this room,” you interrupted. “I know.” 

The Commander huffed once, nothing more than an exhale of static and let the door click shut behind him. 

*** 

That was almost two days ago, and you hadn’t seen him since. 

Well, he’d certainly been there—the warm spot on your bed told you as much—but he was gone by morning and you’d left with the Representative and his team not long after. 

Currently, you were lounging in one of the large, soft chairs on your private balcony watching the waves and enjoying your first moments alone since arriving at the villa. Most of the day had been filled with hours upon hours of dull discussions where no one really wanted to hear what you had to say, but expected you to say something anyway. Finally, you’d been able to slip out while the rest of the staff sat down for drinks in the drawing room. 

The sound of the sea drifted up from the shore and settled around you, blanketing the small deck in a layer of artificial calm. The sun had begun its descent, and the water glimmered golden in it’s dying light. 

Now, there was just you and the ocean and your thoughts. 

Which, if you were honest with yourself, wasn’t that much of an improvement. 

Because you were thinking of him. 

Because that’s all you ever did anymore. 

Thinking of how you wished he was here and how you never wanted to face him again. Thinking of how you wished everything was simpler. 

And how you didn’t wish that at all. 

It was true, at first Kylo Ren had been nothing to you. His existence was more of a myth, a legend that you heard whispered, but was easy to disbelieve. How could a man like that exist, you’d thought. People didn’t live off of blood and waves of rotting bodies, they didn’t feed on power or bend the very fabric of the universe to their will. 

But they did drink coffee, and brush their teeth, and sleep beside you when they thought you wouldn’t remember. Real people tied their shoes and put holes in your wall when you talked out of turn. 

You thought of your first dreams of him, when Kylo was still soft and kind and not wholly himself—warm and gentle and lacking. You thought of him filling out around the edges, becoming clearer and sharper in words and reality. You thought of him cursing you, of holding his touch hostage and making you come apart cruelly empty of his skin. It was as if you were summoning something old and dark, drawing him more completely to you with each ritual. Everytime you came with his name in your mouth, another hook sunk and dragged him in. 

As if whatever had placed him there had taken its time, pulling pieces of him into your head until even when you were conscious, it was impossible to keep him from slipping into the forefront of your mind. 

And now that you’d been given a taste of it—of relief from the awful pit that drained you dry and was never satisfied—you were shaking again, ravenous like a starved animal with the loss. 

You got the distinct feeling there would always be something standing in between you and the Commander. Always something, always something, always something keeping you just a hair's breadth apart—making sure your palms never quite touched. 

It wasn’t enough to just hate him anymore, to feel your bones shake with the need to make him feel the same pain he inflicted on you. 

In your desperate attempt to craft something to fill the void in your small existence, Kylo Ren had become the tendons and threads which knitted you together into one, cohesive whole. 

You needed all of him, unencumbered, uninterrupted, raw and real with his teeth sunk into you. 

And really, how wrong was that?

Well, you knew the answer was most likely very wrong. But there was a reason you were good at your job and it wasn’t because you were in possession of a perfectly functioning code of ethics. 

You breathed in the salt spray off the sea and let it coat your lungs. The crashing of the waves rumbled in your chest like a drum beat, steady, sure, and comforting. No matter what, there would always be other worlds, other oceans, other lives that kept going even when yours did not. 

You were falling asleep, eyelids heavy and dropping every few seconds. 

And soon, you would dream. 

*** 

He was standing at the end of a dark hallway, just barely silhouetted by the strips of moonlight filtering through the windows.  His back was to you, so you called his name softly. When he turned, his face was blessedly bare and pale and shocked. 

“What are you doing here?” Kylo hissed. 

You stared in confusion as he moved swiftly down the hall, grabbing your arm and tugging until you stumbled behind him into a side passage. 

The second he stopped you wrenched your hand from his grasp. 

“What are you talking about?” you snapped and he whirled on you, massive, gloved hand clamping down over your mouth.

“Keep your voice down,” he said, caging you against the wall. 

The tip of his nose brushed against yours as he spoke. Your cries of protest were muffled by the soft leather, its smoke stained taste invading your tongue when you tried to speak. Shaking your head in his grasp, you manueved one of his fingers between your lips and bit down, hard. The fabric caught on your teeth as he ripped his hand away and cursed. 

“Fuck, you—!” a small trickle of blood dripped from the hole in his glove where your teeth had torn at the flesh. His eyes were venomous, “I told you not to leave your room.”

“I didn’t—” you were cut off abruptly as voices began to echo down the abandoned corridor. 

You both stared wide eyed at each other as the sound of footsteps approaching grew louder. Quickly, he stepped forward, pressing both your bodies flat against the wall. You didn’t dare breathe as two figures passed by your hiding spot in the shadows and entered the door at the end of the hall. 

Kylo was so close you could see his throat move as he swallowed, his chest right up against your face, the scent of him washing over you. Something hard was pressing into your thigh. You convinced yourself it was just his saber, despite the warm pulsing you felt every time you twitched against him. 

He was looking down at you, lips parted as though he might speak, but the voices filtering out from under the door drowned anything he might have said.

“Representative, we can’t be too hasty.” 

Each word dripped down your spine leaving a viscous and greasy trail. You knew that voice. 

An example. 

But why would you be dreaming about Gahl and his so-called advisor? 

“You aren’t dreaming,” Kylo whispered, exasperation clear as he spoke. His eyes bored into you, leaving behind painful trails wherever they darted across your skin. “Now shut your mouth before you get us caught.” 

His hand found your mouth again, his fingers prying it open and pressing hard down on your tongue. You gagged around them, the iron of his blood coating your teeth as he pulled harshly down on your jaw. It ached and popped but no sound escaped. 

You’d read somewhere before that you can’t feel pain in your dreams, but you certainly felt that. 

He was right. Not a dream then. 

You swallowed around Kylo’s fingers, hints of metal and smokey leather dripping down your throat. His eyes were fixed on your lips as they stretched around him. The warm, hard presence at your thigh ground into you by an almost imperceptible inch. 

“You said if we took the girl, he’d come.” 

It was Gahl this time, his voice rougher around the edges with age. You found yourself letting your hips curiously rock up just a hair while you listened for the slight hitch in the Commander’s breath you knew so well. 

Your heart nearly stopped at the sound—not his saber. 

“Ren will come sir,” Atreus purred. “I’m sure of it.” 

“How can you be so sure?” Gahl sounded unconvinced. 

You sucked lightly, letting your tongue trace a slow line in the gap between Kylo’s fingers. He growled low into your ear, “Behave.” 

Yeah, you thought, it’s really gonna be me who gives us away.

“I saw it sir, when he was here before, the girl was in his head.” 

That gave you pause, and you narrowed your eyes searching his face for any reaction. He remained blank but for the slight crease in his brow, and the shaking of his breath. Your mind raced at the implication. You’d certainly been aware that the Commander was constantly in your head, but you were almost entirely sure Kylo Ren hadn’t given you a second thought until very recently. 

“I still don’t understand what is so remarkable about that woman,” Gahl grumbled from behind the door. 

Well you certainly weren’t going to argue with him on that, although it felt a little unnecessary to keep bringing up just how expendable you were. 

“I can’t explain it either sir, but he’ll come for her. And if he doesn’t, her death will prove to be more than motivating enough to draw him in.” 

You felt like gagging at every word leaving that man's mouth. Kylo’s fingers in your mouth turned sour the longer you listened. 

“You had better not be wrong, Atreus,” Gahl warned, his tone darker and sharper than you’d ever heard from the old man. “I want that masked idiot dead and the First Order at my feet by the end of this election cycle.”

Every muscle in your body was tensed, clenched and pulled taught like a coil, your jaw clicked as you worked against the intrusion in your mouth. Suddenly the scent of him was too much—the air hanging heavy in your lungs and never quite exhaling fully. 

Gods, Kylo Ren really was the source of all your turmoil. 

Your tongue and teeth and lips pushed and bit against his fingers until he finally pulled them from your mouth. 

You were going to die here—you were going to die here and it wouldn’t mean anything. They were right, you were unimportant and your death would be nothing more than a blip in the First Order’s radar. And somehow Kylo Ren had managed to put you right in the middle of the crossfire. 

You needed to get away, couldn’t bear to hear whatever came next. 

“Get off me,” you hissed, wrestling against his hands trying to keep you in place. 

“Stay still—” His voice was sandpaper on your skin and you needed to leave, had to leave, had to get as far away as possible— 

“I said,” you managed to position your hands squarely on his chest and shoved with a surprising amount of force, “get off me!”

Kylo Ren stumbled, actually stumbled back and stared at you with an awful, bitter cocktail of shock and anger and something else you didn’t have the time or patience to place. Father down the hall, a door was opening and voices approached from the hall. 

Everything faded to black far before you ever heard what they said. 

***

You were on your feet before you could even open your eyes. 

The sea was calling and you were going to listen, the small stones of the shoreline sinking between your toes as you rushed down the small path from your room. Waves were crashing in pairs when you finally made it to the water's edge, stripping your evening clothes off piece by piece like shedding skin, needing to be free. 

Free of nothing. 

Free of everything. 

The salt spray churned and rolled over your ankles and calves as you waded out into the sea. Something was pulling you, stronger than the currents, tugging you out into deeper water and you let it until your head sank below the surface and the sound of muted thunder waves roiling was a cacophony in your head. 

You were drifting, mind and body being tossed about. 

Confused—reality doesn’t have a clear border anymore and you couldn’t be sure what had happened and what hadn't, what should have happened but didn’t. 

Scared—you didn’t want to die, it wasn’t something you’d thought of before despite the nature of your employment, but you realized now that it was never your strength or wit keeping you alive, just luck. 

Angry—boiling inside at the thought of your unshakeable insignificance.

Angry—unwilling to die over the wounded pride of men who constantly underestimated you.

Angry—at yourself for inexplicably wanting one of them anyway. 

You let out your breath and screamed. Let the bubbles leave your mouth in a rush of air and pent up frustrations. The rumbling shock of diluted sound waves reverberated in your chest. You shrieked until your ears popped and your lungs were empty and water rushed to fill the vacuum left behind. 

And for a few moments, when nothing remained inside you and the world was in a strange, unbalanced limbo, you felt it. Inside that crater within your soul that wept and lamented its lacking, there was a spark. Something bright and firecracker red like a lost ember which had forgotten the fire of its youth. 

And you knew what you needed to do to feed it, to let it burn, to fill yourself to the brim and overflow with totality. 

Your head broke the surface like an eggshell, water streaming into your eyes as you gasped in lungfuls of wind off the sea. Someone was shouting for you. Far on the shoreline, a massive black silhouette stood bathed in starshine and the moon.  

It took a moment for you to realize he was yelling at you.

“What are you doing?!” 

His voice barely carried over the rushing water and the sound of your arms splashing to keep you afloat. 

“None of your business,” you called, turning to swim farther out into the depths. 

You could hear his frustrated shout as the waves kicked up over his boots. 

“Get back here,” he snarled. 

You weren’t able to make out his face, but you were sure his lips were pulled back, bearing crooked teeth ready to rip your throat out. 

He might do just that with a little coaxing. That was fine with you. Your anger was one meant to be shared. 

“Make me.” 

You could feel him snapping even as you drifted deeper out to sea. He was fraying, about to break and you wanted it. Wanted him drowning in the same turmoil as you. 

“You want me to make you?” he was raging now, hands tearing at his clothes, “You want me to fucking make you?”

You watched as he was revealed to you and tumbled into the surf, incoherent fury sapping all the grace from his steps—demise personified parting the waters.  

The moon glinted off Kylo’s skin and he practically glowed with it. In spite of yourself, you thought he looked every bit a prince, so painfully handsome in his own, strange way–inimitable and all the more lovely for it. Inky black water swirled and the breakers crashed against the bare expanse of his chest, like the sea itself was desperate to steal a taste of him.

Something within you–scarlet and glimmering–stirred. 

Something that ached. 

Something that yearned. 

Something hungry.

You watched him wade towards where you were floating, felt the current shift and draw you to him like a sinking ship. In his eyes you saw that same spark, red and crackling and alive. There was a beast in his bones and it smiled. 

And you knew, you would let it take you. 

But not without a fight. 

You kicked and struggled against the Force pulling you to him, not certain if he was the one controlling it or if it had its own mind and movement. But it was a futile effort either way. He was on you in seconds, fingers like claws grasping your ankle and ripping you through the water to him. 

He growled and grabbed a fistful of your hair, dragging your head underwater without warning. But you flailed and felt your foot connect with the hard plane of his stomach and his grip on you slipped. 

“This is your fault,” you screeched when you came up again. 

He was heavier than you, larger and sunk faster in the deep water. You maneuvered your hands into his hair as well while he tried to stay above the surface and yanked him down—shouts turned to bubbles—until he raked his nails across your bare chest and the sharp pain made you let go. 

Kylo’s head connected with your jaw as he came spluttering to the surface and your mouth flooded with the metallic taste of blood. It dripped from your lips in a stream and you spat out a mess of red stained sea water, watching it splattered over his handsome face in rivulets. 

“You brought this on yourself, you arrogant little slut,” he roared, shaking your shoulders in his hands until the back of your hand cracked across his face. 

“I’m the slut?!” you shrieked. “You can’t even be in the same room with me without your dick getting hard!”

He was right now too, you could feel the prominent, warm pressure of his cock slotted against your stomach. And whether or not there was a heat building between your thighs at the thought of it was neither here nor there. 

Blood still dripped down your chin as you both ripped at each other's hair, slippery with sea salt and plastered to your skulls. 

“You think I can’t hear you begging for me,” his face is so close you can see all the hairline scars that ran through it, connecting the dots between his freckles. 

Your nose brushed against his, “I’m not the one avoiding the subject!”

His knee slipped hard into the space between your legs and you yelped. 

“You have no idea what’s at stake here,” he gritted through his teeth. 

“My life, asshole,” you bristled. “I’m gonna die here trying to fix the mess you started!”

Neither of you spoke after the words died on your lips, just floating and gasping with the exertion of staying afloat. In the following silence, with the adrenaline pounding behind your ears, Kylo’s eyes were locked onto yours—black pools like the dark water. 

Seconds passed and you let whatever dying flame was inside your chest grow until its heat under your skin was blistering and driving you forward into the only thing that would offer any relief. 

Kylo’s lips were plump and soft under yours as they crashed together, your teeth clacking with the impact. It didn’t matter, not when his tongue licking into your mouth was the most soothing sensation you’d ever felt. 

His hands were frantic, grabbing fistfuls of your flesh and pulling you as close to him as possible, leaving no inch of skin untouched. Your legs wound around his hips, locking ankles just above the lovely curve of his ass. He groaned into your lips and you felt it in your bones. 

Tell me, he spoke in your head, and it felt as though he had always belonged there. 

Your ribs were cracking open to let him spill in, to fill in all the holes that riddled you. 

Tell me, he repeated again and it sounded like praying. 

His teeth caught your lip, sucking blood into his mouth so you could be inside him too. And he was so hot against you, all pale naked and sinful. You’d never realized someone could feel so solid, so painfully real and not just a trick of the light in your mind. Arms of pure, corded muscle locked around your back and crushed you to him as his feet found purchase on the soft sand. 

The sea was spitting you back onto the shoreline, waves crashing over your entangled limbs. It was no longer clear where you ended and Kylo began. 

It was not close enough. 

Kylo, you whimpered hoping the connection went both ways and he would hear you too. 

I’m here, you felt the pebbles of the beach kick up as he stood out of the surf and walked you up the beach. I’m here, tell me. 

His mouth never ceased to move against yours, biting, sucking, drinking you down to soothe the burn of the salt. Between your bodies, his cock was twitching. And now that you were blessedly free of the water, you could feel yourself dripping with need for him. 

You’d been this close once before, but it hadn’t felt anything like this. 

Kylo walked you up the beach, kneeling down in front of his pile of discarded clothes and landing in a heap on top of you. He ground his hips down, the tip of his length catching on your clit. The sound you made was inhuman, pure desire. 

The rocks of the beach bit into your back through his cloak, but you hardly noticed when his lips wandered down your neck. He growled and sunk his teeth into the flesh between your shoulder and neck, sucking a mark into your skin you would never be able to hide. 

You reared up, ready to paint more bruises on his skin when a hand closed around your throat and slammed you back into the earth. 

Tell me or you can’t touch, he groaned. 

You huffed and whined when he pinned your wrists in one hand above your head. No matter how hard you pulled, you couldn’t break his grip and you knew before he must have been letting you hit and kick and scratch at him. Must have liked it. 

You squirmed at the thought. 

His lips ghosted over your collarbone, other hand skimming up to palm at your breasts. Kylo’s mouth closed over a nipple, rolling it on his tongue and nipping when you bucked your hips into him. 

You watched him lap at your skin, loving the wet streaks he left behind. 

I hate you, you shot back. 

He smirked against your chest and moved on to torment your other breast, all the while grinding his cock between your soaked lips, coating himself in you. 

Lying won’t get you anywhere, he punctuated the statement with a particularly hard thrust over your clit. 

The slide of it was delicious and maddening and you needed more. 

I’m not lying, you said, although the string of moans leaving your mouth when he circled the tip of his dick over your entrance was not at all convincing.He pushed in just barely, never hard enough to actually grant you any relief. 

I know a lie when I hear one, his voice was velvet and it was driving you off the edge. 

But you would fight till the very end. It was one of your few redeeming qualities. 

Fuck you. 

That’s a bit more accurate, yes. 

He chuckled darkly resting his head on your sternum so he could watch as you helplessly rolled your hips while his cock remained frustratingly not in your pussy. 

Fine, you signed and he flicked his eyes back to your face. 

Kylo’s movements stilled and he pulled his hands back, leaning down to rest on his elbows above you. Some of his pretty sea-curled hair tickled your nose. 

“II wantwant youyou,” you whispered feeling it echo through whatever presence was allowing you to transfer your thoughts without really speaking. 

His breath hitched in that beautiful way that you loved. 

And then you were screaming—really truly screaming—his hand clamping down on your mouth to stifle the noise. 

But the wave of otherworldly pleasure and searing pain that washed over you when he thrust his hips, cock sinking into your cunt to the hilt in one swift motion was entirely too much bare. 

Though, Kylo was not faring much better. His face fell into the crook of your neck and he groaned into the skin. He didn’t move for a few moments, and you felt your walls tighten around him. He was massive, you’d known that, but never had you expected to feel so full.

You cared very little then, about whether or not you were going to die on this godforsaken planet, not if he could fuck you like this. Not if you got to feel Kylo Ren in every conceivable part of your body. 

He let out a shaky breath into your neck and pulled himself up. 

“I’m going to ruin you,” he gasped, drawing his cock out of you until only the tip remained sheathed in your warmth. “Ruin this pretty little pussy for anyone else.” 

Kylo slammed back into you, making your tits bounce as his hips slapped against your ass. You knew he was right. There would be no coming back from this—for him or you.  

“No one will ever feel like I do,” you retorted, clenching harder around him as he worked up a steady rhythm. 

You watched the muscles in his abdomen twitch as you tightened yourself and he reared back on his knees, grabbing your waist with his massive hands and hoisting your lower body off the ground. 

The new angle stretched you even more and every thrust caught that elusive spot inside you that had your thighs trying to snap shut against his hips. 

“Fuck, Kylo!” you cried, as shameless as always. 

“What?” he grunted. “You want it harder? Want me deeper?”

“Yesyesyesyesyes,” you babbled, needing anything he would give you. 

Kylo delivered on your request. You felt him in your stomach, each thrust was quick and sharp and angled just right and you had never felt anything like you did now. 

He was in your head still, his presence was warm and glowed a dim, sultry red that made your mind hazy—illuminated parts of yourself you’d thought were forgotten. Passion, that’s what he felt like, deep and forbidden. Delicious truth. 

“You keep saying you aren’t a whore, but look how well you’re taking my cock,” Kylo mused. 

You knew you were in his head too, could feel yourself leaking in through the cracks. He was thinking about how magnificent your pussy felt swallowing his length, how badly he wanted to cum in you, claim you and make you keep his release inside. 

There was fear there too. 

Longing and something darker. 

You wanted to take it away. 

“Only for you,” you muttered between thrusts, crying out when the Force loosed it tendrils over your skin. A shapeless finger rolled and teased your clit while two others kneaded at your chest. 

“You’re a whore just for me?” he was coming unhinged, you could sense it in the way his cock was pulsing in you. 

You nodded, bringing a hand to rest over his on your waist.

“Good girl.” 

He threw his head back, and you admired the lovely angle of his throat against the night sky. The Force on your clit was unrelenting and you wouldn’t last much longer, the tight coil of pleasure was building in your gut and spreading through your veins like quicksilver. 

“Kylo, I’m gonna—” you were cut off by his hand grabbing you by the hair and crushing you up into his chest. 

He sat your ass on his knees and lifted you up, dragging you back down onto his cock. You were like a rag doll in his hands as he wrapped his arms around your back and slammed you down. There was no space left between your bodies, nothing but the slide of your sweat slicked skin and his breath on your face. 

Even surrounded by the scent of sex and the sea you could still smell fresh mint lingering on his tongue. 

That might have been what finally sent you toppling over the edge. Or maybe it was the look on his face—brows furrowed and lips parted in a pleasure only you could bring him. Or maybe it was just the finality of it all. 

That Kylo Ren was unequivocally and irreparably linked to you now in some way. Be it through the blood in your mouths or his cock painting your insides with cum as you sobbed and clenched around him, circling in a feedback loop of each other’s orgasm. He was panting in your ear, spewing curses you couldn’t comprehend and fucking you through your release and his. 

This was something bigger than it seemed, you knew it when you heard him grunt your name while his mouth latched back on to the mark on your neck. Knew it when the glowing red presence in your head didn’t fade and the empty feeling you’d called friend all these years didn’t return. 

Knew it when he let you stay wrapped in his arms for a few precious seconds, his softening length still filling you with its pleasant, stinging warmth. 

Knew it when you felt the softest press of his lips to your neck when he lifted his head and pressed yours to his chest with a massive hand. 

His heart beat steadily under all the bone and sinew. 

It wasn’t until then that you became consciously aware he had one. 

“You aren’t going to die,” he whispered. 

And you wished you could believe him. Almost said so, but the words never came out, got lost somewhere in between your lips and how his skin was so much softer than you ever imagined it would be. Then he was pressing two fingers to your temple, a wave of unwilling sleep falling over you in a lovely, red blanket. 

And this time, you didn’t dream.  

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

Taglist lovelies:

@thewilddingleberries​ @contesa-lui-alucard​ @obsessionprofessional​ @kit-jpg​ @findyourdarkness​

[downwiththeficness]

In the Bond-Chapter 20

Summary: Lilah often wished she’d never said yes to working with the Gecko brothers—usually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when she’s hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.

Word Count: ~5,400

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Smut

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

Taglist: @symbiont13

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Things had gotten impossibly worse while she was away. More injured had shown up at their doors, another attempt gone completely wrong. Lilah, Brasa, and Javier had spent the last four days working logistics for the extra beds needed—and the extra blood. Their supplies were so low that Brasa had drained the healing pool to fill more bellies. There was little time to think about closing the portal while hungry mouths kept showing up at their door.

Lilah rested her head in her hands, wracking her brain for ideas, “We could steal it.”

Brasa, stressed as he was, laughed softly, “You’re not going on another run so soon. I’ve just got you back.”

Casting him an affectionate glance, Lilah lifted a shoulder, “Doesn’t have to be me.”

He leaned back in his chair, looking to Javier.  Dressed in a deep green suit, Jaiver ticked his head to the side, wrist turning so that his palm faced the ceiling. He wasn’t going to say no to the idea.

Brasa’s attention returned to Lilah, “Did you have someone in mind?”

She drew a deep breath in through her nose, pursing her lips so that the exhale came out as a kind of soft whistle, “You know who I’d pick.”

He nodded, “They are efficient.”

“They are available,” she added.

Javier pulled out his cell, “They are being notified.”

He strode from the room, closing the door behind him. Lilah slumped, picking at the frayed hem of her shorts. She tried not to think about what it would be like knowing that the brothers were pulling a job without her. Tried. Failed.

“I can choose another team,” Brasa commented lightly.

She shook her head, “No. There’s no time to explain why we would need a massive shipment of donated blood. Most teams are going to ask too many questions.”

Folding his hands on the table, Brasa silently agreed with her, “I can arrange for the exchange to occur off-site, if you like. You don’t have to see them.”

Lilah deeply appreciated the consideration, but she wasn’t going to make this more difficult that it needed to be, “All your people are here. Doesn’t make sense to bring it from one location to another. If its going to be a problem, I’ll hang out in our room during the hand off.”

Two days later, Lilah was doing just that when Brasa got a text from Richie that they were coming in hot. They didn’t know who was on their tail, but the reinforced walls of the shipping container were full of bullet holes and the rig was too big to lose the cars that followed.

Brasa was gone before she could blink, and Lilah wasn’t about to let him go alone. She grabbed her gun and knife, stalling for only half a second before pocketing her comm. She ran through the hallway, the office, the bar, and into the elevator. While she waited for the carriage to rise, she strapped the knife to her forearm and holstered the gun. When the doors opened to the empty parking garage and shipping bay, she made a sharp right and headed for the only set of stairs.

Feet slamming with every step, Lilah pushed through the door leading to the roof. She kept going until she hit the guard wall. Scanning the horizon, she easily spotted the semi speeding towards the building, kicking up a shit ton of dust in its wake. Behind it were two compacts that looked like they were sponsored by Red Bull. Modified with every possible option, sitting low, they flanked the rig.

Reaching into her pocket, Lilah dug the comm out of the holder, stuffing it into her ear and tapping it awake.

“Can anyone hear me?”

She got nothing in return. Lilah tried again.

“Anyone out there? Can you hear me?”

A second later, there was a distinctive click, followed by, “If you’re going to nag us about keeping a low profile, you can’t keep it to yourself.”

Richie.

Lilah exhaled in relief, “I take it you’ve noticed that you’re being followed.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

Seth.

At least he was talking to her. Lilah half anticipated that he’d clam up out of sheer stubbornness. To be fair, they were hauling ass while trying to dodge bullets. Its possible he didn’t have the mental capacity to do both.

“Brasa’s on his way out there.” She spotted his dark figure running full sprint, impossibly fast, “Give him five seconds.”

“I got eyes,” Richie said in return. “He’s coming up on our left.”

Indeed he was. Lilah watched as he closed the distance, angling his way along the side of the semi. From the distance, Lilah couldn’t exactly tell what he did, but the car in front of him hit hard, flipping over its front wheels. It landed on its top, skidding a few feet. In the next breath, he was on it, hauling bodies from the inside. Whatever screams they might have made were lost to her as he pulled them apart.

Swallowing, Lilah pushed down her initial revulsion and focused on the semi as it neared, “You can’t pull into the garage with them on your ass.”

“I know that,” Richie spat, “Gonna circle it and head out the other way. Give Brasa a shot at the other car.”

That turned out to be almost a wholly unnecessary plan. The second car suddenly jerked to a halt, stalled, its bumper torn off by Brasa’s hand. The wheels skidded across the asphalt, the back axle definitely cracked.

“He’s got them,” was all she said as she watched him do the same all over again.

“Roger that.”

“Shut the fuck up,” came from Seth.

Lilah’s laugh was cut off when she caught movement on the horizon. Dark shapes rushed forward at a dizzying pace, clearing land and zeroing in on the semi as it slowed near the garage.

“You’ve got incoming,” Lilah shouted, turning and running towards the stairs.

Knowing they were going to need backup, she hustled downwards, one hand on the rail to keep balance. She barreled through the door and into the garage. Richie had pulled the semi past the entrance so that he could back in. She could see the parking lights as they flashed at the back.

Lilah rounded the cab, waving her arms and pointing. The brothers peered through the windows, then hopped out, their eyes turned towards the approaching horde. There were maybe fifty or sixty of them, their pounding footsteps loud enough that they echoed in the space of the garage.

“Culebras?” Seth asked.

“Yep,” Richie answered, pocketing his glasses, “Been a while since we’ve had a good fight.

“Yes. It. Has,” Seth enunciated clearly, shrugging off his jacket and pulled his pistols from their holster.  Then, to Lilah, “First sign of trouble, you run. Richie and I can handle ourselves, but you run. Got it?”

Taken aback, it took a few seconds for her to respond, “Duly noted, boss.”

He nodded, just once. Richie moved to stand beside him, fangs out, a knife in one hand. The horde continued to approach, moving as a singular undulating mass that had Lilah wondering how they were going to taken them down.

And then one caught fire. Then another. Then another. Like a line of flailing matches, they burst into flame from one side over to the other until the whole front line was slowly disintegrating into ash.

“That’s new,” Seth drawled, using the barrel of a gun to scratch at the back of his head.

Lilah’s lip curled as she watched, wondering if it was the sunlight. The ones that weren’t on fire were pretty well covered up, not an inch of skin showing. Every one wore a hood or mask.  They moved around their thrashing comrades, running with singular purpose towards the semi. Lilah palmed her gun, holding it in front of her in preparation to take aim.

The herd shifted, swaying wildly to one side, more exploding into bright orange fire. As they neared, Lilah could see a single dark figure moving among them. Brasa. She’d never really seen the extent of his power, he’d never been particularly flashy when he fought. Now, he was using it to casually extinguish their enemies. No thought. Just action. A turn of his hand and another group became nothing but ash.

Efficient. Casual. Violence.

Widening her stance, Lilah raised her gun, readying to fire. The group was close now, but not close enough that she trusted her aim. Next to her, Seth popped off a few rounds, catching one in the shoulder and stomach. The writhed until they, too, burst into flame.

Bouncing on his feet, Richie vaulted into action, a snarl sounding from deep in his chest. Lilah called after him, but he either didn’t hear or ignored her completely. Both were equally plausible.

“What an asshole,” she murmured, adjusting her grip on her pistol.

“Yeah,” Seth said, “But he’s our asshole.”

“He is,” she responded, finally squeezing the trigger and clipping a culebra in the side as they raised their fist to knock Richie across the face.

Smirking, Richie crouched and spun, slicing open their throat. Their skin burned in with the open wound, blood spurting towards the sky.

It went on like that, until Lilah’s clip was empty and Seth holstered first one gun, then the other—until Brasa moved into the center of the pack and set the whole thing ablaze, Richie ducking out of the circle of fire just in time to singe his coat.

The dust scratched her eyes, the wind blowing it all around the entrance of the garage. The sun beat down on them, the scent of burned flesh and earth filling the air. Lilah wiped sweat from her brow, adrenaline pumping in her veins. She looked to Seth, who was casually reloading his guns from a stash of bullets in the floor of the semi cab.

“Is it over?”

He looked to where Richie and Brasa were walking towards them, Richie’s confident swagger juxtaposed with Brasa’s quiet assurance. Neither of them looked wounded, the dregs of their victory crunching beneath their shoes.

“I think so.”

Lilah nodded, holstering her pistol. She only just managed to keep from pulling Brasa into a firm hug, glad for his safety. He touched her hand as he passed, his eyes looking her over for injury. The bond was open and pulsing, she could feel the excitement of a battle won as it flowed between them. He was strong. He was proud. He was victorious. Lilah could feel the residual power emanating from him, a tingling that signaled that she was in the presence of a greater being.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” she asked with a smile.

Brasa shrugged, “What’s life, if you can’t show off once in a while?”

Rolling her eyes, Lilah turned back to the brothers, one of which was dusting ash from his coat. The other stood with his hands on his hips, looking at the aftermath.

“Well, that was fun,” Seth chirped, “And by ‘fun’ I mean that I never want to do it again.”

“I don’t know,” Richie said with a smile, “Its good to shake the rust off every once in a while.”

Seth frowned, “Rust? Who’s rusty? Not me. I’m well oiled.”

Lilah rolled her eyes, turning her attention to Brasa, “This is going to go on a while.”

“I can see that,” he replied, squinting at the two arguing brothers.

It did, indeed, go on for a bit, until Seth shoved playfully at Richie, moving to the back of the semi, “You’re gonna have to do a little heavy lifting. Not gonna back this ass up to the loading dock.”

Brasa pulled out his cell phone, texting, “We will take care of it. Your payment should be in the account within twenty four hours.”

Seth cut him a sharp glance, “Yeah. Okay.”

From the back of the truck, he hauled a pair of large duffel bags, the content weighing down the length until it sagged in the middle. Dropping both at Lilah’s feet, Seth stepped back with his hands in his pockets.

“Got you something,” he said, “For the occasion.”

Curious, Lilah knelt near one of the bags, unzipped it. She peered inside, looking up at him with a smile, “Thanks. I can use something like this.”

One side of his mouth quirked up, “Thought so.”

Zipping the bag back up, she slung it over her shoulder. Brasa leaned down and snagged the other bag, shrugging it into place.

There was a moment of awkward slience, and then Seth licked his lips, eyes on the horizon, “You lied to me.”

There was no use in prevaricating.

She nodded, “I did.”

“For months.”

“Yes,” she confirmed, “Can you understand why I lied?”

Seth was silent long enough that Lilah feared the bridge between them had been burned irrevocably. She hefted the bag a little high on her shoulder, not sure if she had the words to mend their relationship.

“I was mad—maybe still am,” he said eventually, “I thought we trusted each other.”

“I did,” she responded quickly, “I do. I knew you would be mad.”

Seth rolled a shoulder, “I know. I’m sorry for yelling.”

“I’m sorry for not saying something sooner.”

Richie, who had been watching the exchange with interest, slipped his glasses back on, “Apologies all around. We good?”

Lilah waited for Seth to give an affirming nod before making one of her own. This would be awkward, but she was glad she hadn’t stayed behind and left the question of what would happen between them unanswered. They could maybe be friends again, if not partners. She was grateful for that. Her friends were few and far between—pretty much just the group standing around her, sans one. It would be hell to try to start over, nearly impossible to tell anyone about what her life was really like. Lilah didn’t even know how she would start that conversation.

“You never called, or sent a text,” Lilah prompted gently.

Seth’s mouth worked upward in half a smile, “Lost my phone. Same number, though. Just send me something, and I’ll save your info.”

Exhaling in relief, she looked around at the aftermath of what basically amounted to a ‘squabble’ in their book, “Anyone know where this came from?”

Richie followed the path of her gaze, “Three guesses. First two don’t count.”

“Benny,” reverberated between three distinct voices.

Lilah looked to Brasa, “What do we do?”

He sighed, “Finish it.”

“You get everything you need?” Seth asked.

Brasa nodded, “Only just. I’ll make sure this is delivered where it needs to go. And then I’ll make the trip.”

“I’m going with you,” Lilah pronounced evenly.

Without hesitation, Brasa acknowledged and accepted it.

“We’ll tag along, too,” Seth added, “Given what I’ve seen here, you might need the backup.”

Again, Brasa acknowledged and accepted.

Richie pulled out his lighter, the silver case spinning between thumb and forefinger, “Guess we’re getting the band back together.”

***

Later, after having spent hours working on the logistics of rationing their latest blood stores, Lilah lay in bed with Brasa in their underground home. She was reading through the notes she’d made on the book of bonds. The actual book had been lovingly added to Brasa’s collection, set amongst the other books in his office. She might one day pull it out again, for nostalgia.

The conversation with Kate in Iceland had stuck with her, nagging at her in the quiet moments. When she’d first read through it, Lilah had noted the passages on changes that occurred post-bond, but had (possibly naively) assumed that it would be primarily mental.

The word ‘fortify’ was used several times in varying contexts. Brasa, himself, had used it, leading her to believe that this was part of standard indoctrination. The question was: what did it mean?

Frustrated with the ramblings of her own written thoughts, Lilah set them aside. Next to her, Brasa was reading a Grisham novel. He’d been doing so quite serenely, unbothered by the shifting attention she’d been paying to first her notebooks, then her phone, and back.

Lilah looked at him, wondering if she should interrupt. He sensed her gaze, and sent her a sidelong look. A second later, he was slipping his forefinger between the pages and resting the book on his stomach.

“Ask your question,” he prompted, no bite in his tone.

Lilah laughed, her hand tracing over her forehead self consciously, “Its just something Kate said.”

“What did she say?”

“That she had stopped sleeping, stopped eating—like a normal person, I mean.”

His brow lifted, “And?”

She shrugged, “I just...hadn’t really noticed the same for me. She asked, you know? If I had been feeling the same way.”

“And you’re worried about it.”

Hesitating, she said, “Not worried, exactly. Its just...there have been so many surprises this year. So many. I wondered if this was going to be another of them.”

Brasa’s gaze was steady, his mind clearly processing what she’d just said. He leaned over and set his book on the nightstand, rolling to his side to face her.

“You took the news of your immortality poorly.”

She frowned, “I think my reaction was pretty normal.”

It was his turn to frown, “You ran away for three months, would have been gone longer if I hadn’t come to get you.”

Jaw working, Lilah kept her silence, looking away.

“Regardless,” Brasa waved his hand, “I thought it would be better to let you get used to a long life before we explored...other changes.”

“What other changes?”

He signed in resignation, “As Kate said, decreased appetite for food and sleep.”

Lila’s frown deepened to a glare, “Is that all the changes I can expect?”

Brasa’s mouth parted on an inhale as he thought, “Increased strength, healing, night vision—all things that might characterize a Xibalban.”

She drew back, confused, “I’m becoming...Xibalban.”

His brows quirked, “You are ingesting my blood, it is changing you. I’ve mentioned this before.”

“Mentioned, but not explained,” Lilah retorted, annoyed by the false equity. Then, “You said you had given me all the information you could. At the cabin, you said it.”

Brasa was silent for a while, looking a little lost for words. Lilah crossed her arms, unsure if she wanted to ask more questions. She didn’t like feeling constantly surprised by new aspects of the bond. On the other hand, Lilah like to be informed.

“How fast does it happen?”

“Every time you feed, the changes will grow.”

Lilah tried to count the number of times she’d taken his blood, and how much.

A hand rested on her arm, warm and entreating, “I have kept this in mind. I’ve limited your exposure as much as I could while assuring myself of your safety.”

Taking his hand in hers, Lilah asked, “So, I’m—what—super powered now.”

He smirked, “Perhaps not. But, you’re certainly stronger than the average human.”

Casting him an amused look, she said, “I could actually win a fight now.”

Brasa ticked his head to the side, “Possibly.”

“So, what you’re saying is that I could give you a run for your money now.”

He outright laughed, “No. Not even close.”

“Sure,” she drawled.

His expression turned mischievous, “Care to make an attempt?”

Intrigued, Lilah leaned in and asked, “What did you have in mind?”

Brasa looked down the length of her body, eyes lingering on her bare feet, “Put on your shoes.”

He waited until she’d rolled from the bed and was digging through her sock drawer to stand. Lilah pulled on her socks, stepping into her tennis shoes and tugging at the backs to fit them over her heels. Out of reflex, she snagged a hair tie and pulled back her hair.

“You gonna tell me?”

Brasa’s smile was not unkind, but there was something in it that screamed ‘predator’, “You’re going to run. I’ll give you a head start, and then I’ll follow.”

Smirking, Lilah responded, “What? Through the house?”

His smile widened as he moved past her out into the hall, taking a left. Lilah followed him, her brows rising as he stepped up to the door that had always been locked and turned the knob. It opened for him, only darkness ahead. Lilah moved to stand beside him, peering into the black.

As her eyes adjusted, shapes formed—carved rock, smooth stone.

“You built the house connected to the caves,” she murmured.

Beside her, he nodded, “I’ll give you ten minutes head start.”

“How long to I have to elude you to win?”

“An hour.”

She shook her head, “Half an hour.”

“Forty five minutes,” he volleyed.

“Forty.”

At this, he leveled at stern look at her, “Forty.”

Lilah looked up at him, her eyes narrowed, “You’re serious.”

“I am.”

Pursing her lips, she turned her attention back to the cave, “Alright.”

Brasa touched her arm, leaning into her space, “Don’t get lost.”

She huffed and rolled her eyes, but stepped into the cave, one hand on the wall to maintain her balance.

Behind her, Brasa said, “Ten minutes,” and closed the door.

The darkness was a physical thing, pressing in on her from all sides. Lilah’s heart picked up, anxious. She took a deep, steadying breath, and started walking. And then she jogged. And then she ran. Lilah didn’t stop to question the fact that she could still see the path before her in the darkness, though it strained her eyes. She also didn’t stop to think about where she might be going.

Exhilarated, Lilah picked up speed, taking turns at random, until her legs burned. It was only when she stopped to rest, leaning against the wall of the cave, that she realized she’d reached a dead end. There was no telling how much time had passed. And, not wanting to make it too easy for him, she doubled back and picked a new path.

Unable to keep a sprinting pace, Lilah slowed to a jog. Her legs still burned, and it took a couple hundred yards for her to realize that she was jogging uphill. In the distance, there was light. It was dim, a blurry shaft of discolored blue slicing through the ceiling to touch a ramp of stone beneath. She headed for it.

The climb was steep, and she had to lay on her belly for the last few feet as the rock met the ceiling. Shifting to her back, she scooted until she was looking up through the hole to the darkened sky above. Dotted with stars, it stretched over her entire field of vision. Lilah stared at it for far too long before she reached up and tried to figure out how she was going to angle her body out of the hole.

Hands grabbed at her ankles. Startled, Lilah kicked out with both feet. She caught him across the body, but failed to move him or gain enough traction to propel her up and through the hole. Unceremoniously, she was dragged back into the dark.

The stone scraped across her back. Her voice echoed back to her, a yell that wasn’t quite convincingly scared. She was smiling, even as she slowed to a stop beneath him.

“How did I do?”

Crouched on all fours above her, Brasa smiled indulgently, “Thirty three minutes.”

“Bullshit.”

He laughed, the pad of his middle finger tracing over her hairline, down her temple, and around her ear, “I wouldn’t lie about this.”

Frustrated that she’d gotten so close and still hadn’t won, Lilah braced one foot on the stone ramp, using the other to catch him at his center of gravity and push with all her might. To her great surprise, he rocked back far enough that she could get to her hands and knees. Fingers digging in, Lilah scrambled up towards the hole.

She got about five feet. Which, to be fair, was farther than she thought she’d get. He was on her, pushing all his massive weight into her back and forcing her arms and legs to collapse beneath her. All the air pushed out of her lungs, Lilah couldn’t even gasp as he pinned her down with an arm across her shoulder blades.

Just to goad him, Lilah wriggled, trying to work her hands into a more favorable position. She moved not an inch, but that didn’t keep her from grinning.

Brasa growled, the sound coming back to her in waves as it bounced off the walls. Though more savage then she normally heard from him, it hardly struck her as menacing as he might have intended. She cut off the laugh at the back of her throat, but not before he heard it. A hand grabbed at her chin, catching it from beneath and arching her head back.

“It would be a mistake to think you can overpower me.”

From any other mouth, Lilah might have been enraged enough to yank her chin out of his grasp and headbutt him in response. As it was, she could feel his amusement through the bond and knew he was enjoying the game as much as she was.

“One day,” she said over her shoulder, “I won’t have to.”

“Is that so?”

She nodded as much as she was able to, “You’ll never see it coming.”

He hummed, his lips touching her neck in a light kiss, “I look forward to it.”

“Say that again when I’m done with you,” Lilah shot back, unthinking.

At this, Brasa chuckled darkly, his hands adjusting their grip so that he could balance his body over her. More little kisses over her neck and down her shoulder until he met the collar of her shirt. He nosed beneath it, teeth scraping.

Lilah shivered, holding still while he did as he liked, her breath loud in her ears. Brasa let go of her chin in favor of pulling her shirt down over her shoulder. Lilah’s head dropped down to her chest, eyes closing.

She thought that he might tear into her clothing, pull it free from her body to get at more skin. He didn’t. Slow, measured kisses kept coming on every available inch, until he’d left no space unloved. Then, he shifted his weight behind her and pushed her shirt up and over her breasts, his mouth trailing down her spine.

Her bra snapped open, hanging down uselessly as he kneaded her breast. Brasa worked his way down her body, hands massaging over her sides until they met the waistband of her shorts. Wrists rotating, he caressed over her belly and pushed down into her panties. One hand held her steady as he teased the sensitive flesh in the crease of her thigh, a light pressure guiding her legs a few more inches wider.

Once she was in position, he slid two fingers down to her center, rubbing through her folds gently. Lilah bit her lip, focused on every movement of his hand as he explored. Firm pressure on her opening, and then he was pushing into her. A slow, careful intrusion that left Lilah breathless. She pushed to her elbows, hip rolling to get more.

He tugged down her shorts as far as they would go, pulling his fingers free to circle her clit. She whined, little tremors of sensation shaking her nerves. His other hand reached down to enter her from behind, working in concert with its counterpart to ease her towards the upswing of pleasure.

It was slow, but firm enough to keep her on edge, biting back begging words that may or may not sway him. Lilah focused on the rhythm as it picked up just the tiniest bit, focused on undulating back onto him, getting him as deep as she could. Her hands flexed on the ground below her, the scrape of the rock adding to the sensations buzzing all over her body.

Chasing the high, Lilah used what little strength she still had in her arms to push upright, letting her hips fall with the weight of gravity into his hands. She groaned, head tilted back, neck arched to the ceiling.

Brasa drew a shuddering breath behind her, and she heard him swallow. Lilah rose up with a little swivel, rocking back down with another, smaller sound of need.

It took little time for Brasa to right himself, to gain his focus back. The fingers on her clit circled a little too fast, though he held his other hand still, let her fuck herself on it as she liked.

“Is this what you need?” He asked, teeth nipping at her ear.

Lilah shook her head, reaching up high with one hand to see if she could brace herself against the ceiling. Her fingertips barely touched to rock above, skimming the surface ineffectually. Giving up on the notion, Lilah’s arm bent at the elbow so that she could tangle her fingers in his hair at the scalp.

She could feel it coming, rising up within her body, slicing through from the center outwards. Lilah fought it, forcing her body to slow down, wanting him to fill her before she came. Her mouth opened to say so, but the words came out as a long, agonized moan.

“Tell me what you need, querida,” he said, his breath fanning over her skin.

Behind her, Brasa was fire hot, the heat scoring all along her back, and inside her, everywhere he touched. She could feel how much he was holding back, the muscles of his thighs tense where she sat astride him.

“You,” she managed on a choked sob, “I need you.”

He loosed an oath, arms tightening around her. His chest expanded on a harshly drawn breath as he buried his face into her neck, “Let me make you come first, then I can—“

“No,” Lilah cut him off, “Now.”

She felt him shake his head, felt him begin to touch her in earnest, felt how close she was to cresting over the edge into orgasm. Again, she fought it. The hand in his hair clenched into a fist, pulling hard as she repeated ‘now’ to him in fierce demand.

A growl ripped from his chest. He withdrew his hand, yanking down his pants and positioning his cock at her entrance. Then, with no further preamble, he pulled her down onto him. Hard.

Lilah, already too close, felt every muscle in her body seize in blinding pleasure. It held itself aloft, suspended for several seconds until it dropped down into her cunt so hard that Lilah could no longer keep herself upright. She fell forward in a limp mass of shaking limbs, the sharp staccato of her voice sounding off the walls.

“Are you…” she heard him ask, followed by a loud hiss, both his hands finding her hips and squeezing.

He began to move, then, thrusting hard through the contractions, drawing out her orgasm as he sought his own. The movements were short, harsh, the pace picking up rapidly. Above the sound of his skin slapping against hers, Lilah could hear him grunt with the effort, swearing intermittently, until he pushed so deep that she didn’t think he could go any further. He pulsed inside her, his hips grinding against her ass, hands holding her both still and steady.

She lay like that in his hands until he pulled out. He adjusted first his own pants and then her shorts, rolling her to her back. Her hands and knees protested, the change in pressure letting blood back into them. She rolled her wrists, trying to ease the feeling.

“Are you alright?”

Lilah nodded, swallowing around the tightness in her throat, “I’m good. Just need a minute.”

As she lay there, catching her breath, Brasa massaged her legs from calves to hips, helped her to snap her bra back into place and right her shirt. He then kissed her lightly, taking her hand in his.

She smiled at him, “We should try that again sometime.”

“We should.”

Hooking a finger into the collar of his shirt, Lilah pulled him down for a deeper kiss, tongue touching at his lips in a gentle tease. At least, it started as a gentle tease. Still riding the feeling of the orgasm she’d just had and with his come dripping from her folds, Lilah pulled him closer, hands roaming his chest. Brasa leaned into her, and she could feel the razor sharp edges of his fangs, could taste the venom in his kiss.

She pulled away, breathing hard, “As nice as this is, we have a bed that is made of clouds and I would very much like to fuck you on it.”

He smiled, “Whatever you need.”

[bubblyani]

Holding in Green

(Adam Sackler x Reader)

An Adam Sackler One Shot

Genre: Fluff

Warning: Swearing

Request: i don’t know if u are taking requests but, if u are, could u do a Adam S. being jealous? xx @hidingp​

Author’s Note: Yes this is a jealous Adam Sackler fic but full of so much fluff I was floating in it. Just wanna love the man so freakin much. Hope y’all enjoy!

“You wanna talk about what happened tonight?” You asked, giving a knowing look to Adam.The french fry remained in between your fingers a lot longer than it should.

“What do you mean?”

He may have sounded nonchalant, but his eyes knew exactly what you meant.

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

(A few hours ago)

The rhythmic beat of the hiphop track echoed in the background while the group of dancers waited in the wings off stage. Your eyes followed each of them, enter the stage one by one. They moved in sync, and you made sure they did. When it finally was your queue, you made your entrance with a bang.

That was when you saw him.

In the audience drowning in darkness, Adam Sackler was visible to you more than anyone else. When your eyes met, he smiled brightly, giving a small yet silly wave. A wave only the two of you would enjoy. Unable to contain your joy, you blew your friend a kiss, incorporating it to your act with professionalism as you proceeded to dance with motivation. Your friendship with Adam Sackler was quite the interesting one. 

The first time you met him, it was during a rehearsal for a play he was in. Simple choreography was a necessity and your friend who was assigned to it had an emergency. Offering your helping hand as the substitute, all you wanted to do was be helpful. Adam understood your clear intentions, and though he was professional, he could not help but engage in conversations with you throughout the entire session. It was inevitable for the two of you to click. When you weren’t given the chance to sub anymore, Fate was kind to both of you with having the both of you run into each other in various instances. The friendship blossomed and their petals were strong enough to last. You respected him enough to offer him space without getting involved in his personal life if not disclosed with you. Having been burnt enough, you did not crave for unnecessary drama. Adam Sackler was a great friend to have. You both appreciated similar things and losing a great friendship was the last thing you hoped to do. 

He was eccentric, he was wild and dramatic, yet he was also sensitive. You could not help but adore him in a way which could not be defined. You adored his undying support to you and your dreams. Whichever performance you did, wherever and whenever, you would find him there, by chance or by invitation. He’d never miss it. Even this time, when you everyone else was too busy to even care, he showed up.

No wonder you couldn’t contain your inner joy. If anyone ever paid too much attention, they’d probably call this boyfriend behavior. But that mere notion was ludicrous in itself.

But anyways, back to the dance.

You felt your body set itself on fire as you led the group behind you. The choreography was packed and intense, with very little time to stop and even breath. You felt powerful, you felt sexy.

The choreography grew heated as one of the male dancers took you by the hand, guiding you to his arms. Bodies pressed against one another, they rolled to rhythm. The onstage chemistry was off the charts. You heard the audience scream in ecstasy. It was successful. Your eyes swiftly moved to see Adam’s approval. Was he impressed?

Instead you merely found him siting there, giving the coldest look you’ve ever seen. You would have delved into concern but there was simply no time as the group moved together once again, finally coming to a perfect finish.

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

“There you are!”

You squealed as the backstage doors burst open, and he swooped in first, welcoming you with a growl and a hug. You were touched in an overdose. You lingered in his arms with happiness. Seeing him to be the first to get up and applaud with enthusiasm, made you happier to even begin with.

“Awww...I’m so glad you came” you said, glancing at him up and down. Donning a smart suit, he even dressed up for the occasion, looking more handsome than ever. The crowds may have mixed in, but for the two of you it seemed irrelevant.

“Oh my god...” Adam began, “you were just fucking in-”

“Y/N!!”

A group of your older choreographer mentors surrounded the two of you. As they gushed out their sea of compliments, you noticed Adam beam with pride for you. He was appropriate in every way.  He was polite to them, introducing himself promptly and being the perfect guest. You could say you were equally feeling prideful.

 “And there he is...our other star!” One of them cried out as your dance partner from earlier joined in. Tanned and muscular, he flashed you a bright smile.

“We did it Y/N!” He said excitedly, moving into give you a hug.

“So what’s everyone saying?” you asked him

“Oh man...Our dance...” he said with such passion,”they are so digging the chemistry...” “I don’t know, I mean...was there any chemistry though?”

You both turned to Adam’s nonchalant yet snide remark. Towering before you both, he looked unwelcoming with his hands folded. A sheer contrast from earlier.

“Ah...where are my manners? Dave, I want you to meet my friend Adam” you said, “He’s an actor”  adding with pride. With a genuine smile, Dave extended his hand to Adam, “Hey man”

“Hey!”

Feigning enthusiasm, Adam shook his hand, giving it with a squeeze. And by Dave’s uncomfortable expression, you could tell he was squeezing it too tight.

“And Adam...this is Dave, one of the most promising dancers around” “Oh Y/N stop..” Dave shook his head with a chuckle, “...that’s not true”

“Yeah Y/N...I’ve seen better dancers” Adam certainly came in strong with these snarky remarks.

The atmosphere was getting tense and awkward. You were surprised to the fullest.

“Oookay...” Dave began, “...anyways, you coming to the after party?” He asked.

“Yes!”

“No!”

With raised eyebrows, you looked at Adam. “You don’t wanna come?” You asked him, to which he just shook his head. “Nah...Not in the mood”

The enthusiastically polite man from earlier had suddenly transformed into a child. Concerned, you knew you won’t have any peace of mind if you just let this go.

“I uh...I think I’m gonna take a rain check this time, Dave”

“Aww man, everyone’s gonna miss you though”  Dave said with disappointment, “...but all good babe”

He moved in for one more hug, only to be interrupted by Adam, who pulled you towards him to make room for a random stranger, who in the end, did not walk their way. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Fuck!”

Shivering, Adam jumped up and down. “It’s so chilly tonight” he sniggered as they walked along on the pavement.

“Hmmm”

Your reply was flat. Staring into the distance, you walked alongside him. Adam looked at you with concern.

“You cold?”He asked, even proceeding to take his jacket off to offer you.

“Hmmm”

You answered, haven’t yet noticed it as you kept walking. It was just strange. The moment they exited the theatre, there he was being his usual self. Trying to figure it all out, you found yourself to be very quiet.

Until you felt his hand on your arm.

“You okay?”

He stepped in front of you, waking you from your thoughts to reality. Suddenly you felt the extra chill in the wind, his jacket over your shoulders , and a rumble in your stomach.

“Actually...I’m kinda hungry”You admitted, automatically giving him his jacket back. Chuckling, you pressed your lips, “I just realized I didn’t eat anything” you said, your hands digging in the pocket of your hoodie, “...and they promised some food at the after party so-”

“Shit!” Adam cried out loud, holding his head. You watched the giant figure slouch with guilt.

“I’m sorry Y/N”

“No! it’s okay”

“Nope! Not acceptable. Come on!” 

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

(Present)

It was on him tonight, he said. Order anything, he said as he confidentially handed you the diner menu. So you ordered the two things you couldn’t live without: French fries and a milkshake.

“How are the fries?”

He asked, watching you stuff yourself. You nodded.

“Good. I was really hungry” you replied with a full mouth. Finally swallowing them, you smiled warmly, “Thank you”. 

A coy smile was incited as you both shared silence. 

“You were amazing tonight, you know.” Adam began, making you cover your face shyly, “You’re lying” you said.

“No really, I’m serious” sitting forward, he kept his elbows on the table, “No one...no one else was upto your level”

You were sipping in your milkshake , yet warmth spread over your body as it always did whenever he complimented you. His company was soothing in a way you couldn’t comprehend. Therefore, you couldn’t figure out the disturbance in the atmosphere tonight.

“You wanna talk about what happened tonight?” You asked, giving a knowing look to Adam.The french fry remained in between your fingers a lot longer than it should.

“What do you mean?”

He may have sounded nonchalant, but when his glance caught yours, you could tell his eyes knew exactly what you meant.

Exhaling deeply, you ate the french fry.  You licked off the salt off your fingers before you began to speak.

“Adam, do you know what I love about our friendship?”

His nose twitched upon hearing the word “friendship”. Uncomfortably , he answered with a mere shake of his head.

“Communication...” you said, “talking to you was always something I loved doing. I swear...” chuckling, you continued, “I can talk to you for...hours” you said, watching a smile form in the corner of his lips, “and I know, whatever problem we have...we could always figure it all out that way”

Nodding, Adam kept staring at your plate of half finished fries. Noticing it, you pushed your plate towards him.

“What happened with you and Dave?”

You asked with genuine curiosity, “I mean...before you were so nice and normal. And suddenly...just-”

“I don’t like him, that’s it” Adam snapped as he interrupted you.

“But why?”

“Y/N....” addressing you sternly, he continued, “You don’t need reasons to dislike certain people, you told me that once”

“Yeah...but why him? I mean...that weird guy down at the bodega..I can understand, but-”

Pausing, suddenly realization came over you. The way he turned cold watching you and Dave onstage. His snappy behavior around him. His deliberate attempt to avoid him hugging you. You gasped.

“Unless...” you muttered, “you’re jealous?”

It came out of you so softly, for you couldn’t believe it for one second. Running his hand through his hair, Adam growled.

“The moment that motherfucker put his hands on you” he said through gritted teeth, “...the way you guys were onstage. It just-“ You scoffed for you still could not fathom it.

“But I’ve danced with so many people onstage.Why now-”

“IT’S CAUSE I HAVE FUCKING FEELINGS FOR YOU, OKAY??”

Adam cried out, making you drop your jaw in shock.

Realizing his outburst, he looked down in embarrassment, “Fucking shit” He muttered.

A loud shush of disapproval was targeted towards your booth by an older waitress passing by. With an inaudible apology at her, you looked back at Adam.

This was definitely unexpected. But in a way, was it something you longed for in your heart all along?

“Wow...” You muttered softly, “I...I did not know that” “I’m...” pausing, Adam’s voice broke with vulnerability “I’m in Awe of you Y/N” He said, as his eyes twinkled upon looking at you, “And to even hear you calling me your friend or what we have a friendship is just...” clicking his tongue, he sighed, “...it’s sickening! It’s fucking hard”

Seeing him like this was nowhere familiar. And it broke your heart. You didn’t know of the effect you had in him. You never thought he’d think of you this way. And thus, you never considered feeling the same for him in return.

Until now.

Slowly getting up, you caught his full attention as you walked towards his side of the booth. Sitting next to him, you moved close enough, daring yourself as you slid over to his lap. His response was natural. The way his hand slithered over to your waist and the way he welcomed your weight on top of him.

Though it felt comfortable, you suddenly felt your heartbeat increase. Wrapping one arm around his neck, you lovingly gazed into his eyes with such intensity. You stroked his cheek, hoping to drive away the suffering caused cause of you.

Only one way to know, you thought.

Only one way to feed this aching curiosity.

Leaning in, your lips felt like magnets as they glued in to his in a tender kiss.

Tenderness turned into new found passion as he kissed you back. And man, it felt so perfect. So perfect that you found yourself getting addicted to a brand new kind of high. Breaking away, your foreheads touched to recover. “Always wanted to do that” you breathed against his lips. “No shit” he replied. Holding his face with both hands, you looked at with seriousness.

“All that you said, I get it. Really... I do. And it’s just so fucked up. It’s totally fair cause you had no clue what I was thinking. But...I want you to know...you don’t need to feel that anymore”

“Yeah?” He asked with desperation.

“Yeah...” you nodded, running your fingers through his dark raven locks, “There’s no need to hold in that green monster anymore, Adam” you whispered,

“Cause I’m yours”

A joyous smile filled his face before he kissed you passionately once again. You swore you forgotten your place until you heard the same waitress clear her throat with annoyance, forcing you both to pull away with frustration.

“Do you uh...” you began, twirling his hair around your finger, “...maybe wanna stay over tonight?“ Speechless, Adam merely nodded frantically, allowing his lips to reunite with yours, further sealing in the newly blossomed romance that had replaced the friendship that stood strong before. ——————————————————

Check My MASTERLIST for More :)

[bollywood-and-phoenix-feather]

manic hours opened yesterday and @just-another-trans-twink and I went on a 24-hour zukka lockdown. this was the result!

essentially: more sokka and azula content is absolutely necessary in this fandom, so here are five times sokka and azula collaborated for the better, and one time it was definitely for the worse

Read on AO3 above!

1. the gaang threatens murder

Sokka hadn’t felt this anxious in nearly six years – since the end of the war. Well, not counting the numerous attempts on his boyfriend’s life; those set him on edge for weeks afterwards. Today was different, though. It wasn’t just he and Zuko and the guards who were unusually tense and hyper-alert. The whole palace felt like it was holding its breath, terse silence stifling in the late summer air.

Sokka checked his timepiece. Thirty minutes until Azula arrived to move into the palace, hopefully (or unfortunately?) for good.

Zuko had been back in contact with his sister for years now. He’d been to visit her in the hospital many times, and she’d even visited the palace occasionally. The fact that she and Zuko could now hold a conversation without setting each other on fire was testament to how she’d changed. Even the doctors said she was better, more stable.

But Sokka still didn’t trust her - couldn’t trust her, after everything she’d done to Katara, Suki, his dad, Zuko… they were his family, and he had to be ready to protect them. Sokka wasn’t the only one that felt that way. Zuko might have started to trust her again, but everyone else was skeptical.

Katara was pissed; Sokka didn’t need Toph’s seismic sense to know that. She, Aang, Toph, Suki, and a few other Kyoshi warriors had arrived a few days ago for extra security. Zuko had stubbornly maintained that it was unnecessary, but he’d finally conceded it was probably a good idea after Sokka had asked them to come anyway.

Zuko, in his earnest quest to be a good brother, wanted to give Azula a proper welcome to the palace, with a small celebratory dinner with their closest friends - which were Zuko’s closest friends, since Azula didn’t really have those anymore. Ty Lee and Mai declined to come, and he was pretty sure everyone else had only agreed to come to provide moral support and physical protection for Zuko. Sokka was just hoping a fight wouldn’t break out.

-

Dinner was, well. Tense.

Katara did little but pick at her food and glare icy daggers at Azula, who pretended not to notice, acting coolly unperturbed by the tension around her. Suki looked relaxed, but Sokka knew better. Her fans sat on either side of her plate, ready for a fight, and she never quite shifted her weight to the back of her seat. Toph might have been the only one actually having a good time, irreverently picking her nails and drinking more sake than a person her size should have been able to.

Aang was desperately trying to ease the mood, chattering on far too cheerfully about new trade routes between the Earth Kingdom and Southern Water Tribe, while Zuko passively nodded along, glancing over at his sister occasionally like he wanted to talk to her.

“... so then, shipments will move primarily between Akahime, Kyoshi Island, and the Southern Water Tribe, like they did when I was a kid! Or was a kid for the first time, I guess! Huh. Anyway! This is gonna be great because it’s a relatively short and easy trade route but the quality of goods -”

“Aang,” Sokka snapped, physically unable to listen any longer. “I love you like a brother, but that does mean that if I have to listen to you recite the trade proposal that I helped write for any longer, I will shave your eyebrows off while you sleep. And Katara -” Sokka whirled on her - “I know you’re upset, but can you please return my water to a liquid state? And everyone else’s, for that matter? Otherwise someone’s gonna have to deal with a hungover Toph tomorrow, and it sure as hell isn’t gonna be me!”

Sokka glared at his sister across the table. Her face was stony, her eyes slightly narrowed. Was this going to end well for Sokka? No. Did that mean he was going to back down? Absolutely not.

“Fine,” Katara muttered through gritted teeth. With a twitch of her fingers, the ice filling everyone’s cups of water melted back to liquid - all except Sokka’s.

“Real fucking mature, Katara - ” he began, and then she flicked her fingers out towards him, melting the water in his cup and sending it right at his face.

“You little shit!” Sokka shrieked in what he was sure was a very, very manly tone. As he rose to confront his sister, Zuko and Suki turned to exchange a fond look, both of them struggling to hide their laughter. Sokka took a breath, feigning sincerity. “You know what? I take it back. You’re ALL a bunch of assholes.” He yanked the tablecloth towards him, sending food and drink flying, before attempting to make a hasty escape.

Chaos erupted. Katara bent the water off herself and onto Zuko, apparently declaring him guilty by association. Toph began shooting grape-oranges at people with alarming precision, while Suki deflected them just as easily. Sokka didn’t get more than a few steps away from the table before his feet were earthbent into the floor.

“You’re not going anywhere, Snoozles!” Toph bellowed, now pelting him with various fruits. He tried to dodge without falling on his face, and was only saved by Zuko grabbing both his arms to keep him balanced. Sokka looked up to see Zuko with a wide grin on his face, and Sokka, hopelessly-in-love bisexual that he was, had barely started his usual inner monologue about how beautiful Zuko’s smile was when Zuko leaned in to smear egg custard on his face.

Just as Sokka opened his mouth to voice his betrayal, another shrill scream split the room: “Are you fucking kidding me?!” Everyone turned to see Azula standing in the corner of the room, irate, steaming the water off her shirt and picking a few stray noodles out of her hair. “I lost to you?! You?”

Tense silence returned, dragging on as everyone tried to anticipate Azula’s next move.

Toph, who had remained unscathed by using the metal plates as shields, and who was somehow still sipping from a full, intact glass of sake, broke the silence. “Yep,” she said, popping the “p”.

Azula stared at Toph for a few moments before sitting down, a look of resignation on her face. Hm. That was new. So was the “Whatever,” Sokka thought he heard her mutter under her breath.

Slowly, everyone returned to the table to pick at what was left of their food and exchange uneasy glances with one another.

Aang cleared his throat. “Did anyone try the chicken? I thought the chicken was lovely.”

-

“I’m going to bed. Are you coming?” Zuko’s hands rested lightly on Sokka’s shoulders, and Sokka sleepily tipped his head back, away from the scroll he was reading, for a kiss. Zuko smirked, a few strands of hair that had escaped his topknot softly framing his face, and obliged.

“I’ll be there soon, okay? I just have a couple more things to take care of,” Sokka murmured in response. As usual, they were up late working in their study. (Technically, it was Zuko’s study, but Sokka almost always worked in here and was steadily covering any available flat surface with his scrolls, reference books, and blueprints. Not that Zuko was complaining.)

Zuko hummed, “Okay, love you,” against Sokka’s lips, before striding out of the room. Sokka waited until his footsteps had faded down the hall before rising, hoping he remembered the way to Azula’s room. He really didn’t want to ask for directions.

A few minutes and wrong turns later, he found Azula. She yanked open her door before he had really finished knocking, snapping an acidic “What?” in his face.

Sokka shouldered his way inside, closing the door behind him and choosing to ignore the fact that she could fry him like a pig-chicken in an instant if she decided it was worth it. He couldn’t think about that right now; he had to do this.

“Listen,” he growled, not bothering to hide the years of hurt and anger behind his voice. “I don’t know if you’re actually better or if this is part of some elaborate scheme of yours, and you know what? Right now, I don’t really care. You’ve hurt too many of the people I love. But you have Zuko convinced, and I guess -” His voice cracked, and he took a breath, trying not to wince visibly. “I guess that’s all that matters right now. He cares about you. A lot. So if you hurt him again, know this: consequences be damned, ending you will be my sole mission. Understand?”

Azula, level and unflinching, arms crossed over her chest, held his gaze for a long moment before huffing and breaking eye contact to inspect her nails. “Bold of you to assume I can be killed, Water Tribe.”

Sokka could only continue to stare, gritting his teeth to prevent his mouth from drifting open in astonishment. The fuck kind of response was that? What did that even mean?

Apparently satisfied with her nails, she turned her face back up to look at Sokka, a new, hard glint in her eyes. “Don’t worry about me. The threat is mutual. Guards!” A royal guard stepped through the door, standing at attention. “Please escort Ambassador Sokka out. I need my beauty sleep.”

And before Sokka could even begin to form a response, the door was closing behind him, and his feet were guiding him to Zuko’s chambers.

2. the gaang goes crafting

Sokka placed two thumbs on his temples, rubbing vigorously before giving up his headache for a lost cause with a sigh. This was the second Four-Nation (well, three-nation plus Aang) diplomatic council meeting he had attended, and as both the Southern Water Tribe representative and a young man who had seen far too much over the past few years, he was deeply frustrated.

When he'd been younger, he'd sat through enough war meetings to know how they usually went: chaos and argument, with Hakoda listening carefully before picking out the bits and pieces that mattered. It was a lot like hunting: waiting and watching for the correct moment to strike. Sokka had learned long ago how to listen, and listen well.

Unfortunately, it seemed like he might be the only one. The Earth Kingdom generals had not taken kindly to being placed in a small room with their Fire Nation counterparts, and every word out of their mouths demonstrated all too clearly that the war, for them, was not yet over. Zuko's position was still precarious - twice-banished and once-crowned - and so he could only do so much. The Earth King's travels had clearly done him some good, but the bar for improvement was unbelievably low. And Sokka did not yet have his dad's ability to command the room.

So this wasn't, at all, like hunting. It might actually be more like the moment after the hunting was over, when the offal was thrown to the polar bear dogs and they went wild, howling and yelling and stomping down the snow.

"I know that face," came a snide voice to his left.

Sokka jumped and drew his sword, mostly on instinct. Azula met his eyes over its point, and then pushed it away, lazily. Sokka let her.

"You're thinking," she said. "If you were my brother, I would say it was a rare feat. But you're not him, are you?"

Like everything Azula said, this question was a test, or a game, or both. Sokka rolled his eyes and chose not to play. "What do you want?"

"I want what you want," said Azula. "And I can help you get it."

Spirits. Even when she was trying to help you, she sounded like she was planning world domination. "Tell me how to get General Wu to shut up for more than five minutes, and then we can talk."

Azula examined her nails. They were much shorter, now, than they had been at the start of the war, so the effect was less like a predator picking its claws, and more girlish; it made her look her age, for once. Sokka wasn't sure if Azula knew, and if not, he certainly wasn't going to tell her.

"General Wu's daughter is studying at the Royal Fire Nation Academy, in her third summer. That means she's currently memorizing the fifty-eight rhetorical principles, and she's probably been practicing them so much that he can recite them by rote. If you bring up the one about the value of being concise - "

"He will finish it, embarrass himself, and then keep quiet for at least the next five minutes so that I can shut down his stupid air-balloon outreach plan." Sokka blinked, surprised at the words coming out of his own mouth. "Did I just agree with you?"

"Of course you did," said Azula, smiling. Her palm was sparking a little, in the way it did before she said something about collective power for utter domination, etc., so Sokka took the opportunity to head her off early.

"Come back to the library with me," he said. "We still have nine generals to go."

Azula looked at him. Sokka looked right back. He had the upper hand here, and he knew it - Azula must have been bored out of her mind after months nothing interesting to do but watch the path of the odd frog-fly. As far as Sokka knew, she wasn't even allowed out of this wing of the palace unattended, let alone permitted to read anything more recent than her great-grandfather’s time.

"Fine," said Azula, finally, feigning boredom. Sokka smiled.

-

Zuko stared. "What is this?"

"What does it look like?" said two voices at once. Sokka and Azula looked at each other in brief, honest shock, before turning back to him as one. Zuko swallowed nervously and resisted the urge to draw his swords.

"Um. It looks like the librarian is gonna be mad at you for defacing the general's royal portraits," said Zuko.

"What did I tell you?" said Azula, scornful. "I knew he wouldn't understand."

"We just have to give him a minute," said Sokka, patiently. Zuko stared. We? he mouthed.

"Oh, well, let him be," said Azula. "Zuzu - " she began, sweetly, and Zuko didn't even flinch this time - "you take all the time you need. If you have questions, we will be in my chambers."

"In your chambers," agreed Zuko, haplessly. "Why?"

"We're finishing the border agreement," Sokka threw over his shoulder. Azula was already halfway down the hall.

"The border agreement. The one that - they've been working on that for months! What do you mean you're finishing it?"

"Oh, you know, teamwork and whatever. It wasn't that hard." Sokka grinned brightly at Zuko, giving him a large thumbs up, and then skipped after Azula.

3. the gaang does science

As much as Zuko was unnerved by the...alliance? working relationship? collaboration? between Sokka and Azula, he had to admit that they were making great progress. They had resolved the border agreement, a messy affair Zuko was sure would take the rest of the year and possibly also Aang’s moderation to conclude, in less than a week.

That had been months ago, and since, they had gotten everything from education reform bills to reparations proposals approved by the council and various world leaders. Sometimes Zuko wondered who was really running the country right now. He didn’t mind, though. It was fun to watch the dusty old men on his advisory council squirm in meetings when Azula sat in the corner, staring them down and taking meticulous notes.

Plus, he got more sleep this way.

Zuko rose and stretched after signing off the Power Duo’s latest proposal for terracing the mountainside of a nearby village to grow rice. Dismissing his constant internal struggle over whether their partnership should make him thankful or fearful for his safety, he went to find Sokka. He got more time to eat in places that weren’t his study now, too. He’d thought a surprise picnic by the turtleduck pond might be nice; it’d been so long since he and Sokka had been able to go on an actual date.

He’d already asked for a blanket and a basket of food to be sent over to the pond, so all he had to do was find Sokka, who…wasn’t in his office. Zuko frowned; he must be outside.

Zuko headed towards the courtyard behind the building instead, lost in thought about their last date - Sokka had talked him into seeing The Ember Island Players’ most recent atrocity, which had lived up to Zuko’s rock-bottom expectations, but they’d gone swimming afterwards, and then -

Zuko’s train of thought (and the accompanying flush in his cheeks) was cut off abruptly by the truly alarming sight greeting him in the courtyard.

Azula was elaborately strapped and tied to Sokka’s back like a baby hog monkey, her arms falling in front of his shoulders to tighten a couple last straps. Both were wearing large, ridiculous, leather-framed goggles that fit snugly around their eyes. As Azula worked with the straps, Sokka unfurled two triangular pieces of cloth that bore suspicious similarity to the wings of Aang’s glider. The bottom part of the cloth appeared to be attached to his boots, the top edge to his arms.

Before Zuko could even say, What the fuck, Sokka? , Sokka grinned over his shoulder at Azula and said with far too much vigor, “Ready?”

Azula, clearly still focused on the straps, snapped, “I’m always ready. Are you sure this will work?”

“No, but there’s only one way to find out! That’s science! Sokka-POW!” And with that, Azula lit a massive flame under her feet, sending them both flying above the roof of the palace. Immediately, despite Sokka’s best efforts with the cloth flaps, they careened wildly out of control before plummeting directly into the roof of the residential hall on the opposite side of the courtyard.

As he sprinted towards them, calling for his guards to send a healer, he could think only two thoughts: (1) spirits, please let them be okay, and (2) if they’re not dead, I’m going to kill them.

Crashing through the door of the building, he found Sokka and Azula on the (very charred) floor, a few small fires surrounding them, which he snuffed out with a wave of his hand. The two were still mostly strapped together, Sokka rolling around on the floor in an attempt to dislodge Azula, while she tried to undo the straps at Sokka’s front with mixed success.

Zuko unsheathed one of the daggers at his waist and willed himself not to breathe fire as he launched into a tirade that bald-ponytail, sixteen-year-old Zuko would have been proud of. “What the fuck were you two thinking! Are you stupid? Don’t answer that, smartass,” He glared pointedly at Sokka while he sliced his way through their bindings. “What would I have done if something happened to either of you? There’d be a fucking diplomatic crisis, I’d have a dead ambassador and a dead sister and a very, very angry Southern Water Tribe -”

“In my defense,” Sokka muttered hoarsely, head lolling back onto the floor, “my dad would definitely believe you if you told him that I did something like this.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” He sheathed his dagger and whirled on his sister. “Azula,” he pleaded, “why?”

She shrugged, and offered only, “Science.” A smirk spread over her face, splitting streaks of soot. “Maybe if you’d let me read a book published in the last two hundred years, then I’d know it was a bad idea.”

Zuko’s imminent death threat was cut off by Sokka’s chuckling from the floor. “Nice one, ‘Zula. Up top.” He raised his hand weakly for Azula to give him a high five.

I can’t believe I’m in love with this concussed idiot, Zuko thought (not for the first time). Healers rushed in to save the two from Zuko’s remaining wrath. “I’m telling Katara,” Zuko muttered.

“Nooooo, babyyy, please don’t tell Katara, she’ll -”

“I’m telling Katara, mostly because you deserve to be yelled at by someone else, but also because she and Aang get here in a week, and I don’t know how else I’m going to explain why it looks like a comet crashed into the palace. And, you know what? Royal decree - you two are not allowed to hang out unsupervised any more.”

Azula glared at him - less her old I’m-going-to-mount-your-head-on-the-palace-gates glare and more the usual your-existence-tires-me glare that he saw pass between Sokka and Katara so often. That was better, though, and Zuko decided that he would take it. Sokka just pouted, jutting out his bottom lip and batting his eyelashes. Zuko found this look cuter than he should, and Sokka knew it.

Zuko steeled his resolve. “I’m telling Katara, and I’m not going to stop giving you shit about this until we’re approximately eighty, okay? But you can read whatever you want in the library. Happy?”

The Power Duo cheered, and Zuko couldn’t hold back a soft smile.

4. the gaang hoards the brain cells

Maybe it was a lifetime of being the oldest sibling and also the responsible sibling, or maybe it was just because he had grown up around Katara, but despite all appearances to the contrary (see: the as-yet unrepaired roof of the residential hall) Sokka was actually a great influence on Azula.

Part of this was definitely due to the fact that Azula, like, listened to him. Sokka wasn't sure that he'd ever been around someone who did what he said without question. Zuko supported him, but in a boyfriend kind of way; sometimes Sokka would jump in with a plan fully formed, and then Zuko would make him explain it back and work out the kinks; other times - and especially in fights - by the time Sokka had come up with a workable plan, Zuko was already in the middle of it, flaming-feet first, and Sokka had to improvise (brilliantly, but desperately) to keep up.

Katara, conversely, never actually listened to him. She just did what she wanted. If what she wanted happened to line up with Sokka's exact plan, she would never admit it. It was her right, really, as a younger sibling; Sokka knew this, and he loved her.

But Azula understood his plans almost before he said them out loud -  most of the time because she was thinking the same thing. And somehow, out of everyone - she respected him the most; sometimes Sokka felt like she was trying to earn his approval, like she knew that if Sokka trusted her, so would Katara, and even Zuko. If she was a sail, Sokka was just a rudder, steering her: they didn't have to be pointing the same direction, but their boat would never crash.

Sokka frowned, trying to imagine himself as a boat. Would his wolf-tail be the rudder? Or would his whole body just be triangle-shaped?

It didn't matter. (It did. He would figure it out later.) Right now, he needed to talk to her about some of the villages at the southern border; heavy rains had induced mudslides, wiping out shrines and causing the spirits to run amok. Sokka thought that maybe, this village might be a kind of Heroism Starter Pack for Azula, that they could - what was that noise?

Sokka looked down. The castle floor should not be splashing his feet, and yet it was; he was standing in a giant puddle. He looked up, suddenly focused; there was a trail of muddy water making its way down the hall.

Sokka followed it. The water grew muddier and deeper as he went, and Sokka despaired for whoever would have to clean it up. Finally, he caught up to the source: his very bedraggled sister, and his equally soaked boyfriend, trudging toward the baths.

"Um," said Sokka. "What's happening, here?"

Katara turned around. "Well, someone had to do it." Her hands were on her hips, her nose upturned.

"Yeah," agreed Zuko, smiling. "We took care of it. It was fun."

Don't get him wrong - Sokka was all for Zuko's little smiles, and Zuko having fun, but - "Take care of what? What did you do?"

Zuko and Katara scowled, eerily identical. "What we did," Katara said, edging from 'self-satisfied' to 'fiercely righteous', "was settle the spirits and save the villagers, since obviously the Earth kingdom civil forces don't have the bending knowledge to do it yet!"

"Yeah, like I said," said Zuko. He was frowning like a kicked puppy, which was unfair to Sokka specifically. "We took care of it."

"Oh," said Sokka, relaxing. "That's great! So you guys talked to the villagers?"

"Um," said Zuko. "About what?"

"...the mudslides. And, like, preventing them? The tiered rock formations?"

Zuko stared at him, a little furrow forming between his eyebrows which meant he was totally lost. Katara avoided his gaze, shifting from foot to foot.

"Katara," said Sokka, using his absolute best big brother voice, "remember my designs? Which I told you about last week?"

"Look, Sokka," said Katara, gently. Sokka frowned and crossed his arms; Katara had not been able to fool him with that voice since she was about ten years old, and she knew it. "We solved the problem. The spirits are settled and everything is okay now! Your designs were great, but we just...didn't need them?"

Sokka stared her down; Katara stared back.

"If you're going to -" "Well, what exactly was your - " they began, at the same time, and Zuko sighed; before they could really get into it, a rush of heat interrupted them, shrinking the puddles on the floor to sad little piles of dirt, and blowing Katara's hair dramatically into her face. Sokka stifled a laugh.

"I think the real question is, what did you actually do?" Azula asked, appearing from the shadows. She was holding Zuko's Blue Spirit mask, which was dripping with mud.

"Dramatic entrance high-five," said Sokka, because she deserved it, and because she was going to be on his side. Azula obliged, and then raised an eyebrow to Katara and Zuko, who reminded Sokka a bit of blow-dried cat-herons.

"We're not dumb," said Katara, smoothing down her robes. "We entered the village in disguise, and then cleared the mud and repaired the shrines. The spirits calmed down pretty quickly after everything was fixed."

"Right," said Azula. "Until the next time it rains. You know, what might have worked better would be to educate the villagers about flood barriers, or perhaps even offer them assistance in moving their shrines."

She sounded about as scornful and sarcastic as usual, but Sokka knew better; her ideas were legitimate and compassionate. He was so proud. Their murder baby was all grown up and trying to save people.

Katara did not pick up on the fact that Sokka was swelling like a pig-chicken about to crow. "You don't know that - "

"What we do know," interrupted Sokka bossily, "is that at some point it's going to rain again, and then the villagers are going to sit and pray to the Blue Spirit and the Painted Lady instead of building these custom-designed flood barriers on the mountain."

Zuko shuffled his feet. "I didn't really think about that."

"Zuko, I love you," said Sokka. "but in my humble opinion? No, you did not."

"I don't agree," began Katara, but Azula cut her off. "I do. I feel the same way Sokka does."

Zuko stared at her, like he was desperately trying not to ask: about what? But Azula was biting her lip and kind of looked like she was about to break into hives, so Sokka let her have this one.

"Here," he said, thrusting his plans into Katara's arms. "I support the fact that you guys got to do your dramatic spirit thing, but now please go back and give them my plans."

Azula brought two fingers up to her nose, showily. "And do take a bath, please. I doubt the villagers will appreciate your particular stench.”

5. the gaang plans a proposal

“...and that’s why you can’t trust General Yin, but you can use him to gain influence with Ambassador Xi and her supporters,” Azula finished, emphatically pointing at a few points on the elaborate web of papers tacked up on the wall of Sokka’s quarters. It’s not like he’s slept in there in years, anyway.

Zuko’s bed is much nicer. Because it has Zuko in it.

Sokka jotted down a few notes from Azula’s monologue, absentmindedly passing her their (stolen) bowl of noodles. He dropped his pen and rubbed his eyes. On to more important work. “So,” he said. “I’m proposing to Zuko. Wanna help?”

Azula met his eyes and stared him down. Sokka waggled his eyebrows, smile as big as his face.

“You’re serious,” she realized.

“Of course I am! It’s the biggest tactical challenge of the century, because Zuko is the most suspicious guy we know and he absolutely cannot suspect.” Sokka tossed her a scroll. It was long - and detailed. “What do you say?”

“With my help, this will be the best proposal ever made. Together, you and I are unbeatable!”

“Cool beans,” said Sokka. “Plan over breakfast tomorrow?”

-

Zuko stared at Katara. Katara stared at Zuko.

“Okay, so. I love your brother.”

“Obviously.”

Zuko shifted in his seat; his tea was untouched. “No, I mean. I really love your brother. He’s - the love of my life.”

Katara narrowly resisted the urge to say: if you love him so much, why don’t you marry him? Then, abruptly, she got the point.

“Are you asking for my blessing?”

“No,” said Zuko, and in response to Katara’s murderous glare, backtracked immediately. “Yes? I mean. I already asked Chief Hakoda.”

“Oh,” said Katara. Then, more gently, and possibly because she was worried Zuko might pass out, she asked, “What do you need my help with?”

“Planning,” he said, letting out a breath. “I want to propose and do it right, but Sokka’s the plan guy. Everyone knows that. And I thought, that since you know him, you could - “ He cuts himself off. “Forget it. It was a dumb idea anyway.”

Katara wills him to meet her eyes, because she is completely certain that they are actually sparkling. “Zuko,” she says, hand to her heart. “I would be honored.”

-

“Hello, Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe. Your boyfriend, Zuko, here. Well, you probably know me because of...all the time we spend together. You know, dates and other things. Like meetings - “

Sokka’s hand was suddenly on his forehead. “Zuko, babe, are you feeling all right?”

In short succession, Sokka examined his eyes, ears, and tongue, and took his pulse (ripping his robes open to do so). Zuko flushed, which just seemed to make Sokka more concerned.

“Sokka!” he growled. “I’m fine. Everything is fine. And also normal. Fine and normal.”

“Of course!” said Sokka, laughing a little maniacally. Maybe he was spending too much time with Azula. “Fine and normal. Why wouldn’t it be?” He laughed again.

“Uh, guys,” said Toph. “Are you two okay?”

Zuko blinked, and came back to himself. In front of him were ten to fifteen very important diplomats, and all of his best friends. He was in public, at dinner. And his robes were ripped wide open.

Sokka was suddenly jerked back in his chair, presumably by Azula. His eye twitched. “Nothing to see here, Toph! Look! I’ve finished my dinner!”

Toph frowned. “You haven’t, and I can tell when you’re lying.”

“Fine, I’m not hungry!” Sokka declared. “What are you, a cop?” His eye twitched again. “I have to go now, for unrelated reasons. To, uh, review some paperwork. Bye!”

He was gone so fast Zuko was pretty sure he left a little dust cloud behind. Toph looked nonplussed. “But,” she said, “I am a cop.”

Katara reached over to help Zuko straighten his robes, giving him a sympathetic look. He felt Suki’s glare from across the room. When he and Sokka had started dating she’d threatened to - quote - remove his entire spine from his body by way of his mouth if Zuko broke Sokka’s heart, and with the way Zuko was acting right now…he couldn’t blame her for being suspicious.

Katara followed his gaze. “Hey, Zuko,” she said, brightly. “Didn’t you have that - thing?”

“What thing?” said Zuko. Oh, god. He had forgotten something, hadn’t he? He -

Katara pinched his arm, hard. “You know. That thing. That you had to do in your chambers?”

He couldn’t lose face any more than he already had. “Of course, Katara,” he said. “I will go now to do that thing.” Zuko stood up and retreated with dignity, praying that whatever it was, he would remember when he got there.

The table was quiet in their absence. The diplomats - who seemed to be inured to this sort of thing - soon began chatting peacefully, or placating Aang, who had helpfully pulled out his usual marble trick.

Azula watched Katara steadily over the table; Katara refused to meet her eye. “What,” Katara said, finally. “Is there something on my face?”

Azula leaned forward, bangs shadowing her face. “Tell me everything you know.”

“About what?”

“You know what!” Azula snapped. “Is my brother planning to propose?”

Katara shifted in her seat. “Unlike you,” she began, haughtily, “I know when to retreat. So, fine. I will tell you some of the things I know.”

“Where,” Azula demanded, “and when?”

“Princess, Sparky,” Toph said, irritated. “Don’t you get it? It doesn’t matter whether you know, because those two dumbasses haven’t figured it out!”

This brought the table to a halt. Even Aang stopped his marble, because it was true: Sokka and Zuko might together be the force that had liberated Boiling Rock, but when it came to each other? That famed intellect went sailing out the window.

Katara deflated, laying her head on the table. “We’ve got our work cut out for us, don’t we?”

Azula reached out and, wonder of wonders, patted her arm with something close to sympathy. “Might as well get started.”

-

Zuko paced his chambers restlessly. What had he forgotten? Oh god, was it something related to the proposal? His hands flew to a fold in his robes, finding the necklace he’d engraved for Sokka - a smooth, deep blue leather band with a perfect moonstone pendant, which Zuko had engraved with a dragon and a wolf, nested together in a loving embrace. He sighed in relief.

Spirits, Zuko was so in love with him. He was desperately trying not to fuck up this proposal, but it seemed he was fucking up the not fucking up and -

He needed to take a walk and clear his head. He could almost hear his uncle sagely murmuring, “You rarely find answers in a crowded mind, Nephew.” Or something like that. Zuko made his way from his and Sokka’s room to the turtleduck pond. It seemed he was usually able to find answers there; it reminded him of his mom.

Approaching the pond, he saw a familiar figure sitting at the base of the cherry tree, already starting to bloom. Sokka seemed lost in thought, staring down at something in his lap, but jerked to attention once he heard the rustle of Zuko’s boots against the grass.

Zuko sat down next to his partner, nerves momentarily overshadowed by the sweet, peaceful movement of wind through the branches of the cherry tree and his abundant love for the man sitting next to him. Zuko reached up to brush a stray blossom from Sokka’s wolf tail, cradled his face to run a thumb over his cheekbone. “Hi,” Zuko murmured, gently pressing their foreheads together. “I’m sorry.”

Sokka pulled back slightly, face contorted in confusion. “For what? I’m the one that should be apologizing. Zuko, I -”

“Apologize? For what? I’m the one who acted like an absolute ass. Ugh, spirits, ‘Zuko here,’ what was I thinking,” He dropped Sokka’s gaze, his hands drifting towards his lap, getting painfully frustrated once again. “And then I just - I couldn’t - fuck!” Zuko was interrupted by Sokka’s hands grabbing his hips and pulling him onto Sokka’s lap, and by Sokka’s lips meeting his.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Sokka murmured in between tender kisses, and his lips were soft and warm and everything Zuko wanted right now and for the rest of his life, and if he had to keep this a secret anymore, Zuko thought he might literally die.

Zuko pulled away, just enough to look Sokka in the eyes. “Marry me,” Zuko breathed. “Please, Sokka. I love you so much, and I don’t know where I’d be without you, and I - I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” Zuko only realized he was crying when Sokka ran his thumb under Zuko’s good eye, brushing away tears while Zuko fumbled in his robe for the necklace.

At the sight of the necklace, tears began to spill from Sokka’s eyes, too. “Zuko… it’s beautiful, I - yes. Zuko, yes.” Zuko released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, and they were kissing again, and then all of a sudden, they weren’t, because Sokka, the absolute fucker, was laughing uncontrollably.

Zuko immediately began imagining worst-case scenarios. What if he didn’t mean it? What if the past five years with him have been some extremely elaborate prank, and -

Sokka, noticing his now-fiance’s abrupt silence, attempted to quash his laughter and held Zuko’s hands - still clutching the engagement necklace - in his own. “Zuko, love, hey, look at me. I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing because, well…” He pulled a small pouch from one of his pockets and opened it to reveal two delicately engraved golden bracelets, traditional Fire Nation engagement gifts. One held the image of a dragon; the other, a beautiful motif of waves crashing against a shore. They glinted warmly in the moonlight alongside the pendant of the engagement necklace. “I’m laughing because I had the same idea, I guess. I love you so much, and I want a life with you. Will you help me put this on?”

Zuko first let Sokka slide the bracelets over each of his wrists, then lifted his hands, shaking slightly, but steadied by Sokka’s warm touch, to clasp the necklace behind his neck. The tension bled out of Zuko, and he melted into Sokka, pushing him to the ground and kissing him senseless, from his mouth to the stone now resting at the base of his throat.

Sokka started laughing again, and Zuko joined in, overjoyed at the beauty and the absurdity of it all, at how lucky and in love he was.

6. the gaang commits arson

Librarian Hirai had been working at the royal palace since before Firelord Zuko had been crowned, going on forty years, now. His vast experience hadn’t prepared him for everything, certainly; the time with five Kyoshi warriors and a badgermole had been unprecedented, and he wasn’t sure he was going to lift the ban on platypus-bears in the palace anytime soon.

Hirai’s experience, however, had prepared him for this: the Fire Nation’s most formidable duo, Ambassador Sokka and Her Highness Azula, together, with access to children.

Hirai did not know the children’s names. He classified them solely on their capacity to irritate him; the only name he knew was that of the youngest, Tenzin, because the sweet child had never caused him any trouble. Naturally, Tenzin was to be found nowhere near this unholy gathering: instead, Hirai saw the bouncy one (liable to cause things to fall over), the Princess (insolent, with her fathers shamelessly wrapped around her finger), and the Teenager (arms always crossed, eyes forever rolling).

Her Highness Azula’s hand was alight with blue fire. To the courtyard and everyone within earshot, she was saying: “If you want to burn it, just go ahead. Everything important, your uncle or I have memorized.”

Hirai stopped listening, in an effort to avoid a coronary and possibly death. There was a protocol. Everything would be fine.

He moved methodically, double checking fire suppressant stations and tightening the seal on the vacuum chambers holding the oldest scrolls. He closed every entrance except the main one, and he stood guard outside of it.

This was not a long process; their royal Highnesses were still gathered like a storm cloud in the courtyard. A particularly loud storm cloud. Hirai had weathered storms before.

The ground rumbled, slightly. Republic City Chief of Police, Toph Beifong, emerged from it, and dusted herself off.

“You know,” she said conversationally, “arson is illegal. I can have you arrested for that.”

Hirai relaxed, infinitesimally. Beifong was known to be tough and fair; perhaps, after so many years, the spirits had thought to grant him an ally.

“So,” said Toph, rubbing her palms together. “Today, I’m going to teach you how not to get caught.”

It was interesting: Hirai had never before actually lent weight to the expression that one’s life could flash before their eyes. In that moment, swaying slightly where he stood, he was forced to concede that there might have been some truth to it after all.

He turned around, very calmly, and made his way to his desk. He groped vaguely for some parchment and ink, and in precise lettering dictated his resignation from the palace staff, effective immediately.

Somewhere out in the courtyard, their Highnesses’ Uncle Sokka and Aunt Azula high-fived.

[imaginesandideas]

Sorry?

okay it’s so random, but this is a very short (1.8k worth of words) idea that came to me all of sudden, so - I guess it’s my first Diego fic aye? 🎉

WARNINGS: swearing, bits of ANGST and SMUT (underage please scroll down past this)

~~~~~

Living in the centre has its moments. Like shops and bus stops nearby, or great apartments. But there any days when you’d rather kill every single one of your nosy neighbours, noisy people on the street and everyone else who comes in your way.

Why? Cause you’ve had a long, tiring day and nothing went as planned, and all you wanted to do was to have a nice long shower, maybe eat some leftovers and go straight to bed to get some well deserved rest.

But no.

Apparently the universe and someone banging at your door at 3am were having other plans.

So you drag your already warmed up, limb body from the bed, and down the hall slowly opening your reddened eyes and cursing under your breath.

“Good fucking riddance! What kind of a blabbering asshole wakes up people in the middle of the goddamn night for no bloody reason!”

The door swings open and you’re met with the most pitiful countenance one could ever expect.

No, not a box of cute puppies but a whole 6 feet of shameless discourtesy. And missed calls.

“Well, well-“

“I’ll explain!”

“- Diego fucking Hargreeves kneeling at my doorstep at dawn. Unexpected, uninvited-“

“_____ please, quiet love. You’re alarm the neighbours.”

“ - AND, dares to give me instructions on what I am supposed to do.”

Your face is the epitome of resignation and anger, a perfectly sour mix of those two. Normally you’d just let him in, check if he’s injured and go back to bed with his arms wrapped safely around your curled up form. But it’s not one of those days.

“What the fuck do you want...” You speak up quieter now, but with just as much of exhaustion in your voice. Your arms crossed over your chest.

“You?”

“Cut the bullshit Hargreeves.”

“I’m sorry okay? If only you’d know you’d understand.” He’s also visibly tired but you can’t let this one slip out.

“Then tell me!”

“Here?” His eyebrows rise in the darkness of the hall as he gestures around himself.

“Yeah, could be here.”

“Can I at least come in?”

You take a deep breath before nodding and stepping back inside to let him pass. As the door closes you can feel his warm hands roaming up your sides but you shimmy out of his grasp scrunching up your nose.

“You smell.”

“Well yeah, I’ve been locked up for 3 days. That’s why I didn’t come earlier.” Your face twists in shock at his words. He’s visibly broken but he still tries to cover the whole story with guilt so you don’t ask further questions. And you just give up.

It’s way too late to continue any of this and you really just wanted to get those extra hours of sleep before your afternoon shift.

You bring your hands to your face to rub circles around your sleep deprived eyes and sigh loudly.

“Never mind. Clean yourself up, I’m going back to sleep.” You exclaim before heading back in direction of your bedroom. He doesn’t move though and you’re too sleepy to notice.

“Love you.” He calls after you, but you wave him off.

Once your body hits the mattress you’re gone. Your limbs mindlessly tangle themselves in the cold sheets, providing a much needed coverage.

When Diego finally turns the water off you’re long asleep. After grabbing a towel he comes to you, but stops mid-step at the door. Your chest is heaving peacefully, lips are slightly parted.

Somehow, in all of this madness, he found that fragile piece of happiness he wasn’t sure he was deserving of. It was you all along, and it took him so much time to realise that. So much that he was ashamed of himself.

Afraid that maybe his presence is making your life even more difficult. But maybe he’ll be able to repay you one day. One day.

But for now it’s still the night, even if the sun is already brightening up the sky, making it appear both orange and grey.

Throwing on a tshirt he climbs up to your side, curling around your sleeping form protectively. He watches your brows as they knit together in a dreamy haze. How your lashes flutter lightly, how the veins on your neck reappear with every intake of air, how your hair frames your face. Soon street lamps turn off and the sun is about to rise. But both of you breathe steadily together, snuggled, safe.

~~~~~

Some noise almost wakes you up around 10am but your brain has more sleeping on its mind. You can’t really protest, you’ve been up all yesterday and that idiot boyfriend of yours had you woken up in the middle of your blissful, undisturbed rest.

Your head and eyes are still heavy with sleep. Still half awake you keep your eyes closed, only covering your face with your arms for another half an hour. Chest raises, lungs are filling with fresh morning air, only you don’t remember leaving your window open.

Warmth spreads from your fingertips to your feet. Until it’s too much and you squirm, tossing and turning on your back before you abruptly come back to your senses.

“Di-Diego?” You stir sitting up on your elbows before your voice turns into a moan. From beneath your lashes you notice the growing smirk forming on his clearly occupied lips. He’s so pleased with himself he doesn’t even bother to answer. His mouth gently sucks on your clit, tongue swipes across your folds in a sweet yet torturously slow manner.

Classic Diego. But no, you can’t even think about it right now, he’s too good at it. Way too good for your liking. He nips, licks, gently bites on your thighs in the meantime leaving blooming, dark marks. You exhale another loud moan which only fuels his movements. It’s slow and sensual yet intense, enough to strike a match within you. And it burns, spreads from your core to your head and wakes all of your senses. You sit up completely and he pulls your legs up, over his shoulders, devouring deeper. Feasting on you.

“Uhh, Di, what’s gotten into you?” He pulls back with exaggerated pop, grinning.

“You.”

You roll your eyes playfully and in a blink of an eye he’s back at it again, sucking on your sensitive nub with newfound vigour. Your head falls back on your shoulders, eyes follow rolling back into your skull. His hair is soft underneath your fingertips when you reach out to tug at the roots encouragingly and he hums sending vibrations through your body. You’re trembling, losing your breath. Soon enough he notices that and adds fingers to stimulate your folds even more as his lips feverishly continue attack on your clit.

And like a bolt of lightning you unravel in front of his eyes, your shoulders tense just for a moment before relaxing as shocks of pleasure take over you. It feels like you’re about to sink into sheets, pillows and everything else. And it’s too much, your arms almost give out threatening to make you collapse.

Your fingers dig into the hair on his scalp and you gently pull him away, your eyes finally locking for longer than few seconds. Talking seems unnecessary so you shift to bring his lips close to your own. He takes the matter into his own hands yet again and climbs up over you to kiss you deeply. How could possibly not love that perfect mouth of his. You can smell yourself on him just as intensely as the soap on his soft skin. It feels so good it might as well be a dream, but it’s not and you pull away breathless.

“You need to shower.”

“Again?!” He whines in a raised voice and you laugh at how petty he looks like this. Like a disappointed puppy.

“Di, you smell like my cum baby. Don’t want you running on the streets smelling like my pussy.”

Your words cause his pout to turn into a toothy grin.

“Maybe I don’t mind smelling like my favourite pussy.” He whispers with that cheeky smirk of his before leaning down to plant a kiss to your sternum.

Smooth fucker.

“Still doesn’t explain this kind of ‘good morning’.” You lower your voice. “... after how harsh I’ve been last night. I didn’t mean that.”

“I know. But I’ve been a dick several times too, so I guess we’re even. Besides, I wanted to make it up to you. And that prison cell was cold and lonely y’know...” Your laughter fills the room and he smiles even wider, only semi-offended. “I mean it! I missed you.”

“You missed my ass, that’s what it is.”

“I missed those too.” He says squeezing your breasts before biting on your nipple through your shirt making you squeal. “And I love to pleasure my lady.” He adds and you playfully roll your eyes, though you know he’s being genuine.

Since you two got together he made his mission to prove you how incredible you are. In a way, he crowned you his queen. And even if that queen sometimes had to patch him up late at night, he still made sure to pay her back later with everything he could. In words and actions.

You reach up to kiss his cheek as your fingers stroke the skin on his cheek and temple.

“I love you Di. Even if you sneak up on me in the middle of the night like a fucking creep.”

“Love you too babygirl.”

You caress his cheek lovingly and he can’t help but get lost in your eyes over and over again. As if the world did not exist. Only you. Together.

“I also love that perfect mouth of yours.” You tease and he immediately catches it. Two could play that game of constant innuendos.

“Is that so? Well, I love your pretty lips too.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-hm. Couldn’t stop thinking about them in that cell. And your pretty cu-”

“Oookay, that’s enough for now! First - breakfast.” You forcefully roll him off you before quickly jumping on your feet in direction of the kitchen, fixing your underwear in the process and leaving a chuckling mess of a human behind you. You could get used to having that laugh everyday in your bedroom. And such enjoyable mornings. And-

“I’m not hungry though.” He yells after once he catches his breath. You peek out the open door and he’s seated in the middle of the mattress, hands behind his head leaning on the headboard, all spread out and comfy.

“Is that so?”

“I mean, I’ve already eaten, so I’d much rather burn some more calories if you’re into exercising before breakfast.” He says wiggling his eyebrows at you. Oh he’s really good at teasing. But you’re in no way complaining. And mornings with Diego could just become your favourite morning routine...