#he'd be perpetually 'in between jobs'

[whitecreekvalley-if]

[ Demo TBA ] • Character descriptions • Pinterest •

Genres: Slice of life, drama, mystery, romance

WCV is rated 18+ for explicit language, violence, alcohol and drug use, and explicit sexual content.

Life's taken a nosedive—no apartment, no job, no friends. Desperation pushes you to cling to a chance from a kindly stranger offering a ticket to a town hidden beyond mountains and plains, a place people don't seek but always seem to need.

Welcome to Whitecreek Valley, where the Brass Pine Ranch needs your unique skills to mend a crumbling homestead, and a crumbling family. As you tackle the decay of the ranch and the town alongside the rancher's son, deeper troubles emerge—livestock falling ill sparks fears of a town on the brink of extinction. Can you navigate this community, help them rejuvenate, or will it become another link in the list of ghost towns of America's Wikipedia page?

FEATURES

Customization: Appearance, personality, gender & sexuality, what job they had before, their hobbies, etc. Choose how they feel about being a farmhand, how they're adjusting to the rural life, and - with your choices - how the town as a whole sees them. Are they part of the community or an perpetual outsider?

Skills: Depending on your previous job, you'll have a unique set of skills to help the community. Choose to learn new skills, like woodworking, bronc riding, or sheep shearing, to mention a few.

Animal husbandry: The distances around Whitecreek Valley are hefty, so it's necessary to have at least a horse to get around. Choose your favorite out of a cast of individual equines, each with their own personalities. Also, help a calf into this world and realize how fun it is to raise a baby cow! As long as you're in good standing with the rest of the herd, of course.

Rebuilding: Try your best to rebuild the Brass Pine ranch, and the town adjacent. The better job you manage, the more opportunities (and challenges) come your way.

Community outreach: A dying town is still home, and there are stories to be heard, problems to solve. Lend a helping hand to your new community and see how one kindness can pay itself back.

Romance: Not everyone in town is adverse to strangers, and if your heart yearns romance, there is a chance for a spark along the way. Just be careful as to who you're trying to woo in front of whom. Small town gossips, we've all seen it.

Mystery: There's something hanging over the valley, like a rot in the air. Why are people moving out? Why are exports not moving out? And who's behind the animals getting sick? Don you detective hat and lend a hand to the entire four local police officers working the bizarre case.

THE LOCALS (RO'S)

THE RANCHER'S SON

Mason "Mace" Gannon - 27 - he/him

He used to be so much fun. I miss hanging out with him, out by the bonfires. He'd always make everyone feel so included and happy, and oh, that homemade cider he'd bring? Warmed us up on those chilly late fall nights, when we had nothing else to do. Did I tell you about the time he got us all to go skinny dipping? He was such a charmer, I wonder --

Imagine Mace as your human golden retriever – the guy who's a blast to be around, a bit mischievous, and the first to rush to your aid whenever you need it. After being gone for five years to live his rodeo dreams, he's back, now the sole caretaker of the family ranch in his hometown. He goes to great lengths to keep his personal issues personal, and it's the butt of many jokes how he's always there to help others but has the worst time asking for help himself.

He's you boss, and probably one of the best you'll ever get. Just don't pay mind to the spats between him and his dad.

THE BARTENDER

Alice Marks - 25 - she/her

Alice, she's a feisty one! Like her poppa, rest his soul. How I love the drinks she comes up with at the bar, and that horse of hers! She could go into rodeo, but I don't think after what happened with her pa... Oh, but she's a wonder! Always there with a quip, how they drive her suitors mad. Good thing she stopped with the talk about moving away, the town would be so dull without her!

Alice is the town's most known inhabitant, running the show from the only bar in town, which she just happens to own. Her mind is like a machine for fun, and she's the brain behind all the pop-up events and happenings around town. Sure, she can be a bit like a hurricane of enthusiasm, but hey, that's Alice for you. If the town had a social heartbeat, it'd be Alice – the vibrant, smartass soul making everyday life feel like a blessing.

THE DEPUTY

Word of the wise: Never challenge Alice to a drinking game. You will lose, spectacularly, and it'll all be on film.

Judge Gannon - 34 - he/him

Judge is a bit strange, don't you think? He just vanished as soon as he turned eighteen and popped back out of nowhere! That must've been, let's see... Five years ago? He doesn't spend much time with us commoners though, but I think I've seen him at the bar once or twice. I don't actually think he knows how to make nice with people, he always has that glower on. Gets it from his dad, let me tell you --

Bold and straight to the point, Judge isn't out here trying to be intimidating – it just kinda happens. If his brother is a golden retriever, he's definitely the doberman of the family. He's got this brash, no-nonsense vibe that some folks mistake for arrogance, especially when they try laying on the charm and he's not having it. He steers clear of small talk unless it involves his job, and when duty calls, he's more than ready to throw down to protect his town and county.

There's this local urban legend that he cracked a smile once, but it's like spotting a unicorn – not everyone's buying it.

THE LAWYER

Mercedes "Sadie" Diáz - 32 - she/her

The new girl, yes! Oh, a beauty! And so curious. I do love sitting down with her though, oh the stories she brings from the big city, so intriguing! I hear she finds our town intriguing too, the mayor once - don't tell anyone I told you this - the mayor once said he caught her breaking into the city hall archives! I know, scandalous, but good on her, maybe now someone will argue that my neighbors fence post --

Sadie, the big-shot lawyer from the city, doing her solo act in town. When she's not in court, folks are lining up just to get a piece of the urban tales she's got. A trailblazer and truth-seeker, she's got this knack for poking her nose where it probably shouldn't be, and surprise, she knows more local secrets than the town gossip. Sure, she's all passionate and calculated, a bit out of sync with the town's warmth, but hey, that logical mind of hers might just shake things up and get the town back on track.

It's a well known fact that she could get access to places with the right documents, but she herself has said it's more fun to pick locks. Go figure.

LIST OF MAJOR NPCs

LIST OF MINOR NPCs

#interactive fiction #wip #if wip #if: intro #cog #choice of games #interactive novel #choice script #or is it #choicescript #idk idk

[phantoms-lair]

Batman Prompt

Tim shows up at Jason's asking for a favor. He's going to be out of town for a few weeks (totally a case and not seeing if he can clone his spleen and reinstall it) and needs Jason to cover him.

Jason's like, I guess I can take a patrol or two.

Tim: No I need you to take over as acting CEO of Wayne Enterprises

Jason:...Is this a joke?

Tim: You are the only one in the family I trust with this.

Jason: How do you figure? Tim: Bruce will either ignore it or foist it off on the first available person. Dick can barely manage his own apartment. Babs is running everything else in the city. Cass is still not the best with communication outside the family. Steph would be hilarious, but I'd like the company to be there when I get back. Damian is, look I have a laundry list on that one ranging from too young to how he'd react the first time people insulted him for his age. And Duke I honestly don't know well enough to know how he'd handle it.

Tim: You, though? Have established and successfully ran your own business in a very competitive and overcrowded market, building your brand from the ground up.

Jason: Are you talking about me being a crime lord?

Tim: This is Gotham. Potato Potahto.

Jason eventually agrees, possibly resurrecting the Eddie Drake ID since his real one is still legally dead. And honestly? Tim was right. There's not much difference between running his criminal enterprise and Wayne Enterprises, except he can't threaten people with death.

Lucius is thrilled, the is the best example of a CEO doing their job he's has in years as Bruce was always more focused on his Batman things and Tim was both perpetually exhausted and fighting an uphill battle to get the shareholders and department heads to listen to him. Jason and the company are thriving.

Bonus the first: Bruce was unaware Tim had asked Jason to do this, showed up at a board meeting, and 'Eddie Drake' saw his chance to needle his dad.

Bonus the Second: A few weeks in an emotional Tim send Jason a worrying message apologizing for making Jason have to do such a horrible job, that he'd never be able to make it up to him, and he's sorry he had to do it. A few hours later Tim sends an apology for the prior message, explaining he was on the good pain pills, don't worry he's fine, and thanks again for doing this. And it makes Jason realize Tim's being CEO because he feels obligated to and maybe, maybe, he wouldn't be opposed to making this a permanent thing.

#Batman #Prompt #CEO Jason Todd

[aezuria]

Hi! could you do a daughter of hadez! reader x leo valdez headcannons or one shot? Like the reader is really gloomy and Leo is the only one that gets her to smile (like nico and will oops)

*ੈ✎ turn that frown upside down!

content: leo valdez x daughter of hades! reader

╰┈▸ warnings: canon divergent probably, a few cuss words

librarian's annotations: so i was stuck between making that daughter of hades fic with jason angsty or this one, guess which one i did ! (he can never be not tragic im sorry) anyways SO SOOOO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I HOPE U LIKE IT

you were not the most joyous person; at least that's what it looked like to other people.

like, did anyone ever see you smile?

(probably nico, but that's about it)

well, leo valdez took that as a challenge

a pretty girl like you with a perpetual frown on her face? he'd turn that frown upside down!

(or so he hoped)

you picked at your food, sitting alone at the hades table once again; nico sneaking off to who knows where doing gods know what

leo took his chance and approached you, not caring about the assigned seating rule

i mean, he couldn't just let you sit there all alone!

"hey there," leo slid onto the bench in front of you, his elbow on the desk as he tried to act all suave.

who is this bumbling fool? you looked up from your food, an ever present glare in your eyes.

yikes, leo thought, laughing awkwardly. "you looked a little lonely, so i wanted to keep you company. is that alright?"

normally (as normal for an abnormal situation like this) you'd tell them to go fuck right off. but maybe you were in a miss-your-brother mood, or maybe you were just hungry and not thinking straight.

regardless, you gave him a shrug and took a bite out of your food. that wasn't a complete no.

scandalous gasps echoed through the pavilion. leo had already gotten their attention when he broke the rule, but you letting him stay? now that was absolutely unbelievable!

you turned your sharp gaze around the hall, wondering what the sudden rise in chatter was about. (they all took it as a sign to shut up because no one wanted to see the daughter of death mad)

your unbothered ass kept on eating because it was hitting especially hard today like-

"so..." leo trailed off, fingers tapping against the table as he tried to come up with something quickly. "who's your godly parent? mine's hephaestus, i found that out like, yesterday."

"hades," you answered shortly. you thought it would be obvious with your whole vibe, but maybe to a newcomer it wasn't. and you were a bit glad it wasn't, because no one bothered to talk to you once they found out.

"oh! yeah that should've been obvious, huh?" leo laughed sheepishly.

you nodded, the mostly one-sided conversation extending for a painstakingly long time.

"y/n!" leo waved eagerly once he caught sight of you leaving your cabin.

you startled, about to look over your shoulder to see who he was waving at as if he didn't just yell out your name. you put up your hand in a weak attempt at saying hello. you were about to go and start walking again when he ran towards you calling, "wait!"

you stopped short and turned back around to see him sprinting towards you. (guess all that running away was good for something)

he put his hands on his knees dramatically and gasped for breath. (maybe not?) leo straightened up, a bright grin on his face. "where are ya going? can i come with?"

you were off to go brood in the woods or something; not much of a two-person job. but for some reason, you couldn’t say no to his cheerful smile.

”sure.” you turned and went to walking again.

he scampered after you excitedly. “great! so what are we doing? do you wanna see this cool bunker i found? look at this bracelet i made! do you want it? i can make another so we match!”

you were a little overwhelmed with the amount of topic changes that happened in a matter of seconds. it was like a conversation with him made up for all the social interaction you deprived yourself of. it was quite endearing, if you were being honest. (maybe you didn't want to be all mysterious and nonchalant anymore! was that so bad?)

principle was principle after all.

"we can go to your bunker if you want," you said after he finally gave you a chance to speak. it's not like what you were about to do was any more interesting.

you didn't know how it was possible, but he smiled even wider. "really!? great! it's this way!" he took your hand and ran in the direction he pointed.

(and if your heart skipped a beat as he did so? well, that was for your information only)

"you like?" leo swung the door open and swooped an arm out proudly. "i'm still cleaning it up so it's a little messy, but there's so much cool stuff here! i don't know why nyssa didn't tell me about this. also! look at this dragon i found! his name's festus!"

he ran over to an astoundingly large bronze dragon. to say you were impressed would be an understatement.

"whoa."

"i know right!?"

"why do you always have a frown on your face?" leo asked one day. his hands itching to tug the corners of your mouth upward.

what? "i'm not frowning. this is my normal face." your face knitted in confusion.

he blew out a sigh, shaking his head in response. "seriously?"

"why would i be joking?" you deadpanned. but maybe that was also your normal voice.

"so like, everyone thinks you're mad at them when you're really just looking at them?"

"wait, people think i'm mad at them?"

"..."

"leo?"

"..obviously, i was not about to just sit there and take that, like it would so not fit my super cool, super funny, super hot and manly vibe-" he cut himself off once he heard a giggle to his right. he looked over to see you, a soft smile on your face.

he thinks he could've died a happy man right then and there. did he, leonidas valdez, just manage to make you smile? and not just that, but laugh? his life goal was complete. zeus could strike him down right there and he'd welcome elysium with open arms.

but of course, he just had to play it cool and not act like he was totally head over heels.

"did i hear a laugh from you?" leo smirked and nudged your shoulder. "y/n, do you think i'm funny? i mean, who wouldn't, right? i'm just hilarious!" he teased.

"shut up," you hid your smile behind your hand as you tried to wipe it off.

"aww!" leo drew you in for a hug, completely forgetting his "play it cool" attitude. he felt you stiffen in his arms, and he immediately let go and scooted back. "i'm so sorry! i don't know why i did that! did i make you uncomfortable? sorry!"

seeing his flustered expression brought yet another smile to your face. (or maybe it was just him in general) "i was just surprised. i liked it, leo."

fuck. if he looked at your precious face a second longer, he'd have to confess his undying love for you right then and there. and there was a lot he had to say.

but actions did speak louder than words. "can i kiss you?"

"yeah."

gods be damned, that boy could kiss.

#*ੈ✎ stories #leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #hoo #heroes of olympus #hoo x reader #heroes of olympus x reader #pjo #pjo x reader #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #percy jackon and the olympians

[brewed-pangolin]

Pseudo Climactic

OG Soap MacTavish x Fem Reader

18+ MDNI Explicit Smut, Established Relationship, Alcohol Use, Intoxication, Reader turned into a pretzel, Slight Dom/Sub themes if you look closely, Absolute Filth

A/N: The continuous brainrot of Captain MacTavish carries on. I was supposed to drop this last night but had to partake in some New Year's festivities. Hope y'all had a fantastic night bringing in 2024, and that you didn't drink too much of the bubbly because...

Word count: 1.6k

Imagine trying to fake an orgasm with Captain MacTavish because you were too drunk off New Year's champagne.

You were currently folded in half, knees against your chest with strong hands pressing into the flesh of your thighs to keep you perfectly positioned for him against the continually whining mattress.

Soap MacTavish was lost. Mind blank and body in overdrive as he relentlessly thrusted his throbbing cock into your open and soaking cunt.

The lube was definitely doing its job. He'd come at you like a desperate and horny fiend and was well aware you weren't going to get wet enough for him.

He'd blame on it the dress in the morning.

You, on the other hand, were at complete fault for your currently doubled over disposition.

"Why'd ya got to wear that dress?" Soap whispered lowly against your ear. Snaking his hand around your waist to get a tight squeeze of your ass against the bar as you ordered yet another glass of champagne.

"Because I look damn good in it." You retorted, sliding your free hand down and over the supple roll of your hip. The tight, black sequin dress leaving nothing to the imagination as it hugged every voluptuous curve of your feminine form.

"Aye. Ya fuckin' do, lass. But donnae ya think ya'd had enough a-"

"Hands off."

You spat back, swatting his hand away as he tried to grab the glass from within your delicate grasp. Bringing the slender rim up to your lips with a confident smile. All while shooting him an arrogant glance over its circular base as its intoxicating effects coursed through your veins and into your consciousness.

"Easy, lass. Donnae make me pull rank on ya."

"Donnae make me pull rank on ya." You mocked deliberately, even as he narrowed his eyes at you.

His piercing cerulean stare gradually began to be shrouded by a heavy brow. The tight muscles of his jaw clenched while his hand glacially traveled from your ass the delve deeper between the flesh of your thighs.

"Keep it up, ya lit'le minx. An' I'll make sure th'ball ain't gonnae be th'only thing droppin' at midnight."

"Who says we gotta wait til midnight?"

Captain MacTavish was right. You were a little minx. And to solidify that fact, you grabbed your freshly filled glass of bubbly and pulled his hand out from between your legs.

Sauntering off as the steady thrum of the bar added to your already humming subconscious. Making you sway your hips like a sequin laced seductress, effortlessly gliding over towards the other end of the packed tavern to make a hasty exit.

You didn't bother looking back. Even amongst the cacophony of music and boisterous voices, you could hear the heavy cadence of his footsteps behind you. The very presence of the Captain made the air of the bar shift, forcing the crowd to part and allow for a more easily accessible departure.

"Like the parting of the red sea," you hummed quietly under your breath.

And as you made your way towards the open door, a sudden thought began to form in your drunkenly fueled mind. Bringing an overly confident smile to your lips as you placed the champagne glass on an empty table.

Soap MacTavish needed you. And he needed you now.

And goddamn, did he need you.

Yet just as his mind and body worked you like an overused sex doll, you were somehow still cemented in the mundane thoughts and trivial misgivings of reality. The endless glasses of champagne retaliating against your efforts to revel in his relentless pounding as continuous thoughts and regrets from the previous year perpetually flooded your mind.

"Goddamit, come on.." you managed under a heavy breath. Gritting your teeth, clenching your eyes shut to silence all senses and focus only on the feel of him.

You tried to let the world go. To lose yourself in the otherworldly pleasure that only this Scottish beast of man could thrust upon you.

But it was to no avail. Not even Captain Soap MacTavish, the love of your life and best lay you'd ever had could break the bindings of intoxicated actuality.

So you gave in.

You knew your body well enough to mimic the muffled whimpers and desperate gesticulations of an encroaching orgasm to a 'T'. Most men could never tell the difference.

Most men.

You were currently in the grips of giving an Oscar winning performance. Arching your back off the bed, eyes clenched and digging your nails into the flesh of your thighs, and putting on a verbal serenade that would put Meg Ryan to shame.

To put it lightly, your erotic enthusiasm knew no bounds.

And yet, just as you were about to reach the pinnacle of your climactic execution, he halted.

Full stop. System override.

Slowly, you opened your eyes. And when your gaze settled on him, you were met with an expression you had never come face to face with on him before.

Confusion. Resentment. But also, amusement?

"Wha' th'fuck are ye doin', lass?" He panted.

Gripping into the flesh of your thighs as a prominently furrowed brow etched itself onto his forehead. Only serving to accentuate his smug tone and inquisitive curl to his lips while his cerulean eyes threw daggers at you.

"John, I-"

"We're you tryin' to fake it on me, lass? Ya think I cannae tell the difference?"

"John, please. I-"

You were cut off yet again as he pushed himself inside to the brim. Filling you completely with his pulsing cock as he leaned his sweat laden, muscular frame on top of yours. Eyes rolling back in your head and forcing a moan to escape from the depths of your throat as he folded you into an incomprehensible pretzel.

"Ya cannae fake that shite with me. I ain't no one night stan'. I know yer body. Betta' than you, even..."

His hot breath fanned over the curve of your neck as he brought his lips down onto your throbbing pulse point.

That familiar, deep growling brogue vibrating against your flesh and acting like a blade to finally sever you from the tight champagned fueled grip of reality.

Letting out a drawn-out exhale, you felt your body steadily begin to relax underneath him. Pulling his densely built weight up just enough to let you breathe as his steely gaze raked over your trembling and contorted form.

"Tha's it. Now, wha' does m'poor drunken, needy lit'le lass need, eh? Ya wan' it slow? I can give it t'ya slow.."

Soap's words were like honey laced venom. Putting his full weight onto your folded legs once more, letting his hips gradually rock back and forth against your pelvis. A slow, languid movement of his stiffend length pumping into your heat that threatened to instantly pull you into the realm of his pleasured depths.

And just as you were beginning to settle into his unhurried rhythm, he forcefully thrusted himself back into you. Shoving your body into the mattress and pushing your head up against the headboard with a breathless gasp. Causing you to dig and claw your nails into the flesh of his shoulders as he threw his hips back to nearly pull out, only to vigorously throw himself back into your heat once more with a deep, resonating growl.

"Fuckin' hell, bonnie. Is this what'ya need? Wanna break in tha' New Year by breakin' th'bloody bed?"

"Goddammit, John," you managed with a groan in response. Gasping for breath as your mind try to play catch up to your body's ongoing pleasured torture.

"Maybe...somewhere, in between...just..fuck...get me off, baby..."

"Aye. I'm gonnae get ya off, ya needy lit'le minx. But yer gonnae have'ta promise me one thing."

"What?" you replied swifty in a breathless whisper.

The rumbling tremble of authority wrapped around his voice working you into a feverishly desperate mess, writhing underneath him as he brought his lips down to within inches of yours.

"Donnae ever where tha' fuckin dress in public again."

"Yes, sir."

"Tha's a good lass," Soap hummed quietly against your lips. Resuming the mind-numbing pace of his hips as you closed your eyes and let yourself finally give into sensual torment.

You spent the remainder of the night continuously moaning and bellowing his name from your overworked lungs, so much that so you knew you'd be hoarse in the morning. And Soap had had you twisted and bent over in such an array of contorted positions you'd more than likely put a hardened yoga instructor to shame.

By the end, you were so overstimulated and spent after your umpteenth orgasm that you could barely conjure up a single comprehensible thought. The effects of the alcohol long gone. All you could feel was the constant tingling along your skin accompanied by the distant thrum in your core as you slowly rode out the last waves of your final climax.

"You good, lass?" Soap asked, his tone more hushed and reserved as he laid comfortably on his back next you.

Ignoring the protest in your overused muscles to turn your head and steal a glance at him. His body glistening in sweat, the dim light illuminating him in such a way to accentuate the rolling and sculpted curves of his muscular frame.

"Yeah."

That one word was all you could manage on a hushed whisper. Letting your mind and body recover from what felt like hours of erotically fueled physical torture at the hands of the legendary Captain.

Within a matter of minutes, you could feel the tendrils of sleep beginning to wrap themselves tightly around you. Lazily raking your eyes over his blissfully spent form, giving your empty mind all the delicious morsels it needed to conjure up further scenarios you would throw at him throughout the next year.

And within these thoughts flooding your mind they're were two that were the most pronounced:

You would never wear that sequin dress out in public again. And you would absolutely fake another orgasm to truly push Soap MacTavish to his erotically fueled limits. Sans the champagne to truly revel in the entire experience.

Captain MacTavish Masterlist

@deadbranch @sofasoap @d3athtr4psworld @punishmepunisher @jynxmirage @homicidal-slvt @glitterypirateduck @obligatoryghoststare @mykneeshurt @astraluminaaa @writeforfandoms @simpingoverquestionablemen @thetrashpossum @havoc973 @kkaaaagt @shotmrmiller @haurasha @ang3lc @luismickydees

I know it's Monday, but I'm keeping the SSS tags because I'm the Soap Squad President and I do what I want. 💛🧼

#super soap sunday #soap squad #soap sqaud 🧼 #pseudo climactic #the brainrot of Captain MacTavish #Captain MacTavish #Captain Soap MacTavish #OG Soap #mw2 Soap #captain john mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #john mactavish #captain mactavish x you #captain mactavish x reader #OG Soap smut #call of duty #cod

[canyourfavesurvivecastledracula]

James T. Kirk?

My immediate instinct is he would choose the wolves.

So Kirk's main strength is he listens to his advisors. He doesn't leap to conclusions, he asks for analysis first. But if he's in Castle Dracula he hasn't got his advisors - but he still has the sense that bids him heed them. He'll make his observations and keep his logs, and draw conclusions in due course.

I think Kirk would be as good or better at plating Scheherezade as Jonathan is. He knows how to negotiate and he knows how to seduce. He spooks less easily too. I think he and Dracula would be well matched at playing the Game and that might be enough to keep the Game interesting enough for him to survive. Heck, he'd probably challenge him to perpetual chess.

His chief disadvantage is that he's very good at escaping things. I don't think he would succeed at escaping, but I think he would make more and better attempts than Jonathan does, because that's his job that's what he does. Given how poorly Dracula reacts to Jonathan's own attempts, it's possible that being too much better at it would convince Dracula that he is a real threat and make a point of ending him.

If he's allowed to have his own genre conventions, I think there's an outcome where he successfully convinces one of the Girlies to help him. Although I think if she does that attempt ends with her dead (Dracula does not tolerate betrayal) and Kirk still trapped, and punished on top of that. (What Dracula doesn't realize is that taking Kirk's clothes only makes him stronger).

If Dracula doesn't kill him for trying to escape one too many times and if he makes it to June 30th, I am confident in Kirk's ability to make it down the wall, and I think he would probably try to hit him with the shovel too. Well actually he would have improvised a weapon before now. So honestly I do think Kirk has all the skills needed to survive Castle Dracula, and none of the obvious fatal flaws.

But I still do think that if it comes down to a choice between death and vampirism (as on June 29th) he'll choose death. Kirk is very willing to die for his principles, and to defy the expectations of his captors just for the sake of it. And I don't think even he could take on an entire pack of wolves by himself.

So this one for me is a really close call. Like his own genre won't let him die that way so he would be beamed out at the last second. But going by the parameters I've laid out, I think he would almost make it, but ultimately not survive Castle Dracula

#star trek #star trek tos #james t kirk #spacemen

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

It's Who We Have | Part One

Summary: Who knew the little girl in the green coat would change everything? | Word Count: 5.7k~ | Warnings below the cut!

General Taglist | Billy Washington Taglist | Series Masterlist

A/N: The coat story is based on a real story that happened to me when I was in primary school. Also the age of consent in the UK is 16, and this chapter does mention being intimate at that age. If this bothers you, you're welcome to click away. Primary School = Ages 7 to 11, Secondary School = Ages 11 to 16, Sixth Form = Ages 16 to 18

Warnings: bullying, underage drinking, angst, mentions of sexual intercourse (reader is of legal age), Billy being a general twat

It started with a rain cloud.

It was at a time when he was still excited to be in the passenger seat of his Mum's old Ford Focus. When his enthusiastic little feet still didn't touch the bottom of the footwell. His curious, wide blue eyes watched the world go by, following the shadow of the car as it zipped by the older kids, who were trusted enough to walk to school by themselves.

Year 4 was no particularly exciting year. At the tender age of 8, Billy was highly introverted, but a perpetual watcher of other people as well as his immediate surroundings.

He noticed the little things that other people didn't, like how electricity hummed in the walls of his bedroom, how the space between the grass was worn down into a man-made path and how, on the dot, every night at 8pm a man walked past his house grunting down the phone in a low baritone, swinging his suitcase at his side with every wide step.

His parents noticed how perceptive he was when he'd slip away upstairs as he heard the metal click of the gate with Lana's late return home. Knowing that an argument was about to ensue between his sister and his dad.

His mum, intent on breaking up and being the buffer between two extremely large personalities, often neglected her quiet little boy upstairs. But it wasn't entirely her fault.

Lana, a teenager through and through, intent on creating hardship wherever she happened to be with her actions and words, was incessantly butting heads with both of them.

He could hear the low rumble of thunder even over the revs of the car. His mum always drove in too low a gear.

His mum laughed lightly when Billy looked up at the dark, looming cloud hanging over his school as rain smacked against the windscreen.

"Ooh dear. Good job you've got your raincoat, eh?", she smiled, turning her steering wheel to slide into the school car park.

"What did Miss Warren say it was called?", she prodded.

Billy could barely see his mother over the high collar of his coat.

"Cum…ulo…nimbus", he recalled from memory sweetly and quietly, making his mum's crow's feet tick against her eyes as she smiled.

"There's nothing to be nervous about, darling. It's just a new school year".

His mum's soft pat on his head didn't comfort him.

Though the same people would be there, it would not be the same teacher.

Miss Warren had seen how quiet Billy was and nurtured the few words she could get out of him. He remembers her fondly. How she had curly chestnut hair that one might describe as unruly, and always had a floral scent about her when she'd kneel next to him and ask if he could recite the last sentence of his book to her.

It was the only good thing about school, he thought.

Year 3 had been difficult. He didn't do well when he was forced to socialise.

Other children had thrived in regularly seeing others. Forming friend groups, squealing with delight on the playground and the girls giggling and whispering to each other about who they were going to talk to that day.

He held his mum's hand loosely at the gate, where the headmaster was filing the children of all years and ages into the main part of the school.

She knelt beside him, zipping up his coat as the rain pelted against the concrete.

"I'll pick you up after your club, okay?" 

Billy nodded once, disappearing past the threshold of the school with a downwards gaze and a comically large bag hunched high on his shoulders.

It started with a rain cloud.

He knows now that it was silly, the reason his now best friend entered his life.

When he first saw her, she was on the verge of tears, standing to her feet and looking down at herself completely covered in mud. Her lips quivered, looking at the group of established friends with horror as they rushed away, their shoes smacking on the wet ground.

He hadn't realised he'd stopped until she took a sharp breath in, clearly trying not to cry, looking down at herself. 

Her small hands tried to push the mud off her green coat, but only served to smear it around. He could hear her shudder her breath, frustrated, and began to whine with increasing volume. Her book bag, once blue, was completely sodden.

And on top of all that, rain continued to hammer down on them, which only made her more upset.

Billy fiddled with his hands nervously, looking around immediately for an adult, to no avail. Thinking with terror, that he might have to approach her. 

It wasn't even because she was a girl. For they were at that tender age where it didn't matter. That they were just children, trying to figure out how to exist in a world that seemed brand new everyday.

He hiccuped on her own breath with tears as he stood before her.

"Are you okay?", he asked nervously.

She could only shake her head, her eyes full of fear, her face and hair completely wet through.

"My mummy's going to be cross with me", she replied feebly, looking down at her coat, though waterproof, completely smeared with earth.

At the time, Billy thought, he couldn't argue with that logic that she was so upset at the thought of what her mum would think when she came home, covered in half-dried mud, having been pushed by the rowdy Year 6's.

He also thought, that he hadn't seen her last year, and that this was the first experience she'd had in her new school. And that he, if in her position, would be no different. Snivelling and crying before they'd even taken the register.

He grimaced as he picked up her book bag, slick with earth and without thinking twice, took her cold, wet hand and led her with him to the toilets before registration started.

Billy's big eyes flitted between the signs for 'boys' and 'girls' when presented with the toilets.

He decided to spare her the embarrassment, and took it upon himself to lead her into the girls toilets, despite the heavy blush on his face.

Seeing the inside of the girls toilet, while not much different, felt utterly forbidden.

But all he could think about right now, was the little girl he'd led in, and how to make her look presentable, and to get her to stop crying.

He used what felt like a tonne of blue hand towels, wetting some to get the majority of mud off her and the rest to dry her coat, seeing the rich green colour beneath again finally.

She still sniffed quietly, rubbing her tired face and choking on her breath every now and then. He gave her one blue paper towel to dry the remnants of her tears, the tissue rubbing painfully on her skin.

But ultimately she let him help her.

And Billy couldn't remember feeling as useful to someone as he did right now.

Once her book bag was clean, he gently handed it back to her. And she finally lifted her reddened eyes to him, her lips still quivering slightly, or perhaps she was cold from the onslaught of rain.

"That's better" 

She nodded at him, looking down at herself to see her coat was now only slightly dirty.

It was almost unnoticeable, her tiny, meek 'thank you'.

He held her hand in solidarity as they entered the classroom together. Coming alight when he told her where she could hang her coat up and sitting beside her, in line with the girl, boy, girl boy rule their new teacher had put in place.

It took her a few hours to warm up to him. To everyone really.

But he saw her again the next day, his feet swinging excitedly in the passenger seat of his mum's car at the prospect of seeing her again. The clouds Billy was scarcely able to pronounce were now gone, a light grey overcast instead on the early September morning.

Her coat was clean, a bright green as it was the day before.

She still seemed nervous as he bounded up to her, his curious eyes searching hers.

"Was your mummy angry?" he asked.

She looked down at her shoes, shifting her weight, not wanting to reply.

And Billy had his answer.

He watched her lift her head to meet his eyes again, her hands wringing together nervously and her voice all quiet.

"Can I sit next to you again today?"

Billy had grown out of hand-holding by Year 6, realising that he, as a boy, and her, as a girl, were supposedly from different worlds.

But it never felt like it.

Secondary school was daunting for all Year 7's. But Billy, tall for his age and towering over everyone else, felt more self conscious than usual that he stuck out so much.

His sandy blonde hair flopped against his forehead. Another measly early September, confined to a classroom to be patronised and talked at for several hours, passing the time only by making colourful cover pages in their exercise books.

"Billy!"

He couldn't help but laugh as she ran through the school gates to him, looking quite different in the secondary school uniform than he saw her last, which now felt like a lifetime ago.

Realistically, he only saw her the other week as they walked home together from the corner shop. Then, she'd been in jeans and a jumper.

Now, in her school mandated skirt and blazer, he thought she looked more like a young lady now than ever. And briefly, it terrified him.

The prospect of getting older.

The idea that they might drift apart.

He brushed her waved tendrils from her face, exhausted from the effort of running with her cheeks all flushed, with that squishy appearance that many associated with Year 7's.

If anyone didn't know then both, they'd think they were in different years.

"Got 'em?", he asked with a lazy smile.

She rolled her eyes, rifling around in her bag, "Um, yes? When do I ever disappoint?" 

He laughed as she ripped three Starbursts from her packet and piled them in his hand, "Only three? Thought we were mates".

She gave him a look, popping one into her mouth, "You are my mate, hence why I gave you three".

They walked together, collecting their timetables for the term ahead, rolling the sweets around in their mouths.

"I don't get these room numbers", she mused, "have you got science in S27?"

"Yeah, Mr White".

"That's alright then, I'll just follow you".

"Don't follow me, I've got no clue where I'm going either".

She smiled widely, "guess we'll get lost together then, eh?"

He let out a puff of air in laughter, tugging lightly on her ponytail in soft teasing, "bad luck to be late to your classes on the first day, ya know".

"Well then they should have a map", she pouts, smacking his arm lightly.

Looking back, he wasn't surprised how close to her he felt. For as pre-teens edging that fine line into puberty, when everything is confusing, new, scary and exciting all at the same time, he saw her more often at school everyday than he did his own parents.

She was a constant.

Most days they'd walk to school, spend break times, lunch times, and even the twilight hours after together. Always chatting mindlessly about whatever teenagers did talk about.

It was difficult to address though, that the older they became, the more the powers that be were intent on separating them.

Girls and boys weren't meant to be friends.

They were meant to like each other, hold hands, blush and kiss each other.

They were meant to have different classes, teaching different things. Boys were taught how to keep themselves safe from STIs, and the girls were taught about their monthly cycles, though many of them had started already, as well as how to prevent pregnancy when they were on the cusp of exploring their intimate, sexual selves. With hormones raging so hard that they couldn't think straight.

They were separated for PE. Even in the subjects they were offered to take.

It felt like everything was against them.

And in this forced separation, Billy was then forced to make friendships in other boys, as shallow and surface value as they were.

He felt as if he'd been missing out on this part of growing up, as he sat against the wall at lunch listening to his mates harp on about mindless teenage things. Like who was going to lose their virginity next, and if their parents would find out if they found out they'd swiped a packet of fags from their mum's handbags.

It wasn't like they didn't talk anymore.

There were the summer holidays, where more often than not, he found himself on her doorstep, asking her Mum if she could come out.

And she always delighted in seeing him. Even if it had barely been 24 hours since the last time.

But with the highest of highs, came the lowest of lows. And September would inevitably roll around again.

He sometimes saw her on school grounds between classes, having done the same thing and forced herself to make a group of friends. Though it was as clear to him that she didn't have anything in common with them, and just smiled and nodded at anything they said in an attempt to not show on her face how lonely she was.

She was solitary in nature.

And when he glanced at her across the assembly room, where the foldout chairs were lined up so everyone could eat, her eyes were distantly looking at her hands clasped in front of her, idly picking at her cuticles. Her friends were turned away from her, chatting with wide smiles and booming laughter to themselves. Making plans and giggling at inside jokes, all while her sandwich laid untouched rolled in cling film in front of her.

He thought, she must have been able to sense someone was watching her, as she moved her head. But never looked at him.

While Billy's friend group stayed with the usual characters, hers evolved. And every few months it was a new cast of people.

He saw she made the effort, and really tried, but that with every passing day, her energy wavered and eventually they'd grow bored of her and pretended as if she didn't exist other than to fill the empty seat beside them.

But he still walked her home, even if she said she didn't want him to. In silence if need be.

Eventually he began to notice, more so now than ever, that she was really a woman in disguise. That she was wiser than he thought she was, more grown up. That she thought about the future ahead of her and was careful to take calculated steps in order to get there.

At the fair age of 16, Billy, his features set into crisp lines, hardened by puberty, his muscles sitting wiry on his skin and taught without really having to try, realised that he had done her a huge disservice by merely accepting this forced separation with a stiff upper lip.

That she needed someone true and gentle, honest and no-frills. Something her girlfriends were unable to give her. 

That she wanted someone to try for her friendship.

As he had all those years ago.

They began to take the long way home, through the gap in the hedges, into Cranstead Fields, the tall grass tickling their legs through their uniform.

"Are you embarrassed of me?" she asked suddenly, pulling her hair tie out. Billy's eyes ran over her loose hair for a moment before replying.

"No, why?" 

"Because we barely talk to each other in school anymore", she replied, unable to hide the bitterness from her tone.

He had to accept that her words were true. They rarely crossed paths inside the school gates, and their conversations in between were shallow and empty, void of all authenticity and emotion.

It wasn't enough to have acceptance from one teenage girl, apparently.

But he didn't appreciate being called out so callously about it.

"Yeah, well I've got my mates".

She laughed through her nose, "Yeah, saw you smoking behind the bike sheds. Gonna get you killed one day, you know".

He furrowed his brows at her, "Smoking?"

"No, your mates"

She laughed at his confused expression, "course I meant smoking, you wolly".

There was a silence between them as they brushed past the white painted lines on the field, where a football pitch had been drawn.

"I don't mind you having mates Billy. I just miss you".

"Really, cos it seems like you do mind", he bit back. And he watched her raise her gaze to him quickly, "just cos you don't have mates doesn't mean I can't".

Her lips hung in shock that he could say something so cruel.

And that he carried on.

"Do yourself a favour and do what other girls do and get a boyfriend or somethin'. Save you hanging about with me moaning all the time".

He didn't feel bad about it until the moment she disappeared past her mum at the front door of her house, intent on being away from Billy's harsh words as quickly as possible.

"Tell your mum I said hello, love", her mum smiled.

But as soon as the door was shut, even the thick double glazing couldn't muffle the loud, destructible tirade of her mum's anger.

And he felt the hot whips of panic at his neck, that he'd done and said something wrong.

And yet, despite that, never said sorry for it.

Billy thinks now that he remembers the most from this part of their friendship because the most happened.

But he realises now that it's because of guilt.

It follows you, like a kind of trauma through your life, without the repercussions of the person you've hurt.

And god, he watched her get hurt a lot.

After that, she didn't even really try. She flourished in solitude, keeping herself company wherever she could while Billy and his mates reaped the benefits of being young and dumb. 

It was also when he appeared. Like a fucking virus. Always finding people when they have their guard down and their hearts low.

Even though they were in the same year, he had this air of arrogance about him that he thought he was much older, more sensible, and could be taken more seriously.

And with the absence of Billy in her life, she accepted any chance of feeling wanted with open arms.

She wanted to feel important to someone.

Billy would never forgive himself for that.

He simply watched from afar, not realising how invested he was, more often than not from the bike sheds as the boy who was trying too hard wound his web so tightly around her it must have felt comforting for her to some degree.

To be choked by affection, to some, is a kind of affection.

After Easter break, having not spoken to her directly for some months now, Billy had realised something had changed.

The boy who had wound his web tight, seemed to do so with plenty of others too. As boys of his age were known to do.

She'd rush out of school so quickly, staring at her feet, that often she was the first one out the gates and Billy, even if he'd wanted to, couldn't keep up.

He knew where she was going anyway.

He was assured when he saw her leaning her head on her arms crossed over her knees, under the large chestnut tree at Cranstead Fields.

She heard him approach, and turned her head away, sniffling quietly.

He swallowed over the lump in his throat as he sat beside her, not speaking.

And a long, long moment passed. As if all that time apart had lessened that trust, and it would take more than a mere moment to patch it back up.

"Is it him?" he asked.

Her clothes rustled as she nodded. Her breath hiccuping in her chest the same way it did when he saw her all those years ago, covered in mud.

"What happened?"

She wiped her face with her sleeve, a bit of makeup coming loose.

"What do you think happened", she bit back, annoyed and heartbroken all at the same time.

He briefly forgot, that for girls it sometimes felt like more, like so much more, to give yourself to someone for the first time.

Only to have the trust squashed as quickly as it was to slam a book shut.

She sucked in a breath as he stroked her back comfortingly.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

After a moment, she raised her eyes to him, all red and puffy, her face all hot from crying.

And he felt his heart break for her.

Behind this girl, who was suffering in heartbreak, believing that her first love and first time had now been entrenched in misery, he caught a glimpse of the girl she had been, when they were inseparable.

He tutted, "Come here".

He bought her head to his chest softly, his hand drifting to her shoulder to encourage her to hug him, to let it all out.

And she did.

She hugged him tighter than she ever had before. 

A teenage boy part of him felt embarrassed. But another, fought to stay here like this with her.

Until eventually she said pitifully, "I don't want to go home".

And he realised that it wasn't just the boy she was upset about.

Luckily Billy's mum delighted in having her around at his, even offering that she could stay if she wanted to, as Lana was away at uni and wouldn't be using her bedroom til the summer holidays.

And though he could see his friend was tempted, she mostly refused, knowing that at some point she'd have to return home. To what version of her mum, she didn't know.

But it didn't mean she never took them up on the offer sometimes, when things were really bad.

Yes, he got teased endlessly by his mates.

But it didn't matter. Because he felt like he had her back.

Sixth Form proved to be a happier time for both of them.

It felt more free, laid back than the shackles of secondary school. Hindered by school uniform and calling the teachers 'sir' and 'miss', here it was all backwards they thought.

The prospect of free time to a bunch of excited teenagers, on the cusp of adulthood, was exciting.

He felt like it was just like old times.

They sat together in the common room in their free period, sharing the cheapest thing they could get from the canteen, which was four flimsy slices of toast. That and an orange Fanta from the vending machine.

They'd both somehow formed into new people over the summer holidays between Year 11 and Sixth Form, wearing different things every day and giving each other a glimpse into their truer personalities.

At first, it was just two of them.

And eventually four, then six.

A solid friend group. 

She had two girls at her side most of the time, Libby and Ami. The first blossoming Billy would ever witness of his friend into womanhood would be the way she formed these friendships so naturally, in contrast to the shallow ones she'd had in secondary school. Which now seemed so long ago.

He had his own mates of his own sex. Ami's twin brother Abi, Harry (who's real name was Barry but never told anyone) and the most recent addition to the group, Paddy.

It was a friend group of the truest intentions. They laughed, joked, and were never far from one another. Many nights they spent at Cranstead Fields, huddled under a tree, passing bottles of WKD around and some horrendous smoky whiskey Paddy had managed to steal from his dad's liquor cabinet.

But there were special moments where Billy and her would just sit and observe, nursing a bottle between them.

"Bet you Libby and Abi are necking each other off by 1", she smirked, gesturing with her head to them as they sat together across the grass, Libby inching herself onto his lap with every swig of alcohol.

Billy laughed, "I don't think I need to bet on that", he replied, pushing the hair off his forehead as it touched his eyelashes.

"You need your hair cut", she smiled.

He gave her a look, "Who do you think I'm trying to impress?"

"I dunno", she shrugged, "you never tell me who you've got your eye on".

He pushed the WKD into her arm and she took it, smirking as she sipped it.

"I suppose…there's a girl a year up…", he murmured.

"See! I knew it!" She exclaimed, "Wait, Year 13? Who? Tell me".

He rolled his eyes at his friend's curiosity, "Rebecca".

He laughed when she scrunched her nose in disgust.

"Her? She's been out with a few Year 12's, hasn't she? Proper little cradle snatcher".

Billy laughed, louder than he anticipated, and when he opened his eyes again, his friend was already looking at him. Her eyes all glazed over with the amount of alcohol she'd had already.

"Leave off. You asked", he grins, blinking quickly once he feels his head clouded with dizziness.

"Well", she passes the drink to him, "I wish you luck, you'll need it".

They briefly look back to Libby and Abi, who are now embroiled quite blatantly in kissing one another, Libby nestled in his lap and her hand at his jaw.

In the distance Paddy kicked a ball around with Harry, as Ami watched between them, not an ounce of sexual tension between them.

Their knees touched and both quickly looked at each other, as if horrified that they hadn't realised how close they were.

It was dark in Cranstead Fields, but she felt she could see the way his eyes reflected the distant street lamps, how they seemed to fit over her face, and how he pressed his lips together and swallowed nervously as he moved a piece of her hair from her face to tuck safely behind her ear.

Was is the alcohol? This weird feeling in both of their stomachs? The airiness in their heads?

Was it only now that he saw that she had nice eyes? That he could see the contours of her collarbone, and the curves against her skinny jeans?

That his friend, was a young woman.

He only remembered sighing against her lips, turning his head to the side as he pressed against hers. How small she seemed compared to him.

She tasted of cheap vodka, but then again, so did he. And he wasn't entirely paying attention to the taste of her, but to the feeling of her.

It wasn't either of their first kisses. But it certainly felt like it.

He felt his chest go tight as her hand moved to the front of his hoodie, holding the fabric in her palm, as his tongue parted her lips.

When they pulled away, he still felt her presence on him.

Her hand slowly slipped from his chest, her eyes looking at him with trepidation, her lips kiss-bruised and swollen. Both of them looked at one another, unsure what to say, and trying form words over the whirring and melting feeling of drunkenness in their brains.

"I, uh…I should be getting home", she said quietly. And Billy nodded, now drunk on another feeling that had taken root deep in his chest.

He saw her off at her doorstep, hands deep in his pockets, not knowing whether what they'd done should be addressed or not. Or whether their brief kiss was the result of simply having too much to drink too quickly.

She had her answer though, when Billy turned up to Sixth Form the Monday after, hair trimmed, with his arm loosely around Rebecca's shoulders. He spoke to her closely, making her laugh and stroking her hair behind her ear, as he had done to her the Saturday before.

Though they remained close. Remained friends. There was an air of something unsaid. 

Something that appeared whenever she saw him with her. Pressing his lips against hers, threading his fingers into her long, perfect hair and keeping one hand perpetually around her thigh.

When Rebecca, or Becky as Billy lovingly called her, finished her A-Levels to move onto Middlesex University to do Psychology, she felt horrible that she was relieved she was gone.

Felt that she had him back, even if it was only sometimes.

She knows now, that nothing good lasts forever.

She thought he'd be happy for her, when she got her UCAS email that she'd gotten into her first choice of university in Manchester.

But he always managed to surprise her.

"The fuck are you going to uni for? And so far away as well, you don't even know anyone there", he almost barked the words at her, not wanting to admit that his heart was hurting at the way she looked so wounded at him.

"So what? It's the course I wanted to do and-"

"And what? You just gonna leave me here doing fuck all, are you?"

"You can do what you like, Billy!", she shouted back, matching him now in frustration, "I'm sorry that I am pursuing what I want to do!"

Don't leave me behind.

Please.

"What about your mum? Hm? You just gonna leave her on her own?"

She scoffed, "my mum doesn't give a fuck where I am half the time, you know that".

"Yeah, I'm feeling like I don't really know you at all lately", Billy muttered under his breath.

"The fuck is that supposed to mean? I wasn't going to just forget about you. I'd come visit and-"

"You know what, forget it. Do what you like, I don't give a shit".

She stood there, taking his words like hits. Each one hurting more than the last, opening the hole inside her wider.

She thought, he must not know what he's saying. She never knew Billy to be this cruel, apart from in secondary school.

But he was young then, he was smarter than that.

Wasn't he?

Her eyes filled with tears, blinking quickly, taking a step back from him like he'd burned her.

She tried her best to remain strong on her face.

"Just because I don't want the same things as you, Billy, doesn't mean it's pointless".

When Billy just stood there, mouth half agape, like everything had just caught up with him, she shook her head.

"Keep in touch, if you can be bothered".

She said it as coldly as she could, not looking back as she walked away from him, quickly wiping her cheeks. With each step, the pit widened in her chest. Feeling as if the string that had inextricably connected them since that fated day in Year 4, was prone to snapping irreparably.

His words rattled around in her head the entire journey to Manchester. How horrible they were. And how a person she'd considered a friend, could speak to her like that.

After everything that had happened between them.

Moving to a new city didn't feel like starting over. It merely felt like burying something at the bottom of the garden, the grass disturbed, and having to look at the patch of earth as a reminder of what once was.

It was hot again in London.

Billy stared at his phone for most of the evening, waiting for a text from Becky, to tell him that she was moving back in, or that she'd thought things through and decided not to move out.

No such text arrived.

"Put your fucking phone away or I swear to god I am funnelling this pint down you, like it or not", Paddy laughed as he slid into the booth, sliding one pint over to Harry and the other to Billy.

"He's still moping", Harry smirked, which earned a glare.

"Becky again?" Paddy prodded.

Billy sighed, clicking off his phone and turning it face down, "None of your fucking business".

"Woahh! No need for that, is there? C'mon, get it down ya" 

Each of them took a healthy sip of their pint.

"You too, don't be on your phone!" Paddy nudged Harry, trying to get a peek at his phone.

"Fuck off"

Paddy grinned, "Aw, is it a girl?"

"No, it's fucking Abi, you twat".

"S'alright, we don't judge, do we Billy?"

Billy grinned over the rim of his glass in response.

"He coming?" Billy asked.

"Yeah, apparently with Libby", Harry replied, thumbs moving quickly over his screen, "we'll facetime Ami later, when she's awake".

Both Billy and Paddy's eyebrows raised as they looked at each other.

"Together?" Paddy prodded, but Harry only shrugged.

The local pub was mostly empty, with most people outside trying to catch the last bits of sunlight, and getting mauled by mosquitos in the process.

For the most part, Billy watched Paddy and Harry with a smile on his face at how they teased each other talking about trivial things like football and what the hell was going on between their two old friends who kissed in Cranstead Fields all those years ago.

It was a good distraction.

But being with them, made him think of her.

Paddy leaned over, eyes on the door of the pub, "there they ar-oh shit".

Billy furrowed his brows, "What?"

His friend was about to open his mouth again, but it was interrupted by Libby poking her head around to the booth, "Hello! Oo, it's like the gang back together, isn't it?" she smiled.

At her side, Abi, who slid his hand around Libby's waist.

Billy opened his mouth to say hello.

But then he saw her.

And his mouth went completely dry.

He saw her eyes scan the opposite side of the booth, smiling at Paddy and Harry first, and he swears his heart drops into his stomach as she shifts her gaze to him.

The smile on her face falters. 

But not completely.

She catches herself halfway, and it resurfaces.

He can't help the way he studies her as well, like she's a whole new person. Wearing a summer dress with a denim jacket hung on her shoulders, hair down. Her features have matured, but she continues to keep that glimmer of mischievous youth in her eyes.

It was like seeing her for the first time.

"Mind if I sit?"

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard | @bellstwd | @blairfox04 | @hb8301 | @jamespotterismydaddy | @mochi-rose | @nenelysian | @natty2017 | @randomdragonfires | @risefallrise | @theoneeyedprince | @thelittleswanao3 | @tsujifreya | @urmomsgirlfriend1 | @valeskafics | @watercolorskyy

Billy Washington Taglist: @fan-goddess @assortedseaglass  @chainsawsangel @xxxkat3xxx

#billy washington x y/n #billy washington x oc #billy washington x reader #billy washington #billy washington smut #billy washington fanfic #billy washington fic #billy washington x you #trigger point billy washington #trigger point series #trigger point fanfic #trigger point bbc #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters #billy washington fluff

[meownotgood]

a little death / hayakawa aki

You meant everything to him, and Aki promised to keep you safe, even if it meant dying for you.

fic playlist: click here!

pairing: hayakawa aki x fem!reader

word count: 20.6k

tags: 18+, smut, angst, smoking, love confessing, that one trope where they step in front to protect you, tending to wounds, hand job, finger sucking, tender sex, aki is touch-starved and needy as hell

this work contains explicit content intended for 18+ individuals. please read the tags and do not interact if you are a minor.

Human life is expendable. In this world, it always has been. If someone dies, they'll simply be replaced, such is the perpetual ill-fated existence of a devil hunter. 

In a way, it's like the cigarettes Aki smokes. Sometimes they burn halfway, sometimes they burn down to ash, but when you're done, you just smoke another. They do well to remind him of the fragility of life in more ways than one. He inhales, and even though he knows it's slowly killing him, when the rich taste of smoke fills his lungs, all he can feel is heaven. Yeah, she was right. Life is so much better when you have something to take the edge off. 

Aki pulled the cigarette from his lips, tapping it with his finger over the ashtray and watching the dying embers scatter. The smoke from his exhale rose into an oddly calm, cloudless blue sky. As it left his lungs, Aki could almost feel his stresses melt into the tranquility of the cool breeze. Almost. He was only escaping from his work for a short time, because once this cigarette was spent, it was begrudgingly back into the fray. 

Why was it always on the nicest of days that Aki had to be stuck working? Actually, that's a stupid question, considering he works pretty much every day. But shame on him for wanting to patrol peacefully with you and enjoy the nice weather for once. 

Whatever, the devil this time was supposed to be weak anyways. Only you and him were dispatched to the scene, and you were told it was okay to take your time, so this must be something the both of you could handle quite easily. Soon, the sun would set, but maybe if you both managed to get this job done quickly, he'd be able to enjoy what was left of the day. 

"Shit, Aki, I can't find mine. Can I have one of yours?" 

"Nope, it's my last one. Sorry." Aki replied, taking another long drag from the cigarette. 

"Dammit, I left my jacket at home 'cause it was supposed to be hot today. They must still be in my pocket." 

The sun was beaming down, blistering heat radiating off the concrete sidewalk, but while standing in a large shadow cast by the looming buildings, a soft breeze dancing through the air cut through the tepidity. It brushed against Aki's arms bared by rolled up sleeves, tickling the side of his face and the hair on the back of his neck. This corner of the city was calm and quiet today, with the only sound being the rhythmic hum from cars on the nearby street whizzing by. 

"Hey, Aki, let me have a hit of that one." 

Aki shook his head. "No way." 

"Oh come on, I'll be quick. There's no way I'm getting through this mission without some nicotine in my system." 

Aki took the thin cigarette from his mouth once more, holding it carefully between his fingers, puffs of smoke wisping up from the firefly light on the end. He turned his head, finally meeting your pleading gaze. You cocked your head at him and he hesitated, if only for a moment, before sighing in defeat. He brought the cigarette to your lips until they closed around it. 

"Inhale." 

You followed the command, breathing in as he held the half-burned cig steady. The moment the smoke hit your lungs, it instantly flooded your senses with pure bliss. 

It wasn't very hard to convince Aki when it came to you, never has been. But there's something about sharing his cigarette with you, something about watching you take a hit between his fingers, eyes locked onto his. Something about it enthralled him every time. So if you asked, he was sure to let you have a taste, and this time was no different. 

He pulled away when you took in a sufficient breath, bringing the cig back to his own lips. You tilted your head upwards, catching glimpses of pale blue obscured by a tangled web of power lines before the smoke was blown out steadily from your mouth. 

Funny, at one point, you told Aki you'd never smoke. Yet now, here you were. Somehow, "Ew, I'd never," turned into, "Fine, I'll try it," turned into, "What brand do you get again? I'm just curious," turned into now, all right before his eyes, and all because of him. It filled him with a little sense of pride. 

If you were going to be a devil hunter beside him, experiencing the same loss and turmoil as he has his entire life for the rest of yours, he supposed you deserved something to indulge in. Or at least, that's what someone else taught him a long time ago. When you first became his partner, whether it was a nostalgic force of habit or an urge to put you through the same rite of passage he himself once underwent, Aki made it his goal to convince you to smoke. 

With how adamantly against it you were at first, he almost gave up. But after countless missions together, months spent growing closer and further trusting one another, something seemed to crack. He managed to convince you to try it, and in no time at all, he had turned you into just as much of a hopeless addict as he was. It was a satisfying feeling at first, but now, that feeling wasn't enjoyed without a sharp pang of guilt. 

Aki's life was expendable. If he died, what impact would he leave on the world? He had no loved ones, no family, no-one he cared about, besides you. And the very day after he breathed his last, you'd find that he'd be replaced, just as simply as everyone he himself has come to lose. You'd forget about him and move on with your new partner. A stick of tobacco was certainly not going to be his final nail in the coffin, but it doesn't really matter either way, does it? 

Your life though, your life was different. Your life was precious. It was filled with time he didn't have, filled with hope he didn't have. In himself, he saw nothing, but in you, he saw love. To him, you were love. You were the embodiment of everything that made life worth living, everything beautiful. A star-filled night spent drinking the sweetest liquor, or finally getting home and taking off your shoes. The world beat him and broke him down, but in your soul, he found solace. 

But hey, that's something he would never admit. Not out loud, anyways. 

Regardless, you were someone he found worth protecting, and that's exactly what Aki vowed he would do, and that's exactly why he changed his mind. If he could go back, he would have never given you a cigarette. Hell, he would have quit smoking if that's what it took to get you to never try one. Your life was precious, and he should have never taught you to shorten it. 

Ugh, he was thinking too much. What he should do is shake these thoughts from his head and start focusing on the mission. 

Aki took a final drag in before stamping the cigarette bud out into the ashtray. "Alright," He spoke through a mouthful of smoke, "You ready?" 

"As ready as I'll ever be." You pushed yourself off of the wall you had been leaning on, stretching before you stood up straight. "You okay Aki? You've been spacing out." 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry." Aki replied nonchalantly. You walked closer to him, hands reaching to grab his tie, and you pulled on the fabric, adjusting it straight around his collar. 

"Remember," Aki starts, "If things go bad, you stand behind me, understand?" 

"Don't worry, we've got this." You stated, looking up at him, "And after we're done, we can go out for some celebration drinks." 

When your gaze met his, Aki felt his worries fade away, like snow melting to a warm flame. He smiled softly, something only you could seem to make him do, he thinks. Drinks together after a stressful day sounded great. All he had to do was get through this mission, and then he could relax. And with the two of you, it would be easy, right? 

Aki nodded, "Right. Let's go." 

—

Devil Extermination request for the Public Safety Commission. Devil sighting inside block #9's parking garage. According to the request, the devil fled to the 3rd floor. It is described as a rather weak Spike Devil. All civilians have been evacuated safely from the area. Dispatching two devil hunters from Public Safety Devil Extermination Special Division 4. 

It was never supposed to happen this way. It was supposed to be an easy job. It was supposed to be to go in, locate the devil in the building, and eliminate it. Get things done like you both always do and get out, simple as that. So how did you end up getting cornered like this? 

From the minute you saw the state of disarray the parking garage was in, you knew "rather weak" was a complete lie. You've been a devil hunter long enough to know this much damage couldn't be caused by a mere low-rate devil. Cars were toppled everywhere. Some appeared to be flung with incredible force, and some were covered in holes where something had pierced straight through the metal. A chill was sent up your spine when you began to wonder what that something could be. This devil was definitely much stronger than it may have appeared. 

Likewise, you've been fighting alongside Aki long enough to know when he gets quiet like this, gritting his teeth roughly, sweat coating his furrowed brows, it's usually a bad sign. The only time he goes silent is when he knows things are about to go to shit. 

With no words exchanged, you made your way to the third floor alongside Aki. Neither of you were sure what to expect, but you both were saying silent prayers in your minds as you climbed the stairs. Prayers that this devil really was weak, and prayers that today wouldn't be either of your last. Once you were face to face with the titular Spike Devil though, your assumptions were dreadfully proven. 

First of all, it was no small-fry, boasting a rather large body of contorted limbs and mismatched appendages. It was a disgusting freak of nature, like every devil you've come across. What was most interesting were the equally sizeable spines that covered the entirety of its body. 

The devil appeared to be able to shoot them out and recall them back to its body at will, so not only did it have great range and offense, but when recalled, the spikes also provided an excellent layer of defense. They weren't porcupine levels of spines either. The size was comparable to railroad spikes, and they were heavy enough that it took a wide swing of your sword to deflect them, leaving your arms aching. 

Second of all, thanks to all of those limbs helping to propel it, the damn thing was blisteringly fast and incredibly relentless. Its movements were a blur you could hardly even make out. All you could manage to do was block, block, block, never having the opportunity to get a hit in. 

Despite the growing severity of the situation, you were able to control your breathing and maintain some of your cool. You were both going to get out of this alive, you always do, don't you? After all, you had your full trust placed in Aki, and he had his full trust placed in you. You stood back to back, pressed close to one another, covering for each other's blind spots to deflect the devil's attacks. 

Aki has always been more agile than you, so at this point, you were relying on him to land a blow while you focused on simply keeping yourself from being impaled. Unfortunately, try as he might, he was just as unsuccessful as you. At least he was able to take a few swings at it, which was more than you were able to accomplish, but they proved to be fruitless when the devil dodged them easily. 

With every movement of your sword, it seemed to become heavier and heavier in your hands. In your chest, you could feel every single pound of your heart. It was hard to breathe, almost like the air was being forced into your lungs. You were slowing down, threatened to succumb to your exhaustion. 

Aki could sense it. Where you started to lag, he only moved faster, swinging his blade wider, harder. He blocked where you failed to, and before you knew it, the fight was in a league all its own and you truly weren't a part of it anymore. Aki deflected every hit on his own while slowly backing away with you behind him, taking every opportunity, each break in the devil's attacks to put space in between the two of you and itself. 

Eventually, you both were able to back up far enough that the devil's attacks subsided a little, although not completely. Instead of sending out as many continual attacks as it could, the devil instead honed in on concentrated strikes. It was trying to eliminate one of you, and it clearly didn't care which, with one strong blow. Aki deflected the first hit, but not without briefly staggering under the weight of the impact. 

"Go. Run away." 

Your attention was pulled away from the fight when Aki suddenly spoke, his voice breathless yet resolute. It was the first thing he'd said in a frighteningly long amount of time. His command hung in the air, his eyes remaining locked on the devil as he deflected another attack. 

Do something, fucking do something, you screamed at yourself, but you were rooted in place and couldn't think, couldn't move. Everything was a blur, moving in fast motion while you were stuck in the past. All you were able to do was uselessly stand at Aki's side, your eyes darting between him and the devil as he blocked strikes with the flat length of his sword, loud clangs of metal against metal echoing throughout the garage. 

Aki abruptly turned to you, grabbing your shoulder, and his iron grip paired with his sharp gaze meeting yours was enough to briefly shake you from your trance. He raised his voice, shouting, "Did you not hear me?!"

"I… I heard you, but I…" You stammered frantically, trying to come up with the words, trying to come up with anything at all. Right now, you're aware that you're only a liability, just someone he has to protect. But you didn't want to leave him. You couldn't. You were hoping somehow, someway, you'd find a way to assist. If you searched your brain hard enough, you'd have to come up with something. 

Aki's face seemed to soften the slightest amount when he spoke again, staring into your eyes with an expression ever pleading. "I can handle this, you're only going to get hurt if you stay so please, please just-"

You should do something. Anything. Something to help him, something more useful, something better than just standing there. 

No, you should run. You should listen to him. You should take the chance he's made for you and get out. So why weren't you? Why were you numb, unable to move? 

Wait, when did he start standing so close in front of you? And when did the noise of clanging metal cease? 

And why was Aki not moving? 

The air was filled with a suffocating silence, save for a faint plip, plap sound of droplets splattering on concrete and the twofold echo of weary gasps for breath. You were terrified to look, shaky vision remaining fixated on the devil, but when a spike stained crimson was recalled to its body and the sound grew from a light dribble to a loud splatter, your eyes darted downwards. 

Blood. Aki's blood. 

Aki's sword slipped from his loose grasp, falling to the ground with a clatter amongst the spots of red painting the floor below. His legs buckled, and as he swayed forward, you reached out and caught him by his waist. 

"Aki, oh my God, I'm so sorry, Aki please-" 

Everything was scrambled, surreal, and you were fumbling over your words, shaking, struggling to hold up his weight and not even sure what was going through your mind anymore. 

Aki wrapped his arm around your shoulders, still wobbling but regaining a little bit of his balance. He opened his mouth to speak, but as soon as he tried, he sputtered into a cough, spitting up spots of blood into his hand. 

His mind was a dizzying blur, coherent thoughts swirling, drowned out by a razor-edged pain that kept hammering away at his senses. He's losing blood. He can feel it warm and wet against his side. Even though his adrenaline is pumping right now, he can't have much consciousness left before he's done. 

Make the best call, otherwise we're both dying here. 

The devil seemed to be taunting you now, taking its time to lick the blood off the spike clean. But Aki was the only one who noticed this. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him. 

Despite how much it made your heart sink to see his face contorted in such pain, his lips parted as he took in ragged breaths, your gaze remained locked on. You focused only on watching the heave of his chest, right above where his white dress shirt is stained a vivid red, because you were terrified of the thought that if you looked away, when you looked back, it wouldn't rise and fall anymore. 

At least the devil seemed to have finally let its guard down. The damn thing probably thought it had already won. The two of you had lured it all the way to the edge of the parking garage. Orange rays from the setting sun cast large shadows upon the devil's figure. 

Now was the only chance Aki had to finish it, and he needed to do so quick, before the monster started paying attention again. 

"Aki, please, come on, we need to get out of here-" 

Make the best call, make the best call, make the best call… 

Was this close enough? Was it too dangerous to summon it here? What if the entire building toppled? 

No, stop hesitating or you'll die, idiot. He had to do it, and he had to do it right now. 

Aki brought a heavy, trembling hand up, middle and ring fingers pressed faint to the pad of his thumb. Through blurry vision growing dim, he aligned the circle between his fingers with the shadowy silhouette of the devil. 

Before he even spoke, he could feel the blood bubbling up in his aching throat, but he forced himself to push past it. He choked out the one word he needed so quietly he might as well have been mouthing it. 

"Kon."

The fox's head burst through the nearest wall like it was nothing, its might obscuring the glow of the setting sun, and in one fell swoop, the Spike Devil was gone, swallowed in the Fox Devil's jaws whole. Aki used a final burst of energy to hurriedly twist until he was in front of you. He wrapped his arms around your back and held you close, his tall frame leant over yours to shield you from the flying debris. 

It's over. 

The devil was taken down, Aki kept you safe, and once this realization hit him, the ache in his chest seemed to increase exponentially. It was a piercing, hot, all-encompassing pain, like nothing he could even describe, and nothing like anything he's ever felt before in his life. His ears were ringing, and every breath he took in was starting to become shorter and shorter without his control. 

There's so many things he wants to tell you. He wants to say it's alright, we did it. Don't worry about me because everything is going to be okay. But words wouldn't form anymore, let alone comprehensible thoughts. He was at the end of his rope now, wasn't he? 

It hurts, it's fading away, everything is fading. I don't want to die, God, please don't let me die. 

"Aki, hang in there, look at me, please." 

But your face was a blur, a mere swirl of colors growing hazy, almost as if he was being swallowed into the darkness of a long, pitch-black tunnel. 

Don't give in just yet, don't give in, it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts… 

"Focus on me, please don't close your eyes…"

But your voice was growing fainter, muddier, as if Aki was plunged underwater, the depths threatening to claim him, and his eyelids were starting to feel so, so heavy. 

I'm going to die. 

The realization should have been terrifying. Instead, he felt release, like finally letting go when your hands had been burning from holding on for far too long. The end should have hit him much harder than it did. Instead, he found it soothing, like a river's rippling waters finally settling into a still, tranquil pool. 

"Aki…" 

It's okay, please don't cry. I didn't have that much time left, anyways. 

It was never supposed to happen this way. It was supposed to be an easy job, and now the person you cared for the most was dying in your arms. 

"Can you hear me? Aki?" 

At this point, if you were saying anything, he couldn't tell what it was anymore. He could feel himself slipping, losing the fight, and before he knew it, he was speaking before he was thinking. Soft words tumbled from his aching throat at barely more than a whisper. 

"I'm sorry, I love you." 

And then, he was done. 

Aki's head fell to rest on your shoulder. His body went limp against yours, motionless and heavy. You could feel the ever so subtle tickle of his shallow breaths against your neck. 

He was barely breathing, but at least he wasn't dead yet.

— 

It's happening again. He's there, but at the same time, he is watching himself, a mere observer to the snowglobe that is the microcosm of his life. Inside the dome is a familiar house, surrounded by dead trees with branches clothed in white. Through frosted glass, he can see it; he can see himself, tiny and meager, while as innocent and pure as the pale white snow. But all he can do is watch. 

All he can do is watch as the scene plays out just as he knew it would, just as he's seen in his dreams countless times before. Someone shakes the globe, and all at once, his home is torn into the sky, blown away with the same disorder present in a gorgeous flurry of snowflakes and glitter.  

It's strange. Seeing it now, so small, so far away, a swirl of mesmerizing crystalline, it almost seems beautiful. But as he watches, he can taste the bile rising in his throat, he is weighed down by the sinking of his heart, and in that moment, he's filled with the same sense of dread he felt that day. The feeling of being lost at sea with nothing but miles and miles of blue in sight. Nowhere to run to, no-one to reach out and help you, left treading water until you drown in the deep. 

Aki feels cold, down to his bones. Is it because of the snow? Or is it coming from within? 

The scene fades, and a new one opens on what he remembers to be the first time he wielded a sword. He watches a much younger, inexperienced version of himself through the shiny reflection on the blade. His fragile hands grip the hilt tight and he swings with a reckless naiveté. God, he was so young to be fighting, and even though he tried to hide it, Aki knew him better than anyone, and he knew the boy he saw in the mirror was terrified. 

He became a spectator to his first devil kill. Adrenaline pumped through his veins and he was overwhelmed with the satisfaction of finally doing something useful. From then on, he killed more, more. He didn't stop, not even for a second. 

His sword was plunged into devil after devil, but the madness didn't end for him once they were dead. He cut their bodies open and searched through every last revolting inch of their insides until he found what he was looking for. When he was done, his palms were stained red, down to the crevices. He remembers feeling as though it would never wash out of his pores. With his blade coated in blood, Aki could no longer see through the steel, and so the scene faded anew. 

When the picture took shape once more, Aki was standing on a lonely street. Through a wide set of windows, he could see himself inside, eating dinner with his late partner. Or perhaps it was lunch, he can't remember. The inside of the restaurant appeared to be empty apart from his table, and although he could see himself clearly, the one sitting in the chair across from him was blurred. He knew exactly who it was, and yet, her face was obscured and just wasn't quite right. 

"Aki, wanna job hop to the civilian side with me?" 

Even though he was watching from outside, he could hear the conversation clear as day, like it was coming from inside his brain. 

"We don't have to hunt that damn gun, y'know?" 

Aki didn't look up, although now, he wished he did, because if he had, maybe he would have remembered her face more. 

"I'll go drinking with you as much as you want," He replied firmly, "But I will never go to the civilian sector." 

If he could go back now, would he have changed his answer? 

Right now, he isn't sure, but in this world where he's only an onlooker, it doesn't really matter. He is on the outside looking in, left staring at his double and the hazy vision of Himeno, the window pane seeming fogged up around her form as she lights a familiar cigarette. 

Why was Aki seeing all of these things? Is this what they call your life flashing before your eyes? 

He stood idly, watching the film continue to play out, although he already knew how it was going to end. For a second time, Himeno died right in front of him, and for a second time, he was utterly powerless to stop it. He was a prisoner to a story already told, and even though the rest of the memory was fuzzy, he could remember everything about her as he watched her slowly disappear. 

That memory was always the clearest. His own brain is so cruel. 

Aki couldn't bear to see much more of this. He turned and started walking, then running, leaving the stage behind him. 

Perhaps it was because he hoped to enter a memory more pleasant, or perhaps it was because your face was the last thing he saw, your voice the last thing he heard, and so you were still lingering in the labyrinth of his mind. Whatever it was, Aki began to reflect on recollections of you. 

The first time he gave you a cigarette. He demonstrated how to smoke it before passing it off to you. When you coughed and sputtered, it was almost endearing, like watching a younger version of himself. You didn't give up though, and when he watched you, he couldn't help but smile. That day, he smiled for what was the first time in a long time. 

The first mission you completed together. He didn't think it was anything to write home about, but you were so excited, and some of that cheerfulness couldn't help but be rubbed off on him. You praised him for how strong he was, rambled about how much you wished you could be a devil hunter as strong as him. Never become like me, was what he wanted to say, but instead, he offered to train with you, show you some of what he knows. You graciously accepted, and after that, training sessions together became a regular occurance. That was only the start of Aki spending time with you outside of work. 

The first time he took you to his family's grave. He told you it wouldn't be anything fun, but you insisted on coming. He's still not sure why you did. 

It was chilly that day. You both left early in the morning. You slept on his shoulder on the train ride there. Then, on the boat, it was freezing, so while you looked out at the water, he took off his jacket and draped it over the two of you like a blanket with his shoulder pressed against yours. Lastly was the bus, and even though it was totally empty, for some reason, he stood close to you. Close enough that every bump in the road caused him to lean into you. Close enough that his fingers kept accidentally brushing against yours. 

Another thing he's not sure of is why you decided to grab his hand then. It could be because you were getting tired of all those accidents, or maybe it was because you figured it was awfully close anyways, so you might as well. It wouldn't be a far extension of what was already occurring. 

Or possibly, it was because you could see right through him. You could tell deep down, he was troubled with the reminders of all of this, of everything he lost that day. So when you took his hand, it was to give him something to hold on to. A small form of comfort. He likes to think the reason was the latter. 

"Your hands are cold." You commented. 

"Yours are warm."

The trip was always a long one, but with you, it seemed to go by in an instant. You prayed alongside him, and something about you being there made it easier, made him feel less alone. 

In his eyes, in every memory, your face was clear. He could see every detail of it, but he swore it was more beautiful than he remembered. 

The first time you came over to his house, he showed you around, and when you were hungry, he peeled and cut an apple for you. He remembers the way your face lit up when you saw the bunny-shaped slices, the way you smiled at him as you ate. You watched movies together, talked about stupid shit and gossiped about co-workers while forgetting about the world. For just one night, everything was normal. Aki remembers wishing he could freeze time right at that moment. 

The first time you went out drinking together, you both probably shared more secrets than necessary, but Aki can hardly recall what was said. What he does remember is taking you home when you got too drunk, your whole body leaning on him, your infectious laugh when you wobbled, and the way you relied on him to keep you safe without question. It made him feel important, made him feel like he was needed by someone. 

It's the dullest of moments that Aki remembers the clearest, he notes. They also happen to be the ones he loves the most, because when every devil might be what drives you to the brink of insanity, a little bit of something simple goes a long way. 

Aki relives a conversation he had with you on his balcony, over a shared cigarette and under the dull light of the crescent moon. He recalls something you asked him that night. 

"If you could go back and change your past, would you?" 

You posed it as a pretty casual question, teasing him when he simply replied he doesn't know. 

Ask him any other time, and Aki would have said yes, absolutely. There were so many things he'd like to change about his life. So many people he'd want to save, and when he really thinks about it, all of this started with that stupid house and that damn gun. Against the impossible odds, he'd find a way to prevent it, find a way to save his family. Find a way to fix his life. 

Now though? He's come to feel a bit differently, not just about that question, but about his life as a whole. No matter how much you wish it could, the past can't be changed. The only thing you can do is learn to live with it. Accomplish your goals and treasure what you have left until it's gone. And if you do, you might just find something that makes all the suffering worth it in the end. Someone who makes you look forward, instead of looking back all the time. 

The only thing he regrets is ever giving you a damn cigarette. 

This world has always hated him from the start. Was showing him all of this the universe's way of trying to get him to finally give up? 

To hell with that. Aki still had a job to do, and for once in his life, he had someone out there waiting for him. Someone who would cry if he died, and he can't let that happen. He needed to get out of here. 

"Aki, where are we going?" 

With no warning, he found himself on a busy street, and he heard your voice clearly through the suffocating crowd. 

"We have to patrol the south side," Came his response, although it wasn't coming from his own mouth. Aki turned to where he heard it, and standing out from the group as if a spotlight was shown upon them was the striking image of himself walking with you close on his heels. 

"Try to keep up," His duplicate continued, "I won't have time to babysit you." 

"You must have pretty low expectations of me, sir." 

"I have low expectations of everyone, especially softies like yourself." 

Aki felt his hands ball up into fists. Man, was he always such an asshole? 

"And why's that?" 

"Because everyone in Public Safety ends up either-"

Aki charged forward, closing the distance between himself and you. Before he let himself say another word, he reached out and grabbed your hand. Your palm was warm, and he could feel it when you gripped back, the touch distinct and real. For a moment, his heart skipped and he hesitated, a gravity almost drawing him away, but he held on tight and let it pull him with you in tow. 

He moved as quickly as he could manage, shouldering past those in the way, and when the sea of people seemed to part, he started running. 

"Aki, wait!" Your voice cried out from behind him, and you were slowing down, stumbling, struggling to keep up. "Where the hell are we going?"

His vision was growing muddled, and he wasn't sure where he even was anymore. His surroundings were a confusing, vague blur, in an uncanny kind of way. 

"We're getting out of here," He replied, and the next thing he said poured from his mouth thoughtlessly, "I'm not ready to die." 

"You're not dead, Aki."

Aki froze in place. "I'm not?" He murmured, although to be honest, he knew a long time ago that he wasn't. He knew from the moment he first saw your face, and from the second he felt your touch so strongly when he grabbed your hand. He could feel this was only a dream that he was on the edge of waking up from.  

And as if on cue, a loud boom pierced right through the languor, and the calm haze of a quiet dream was severed in favor of a heart-pounding awakening. 

— 

I'm not dead yet. 

Aki awoke suddenly, the fog blanketing his mind rapidly fading to a clear consciousness. The first thing he heard was the crack of thunder, and once his eyes fluttered open, the second thing was the rolling thrum thereafter. He fought against the grogginess still lingering in his mind and the heavy weight of his eyelids begging to close, attempting to take in the area around him. The room was dim, covered in a veil of grey, and the gentle patter of rain could be heard outside. 

He sat there for a moment, pondering the loose threads from his dream still lingering in his memory. As his senses returned, he felt something in his open hand, holding it carefully, but firm. Your touch blended so well with his dream that it took him a bit before he noticed. Fabric rustled as he turned to look at you, your head rested on the edge of the bed. You had pulled up a chair next to him, and although he couldn't tell since you were facing away, he guessed you were sleeping. 

Aki felt his body relax and his heartbeat slow once he saw you, and for a minute he was settled there, simply enjoying the feeling of your hand in his. It was warm. So warm. 

He could tell from his surroundings that he must be in the hospital. How long had he been asleep? Or, more importantly, how long had you been waiting for him to wake up? Hopefully he didn't worry you for too long, he thought, and as he attempted to recall how he got himself into this in the first place, the memory of the day prior began to return. 

That's right, you and him were dispatched on an extermination mission for the Spike Devil, and that's where he became injured. He remembered fighting alongside you, stepping in front of you, and taking a spike right through his stomach. Aki could feel his middle wrapped in something snug, and to confirm it true, he snaked his free hand up his hospital gown. Sure enough, when his fingers met his side, he felt the smooth cotton of a bandage cloth. 

The next thing he recalled was the pain. How sharp and hot it was, and then the feeling of almost dying that followed. It felt oddly calm, like slipping into a peaceful slumber, but now, the mental image it conjured utterly terrified him. 

He summoned the Fox Devil, didn't he? Yeah, he definitely did. He can't forget to feed it later. 

You weren't hurt, were you? No, if you were here now, you must have gotten out safely. Aki remembered your panicked voice as you begged for him to stay awake. The look on your face that shot a bullet through his heart when he realized you were crying. He remembered being held in your arms, slowly slipping away, whispering his last words… 

Oh, fuck. They were supposed to be his last words, anyways, but considering he was alive and well right now, they certainly didn't turn out to be. He wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing. 

In the moment, his mind was in shambles, and all he was concerned with was making sure something left his mouth so you could hear his voice one last time. He wanted those words to be meaningful and good, but he didn't have much time nor energy left to decide on them. The grim prospect of death was staring him right in the eyes, and he could tell from the dwindling sand within the hourglass that he didn't have much time left. He dug a hole for his own grave, and as he did, he unearthed feelings he had long since buried in the dirt. In the moment, all he could think of was not allowing those feelings to be forever buried alongside him. 

Aki could feel his heart constrict in his chest. I love you. I love you. I love you. Each resoundment was like a punch to the gut, echoing throughout his head, spoken in his own voice. Out of all the things he could have said, why did he have to go with that? Maybe it would have been endearing if he had actually ended up six feet under, but in this instance, all he did was force his feelings onto you. 

He shouldn't have said it. The time and place couldn't have been any more horrible. You shouldn't feel pressured to accept his confession just because he almost died, so Aki decided the first thing he's going to do when you wake up is take it all back. He'll tell you he didn't mean any of it, even if that was an outright lie. 

Speaking frankly, Aki didn't know much about love, but somewhere down the line, he became pretty sure he was in love with you. He could feel it clearly in the way his heart came alive every time he was around you, and in the way your presence alone brought him so much peace. You treated his life as anything but expendable, and you cared about him in a way almost no-one else ever has. There was something about you that captivated him and made him grow him very, very attached, until before he realized what was happening, you became the most precious thing in his life. 

Nevertheless, for so many reasons, he swallowed those feelings and kept them concealed. You were his partner firstly, his friend secondly, and he couldn't allow something stupid like this to get in the way of either of your jobs. Besides, if you grew closer to each other, it would only lead to more hurt when one of you inevitably departed. Aki had to keep you at a certain distance. For his own sake and yours, you two could never be more than friends. 

But when you find yourself on the brink of death, something about you changes. You start thinking of all those things you've tried to keep hidden and you're met with a choice: speak now, or die beside them. 

Oh, whatever. What's done is done, so it's not worth agonizing over now, is it? 

Searching for something to distract himself, Aki finally decided to push himself up, doing so slowly as to not wake you. The second he rose, he immediately felt the strain of fatigue on his body, like a hook held by a taut line threatening to drag him backwards. The slightest bit of movement also triggered a steady throb in his side. He brushed strands of long hair from his face, rubbed some of the stress from his temple, and forced himself to stay up. 

A dull flash of lightning brought his attention to the window beside him. Gentle droplets tapped against the glass, then steadily cascaded down, obscuring the view with blurry streaks of water. Dark, puffy clouds hung low in the sky and blotted out the light from the sun. The slosh of water could be heard when cars in the streets below passed by, headlights casting streaks of yellow that travelled across the room. 

For a while, Aki watched the rain, the soft rhythm beginning to settle his thoughts. He could still feel your hand in his, and he faintly closed his fingers around it, holding it in a tender grip. The drizzle outside bounced off of the sidewalk and soaked into the soil. Where it had the chance, it collected into puddles that reflected the city's colorful glow. It could have been his imagination, but he swore the storm was only picking up. 

"Aki?" 

A voice calling his name stirred him, but before he could fully turn towards it, before he could even form a word in response, you had already flung forward and wrapped your arms around him. Aki's breath hitched in his throat. For a few seconds, he stalled, before he hesitantly returned the embrace, shaky arms clutching around your back. Loosely at first, but tight when he gave in. 

You held him close, close enough that how glad you were to see he was okay was conveyed through your touch alone, and without a single word spoken, he understood. You could feel his heart beating through his chest and the fabric of his clothes was balled up tight in your hands. 

His heartbeat. In the grand scheme of things, it was inconsequential, but hearing it now made it sound like the world's most perfect melody. 

Although his lips trembled like there was something he wished to say, Aki was rendered speechless until you pulled apart. You held his shoulders, the look on his face one of relief. When he met your gaze, he got lost in your eyes, and when he spoke to end the silence, his voice was low. To hear it after so long made it sound especially comforting. 

"How long have you been here?" 

"Since this afternoon," You replied, "They've been letting me off work early 'cause I can't patrol without a buddy." 

Aki looked away, his face tensed in thought, and you spoke again, figuring you knew what was on his mind. "You've been asleep for three days now." 

Three days? He should be grateful he wasn't out for longer, but three days was still far too long to have left you worrying about him. He was so stupid, so sloppy, such an idiot. How could he let something like this happen? 

Aki sighed, "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? For what?"

"Fuck, for everything," He answered, his voice fragile, like it was glass about to break into a million little pieces. "For failing you, for making you worry about me, for what I-" 

The hospital room's door opening with a creak caused Aki to trail off, his attention and yours shifted to a nurse standing in the hallway. 

The nurse stated simply, "Visiting hours were over a long time ago."

Your hesitation made Aki almost think you were going to protest, but instead, you responded, "Okay, I'm leaving in a minute." 

When the nurse left, you pulled Aki into another curt hug. You were about to tell him not to apologize because there was nothing to apologize for, but when he rested his head on your shoulder, you heard him say quietly into your ear, "You should leave now anyways, the rain is picking up."

As much as you didn't want to, you cut the hug short and decided to leave the conversation there, since it seemed like what Aki wanted you to do. You began shuffling around the room to find your belongings. "Yeah, I guess you're right, but I wanted to talk to you for longer." 

"I know. Me too."

"I'll come back tomorrow as soon as I'm off work." You said, pulling your arms through the sleeves of your jacket. 

Aki shook his head, "That's not necessary." 

"You don't want me to?" 

Of course he wanted you to. If he was truly listening to his heart, he would have begged for you to stay and never fucking leave his side again. But he has to listen to his head. 

"No, just… Don't worry about me, okay? I'll call you when I get out, we can talk more when I'm feeling better." 

"Alright. Do you need anything before I go?" 

"I could use a cigarette, but I doubt they'll let me smoke in here, so..." Aki pondered with a shrug of his shoulders, but without a care for what he just said, you rooted around in your jacket pocket, tossing a lighter and then a half-full pack of cigarettes at him. He saw them out of the corner of his eye and spun to catch them with ease. 

You were about to leave the room, but as you grabbed the door handle, you stopped to say one more comment, "Hey, make sure you get some rest, alright?" 

"Didn't I tell you not to worry about me?" 

In response, you only chuckled. 

Aki spoke between the cigarette already placed between his teeth, "Be safe." 

"I will, see you later. Call me." 

Aki waved, and after catching one last glimpse of him, you left and closed the door behind you. 

—

Aki never called you. 

After almost a week of not hearing from him, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You went to the hospital first, only to find his room empty upon opening the door. You flagged down a nurse, who informed you he left a few days ago. Against the wishes of his doctor, might they add. Yeah, sounds just like him. 

So next, you tried to call his phone, but of course, it rang infinitely without an answer. When that plan failed, you didn't waste any time trying to leave voicemails. You got in your car and drove right to his apartment. 

Considering what the nurse told you, it wasn't hard to believe he was ignoring you because he was trying to get some rest, but considering what you knew about Aki, the real reason was probably because he didn't want you to fuss over him. It was either that or he was too embarrassed to talk to you. 

You parked in front of his apartment and then made your way to the door. The sun hung low in the sky, casting orange ribbons of light upon everything it touched. A sharp chill was settled in the air, leaving goosebumps on your arms in its wake. You raised your knuckle and knocked. 

No answer. 

You rung the doorbell, hearing the muffled chime resound from inside. 

No answer, again. 

The lights weren't on, but his car was parked in the lot, so he definitely was here. Was he okay? Something didn't happen to him, did it? You're starting to get a little nervous. 

You were about to try knocking at the door again, but to your surprise, it unlocked with a click. You hurriedly moved your hand away, and when it swung open, you couldn't hold back a sigh in relief. 

Aki leant on the doorframe, his hair down and an utter mess. He was wearing comfortable clothing, what you assumed to be his pajamas, and a weary look was present in his eyes. Maybe he actually was resting after all. He eyed you up and down before asking in a flat tone, "What are you doing here? Do you need something?" 

You scoffed, "You said you would call me and you didn't, idiot." 

"Oh, sorry." Aki replied, his attitude standoffish, and he averted his eyes, looking down at the floor. 

Could he be any less subtle about this? At least you were here now, so he couldn't avoid you for any longer. 

"Can you let me in? It's cold out here." You said, crossing your arms. 

Aki appeared to be unsure, but regardless, he opened the door further and moved aside, allowing you to walk in before he closed it behind you. The second you entered, a heavy warmth settled over your body like a cocoon. The familiar smell of his apartment and the distinct musk of his cigarettes filled your lungs. The scent was comforting, albeit a little suffocating, but it smelled exactly like him, and that's what you loved about it. His living room was lit solely by the rays of light shining through the balcony's sliding glass door. 

He wobbled past you, and before he sunk down on the couch, you noticed how he was clutching his side. "There's beer in the fridge if you want one," He said, grabbing a can from the coffee table in front of him. 

You rolled your eyes, but decided to take him up on that offer, walking over to the kitchen. "Isn't it bad to drink while you're recovering?" 

Aki brought the can to his lips, head tilted back as he took a drink. After a swallow, he simply stated, "It helps take the edge off." 

After rummaging around in the fridge, you grabbed a beer can of your own, cracking it open with a satisfying hiss. The bitter taste of alcohol pricked at your throat when you took a sip, and as you made your way to the living room, you looked at Aki again. He didn't look to be in much pain, but he was still holding his stomach like something was sore there. His expression was plagued by exhaustion and his hair was in total disarray. He probably hadn't even brushed it since he got home. Most curiously, his arm was wrapped in bandages stained a dark red from dried blood. 

"Aki, are you alright?" You asked, plopping next to him, the couch sinking under your weight. 

"I'm fine." 

"You don't look fine." You snapped back after his curt response, pointing to his arm as he brought the beer can to his mouth again, "How'd you get that? Have you been changing your bandages at all?" 

"I fed the Fox Devil flesh from my arm in exchange for using its power." 

"You didn't answer my second question." 

Aki looked away, unresponsive. There was your answer, you supposed. You took another swig of your beer before setting it on the table and pushing yourself up. 

"Where are you going?" Aki asked, peering up at you. 

"Bathroom." 

This was far from the first time you'd hung out at Aki's place, so you knew exactly where the bathroom was. You dug through all the cabinets and drawers until you found everything you were looking for: a roll of bandages, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a washcloth, and his hairbrush. 

When you returned, Aki immediately saw everything you were holding and a slight look of annoyance formed on his face. "You don't have to-"

"Come on, let me help you." You interrupted, setting everything down on the table besides the brush, which you held in your hand. "Face forward, I'm gonna brush your hair first." 

Aki gave a few more flustered comments, but you ignored them. You stood behind him and grabbed his chin when he tried to twist around, tilting his head back until it was forwards. Realizing there was no sense in fighting you, Aki sighed rather dramatically and reluctantly kept still, allowing you to run the hair brush through his tangles. 

You were gentle, as much as you possibly could be, anyways. Aki tried his hardest to keep still. It was impossible for you to tell from this angle, but if you could see his flushed face, you would know he was totally embarrassed. Not embarrassed enough to stop you though, of course. It's fine if you wanted to brush his hair, because he definitely wasn't enjoying this and his heart definitely wasn't pounding right now. 

"Hey, Aki, I have something I've been meaning to ask you." 

"Yeah, what is it?" 

Oh, were you finally going to ask him about his last words? It's okay, he already prepared what he was going to say, so it'd be fine. It'd be awkward, but he'll get over it, you'll get over it, and everything will go back to normal. 

"On our last mission, why did you step in front of me?" 

Why did he… do what? For a second, Aki was taken aback. This isn't what he expected you to say, not at all, in fact. Was this really all you were wondering about? 

At first, he isn't sure why. In the heat of the moment, the only thing in control was his reflexes, and when he protected you, he did so without a conscious thought. But the more he thought about it, the more the answer became obvious to him. 

Aki is used to losing partners. It's nothing new, and even though he tells himself he's not going to get attached, he always does. When they die, reduced to nothing but ash, their souls burn on in his memory, haunting him until he drowns in salty tears and the thick smoke of another cigarette. They're replaced with hardly any time given to mourn, and the cycle repeats itself. The world discards them, but he never will. 

The thing is, you're not just another partner to him. You're not just someone who can be easily replaced. You meant so much to him, more than you would ever really know. If you died, you'd be taking a piece of him with you, and the void left behind is one he would never be able to fill again. Not with anyone else. Not with the cigarettes or the alcohol or the rush from fighting devils. Nothing else would compare. 

Aki is tired of this, and he realized he was a long time ago. He's sick of the world giving him something he thinks he can cherish, but no matter how tight he holds on, it always ends up slipping away, right between his grasp. He can't do this anymore. He can't sit back and be complacent, allowing the cycle to repeat itself over and over again until everything he finds beautiful is wilted, all right before his eyes. He can't sit back and let this shitty world win. 

He doesn't care about all the pain he's in now. The temporary sting from this injury doesn't compare to how much it hurts to lose someone he cares about, a wound that aches everlasting. And he knows he could have died, he knows the feeling of death to an uncomfortable degree. But if keeping you safe means giving up his life for yours, he'd do it in a heartbeat, and he did. 

Hah, finally, he understands her now. He finally gets all those letters he read that day, why she wanted him to quit so badly, why she kept him alive. This was what she must have been feeling back then, wasn't it? And when he protected you, must he have been feeling the same emotions she was? 

"Aki, did you hear me?"

"I did it because I didn't want to see you hurt." 

You stopped for a moment, before exhaling a long sigh. "I don't want to see you hurt either, you know. You could have died." 

"I'm sorry." 

"Don't apologize, just next time, let's both be more careful. I don't want you dying on me any time soon." 

Aki didn't say anything back, half expecting you to ask him something else, but the discussion stagnated. 

I don't want you dying on me any time soon. How could one little sentence carry so much weight? He'll try, God, he'll try. He'll do anything and everything in his power to stay with you for as long as he can. 

By this point, you finished brushing out his hair, and it was soft to the touch when you ran your fingers through to make sure you didn't miss any knots. One thing's for sure, it looked a hell of a lot better than when you started. 

"All done," You said while moving to stand in front of him, setting the brush down on the table, "I'm going to do your bandages now, take off your shirt."

"Huh?" 

"I said I'm going to do your bandages now. I'll do the wound on your side first since that's gonna be the harder one." 

"No, no," Aki shook his head, reaching for the bandages, "I'll do it." 

You promptly put your hand on his and pushed it away. "No, you won't. Aki, please. Let me help you." 

Although his mouth opened like he was about to argue, he ultimately kept it shut, the pleading tone in your voice convincing him. He sunk back on the couch and his gaze avoided yours as he reached down, grasping the hem of his shirt and pulling it up and over his head, the faintest blush dusted on his cheeks when he tossed it aside. 

It's the first time you've seen Aki without a shirt, and under it, he's a lot more fit than you expected him to be. His body is lean, but with defined muscle. Especially in his biceps, which you would assume is from wielding a sword. Bruises kissed his skin and scars decorated every last inch. You could imagine each one telling a different story: some of sorrow, some of triumph, but all a reminder that through everything, he lived. Just below his ribs, stained bandages were wrapped tightly. 

"Uhm, how should I…" You stood in front of him, leaning down, attempting to figure out the best way to go about this. After feeling around, you located the end of the bandage, pulling on it and beginning to unwrap it from around his body. You could see the gentle rise and fall of his chest and hear the sound of his breathing: soft, and a little shaky. The angle was awkward and quickly caused an ache in your back, so to alleviate it, you rested your knee on his legs. 

When the last of the bandage was unwrapped, you finally got a good look at his wound, and the only thing you could think was this would definitely leave his biggest scar yet. The cut was sealed by stitches and travelled up the length of his abdomen, dried blood coated around it. 

You took the bottle of rubbing alcohol from the table, then the washcloth, pouring a small amount onto the surface. When you turned back to him, you decided the easiest way to continue would be to climb into his lap. 

Aki couldn't hide the blush on his cheeks anymore, nor could he stifle the way his breath hitched when he felt your weight settle on top of him. You were so close, way too close, and when you shuffled against him, his entire face suddenly felt very, very hot. He could feel the warmth all the way from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. 

"Alright, this is probably going to hurt. Are you ready?" 

"Uh, yeah." 

God, why was he so embarrassed? Why couldn't he calm down? His heart was thrumming against his ribcage, pounding so hard he wouldn't be surprised if you could hear it through his chest like he could hear it in his eardrums. With you pressed up against his lap, he could admire the details on your face like he never could before. The curve of your nose, (Was it always so perfect?) the color of your eyes, (Were they always this beautiful?) each and every mark and… and he didn't know where the hell to put his hands. Maybe he should… No, it'd be best if he just- 

"Ow! Holy fucking shit that hurts, why didn't you warn me?!" 

"I did, you dumbass." 

The second you pressed the rag to his cut, a sharp sting shot through him and he flinched back instinctively. When you pressed it to him again, he tensed up and subsequently jerked away. 

"Aki, you need to hold still." 

"Sorry." 

You gave him a second to compose himself before trying once more. Aki winced and swore under his breath, but he was able to keep still this time. You cleaned around his wound carefully, taking the washcloth away to give him a break whenever he squirmed or made it obvious he was in pain. Searching for something to hold onto, he grabbed your shoulder, squeezing tight to ground himself. 

"You shouldn't have left the hospital so early, this looks horrible." You ascertain. 

"I- shit, ow… I need to get back to work, I've-" He cuts himself off with a sharp intake of air, "I've lost enough time already."  

The pain stung like all hell, but there was something about being looked after by you that felt nice, almost calming, in a way. There was also something about how you fit in his lap that felt so, so right. Aki could hardly get over that feeling, and when he was squirming too much so you gently held his waist to keep him still, your soft touch against his bare skin was tender and heavenly and perfect. Any more of this, and his heart might pop like a balloon. 

"I'm almost done," You said softly, your tone comforting, "You're doing good, hang in there for me." 

Aki gave a quick nod and you continued. You cleaned the entire length of the wound, and once you thought your work was sufficient, the next thing you grabbed from the table was the fresh roll of bandages. You began wrapping them around him, winding them up the width of his body once, then twice, then a third time for good measure. When you were finished, you asked him, "Are you okay?" 

Aki merely nodded again. 

"Are the bandages too tight?" 

He shook his head. You secured the bandage with a knot, and when you started to slide off of him, Aki suddenly stopped you by grabbing your arm. 

He can't let this moment end. Not right now. Not when he needs it. Not when he's needed you for so long. 

"Wait," He said nervously, swallowing, "Can we… Can we stay like this for a little bit longer?" 

You smiled, "Of course." 

You slid back into his lap, carefully straddling him, and Aki couldn't help but feel the way your body connected to his was like puzzle pieces finally fitting together. He's not sure if he planned to or if it was purely by natural reflex, but he was a slight bit bolder this time when he allowed his hands to find your waist and hold it faintly through the fabric of your clothes. 

"Are you alright?" You asked him. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just really missed you." 

To be honest, that didn't even begin to scratch the surface. Aki missed you so goddamn much. He longed for your touch, for your mere presence alone. To have you in his lap now was a blessing, and what he didn't tell you was on that day, when he woke up at the hospital and you wrapped your arms around him, the feeling which leapt through his heart was the most he's felt in a long, long time. 

Fuck, he was so stupid. Why did he ever try to push you away? Why did he think that was a good idea? 

"I missed you too." You replied. 

"I'm sorry, I should have called you." 

"Aki," You said with a half-hearted laugh, "It's okay." 

"No," Aki shook his head, his eyebrows furrowing, "It's not, and I'm sorry. It's not okay for me to get hurt so badly I'm out for three days, or for me to ignore you, and I won't let it happen again. I promise." 

His expression seemed to soften, and the next thing to leave his mouth was spoken a little quieter, a little softer, and much, much warmer.

"I don't ever want to be apart from you, not for that long. You matter too much to me." 

The way he said it so genuinely took you by surprise and ignited a little feeling inside your heart. It was a few seconds before you responded, "I don't want to be apart from you either." 

The room grew silent, and in between the two of you, only deep breaths and lingering gazes behind heavy blinks of eyelashes were exchanged. The sun is nearly set by now, the day nearly spent. Twilight casts the faintest lush glow of orange on half of Aki's face, and the other is obscured by the dark shadow the light creates. The way it makes him look is practically ethereal, and your hand starts to drag up, up, until you're caressing his jawline, cupping his cheek, feeling warmth radiate from his skin when he leans into your touch. 

Aki's not really sure what it was, or how it happened, but something fell into place right then. A want turned into a need turned into a desire, and Aki knew, he knew he was done for, but quite frankly, he didn't care. 

He shouldn't be doing this, should he? His fingers shouldn't be trailing under your shirt. They shouldn't be shaking, climbing slowly upwards until he can study your waist, the dip of your sides, the outline of your ribs. He shouldn't be losing himself to you, nor should he be allowing you to touch him so earnestly, so intimately. 

With one hand, you toy with the piercings on his earlobes, and the other you run up the back of his neck, tangling it in his hair until he can feel tingles throughout his scalp. Meanwhile, he touches you with the delicacy of feather-light fingertips against your skin, like he was scared you might shatter if he wasn't careful, and the nervousness of unsure movements and trembling hands. And when he does so, he shouldn't be wanting more. If he shouldn't be doing this, why did it feel so good, and so right? 

All he knew anymore was right now he wanted, no, he needed you, more of you. More of your touch, more of everything you'd be willing to give him, and then some. He needed you to take him somewhere far away from this world, because when you touch him like this, he doesn't feel empty anymore. He doesn't want it to end, even if he should, even if it would be the smarter choice. Truth is, he's been cold inside ever since that snowy day, and this is the most warmth in his soul he thinks he's felt since then. 

You're his partner, nothing more. But in this space away from reality, inhabited by just the two of you, the world of devils doesn't really fucking matter. 

Maybe it's because he was a little tipsy, or maybe it's just because he was high on you, but his mind was a dream-filled haze, and with a budding, lovesick ache in his chest, Aki felt words blossom until they were falling from his mouth like petals, words he thought he would never say again. 

"I love you." 

It came so naturally, as did his affectionate hold on your chin between his thumb and finger, as did the way you whispered I love you too in return without missing a beat. 

Do you? It felt like a dream, but if it was, this was one Aki definitely didn't want to wake up from. 

I do, always have. It wasn't a dream, it was real. You loved him. You said you loved him, and he didn't even know how to process it. He didn't know where to begin. But with you right here, he didn't think, he didn't complicate it, he just believed you. He let his heart take control and allowed everything to unfold. 

His eyes dropped to your lips, and then gravity started to pull him in closer, closer, listlessly, his hand seeming to guide you forwards in the same way. His voice was quiet when he asked, Can I kiss you? and your response only came in the form of eyes fluttering closed and your mouth pressed against his. 

His lips were soft, hesitant, woven with sparks, filled with a longing he didn't even know he had, and to him, yours felt like a dizzying sense of relief. All of his longing, all of his infatuation. All of the times he was so close to you but stopped himself from doing anything more. All of the indirect kisses shared through sticks of cigarettes. All of it led up to this. And yet, the moment was cut short when he pulled away almost as quickly as he leaned in. 

When you met his gaze, you smiled, and told him, "You can kiss me like you really mean it, you know."

"Like… Like how?" 

"Like this." 

Your lips sought his again, but this time they pressed harder, for longer. In between struggles for breath, your mouths parted. Suddenly, your hands were becoming lost in his hair and he was kissing you much deeper than he ever could have expected or imagined. He tasted vaguely like cigarettes and beer, the ones you both always smoke, the kind you both always drink. Comfortingly familiar. 

It had been forever since he'd kissed someone, and never since he'd been kissed like this, so everything was clumsy and messy. The dance became one you were teaching him how to do, and eventually, he started to get the hang of it. He was hesitant at first, but when he pulled you closer by your waist and you rocked your hips hard against where he was stiff beneath you, all nervousness and any attempt to control himself went out the window. 

Sucking on your tongue has him feeling lightheaded, and with soft sighs and gasps echoed between each other, it was then that Aki realized: you didn't just taste like his cigarettes, you felt like them too. Your lips on his felt like the way nicotine soothes your lungs, working its way into your blood until you're left hopelessly addicted. 

When you pulled apart, he was breathing heavily, eyes filled with lust and an almost divine sense of adoration. Your hand pressed to his chest, the steady beat of his heart thrumming beneath, and you pushed him until he settled backwards. Tender kisses were blessed to his cheek, his jaw, his neck, where he tilted his head up to give you better access, and then you kissed the Adam's apple in his throat, where he let out the sweetest whine. 

Your lips traced downwards, and where they did, they wrote words Aki wished he could etch forever into his skin. There was a kiss on his collarbone, then one on his chest, over a faded scar. Another, on top of a bruise, and although still sore, the pain was drowned out by tingles of pleasure. 

If it's possible for heaven to exist on Earth, Aki thinks this might be what it's like. 

Somewhere down the line, his hand met yours. When exactly? He doesn't know, but what he does know is your fingers fit into the crooks of his too perfectly to be a coincidence. He knows it's ridiculous, but it has him thinking perhaps, his hands weren't meant to summon devils or hold the hilt of a blade. They were meant for something more like this. 

Somewhere down the line more, he's asking, Can I touch you? and the hand that's free is moving on its own the second he sees you nod, his palm exploring wherever it oh so desperately wants to. It slips under your bra, caressing and squeezing your breasts, rolling the nipple between delicate fingers. Callouses morph his touch into a mix of rough and gentle, providing the slightest bitter reminder. 

A moment of clarity finally befalls him when he notices your fingers playing with the drawstrings of his pants. A moment which whispers to him, Hey, this is your last chance to get a grip, are you going to take it? He chooses to pretend he didn't hear. 

Actually, he chooses to go directly against the little voice in his head when he grabs your hand, his fingertips brushing against your knuckles as he starts to guide it down, down, right to where he's craving it to be. There's a gnawing hunger for more that festers in his heart, in his stomach, and in between his legs and… For fuck's sake, when did he get so hard? He's so turned on it hurts… Was all of this just from a little kissing? 

He's hopeless. Way more hopeless than he thought, way more needy than he thought. And who can blame him? No-one has ever touched him like this or loved him so strongly, not once in his life. Certainly you can't blame him for being a little desperate. 

So if he wants you to touch him, you will. If he wants you to make him feel good, you'll make him feel even better, all because he deserves it. He works so goddamn hard, he's been through so much. He deserves to be happy, he deserves to be pleasured, he deserves to be loved. He deserves to have a break from how horrible the world can be and indulge in something much sweeter. 

You know exactly what he needs, and so, you give it to him. Grant him a little taste to hold over his appetite. And God, when you do, Aki's mind is so far down the gutter there's truly no hope of saving him. (Not like there ever really was, anyway.) 

"Fuck," Aki swears under his breath once you palm the shape of his dick through his pants, nearly stuttering. When he speaks again, his voice is barely uttering the words, but they roll off his mouth so effortlessly that he hardly knows what he's saying anymore. "Right there baby, just like that, holy shit…" 

It doesn't take long before his legs are starting to squirm and his head is tossed back, needy moans punctuated by his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. His hand flies to cover his mouth in an attempt to muffle the noise, and his hips rut upwards in a desperate plea for friction. Even though you're only rubbing him through his sweatpants, the feeling that pumps through his veins, settles in his core: it's addictive. He can feel himself sitting thick and heavy against his thigh, leaking out all over it. Your touch feels so damn good he doesn't even notice when your hand slips down, past the hem, until it starts feeling a whole hell of a lot better. 

One less layer of fabric makes all the difference. You can feel the outline of his cock more prominently, big and incredibly hard, the cotton of his boxers damp and slightly see-through over the tip. He needs something to hold onto, anything, so he grabs your waist with a firm, white-knuckled grip. The way you're squeezing him and rolling your palm is driving him fucking crazy and he knows he can't hold back anymore, not when it feels this amazing, not when he wants it this bad. All it takes is one more grind into your hand before he's on the edge, and when everything is tumbling over, he's riding it out and letting it happen. 

Cries of your name are entangled with gasps for air as he finishes, cumming right in his boxers. His back arches into you, his entire body tensing before it abruptly goes limp. His moans are so perfect, and the way he whimpers even after his release is absolutely adorable. 

You give him a moment to catch his breath and recollect himself, his chest rising and falling with force. You reach up, brushing his messy hair from his face and tucking it behind his ears. Then, you lean forward, lips connecting with the nape of his neck. The skin gives between your teeth, and he sighs when you softly suck a deep mark, one you know will last 'til morning. 

He must be so pent up. That's the only explanation behind him cumming before he's barely been touched, before you've barely even done anything. He must have never been touched by anyone like this. Hell, he probably didn't even touch himself like this. There must be so much built up tension, so much that he's starved for any kind of touch, so much that he'd get hard from just a kiss, from just you sitting in his lap. 

You want to touch him more, give him more, give him everything until he's whole again. You can help him relieve some of that tension, couldn't you? 

You pull back, admiring the bloom of dark purple on his neck, before kissing his jaw. Then, you trail up, where you nibble at the metal piercing on his earlobe, kiss the shell of his ear, and whisper, "Can you keep going?" 

Aki's mind is in a complete daze when he answers, his voice light, like he's high, "Yeah…" 

Your thumb hooks around the waistband of his pants and the briefs he's made a mess out of, and he raises his hips to help you pull both garments down just as far as necessary. You know his dick wants to come free so bad, and when it does, it springs up and taps against his abdomen. 

Aki can hear you spit into your hand, hear his heart pounding in his ears like a drum. He knows what you're going to do, but he's still nervous. The anticipation might kill him, but he's too embarrassed to look, so when your hand suddenly wraps around him, the surprise causes him to jolt and his breath to catch in his throat. 

His pretty cock has a certain weight to it, a certain curve and thickness which makes your fist fit perfectly around it. Paying careful attention to the high he just came down from, you stroke him slowly, gently, almost in a lazy manner, sliding off of his lap and making yourself comfortable beside him so you're able to get a more desirable grip. The mixture of his slick and your spit is enough to make your hand glide up and down easily, echoing a soft, wet sound. Your shoulder is pressed to his, and here, you're able to utter the quietest of words into his ear. 

"Does it feel good?" 

Aki nods. "Mhmm…" 

"How good? Tell me." 

"Really good, really really good… Ah, fuck-" Aki momentarily cuts himself off when your palm swipes against the sensitive tip, his hips rocking upwards desperately, "Please, don't stop." 

It feels amazing. Being touched by someone else like this, and that someone being the one he's so desperately in love with. It's like nothing he's ever felt before. It's making his head spin, like he can see stars. He's already fully hard again, and he can feel himself fucking throbbing. 

"Do you want more?" 

"Yes…" Aki groans between sucks of air through his teeth. He's thrusting into your tight grip shamelessly now, his dick sliding in and out of the hole you've made with your fingers, to the point where you don't even have to move it anymore. He's whining, getting himself off on your hand and dribbling precum all over it, all by his own doing. 

"What do you want?" 

"I- You- I…" His attempts to get the words out mostly end in failure until you hear him swallow, and with a sigh, he admits, "I want to fuck you." 

His comment is direct, way more inappropriate than you thought possible for him to say, and goes straight between your legs. It's hard to keep up your previous confidence now, but still, you tease, "Do you? How bad do you want it?" 

"I want it so bad, I want more of you, I want to be inside you," Aki begs, each sentence punctuated by a breath as he fucks your hand, "I need you so goddamn much. You don't understand." 

"Yeah? You wanna fuck me so badly, huh? I can tell." 

"Yes, yes… Fuck- I'm gonna cum again, I'm gonna cum, oh my God-" 

You jerk him off as his thrusts take on an unsteady rhythm and all of the sudden, Aki is falling apart in your grasp, moaning as he cums all over his chest and his stomach. It shoots out in ropes, and even when he thinks he's done, it still drips out of his cock, coating your hand and making your fingers sticky. And after everything, even once he's came, he's still half-way hard and thrusting slowly into your hand like he can't get enough. 

You abruptly take your hand off of him and he whines in dismay. You lick your fingers first, then shift back on his lap and bend down, dragging your tongue from the bottom to the top. Over his stomach, over his bandages, up his abs and over his chest, all the way until he's squirming and you've licked up every last drop of his cum. 

When you're finished, you comment, "I think I understand a little." 

"Huh?" Aki replies, still catching his breath. 

"I mean I understand when you said you need me." 

"Do I make it that obvious?" 

You smirk and plant a faint kiss on his lips, one that makes his heart jump a little in his chest, and then pull back to speak against them, "You always have." 

Aki grabs your chin and goes to drag you in for another, but he's interrupted when you're blabbering, "Wait, wait, wait, wait," and pulling yourself away from him. 

"What?" 

You point to where his arm is wrapped in bandages, "I need to take care of that. I'll give you what you want after." 

Aki can't even attempt to hide his disappointment before it's plastered all over his face. "Are you serious? Can't it wait?" 

"You're not going to want to do it later, so no, it can't." 

Ugh, he knows you're right. Once he gets started with you, he's not going to be able to stop, and either you're going to forget, or both of you are going to end up too exhausted. He knows he has to listen to you, but fuck if it isn't frustrating to have to control himself right now. Honestly, he's not sure if he can, and he definitely doesn't want to. He needs you and he's tired of waiting any longer, so he brazenly asks, "Can you do it while I'm inside? On my lap?" 

You brush off the vulgarity of his comment as to not let it affect you, but it's hard to ignore the feeling between your legs when you start to imagine it. "I can't multitask like that. I want this as badly as you do, you know." 

"I won't move. I just want to feel you."

He seems awfully sure of himself with that statement, so sure you almost believe him, so sure you're starting to consider it…  

"Are you sure you can't wait?" 

"I can't."

"You're annoyingly stubborn, you know that?" 

Aki watched your hands find the bottom of your shirt, where you grasped at the hem and pulled, wrestling it and your bra over your head before tossing both articles of clothing in a heap on the floor. You reached for your pants next, and he asked, "Is that a yes then?" 

"It will be if you help me." Came your reply, your pants and underwear discarded at the same time, just as hastily. 

"With what…?" 

Your answer comes in the form of you straddling him, grabbing his hand, and bringing his fingers to your lips. 

The sight that follows is one Aki simply cannot begin to tear his eyes away from. It's a bit befuddling at first: the way your mouth parts, and the way you lick a prudent stripe of saliva up the length of his middle and ring finger. When you take the digits further, pushing them down your throat, wet and hot tongue swirling around them, Aki's breath gets caught in his lungs, and it's there that he realizes what you're trying to do. 

His gaze remains fixated to the display. You're sucking on his fingers, gagging, practically choking on them with tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. They're getting all wet and messy with your spit and drool. It's such a fucking cocktease, and it's making him imagine things he shouldn't be imagining, but things he absolutely needs. He doesn't protest when you drag his fingers out, prop yourself up on your knees, and proceed to guide them right between your legs. 

Aki has no idea what to do and he's totally transfixed by you, so he allows you to press them inside you, and then he follows your lead, shoving them in the rest of the way. You groan when his fingers fill you, leaning over and whispering quietly in his ear, reassuring him, "I'll show you what to do, it's okay." 

You've taken his fingers all the way down to the knuckle. They're slender, trained, and fucking long, much longer than yours. They reach so deep inside, feel so amazing stretching you out. 

Aki really, really wants to make you feel good, and that's the only thing running through his mind as he concentrates fully on you. On the feeling of your cunt around his fingers, on your moans, on your beautiful face. He needs to return the favor for you, and he desperately wants to see how you look when you're overwhelmed by pleasure, hear how you sound when you can't hold back, and he wants all of it to be because of him. 

So he pays the closest attention. His fingers are slick from your saliva and spit, and he takes note of the way you're pressing them in and out. When you instruct him to curl them, he does so, and when you're screaming, There! Right there! he commits that spot, that movement of his fingers to memory. 

He's a rather fast learner. You understood this when you kissed him, but with the way he's working you, massaging that perfect spot inside again and again, you've become aware of it even more so. Your instructions were no longer needed, and Aki took the liberty of fucking you with his fingers all on his own, scissoring them, until you're getting wetter and wetter around the digits. They're so damn good to you, so perfect, as perfect as the way they sit between the crooks of your own. Surely, his hands were made for you. 

"So wet… It's squeezing so much." He mumbled quietly, half to himself, almost as if he's in awe. 

Searching for more stimulation, you maneuvered a hand to your clit, rubbing tight, hasty circles. Aki noticed your movement and your noises starting to pick up, so he innocently asked, "Can you show me what you're doing?" 

When you grab his hand and pull him out of you, Aki can feel the resistance, as if his fingers are being sucked back inside, and the thoughts that immediately manifest in his head would be enough to send him to hell ten times over. They come out covered in your slick, and you press them to your clit carefully. 

It takes him a little bit longer until he's got a good grasp on this one. He keeps a slow, deliberate pace, mindful of how your body reacts and the manner you're guiding him. He doesn't always find the sweet spot at first, but each time he manages to, it feels like utter bliss. In due time, he begins to pull more noises from you, and when your focus starts to shift from teaching him to grinding against his fingers, searching for more of your own pleasure, he starts to take the initiative. 

His fingers rub precise halos right where he can tell you're most sensitive. They're so disciplined, so dead on, and fuck, he's teasing you with them. Rubbing your clit determinedly before slowing down, stopping, edging, before starting up again, and repeating the process. His dick aches just by watching you and knowing he's making you come undone in this way, so he's trying to draw this out, make this last as long as possible. 

"Is this good?" Aki asks curiously, sweetly. 

"Yes! It feels amazing, oh my God, Aki-"

His name falling so deliciously from your lips makes his heart flutter before it goes right between his legs, making his cock throb. It's an abrupt, awkward realization when Aki notices he's been dribbling precum all over his abdomen, and probably all over his bandages too. Damn, between that and him finishing all over them, he's created more work for you, hasn't he? 

Your knees feel like they're going to give out, so you rest your hands on Aki's shoulders for support. Your breath is coming out in ragged gasps as you feel your release already close, and when your head dips, Aki is using his free hand to hold you up, support you, lovingly muttering into your ear, "I wanna make you cum baby. Are you gonna cum all over my fingers?" 

Everything in your core builds to a fever pitch, and all at once, you're wrapping your arms around him as you finish, clumsily grinding your hips against whatever part of his hand you can find, making it messy. His arm goes around your back, and he praises while you tremble, voice smooth and resolute, "Just like that baby, just like that. You're so beautiful when you cum." 

Aki holds you while you come down, and you almost, almost forgot what your objective was going into all this, until you can feel the bandages on his arm rubbing against your bare back. You're a bit reluctant to move, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't eager for more, eager to get his cock inside you. His fingers were one thing, but they weren't enough, and almost as if he can read your mind, Aki whispers low and breathy into your ear, "Do you want my dick, sweetheart?" 

He's asking you, but it's mostly his way of telling you, of prompting you. Telling you he wants you too, right now. And God you want it, need it, and you really don't need him to tell you twice. 

Your hand finds his cock and he sighs as you pump the length a few times, getting it wet with his precum. It's so hard, thick, and throbbing steadily beneath your palm. With how needy he is, it's impossible to tell he already came two times before this. 

You grasp the base and hover your hips over him, aligning it until the tip presses right against your entrance, prodding, teasing, so close but not quite and making your cunt pulse around nothing. He grabs your chin, tilting your head until he can look at you. His eyes meet yours, and behind the kind, cerulean gaze, is nothing but lust and desire. 

"Do you want it?" He asks again, unflinching. 

"Yes, I want it, yes…" 

"Then take all of it." 

Aki grabs your waist and pulls, guiding you to sink down on his cock. He's whimpering the moment he's inside of you, but he doesn't get greedy, continuing to drag you down awfully slow as he opts to enjoy the feeling of filling you up inch by inch. 

Your cunt is squeezing him so much, sucking him in, taking all of him so well. He's not sure what to focus on: your beautiful face contorted in pleasure, eyelids fluttering closed, or the near addictive view of his dick becoming buried further and further inside. The sight is somehow enough to make him even harder, and he can't contain himself from rolling his hips upward in tandem with pulling you on him further. 

It's you, it's him inside you, and holy shit, it's a feeling that's hardly set in yet. It doesn't hit him fully until he's stuffed in to the hilt, filling your stomach, with your weight settled on top of him. In this moment, it feels as though now, more than ever, the love he'd kept hidden for so long is finally tangible, finally real. He almost moves, nearly thrusts up, but he stutters and stops himself before he can once he sees you reaching behind you for the roll of bandages. 

Fuck, he almost forgot. 

"These first," You gesture to the bandage wrapped around his sides, speaking through ragged breaths, "You got them filthy." 

"Sorry." 

Despite the calm veneer you're trying your best to maintain, it's clear you're hurrying, unwrapping the bandages with haste and a hint of desperation. They're tossed to the side without a care when you're done. Aki's chest heaves with every shaky breath, so you instruct him to hold it, otherwise the bandages won't be secure. He complies, and when he does, he can hear his heartbeat in his ears, feel it pulse in his dick; it's near agonizing to keep still, and he hardly can. 

When you're finished there, you reach for his arm next. Thankfully, this wound isn't anywhere near as bad as his other one, but the press of the rag against it is still enough to give him a sharp sting. Trying to avoid hurting him too much, you slow down a bit and focus, well, as much focus as the situation will allow. 

Aki shifts beneath you, his hips fidgeting, fingers of his hand still held deft to your waist drumming against your skin just to keep himself busy. You can tell he's desperate for something more when you feel him twitch inside your stomach. Right now, he's so enthralled in you, in the feeling of being inside you, in being one with you. It's not long before the pain blends with pleasure and he doesn't even notice it anymore. He'll let you do whatever you want to his arm while he stares at you, drinking in the view like this'll be his last time seeing it. 

You wrap the roll of bandages around his arm once. He's shuddering, and he can't resist rutting his hips up a bit, just barely so that you won't notice, but just enough to get an ounce of relief. 

Twice. You've almost wrapped up the length of his arm. One more time, just one more time around and he'll get to fuck you. 

Three times. He's so dizzy the room is spinning. 

Four times. Fucking hell, he can't handle being teased like this, was now really the time to be this thorough? 

Finally, finally, after the fifth time, you wrap the last of the bandage around his arm, tear it off and tie it. The second you've tossed the roll aside, his hands are grabbing fistfuls of your hair to pull your lips onto his. The kiss is frantic, sloppy, and he's using way too much tongue, but you don't have the time to correct him, nor does he have the patience to be corrected. 

When Aki pulls away, he wipes the spit from his mouth with the back of his hand while thrusting into you, wasting no time at all to satisfy everything he'd been craving and fulfill the pleasure he was desperately waiting for. His grip on your waist guides you to bounce shallowly on his cock. He doesn't let you go up far before he's dragging you back down again, longing to stay deep inside you. Each press down has his eyes threatening to roll back into his head, and each thrust up has him moaning a pathetic string of swears, practically whining between every word. 

"Fuck, fuck… You feel so- a-ah, fucking good baby, oh my God-"

He reaches so deep inside you, and when he guides your body by your waist, it's not only for him, but for your needs as well. He tilts, curved cock fucking into you at just the right angle to hit the perfect spot like he was made for it. His hips are moving with reckless abandon now, rolling upwards to an unsteady, ragged rhythm. You hold his face, caress his parted lips with your thumb, feel his hot breath ghosting against your skin, and suddenly, he stops. His hips halt as he firmly holds you still, and his voice is rough, a bit hoarse when he gasps out, "Can we change positions?" 

You're a bit confused, but give an affirming nod. Aki pulls you off of him gently, slowly, savoring the feeling for as long as he can. When he's out, he uses his strength to easily twist you around until your back is on the couch and he's oriented above you, pulling his pants and boxers off the rest of the way and discarding them on the floor. Long, dark hair falls over his face in a mess, and he reaches up to comb a hand through, pushing it out of his vision so he can see all of you properly. 

"Are you okay with this? Are you comfortable?" Aki asks at barely more than a whisper, his eyes locked onto yours as he grips your thighs and tenderly pushes them open. When the couch has no more space to provide and your leg is about to slip off, he grabs it and tosses it over his shoulder. 

"Yeah, I'm okay," You answer, continuing to say, "Aki, don't push yourself. You're still injured, remember?" 

"I won't, I'll go slow. Don't worry." He affirms with the faintest smile. 

Aki's never been dirty-minded, but when he looks at you, allows his hands to take to your body, palms gliding up every curve of your form, his mind can't help but wander. You bring out something in him that he's never experienced before, something that makes him want to have his way with you. It's awfully strange to him, that feeling of wanting, of yearning. For so long, he's wanted a lot of things and never got them, but he's never desired something this selfish before. Every second of your time, every inch of your body, your everything, he wants all to himself. It feels good to want something, someone. 

Aki's never been much of a daydreamer, either, but he can't say he hasn't imagined this from time to time. Meaningless sex has never appealed to him, but sex with someone you trust, with someone you truly love, deeply and passionately, is another story. Being as close and as vulnerable as possible to another person, giving them all of you, and they trust you enough to give themselves in return; it's something he's always desired to experience at least once in his life before he dies. 

Yeah, maybe he shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't have let it get this far from the start. But after a lifetime of never being selfish, never getting anything he wanted, right now, what he should or should not be doing doesn't matter. All that matters is you under him. 

His hands settle on your hips, adjusting them until they're lined up with him, and then he leans down to murmur, "Are you ready?" And all that matters is the way you whisper back, "Yes, Aki, please, give it to me. I need you."

That's all it takes. That's all it takes before there's no going back, and Aki is fully drowning in this sensation of utter want and utter desperation. He's so easy to convince when it comes to you, always has been, and if you're telling him that you need him? Being needed by you is the best feeling in the world, and when you ask him like that, he couldn't deny you any longer even if he wanted to. 

Aki presses inside you steadily, colliding his mouth with yours and stealing a quick kiss to silence his moans, his hair tickling your face as he does. You're still so wet, and he slides in easy, filling you up until his hips are flush with yours and your legs are wrapping around his back, crossed at the ankles. When he pulls away, he notices your arms splayed above your head. He grabs your hand, linking his fingers with yours, his grip tight, safe, and familiar. Warm, for the first time in a long time. 

Aki doesn't move, not at first. He catches his breath, stares at you, at your face, admires everything he finds perfect about it. He can't stop himself from smiling now, and from the way you're smiling back, he's sure he must look like an idiot. So he lets his head fall, burying his face in the nape of your neck, softly mumbling, "God, you're so beautiful." 

When he finally does start moving, every drag of his cock out is done at an exceptionally slow, meticulous pace, and once he presses back in, he puts his full weight behind the roll of his hips, shoving himself as deep inside as he can possibly get. His breath is hot and quivering when he moans into your skin. 

"Oh my God," Aki whines, "You're so fucking good to me baby, feels so good… Can I go faster? Please?" 

It wasn't much of a question, more like a heads-up, because before you're even telling him yes, Aki's moving faster. He bites at your neck as he becomes a bit rougher, a bit less contained, but steady; he's still holding back. He leaves impressions of his teeth and places wet, open-mouthed kisses all over your neck, sending a tingle up your spine. Finally, he gives you one last kiss before he draws himself away, his eyes immediately connecting with yours. 

He's so damn pretty. Everything about him is pretty, from his staggered whimpers and moans in pleasure, to the lovely mark you've left on his neck, to his messy dark hair. It frames his face perfectly, and loose strands he has to keep pushing out of the way stick to his forehead from sweat. No-one gets to see him like this, with his hair down, since at work, he makes a habit of always keeping it up in his topknot. At work, he's a totally different person: the Division's strongest, coldest Devil Hunter. But here? He's just yours. 

You're the only one. The only person who knows how pretty he is, and what he's really, truly like, under all that coldness. You know it's just a facade, and underneath everything, he's just someone who wants to be loved. All he desires is a little bit of intimacy, a little taste of something normal, just to feel something. Perhaps, you're the only one who understands, or perhaps, his warmth is something you draw out of him. 

You bet you're definitely the only one who gets to see what his face looks like when he's all hot and bothered, though. 

Aki's tempo is quickening more, the couch starting to creak under the pressure. He's breathing harder, and he chokes out as he fucks into you, through gasps of air, "I know you can be louder than that sweetheart… Don't hold back… Let me hear you." 

If what he wants is to hear you, that's what he's going to get, and he's going to get all of it. 

"Aki! Fuck!" You cry out, and you swear you hear him start to hold back his own whines so he can focus on yours. "It feels so good-"

"Yeah?" He teases, a little smirk present on his face. He still hasn't broken eye contact with you, fawning over you with blown pupils and a half-lidded gaze like he's so unbelievably head over heels. His voice is light, bordering on a whine when he speaks again, "Does my dick feel good?" 

"Yes! It's s-so… fucking good." You're slurring, stumbling over your words, just focused on him, all of him. 

"I bet it does baby, you're- fuck- taking it so well, you're so perfect." 

Aki's grip remains tight on your hand as he drinks in every noise that comes out of your mouth. The sun is well past the point of dipping below the horizon, rays of light starting to fade away. The room is growing dark, growing dim, illuminated by only the faintest pink glow, but through it all, you can still see the outline of his face, his body. His defined nose, sharp jawline, dark hair, and broad shoulders. Earrings that shine when they catch the dying light at the perfect angle. If Aki had more patience, he'd get up and turn on a light, but he doesn't, so this will have to do. 

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes around the room. The way Aki makes love to you is tender, relaxed, languid, like he has all the time in the world and he's going to savor it. He hardly cares about chasing his own release, just about enjoying it and making you feel good, but multiple times, he finds himself having to deliberately slow down to keep from finishing too quickly. 

He can feel his body tensing up, but each time he gets too close to the edge, he shoves himself all the way in and stays there, lets himself calm down. His cock is throbbing, and holy shit, he wants to cum so bad. So bad that if he moves even the slightest inch right now, he's not going to be able to hold back, but he has to. He has to when you get impatient, rut your hips against his, and plead, Aki, move. Please. 

He wants this moment to last, so he's going to hold on for as long as he possibly can, staving off his orgasm until he just can't take it anymore. He gives himself a couple more moments to come down from the euphoria before he's fucking you again, giving you everything you want. 

And he's so damn vocal, so much more than you expected he would be. He doesn't attempt to hide how good he's feeling at all, moaning at every thrust, at every clamp of your pussy around him. He teases you, praises you, like he can't hold back from saying any and every thought that happens to enter his brain. 

You want me to fuck you deeper? Harder? 

Tell me. Whatever you want, I'll give it to you. 

Are you comfortable, baby? Does it hurt? 

Ah, fuck, I'm so close already, I don't wanna cum until you do, baby. 

Aki holds himself off, for longer, for further than he even thought possible. Even when he wants to cum so bad he's fucking delirious, he holds it, focusing on giving it to you just how you want, just how you beg him to. You're begging for him to go faster, Fuck me harder, I can take it. Fuck me like you really mean it. And you and him both know, whatever you ask him to do, he's going to do it. His side is starting to hurt, a little dull throb, but he ignores the pain when it's overwhelmed by waves of pleasure. 

The sounds coming from the both of you are so obscene, so loud they can probably be heard a few apartments over. Aki is still holding your hand, never let go, and his grip is clammy and sweaty, but he still holds onto it tight. He can feel you beginning to tense around him, and when he does, he doesn't relent. He keeps up the same deliberate pace, just how you like it, hitting the perfect spot inside you every single time. The way your pussy squeezes around him is making his head spin, and when he once again finds himself right on the precipice, he knows it's over, he can't hold back anymore. 

He can't stop, there's no way in hell he can. Not with your moans and screams and chants of his name in his ear. Not when your cunt is throbbing around his dick, so hungry for his cum, so demanding of all of him. He rolls his hips and fucks you deeply, hand reaching down and fumbling to find your clit, and when he does, he rubs clumsy, rough circles that quickly build up a tight coil of pleasure right in your core. His head dips and he presses even closer to your body. Your hand snakes into his hair, fingers threading through close to his scalp where you grab and yank back hard, drawing a needy whine from his lips. 

"F-Fuck, I'm gonna cum, please," Aki begs, voice high-pitched and desperate, helpless, "Please let me cum inside you, please, I need it so bad, I can't- I-" 

He can hardly speak, and each thrust of his hips is sloppy and inconsistent. Between his dick fucking butterflies into your stomach and his fingers messily working your sensitive clit, the stimulation is growing too much to handle, and you can't deny him. You can't when he begs so sweetly like that, when he sounds like he needs it so goddamn bad. Before you know it, you're gripping his hair tighter and commanding, Cum for me, Aki, fill me up with all of it. 

"Yeah? You want all of it? Then- Fuck!" He cuts himself off, ramming into you one more time before his hips are shaking, his whole body's shaking, actually, and he's stammering, "I'm cumming I'm cumming I'm cumming, oh my God, I love you, I love you…" 

Aki's holding onto your hand so hard his grip might break it, and his voice in your ear is enough to throw you over the edge. You cry out, cunt pulsing hard around him. The steady throb around his dick feels like it's milking him, pleading for every last drop he's willing to give, everything he has left. And he's going to give it to you, pump you full of it and not even let a single drop go to waste. It's what you want, after all. 

Everything, it's so overwhelming, it's too much, it's nothing like Aki has ever experienced in his life. He's shaking so hard and he can't stop it, and his vision has gone so blurry he can't see a thing, all he can see is black. He's gasping, whining, and he can hardly breathe, just feebly choking on air as he fills you with so much of him. When he's finally done, the feeling that overtakes him is utterly euphoric. 

It's like he's floating. His body goes limp, and his heart is pounding, but he's calm. Incredibly calm, like finally letting go, vulnerable, allowing the waters to take you wherever they so choose. He's tired, so tired, but not a heavy, exhausted kind of tired. The sleepy kind of tired that holds you tight and weighs you down, that promises to take care of you and if anything, never let you go. It envelops him until he's slipping away, and it's kind of like, kind of like… 

It's kind of like dying, isn't it? 

To die by your hands is a pretty good way to die. 

Aki's body pins you to the couch as you both come down from your high. The both of you are covered in sweat and smell undeniably like sex. He's so close, so warm, to the point where you start to feel hot, but his weight pressed on top of you feels nice. It's comforting, feels safe and puts your mind at ease. 

For a while, the two of you lay there, relaxing and letting yourselves sober up. His heartbeat is slow; you can feel it through his chest pressed up against yours, and eventually, the rhythm of your heart begins to match his. He's still inside, still holding your hand, but through a much looser grip. His head is nestled in the space next to yours and you can feel his steady breaths fan out on your neck, tickling the shell of your ear. 

He's quiet, really quiet. His breathing is so deep… Is he falling asleep? 

"Aki?" 

No response. None. 

"Aki. Hey." You squeeze his hand and shift a little bit under him, wiggling like you're attempting to push him off of you, although there's clearly no real effort put behind it. 

Nope, nothing. He doesn't move an inch. He's got to be out cold. 

"Come on," You drag your hand away from his to shake him a little by his shoulders, and it seems like your grip disappearing was enough to wake him up a little. He shifts, just the tiniest amount, and you continue, "Aki, I know you can hear me." 

He doesn't move, again. Just grumbles in your ear. 

You sigh in defeat. Fine, he can lay on you for a little bit longer. His injury might be hurting him. He did work himself really hard, after all. If he's exhausted, he can rest, he deserves to get some. You run your fingers through his hair, stroking the back of his head, listening to the constant inhale and exhale of his breath. 

The moment is oddly peaceful, considering what just transpired. The room is covered in a thick darkness now. It's deathly still and incredibly silent, save for the distant whistle of a train passing by somewhere in the city, but it feels like you and him are the only ones to exist in this world. 

Aki is just barely awake, teetering on the edge of falling asleep for real. His weight on top of you and the rhythm of his breathing might be enough to lull you to sleep as well, that is, until he starts mumbling in your ear. 

"Love you. So much." His voice is groggy and tired, to the point where it's difficult to tell what he's even saying. You can make it out close enough, thankfully. 

"I love you too." 

"Thank you." 

You laugh half-heartedly, "What are you thanking me for?" 

"Everything." He replies simply, and finally, he decides he's ready to get up, pushing himself off of you with a large exhale of breath, his muscles feeling weary and spent. 

He meets your gaze and asks, "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah, I'm okay." You nod. 

Aki's eyes briefly rake up and down your body before he slowly pulls out, flopping back hard against the couch with an annoyed groan. 

"My side fucking hurts." 

"I wonder why," You push yourself up on your elbows, staring at him with a knowing look, "I told you not to push yourself too far." 

"You were the one babbling about, 'Go faster' this and, 'Go harder' that. I think it's your fault." 

"No way… Aki." 

"Yeah?" 

"You got any smokes?" 

Aki laughed. A real, genuine laugh. Now there's something he never does. 

"Let's get dressed. Then, I'll give you one." 

Aki turns on a light resting on top of a table beside the couch. He outright refuses to allow you to put on your dirty clothes, stopping you when you went to reach for them on the floor. From his room, he brings you some of his clothes, and some for himself as well. He takes care of you first, kissing your forehead as he pulls a shirt over you, gently lifting you by your hips to pull on a pair of his boxers and pajama pants. His clothes fit baggy on you and they're covered in the smell of him. 

He dresses himself next, hastily, before rummaging around his apartment to find where he left his box of cigarettes. Actually, they're your box of cigarettes that you leant him at the hospital. He hasn't had the opportunity to go out and buy some more because he's been resting at home, so he's been trying extra hard to make this box last. 

How many were left again? There's probably a couple. He opens the box to check and… 

One. Just one. Did he really smoke that many? They go by so fast. 

"There's just one in here," He muses, walking over to where you're laid back on the couch and showing you the near-empty box. 

"I guess we're sharing again." You reply with a smile. 

"Guess so." 

It's not long before you accompany Aki to the balcony. The night air is cold, and there's the slightest hint of a chilly breeze passing through. Aki holds the cigarette between his teeth and shields the lighter from the wind with his palm, striking it once, twice, three times before it comes to life in a flurry of sparks. You stand close, holding his arm, leaning on him. 

Aki can't help but feel… strangely euphoric. Now that he's coming to his senses, thinking more clearly about everything, he knows he probably, definitely shouldn't have done this. He's letting himself grow closer to you. What's going to happen when you die? When he dies? When one of you is killed in the line of work, it's not going to be fair to the other. It's not fair to fall in love with someone when you always tow the line between living and dying. 

It's not fair. It's not fair, the world isn't fair. In another life, maybe Aki would have a better chance with you. Maybe you two could be a regular couple, be normal for a change. But he can't change the past, can he? All that waits for him is the future.

He's made his choice. He made his choice to be selfish, and now he's got to live with it, but fuck if he isn't going to enjoy it for as long as he possibly can. A man like him doesn't kick the bucket so easily. He's through with complicating things, done hiding anything. He's going to live for as long as possible, and it's going to be with you, whether the damn universe likes it or not. 

And if you die, it's going to kill him. It's going to be the death of him, and he knows it. 

But the world is better with a little self-indulgence, even if it kills you, right? 

"Will you stay the night tonight?" Aki asks, ending the silence, taking a long drag out of the cigarette before exhaling and watching the smoke rise into the starry night sky. The nicotine immediately soothes his lungs and aching body, and with you pressed close to him, all he can feel is total relaxation through his veins. 

"Yeah, I can." 

"Good. Because I don't want you to leave." 

"I won't leave any time soon, then." 

A little smirk forms on Aki's lips, and as he goes to take another hit of the cigarette, you push against him, pouting. "You were supposed to share." 

"I will. Hang on a sec." 

Aki takes another long hit, breathing in the smoke, holding it in his lungs. He turns to you then, and he grabs your chin firm, tilting it up to where he leans over you. In an instant, his lips press against yours in an open-mouthed kiss and your eyes flutter shut in response. 

Aki blows the cigarette smoke into your mouth slow and steady, and when he pulls away, it's only slightly, only enough to let stray wisps rise in the space between the two of your mouths. He already breathed in all the nicotine, so there's none left for you, but the smoke still pricks at your throat, still gives you that familiar feeling. Maybe you should complain and ask him to give you a proper hit, but his kiss is just as addicting as any cigarette, so honestly, you don't really care. 

"How was that?" Aki asks quietly, pulling away to give you a chance to exhale. 

"Another?" 

Aki smiles, "Of course." 

He's so easy to convince when it comes to you. 

— 

Aki falls asleep by your side. 

He drifts off with his large frame pressed against your back, his dark hair fanned out over the pillow. His whole bed smells like him, and his blanket and sheets are soft. As his arm is splayed over your body, his hand is connected to yours, holding gently where it lays delicately in front of your face. You can feel his heartbeat against your back, his gentle embrace clutching you closer to his body, the warmth radiating off of him, his breath hot against your neck. 

For the first time in a long, long time, Aki doesn't dream of that stupid house, or of people dying right before his eyes. He dreams of something much more serene. His own slice of heaven, in this wretched hell. 

He dreams of a future with you. 

And even though he knows in the back of his mind that it's going to end tragically, he doesn't care. Even though he's aware he's going to die, and just how soon he's going to die, too, he ignores it. Forgets about it. 

It's selfish. So, so selfish of him. But he's stopped looking at himself objectively. He'll only look to the future, with no turning back, and it doesn't matter how unattainable that future might be. 

He's going to love you until the end. 

And besides, there's no one else who's arms he'd rather die in than yours. 

#aki hayakawa x reader #aki hayakawa smut #aki hayakawa #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man smut #aki x reader

[ddarker-dreams]

hmmm.... i have a question. not really a question, more like rambling actually.

so we know that n darling doesnt want to get attached with blade, she mostly sees him as her fuckbuddy for a bit which i think is funny, hence she is his long term long distance low commitment gf.

but im actually curious on blade's view on this relationship. does he feel mutual about this? i mean, clearly he doesn't, but im dying to know the specifics.

does he not prod on the topic because he knows n darling would ultimately be his anyway? (based on... whatever elio's script says) or does he just... not care for any specifics and just already considers her his gf without said gf even knowing 😭😭 actually both theories sound more or less similar.

im so excited for ch 5, ive been rereading nexus over and over again lol (and of course... ch 3 and 4 has the most reads for certain reasons im sure you know)

me thinking of a way to respond without accidentally delving into spoiler territory GJKJDF

i will say that the answer to this question is different pre and post chapter 4. i can come back and give the latter after chapter five is posted.

OKAY, so. initial impression (after saving n darling from alister's knife attack in ch1), was... nothing really. a slight pull and nothing else. at that point, he knew the specifics of his job, which he didn't view differently from the hundreds of jobs he'd be assigned before. he doesn't usually bother thinking about the greater picture. he considers himself a weapon who will simply do as he's told until elio fulfills his end of their agreement.

for a while after that, he finds n darling kinda weird. he doesn't get why n darling thanked him and made her synalink offer when it's pretty obvious she doesn't like the stellaron hunters. it wasn't clear to him yet that in the same way he considers himself a weapon, n darling views herself an integral organ to eris. n darling's gratitude wasn't so much that he saved her life — but that he saved eris' 'life.'

he didn't actively try to understand her because he wouldn't care to. the sole reason he picked any of this up is just from the sheer amount of time they spent coexisting. it's inevitable he'd become familiar with her to some extent. there's that, and well... n darling is rather stunning. an assignment where he basically gets to stare at a beautiful woman for days on end isn't something he's complaining about.

what served as a turning point is the nectar guide incident.

(i didn't expect for this to get so long good god but here's blade's mental health going 📉 as his journey to tap n darling begins)

when he comes to, the sight he's greeted with is this high stationed individual weeping for him and desperately tearing her clothes in a attempt to stop his bleeding. he cannot recall a time when anyone has bothered to do so, since it's known no matter how awful an injury he suffers, he'll regenerate eventually. that aforementioned slight pull grows stronger.

regarding blade's reaction to n darling poking around in his psyche uninvited, that wasn't what actually upset him. it was the possibility he'd be less attentive to her safety if he were to go around searching for survivors. for some inexplicable reason, this irked him.

then, at this exchange in ch3:

“Can it really be considered a sin if it’s beyond your control?” 

“It won’t always be,” he replies. “Until then, I can’t allow myself to forget. You must get why.” 

You wish you didn’t. 

it finally dawns on blade that he and this diva-who-pretends-she-isn't-a-diva actually share common ground. that they're both stuck in this self-perpetuated cycle of guilt and admonishment for circumstances that weren't entirely their fault. he doesn't know what to do with this information and stuffs it away for safekeeping.

then another turning point goes down:

the dissonance between lear's id and ego/superego culminates to such a degree that n darling goes unresponsive, the psychic backlash is that bad. blade doesn't understand the specifics. all he sees is this woman he's begrudgingly intrigued by collapsing to the ground with blood rushing from her nose, while her noisy friend and quiet friend rush around. eventually, he can roughly piece together what happened from these tidbits: n darling's aversion to physical contact (seen in ch1 when he reaches for her wrist and she freezes up, then once more when she avoids him after the nectar guide incident).

n darling then confirms this: "What you’re referring to is a precaution my mother suggested. In the past, strange reactions have occurred after I came into direct contact with someone."

along with well-intentioned nona's exclamation: "i yelled at him that if he hurt lear you would turn his mind into goop"

blade wouldn't have thought to configure lear into things as soon as he did had nona not given this slip of information. he already had suspicions that lear and n darling had some sort of Situation between them, because lear isn't slick and makes googly eyes @ n darling like nobodies business, but this. this is different. he could write lear's googly eyes off as a crush, which is whatever. but n darling caring for lear to such a degree that she's fine with risking her wellbeing because she likes being around him that much? hence:

You’re so swept up in your thoughts, that it takes you a while to notice how Blade’s been staring at you. This in and of itself is nothing new. He’s been your shadow ever since forced this arrangement. It irritated you at first, but that blistering offense eased into acceptance. His vigilance felt befitting of a guard. Taking in your surroundings, assessing any threats; such is his prerogative. 

How he’s eyeing you now feels different. It’s as if he’s looking through you, not at you. 

“Is something wrong? You’re making such a scary expression,” you joke. 

at that point, blade is Not Happy to an extent that confuses even him (ch5 will go into why).

then he happens to be brooding in the distance, as he's prone to do, when he sees n darling looking absolutely defeated (post the convo with caicias and chrysus). he feels this need to do something about it, remembers how often she drinks that ambrosia tea, then makes some for her. he really was going to just leave it and then give her space, but, alas:

"Your body springs up of its own accord. You balance the teacup in one hand and reach out to him with the other, your fingers fanning out, ready to sink into whatever they can. Everything happens in the blink of an eye. Your free hand succeeds in finding a destination — settling on the abrasive finish of his bandages. 

You feel another texture alongside it. 

It’s smooth, cold, and visible through the interstices of his winding bandages. 

His skin."

this contact quite literally Awakens something in him (👁👁),

"Blade’s gripping your comforter hard enough for his knuckles to turn bone white. He’s leaning forward, as if ready to pounce, yet lucid enough to exercise some semblance of self-control. He reminds you of a starved animal trapped in a cage, salivating over a piece of meat hanging outside the bars. Goosebumps cover your body. This isn’t simple lust… it’s visceral, some primitive desire too overwhelming to be understood.

You’re the one he’s staring at with this unbridled yearning.

Yes, he’s teased you. Pushed your buttons and riled you up. Not so subtly flaunted the strength that lets him maneuver you like you weigh nothing. You might have status and mastery in your given field, but he’s participated in the annihilation of worlds; the end of civilizations that span back since time immemorial.

He should be the one in charge.

Yet as you stand here, witnessing how he tortures himself by not pouncing on you like he easily could, a thought is planted.

He’d really do anything you asked if it kept this from ending."

from this point to where chapter 4 ends, blade's brain is in some sort of caveman mode. he wakes up. thinks about fucking n darling. fucks n darling. waits around impatiently until he can fuck n darling once again. fucks n darling again. goes to (half) sleep. rinse and repeat.

not only is his mara manageable when he's around n darling, but he gets this thrill too? it's a high unlike anything he's experienced in the miserable centuries he's been cursed with immortality. he isn't really worried about the specifics of their relationship, so long as he can keep railing her on every surface around. n darling's body, how she carries herself with such confidence, the way she pokes and prods at him; he's obsessed. addicted. nothing short of feral.

every stage on his hierarchy of needs has been replaced with n darling.

#nexus #blade brainrot #not sfw #answered #Anonymous

[eideticallys]

You'll Always Have Me

pairing: javier peña x reader

summary: something about peña unsettles you. he has embedded into you so deeply that even though you keep saying his business isn’t your business, you end up following him. wherever he strays, you follow.

genre: fluff (& angst if you squint real hard)

word count: 1.3k

author's notes: hello! this is my first time writing for somebody else aside from spencer reid so i'm pretty excited about it. also, there's a taylor swift reference which i couldn’t help but add lol. anyway, i hope you'll love reading this! also posted on ao3 (spencereids).

YOU'D LIKE TO THINK YOU WERE IMMUNE FROM WORRYING OVER YOUR PERPETUALLY DEVIL-MAY-CARE PARTNER, JAVIER PEÑA. But, despite the countless bickering and borderline immature back-and-forth pranks between the two of you, you do care about the man, as much as you hate to admit it.

Unfortunately for you, Murphy, your other partner, knows that fact even though you've never said anything regarding the issue. It was as if being in a happy marriage gave the man a sixth sense or something. He knew that despite the disagreements, a part of you felt for Javier.

And so when Peña was rushing to get his leather jacket on and placing his gun in its holster, claiming another informant had vital information regarding the cartel, Murphy was quick to shoot you a look. The look saying, "Are you gonna let that impulsive dumbass meet with a sketchy informant alone?"

You groaned inwardly. You hate Murphy and his sixth sense. You decided right then and there, that you'd give him a piece of your mind once you're done making sure Javier wasn't endangering himself.

You headed to the parking area as soon as you could, knowing Javier he'd be off to God knows where in a minute. It seemed to be your lucky day because Javier hadn't left the area yet, preoccupied with a call, you deduced. Meticulously, you tiptoed toward the passenger side opened the door as gently as you could, and buckled the seatbelt before Javier finished whatever call he was on.

"Jesus, fuck!" Javier exclaimed. "What the fuck are you doing here? Get out!"

You merely raised one perfectly made brow at the man. "For a DEA agent, you scare real easy, Peña," You mocked. "You sure this is the right job for you?"

At this, Javier rolled his eyes and sighed. "I don't have time for your bullshit, Cariño," He emphasized the endearment, knowing you hated it especially when it came out of his mouth. "I have an informant waiting for me. Now, get out."

"No."

"What?" Javier scowled. "What do you mean no? Get out! I don't have time for this."

"No, I'm not getting out," You matched the scowl adorning his face. "I'm coming with, and besides, knowing you? You're probably meeting with an informant." You stressed the last word.

You hate using that card because it wasn't like it was any of your business whom Javier was sleeping with. It wasn't but you can't help it. It's not like it should matter to you even if Javier was taking an informant to bed. Because despite his reputation, Peña gets the job done. You need to get the upper hand if you want Javier to take you with him.

“Fine,” He conceded, tired of arguing with you. “And for your information, I wasn’t meeting Gabriela. If I ever did meet with someone I slept with, it wouldn’t be during office hours. I’m not that depraved.”

You merely scoffed, blatantly ignoring the small twitch you felt deep inside hearing another woman’s name come out of his mouth. You don’t care. You never did.

Javier buckled in and started backing out of his parking spot, one hand placed behind your headrest. You glanced at the man beside you who was focused on his task. You get why women would flock over Javier. He was attractive. He had dark locks that slightly curl at the ends, a crooked nose that shouldn’t look as pretty as it does but it makes sense on his face, full, pink lips, and golden skin. Calling him beautiful would be selling him short. Javier Peña was beautiful, so to speak. Distracted by the thoughts of your partner’s pretty face, you didn’t notice he was now driving on the street, looking concerned at you spaced out.

“If you keep looking at me like that, sweetheart,” Javier broke the silence. “I’d start thinking you’re in love with me or something.” The man chuckled at his quip to which you responded with an eye roll.

“I’d rather shoot myself in the leg than be in love with you, Peña.” You uttered sarcastically while Javier only chuckled. “I honestly don’t understand why women fall at your feet. You’re average.”

This seemed to offend Peña who raised one brow. “Right. Keep telling yourself that, laughed. “Anyway, it’s usually Murphy who’s up my ass bothering me. Why are you here?”

“Technically, I’m also your partner,” You replied. “I can accompany you whenever I want.”

Javier frowned, unconvinced by your proclamation. It was true what he said though. Despite being partners with him, you made it your job to avoid him at all costs unless necessary. He was a magnet for trouble and you were a stickler for rules—or that’s what you’d like to think. Going after narcoterrorists have pushed you and everyone else chasing after them to do something you never thought of doing when you first signed up for this job.

But it is what it is.

However, something about Peña unsettles you. For some reason, he gets under your skin as no one has ever done—no matter what you do, you just can’t shake him off. He has embedded into you so deeply that even though you keep saying his business isn’t your business, you end up following him. Wherever he strays, you follow.

“Okay, fine,” You gave up, kind of.

He won’t know if you’re lying, right? It’s not like he’d go up to your boss and ask her about her “orders”. Right?

“Messina told me to go with you. You keep getting yourself into some shit that you can’t pull yourself out of on your own. Plus, if it was Murphy who came with you, he’d get dragged in. Messina thinks I’m the only one stubborn enough to go against you.”

It was both the truth and a lie. Messina would most definitely say something like that as Javier and Steve were like two peas in a pod. But it was also a lie. You’d go after Javier, you just pretend you wouldn’t.

“Right,” He mumbled.

You stared out the window.

A few minutes later, it seemed you had arrived where Javier was meeting up with this informant. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you were about to step out of the vehicle when Javier held your wrist.

"Stay here," He instructed. "He might get aggressive. I never told him I was bringing someone with me."

"I can take care of myself just fine."

Javier rolled his eyes and sighed. "I know that, but please. Stay here."

"Fine!" You raised your hands in surrender. "But the moment I feel something's wrong, I'm following you. Got it?"

Javier stared at you wordlessly.

"Why'd you always have to be everywhere I am?" He queried. "It's like no matter where I look, you're always there tagging along."

You gulped as Javier raised his brow at you.

"Well, someone's gotta save your ass," You stated, crossing your arms to appear assertive. "You always get into so much trouble. Someone has to save you if something goes wrong."

"And that someone's you?"

"Yeah, that's me," You murmured. "You'll always have me. I-I mean I'll always have your back 'cause we're partners. That's what partners do. I'm your partner."

You looked out the window, avoiding his stare. You were certain Javier was smirking at you now.

"I know that partner," Javier retorted. "You'll always have me too."

You turned to look at him in shock, a pink hue dusting your cheek. Javier simply laughed at your blatant show of bashfulness and flicked your nose.

"You're cute," He chuckled as you gasped, ready to deny what he just said. "But I gotta go. Stay here. I'll call you when I need your help."

He quickly shut the door and ran toward where he was meeting his informant to avoid your scolding.

"Get back here in one piece, Peña!" You screeched at him. "I have so much to yell at you, you prick!"

Javier merely saluted at you mockingly and winked.

The nerve!

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fic #narcos #narcos fanfiction #narcos fanfic #narcos fic #javier peña #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fanfic #javier peña fic #javier peña fluff #javier peña smut #javier peña angst #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x y/n #javier peña x female reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal angst #taylor swift reference #javier peña oneshot #javier peña imagine

[gabessquishytum]

Dream is an Endless Guild oracle for a small nation state; oracles generally are prized for the strength and accuracy of their visions. That "power up" comes from the oracle's virginity - the longer that an oracle can stay a virgin the stronger/more accurate their visions. Dream's visions are very strong.

One of secrets that the Endless oracles use to have strong visions, is to edge and ruin -- no penetration & no cumming, but perpetually wet and horny; serviced by their "guards," who were trained along side the oracle to help them strengthen their visions. Hob is Dream's guard and he loves Dream. Hob takes his duty to "help" Dream have the strongest visions possible very seriously.

Rubbing, sucking, pussy slapping, Dream whining and bucking as Hob stops his hourly attention.

Oh wow, this is a CONCEPT indeed!

Hob is definitely having the time of his life in this job. He has to work pretty hard - making sure to keep Dream on the edge is tricky. He mustn't ever let him cum, but he should leave Dream dangling right at the precipice. That's what will make his visions sharp and clear. So, although Hob longs to sheathe his dick in Dream’s perpetually soaking and desperate cunt, and although he'd dearly love to see the beautiful man cum, he does his duty.

Dream begs for it even if he knows it's pointless. He's a proper little slut, despite technically being a virgin. He's never had so much as a single finger inside him, but his pussy gapes wide and slick at every hour of the day. He spends his life on his back with his legs pulled up to his chest, making sure everyone can see and smell his dripping cunt. Hob is probably the best guard he's had, if Dream is being honest. Even if he's not touching Dream, he's always talking to him about how sloppy and desperate he is. He can edge Dream with his voice alone, doesn't even need to touch him. Dream fantasises that one day Hob will let him cum, but he knows it'll never happen. Hob is too good at his damned job.

Even so, it feels like heaven when Hob touches him again after his had a little while to cool off. Dream lives for the moments when Hob's face is between his thighs, nibbling on his clit and massaging his legs. It's a frustrating life, but certainly not a bad one...

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft

[valmare]

I’m very occupied by summer job thoughts, so no in depth Chris thoughts unfortunately but I’d love a fluffy cuddly Chris Knight blurb! He seems like he’d cling to you if given the chance <3

- aviatorobsessed 💚

Awww, my dear! Don't stress. The Man Upstairs has everything under control and I pray you experience peace today and every day after! Here's just a cute snippet of Chris!

Needs More Lasers

You've been watching the clock perpetually since it rolled over to two in the afternoon, hoping that incessant checking will, somehow, defy time and space and actually move the afternoon along a little faster than it had yesterday.

However, only twenty seconds have passed since the last time you eyeballed the clock hanging over your office door. Groaning, you slump back into your desk chair, head kicking back over the back of it. Cheeks puffing in an exasperated breath, your head angles to consider the ceiling tiles above you.

They're suddenly more interesting than the marketing collateral in front of you, which demands attention, but has subsequently been frying your brain for the last three days.

White-knuckling the arms of your chair, your eyes move again to consider the clock. Twenty more seconds. How is that even possible!? Closing your eyes, you try to hone in on the mundane sounds of a normal California office––the ring of phones, the shunk of a printer, the soft mutter of office gossip and camaraderie.

The sound of fingers working computer keys has almost put you to sleep when the light rap of knuckles on the wall of your cube has you jumping upright in your chair. Startled, you exhale deeply and swivel in your chair, finding your coworker peeking into the space, smirking and shaking her head at you.

"Vick, you scared me," your press your hand against your chest, hoping it'll calm the jackhammering heart against your ribs.

"Sorry to wake you," she jibes, nearly snickering.

"I wasn't asleep," the defense is weak and you know it, and the way your gaze cuts to the stack of paper cradled in the crook of her arm tells it. They are familiar collateral, you'd proofed them yesterday. "Those going to Jen?"

"Mhmmmm sure," she ignores the question before her brow pop, "but yeah, I'm headed over there. Have anything you wanna send?" Nodding, you swivel closer to your desk and begin sorting an array of papers, standing to hand them to her.

Snapping them from you, she adds them to her cradle and then her head nods out of the cube, "Thanks, but that's not why I'm here though, honey," she steps into the cube, hand on her hip, "there's an awfully handsome thing in the lobby asking for you. He's got Casey at the desk completely enamored, but I'm not sure how long he's gonna be distracted by the cute doe-eyed look. He seems kinda....all over the place?"

Oh no. Eyes widening, you nearly lunge for the heels you'd slipped off beside your desk, working into the God-awful stilettos you've been trying to break in quickly, your face suddenly all-too flush with heat.

He can't be here.

Chris can't be here.

He's never showed up to your office before. You haven't been ready to introduce him to your work peers. Not that nobody in this office wouldn't like him, because he's CHRIS, but––you're not ready to explain the glaring age difference between you and Pacific Tech's resident egghead.

And this is a conservative office. A stuffy office.

And nothing about your boyfriend is conservative or tempered, quiet. Professional isn't even in his vocabulary, you don't think. Chris Knight is the breathing definition of living color, and he'd be an amazing marketing brain for this firm, but, he's not a marketer––he's a scientist. A genius.

Eyes fluttering closed, you can just imagine him standing at the front desk in one of his adorable t-shirts, playfully flirting with Casey, the college intern.

Worst of all? He knows it.

Biting at the inner wall of your cheek, you straighten your glasses and attempt to brush at the front of your shirt, as if it will dispel the wrinkles acquired from sitting at a desk for eight hours. Grabbing your security badge, you clip it to the front of your shirt and hurried slip by Vick, thanking her for the information and taking your material to Jen, the project manager.

Hustling down the hall, counting your steps and putting all too much effort into not rolling your ankles in the stiletto's, you're suddenly thankful you're not on one of the other floors.

You'd been moved down to the first floor to be closer to your boss, which only meant good things for you, and you try to remember that as you twist and weave your way through the bowels of the building, the lobby your endzone.

Pushing open the thick security doors, the lobby is suddenly awash with sunlight streaming in from the pane glass windows. Blinking to adjust your eyes, your gaze immediately lands to Chris, who's leaned heavily on an elbow against the front desk, foot crossed over the other.

Still wearing his wayfarers, his hair is feathered back like it always is, looking envious and golden in ways that make your fingers nearly ache with want to touch it. Your brow pops as you lean partially through the door––he's in trousers and his stereotypical slip on shoes, but that banana-and-red International Order for Gorillas is somewhat cleverly hidden beneath that cardigan you love. Casually spinning the keys that belong to his dad's shitty little Toyota pickup on his finger, he looks like a full out vision.

Sure he's younger than you, far more gorgeous than you are, but a small flame of pride flickers behind your ribs next to your heart. He's your boyfriend. He's here to see you, despite how beautiful Casey looks behind the desk with her hair ribbon and perfect makeup.

Mouth emptying of any and all moisture, you square your shoulders and step through the doors brightly, heels ticking off the marble floors.

All the nerves of Chris being here, among your work peers, evaporates like a vapor over water. Genuinely glad to see him, you hurry across the floor, ignoring the receptionist's wrinkled look of confusion entirely.

"Chris, honey––what are you doing here? I can't believe you're here!"

Your smile brightens when his attention flicks immediately from Casey to you. Seconds, maybe, and his brows lift into his hairline as he straightens up from the desk, spinning his keys once more before stuffing them into his pocket.

"Gorgeous! Hi! Jeez you look amazing today--I was in the neighborhood and remembered this is where you slave behind a desk all day, so I thought I'd, you know, swing in." For some reason he emphasizes the word "swing" like it is somehow scandalous as he pushes from the desk to hurry up to you.

Rocking back on his heels as you wrap your arms around him in a hug, squeezes you tight for a second before kissing your cheek soundly, with an audible smack. His finger finds your badge and flicks it, studying the portrait of you with a wrinkled brow.

"Your hair was different," he notes. "I kinda like it short, pretty girl." His brow wags, eyes tracking your face, "I think I'd like it even if you didn't have any, y'know, but, short is cute. Hey! You should get your hair just like mine, I can show you how to style it, and....yeah. I think that would look amazing."

You giggle, his arm lingering around your waist as you smooth the gorilla on his shirt with your hand, "Yeah, it's longer now," you confirm, despite the fact that it's pulled back into a braid today, "I'll take the hair advice under consideration. What are you doing here, Chris?"

His head cants to the side. "What about the sentence didn't you understand? I was downtown and thought I'd come see you. I'm morbidly curious about your office and what you do, how you make all that big money, pretty. What constitutes 'marketing', all that. Scientific, of course."

"Of course." You wrinkle your nose. He loves when you do that and mimics you, lowering to rub his against the tip of yours lovingly. Giggling, you can't stop the bright smile on your face as your chin lifts a little, eyes moving to consider him for a second.

You can feel Casey staring, and your eyes cut to consider her. She's slackjaw behind the desk, looking at the two of you like something out of a movie. Your cheeks darken with flush as you smile at her, wiggling your fingers in a hello, since you hadn't even bothered to say hello to her this morning when you'd come in with Vick.

"Hi, Casey," you nod to her. She doesn't move in her chair. Turning to Chris, you ask him if she'd provided a visitor's badge. Proudly plucking it from his pocket, he beams that yes, she did, and you move to take his hand in yours, "You can mark it down that he's with me, I'll walk him back down when we're finished. Thanks, Casey!"

"Thanks, Casey!" He chimes, turning on his heel to face her, "Definitely think on what I told you about UCLA. You really should transfer into more of an Ivy league, there's a way better payout at the end!"

"Chris," you roll your eyes, trying not to snort, "come with me," you tug him along, toward the secure door. Swiping your badge, the door unlocks and you pull it open, Chris coming up behind you to rest his chin on your shoulder, arms lacing in front of you.

"Where you taking me?"

"To my cube," you inform quietly, noting that his octave hasn't changed at all despite the hush settled over the office space, "I'll get my purse and we can go get lunch."

"But but buuuut-– I don't want lunch," he inserts, moving to stand beside you, hands in his pockets, "I want to see what you do, meet all your friends, that kind of thing." His brow pops up as his head cants, hand coming to fold over his chest, "unless this place is absolutely boring and you've just overexaggerated your job?"

There's a beat of silence as you smile at him, then his eyes track to your shoes. "Ah! The heels of death!" He looks thrilled, voice echoing off the walls, "I love when you wear them, but aren't they like super unpractical for this massive office?"

Shaking your head, you slip your arm through his and he bends to press a kiss into your hair, whispering, "They make you look amazing, baby."

"Thanks, Chris," you angle your head to brush your nose against his cheek, his hand moving to interlace your fingers casually, "You wanna see my favorite room in this entire building?"

He pulls back, his face twisting into one of scandal. But his brows wag as his smirk grows, and you can nearly tangibly feel the heat pooling in the depths of your gut as he lifts your hands and presses a kiss to your knuckles. He looks positively wolfish, even if you had been entirely serious about actually showing him your favorite space on campus. He obviously has other ideas.

"Now that sounds interesting," he winks, slipping the sunglasses off and clipping them at the front of his shirt, "though I think any room will serve my purposes just fine,"

"Knight," you half hiss, half giggle, trying to keep your voice down.

He winks again, beaming with pride. "Y'know what this place is lacking, gorgeous?"

You can only imagine as you lead him around the corner. "What's that?"

"Lasers. This place needs more lasers, honestly." Taglist: @cherrycola27 @thedroneranger @mayhemmanaged @desert-fern @startrekfangirl2233 @soulmates8 @chicomonks @angstytalesr-us @dakotakazansky @books-are-escapes @sarahsmi13s @cassiemitchell @lovinglyeternal @bobby-r2d2-floyd @that-one-random-writer @horseshoegirl @lavenderbradshaw @bradleybeachbabe @roosters-girl @footprintsinthesxnd @chaoticassidy @roosterisdaddy36 @callsignharper @hisredheadedgoddess28 @ohgodnotagainn @moonchild-cupcake @aviatorobsessed @kmc1989 @imp-number-3

#chris knight #chris knight x reader #real genius #real genius 1985 #real genius imagines #val kilmer #answkered asks #ask a meerkat #top gun roostette

[redemn]

＊ 𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐌 / 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐍 . ＊ independent , selective , private . ː 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧 from rockstar's 𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 ➁ . penned by kat , she/her , 27. a study in ː the reclamation of the self , preservation of the moral code in sedition , and the perpetuation of circumstantial change .

i  always  knew  you  had  to  be  willin'  to  die  to  even  do  this  job  .      but  ,      i  don't  want  to  push  my  chips  forward  and  go  out  and  meet  somethin'  i  don't  understand  .      a  man  would  have  to  put  his  soul  at  hazard  .      he'd  have  to  say  :      '  o.k.,      i'll  be  part  of  this  world  .  '

⁰¹⋆ carrd. ⁰²⋆ pinterest. ⁰³⋆ spotify. ⁰⁴⋆ prompts. ⁰⁵⋆ hcs.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤtruncated rules under the cut.

⁰¹⋆   on followers + following .   no minors please .   in fact ,   i'd be more comfortable with people over the age of 21 due to my own age .   i am not interested in keeping a large following of people i do not interact with ,   or who do not at least like my posts every once in a while .   whenever i'm on the dash ,   i try to do the same courtesy .   also ,   sometimes i don't keep up with developments in the rpc ,   so if you ever see me interacting with anyone who has been proven to be problematic in the past or even recently ,   please let me know so that i can cut it off .

⁰²⋆   on shipping .   like everyone ,   i love shipping ,   but i'm not someone wants to jump into it without proper development beforehand .   i prioritise and often populate my blogs with primarily platonic or non-ship-oriented threads .   i practice ship exclusivity ,   which means i will only ship with one version of a character ,   and i expect the same courtesy .   if your muse ships with another arthur ,   unless you are a very very close friend ,   i will not ship him with that muse ,   period .   [ … ]   on a related note ,   please don't ask to write smut if we barely know each other and / or haven't written any "regular" threads together .   i do write smut with those i ship with ,   mostly on discord ,   but pwp doesn't interest me at all ,   so save us both time and don't ask .   i'd write 10 fluff threads over a smut thread any day . my thoughts on the matter .

⁰³⋆   IMPORTANT .   i understand that arthur is a canon character and everyone's interpretations of him are different . but please do not impose what you think arthur would do or how he would react on my interpretation . please also do not try to ship without first plotting out a thorough friendship between them , because both i and arthur need chemistry in order for that to work . otherwise i personally will not be invested . arthur is demisexual and won't form any sexual attraction for anyone until he has a strong connection with them , and no , just saying "they've been friends" is not good enough for me .

⁰⁴⋆   on content .   triggering content will be present on this blog ,   due to the nature of the game and my own writing .   i tag all my triggers with "trigger //" for reference . most importantly , there will be mentions of terminal illness // here .

⁰⁵⋆   on activity .   i work a full time job ,   monday-friday .   please respect that in regards to my activity .   my other blog is penddraig .   hi .    :)

⁰⁶⋆   if you could like this post after reading my rules ,   i would appreciate it .   this is not mandatory ,   for those of you who are anxious about it .   i just like knowing and i like a little interaction .   i hope my rules don't sound too harsh to all of you .   i promise i'm not mean !!   i'm just old ,   i've been in the rpc for a long time ,   and want to nip issues i've encountered in the bud before they start .

#pinned.

[ssahotstuff]

Day 23–Cum Swapping

Aaron Hotchner x reader

Warnings: oral, male receiving, cum swapping? I guess? I don’t know what else to call it lmao

Word Count: 1.4k

Whenever Aaron was away for longer than expected, he came home a different man. It wasn't a bad thing at all—it was just unexpected every time it happened, and you were still trying to get used to it. He was a man starved for attention, you realized that months into your relationship when he would get giddy every time you went out of your way to touch him. You made a habit out of touching him all of the time, and he enjoyed every second of it. He could always be found with a smile on his face if you were nearby, and he'd even adopted some of your ways as well. He constantly had to have his hands on you; it didn't matter what you were doing, he just wanted the contact.

To say it had stunned you was an understatement. It took him zero time to warm up to you; you'd been nearly inseparable since the first night you spent together. Aaron was quick to let you in, and he became your best friend right after. You told him everything and he did the same, within reason. There were certain things, like about his job, that he couldn't mention, but you understood and you didn't push him. He gave you vague details, but never anything that would scare you or keep you up at night. He preferred to tell you the happier things, and you thought it was sweet that he liked to keep you sheltered from the bad in the world.

He'd called earlier in the day to tell you he missed you and that they were wrapping things up, so you were waiting patiently for him. You'd picked up all of his favorite snacks, waiting for him on his bedside table, and the sequel to a movie he'd been waiting to watch for a couple months now. You knew he'd have a hard time concentrating on a movie with his mind reeling after such a grueling case, but you were hoping to offer him a distraction so he could unwind properly. You were in your favorite shirt—his shirt—and your shortest pair of pajama bottoms, a mound of pillows behind you, candles lit on the bedside tables and the television playing mindlessly in the background. You were waiting to hear the door, or waiting for your phone to ring to let you know he'd be late, whichever came first.

Thankfully you didn't have to wait long. He came in, coming straight down the hall to find you in bed waiting for him. His eyes scanned over you first, and then he took in your surroundings, a smile appearing on his face quicker than you could blink.

"There's my gorgeous girl."

You'd never get tired of hearing that.

Aaron's voice sent shivers down your spine even when he wasn't trying, deep and sultry in every way; his words alone could have you weak in no time.

"Hi baby. Been waiting on you," you stood up, crossing the room to meet him. His arms opened for you instantaneously, securing tightly around you as his lips met your forehead, and then your lips, a satisfied hum leaving his mouth as he pulled away from you.

"I got some sleep on the jet. I was hoping you would still be up," he let his hands fall to his sides as you untied his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, helping him shrug it off. You let his pants and belt clatter to the floor as he stepped out of his shoes before you pulled him into bed, letting him get comfortable before you climbed between his legs, letting your body lean against his.

"I missed you," he whispered in your ear, his arms around your waist as you turned to meet his face. His nose slightly brushed yours before your mouths met, his tongue tracing your bottom lip, begging for access.

"I missed you baby. So glad you're home," you told him, turning around so you could look at him. There was a perpetual pink tint to his cheeks, his lips curved upward in a smile as he pulled you into his lap. His hands fell to the hem of your shirt, his eyes meeting yours before he slipped it over your head. He sucked in a breath, met with your bare chest; his fingers darted out to toy with your nipples, pinching them lightly before he brought them to his mouth, taking his time with each breast until your nipples were stiff and puffy against his tongue.

"Show me how much," he pleaded, his mouth slightly agape as he looked back at you. You gave him a small nod, unable to resist him in any aspect as you dragged his boxers down his legs, his cock already stiff, springing forward to rest on his lower stomach.

"Anything for you," you assured him, taking his dick in your hand. You pumped him a couple of times, biting your lip as his tip leaked with precum. You leaned forward, using your tongue to swipe it away, humming lightly as you took him in your mouth.

"Do you love the way I taste, sweet girl?"

You pulled his cock from your mouth with a plop, smiling earnestly back at him as you took in his broad frame, the way his skin stood out against the light blue sheets. He was stunning, ethereal even—there was something about him that was constantly taking your breath away.

"I love it," you confirmed, because truthfully, you adored everything about him—pleasing him was one of your favorite things in the world. You loved the reaction it elicited from him, the way his eyes would go dark and hazy, the way his body would relax when he was finally back at home with you where he belonged. He didn't have a care in the world because he knew you'd do him right every time—there wasn't a doubt in his mind.

You made a spectacle of giving him what might've been the sloppiest blowjob yet, working his member with your free hand and gagging on him all at once, his sweet moans and whimpers music to your ears. He sounded heavenly, unlike anything you'd ever heard before, which only encouraged you to go faster, tightening your grip on his cock, your free hand toying with his balls as he let out a breathy groan, strangled and from deep within his chest. Let his hand rest on your head, moving up and down with you, not to guide, simply to keep himself steady.

Tears began to form in the corners of your eyes but were wiped away with his thumb just as quickly; you could tell he'd never experienced anything quite like this from the look of pure adoration on his face. His cheeks were red and hot, his eyes gleaming lovingly as he watched you, his mouth open just a sliver. It was intoxicating—you were drunk on him and he hadn't even touched you yet.

Just as he was getting close, he tilted your head back to meet his intimidating gaze, licking his lips as he watched you choke on his cock willingly, his member a saliva coated mess; he'd loved every second of it, and if it was up to you, you weren't finished by a long shot.

"Don't swallow."

You smiled to yourself, nodding as much as you could given your current position. The veins in his cock pulsed and throbbed under your touch, his dick rock hard under your touch. As he sputtered into your mouth, you wondered what he could possibly be up to—you kept his cum on your tongue, sitting up straight as his dick fell from your mouth. He brought you into his lap, taking a deep breath before he looked deep into your eyes, bringing his mouth closer to yours.

"Give it to me," he whispered, opening his mouth so you could let his cum fall to his tongue, the heat between your thighs impossible to ignore after witnessing something so purely erotic. It sent your brain spiraling as he closed his mouth and swallowed, meeting your mouth with haste as his tongue swirled against yours.

"That was so fucking hot," you panted, his lips curving into a smile as he kissed you, his hands giving your ass a gentle squeeze.

"I always wondered why you liked it so much," he replied, kissing you once more. You could still taste the saltiness on his lips, making you clench your thighs together as you shivered, his eyebrow raising up questionably at you.

"I need you," you whimpered, kissing along his jaw, nuzzling his neck as he let his hands wander over your body. In seconds you were on your back staring up at him, his lips meeting your forehead before he disappeared between your thighs.

"That's all you had to say, baby."

Master tags: @wheelsupkels @periodtcevans @hausofwhores @criminallyobsessedcm @tojithesourcerkiller r @fireworksinthesky @pedrohoe04 @rousethemouse @thegettingbyp2 @mojo366

#ssa aaron hotchner smut #ssa hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner au #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x reader smut #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner gif #aaron hotchner x fem reader #aaron hotchner smut #Aaron hotchner #criminal minds #kinkmas

[fixfoxnox]

Okay so sorry to the person who asked, my Tumblr fucked itself so I lost your ask, but they wanted some of Pyre or Pretty in a Skirt so here is both.

Pyre:

“This is all well and good,” Ghost spoke lowly, his voice careful, “but it doesn’t get us any closer to catching Sanderson.” He shook his head and Soap understood his concern with a sudden clarity. All of this was only a preventative, a temporary measure that would do nothing but keep Shepherd safe for the night. They couldn’t keep this up forever. “All he’ll have to do is wait for us or Shepherd out. We’ll slip up eventually, we’re bound to.”

“Ghost is right,” Soap nodded to him, “this won’t do shit for us in the long run.”

“Our goal isn’t the long run,” Price shook his head, “It’s the night. We last through the night and see what information Sanderson was arrogant enough to give Laswell access to. From there, we decide how to take Sanderson out.” He looked between the group carefully, “Right now we have a lot of questions. Laswell is doing research, getting everything she can to help us. I understand this isn’t what any of us were expecting, but our job now is to keep Shepherd alive. We can’t let our feelings about Sanderson or what happened with Graves cloud our judgment.” 

Soap could see the way that Price glanced at him and he knew clearly that the words were for him more than anyone else on the team. It was a fair thing to warn against, but it still stung Soap’s chest harshly. He was better than that, better than letting his anger get the best of him on the field. He thought the team would have known that.

Pretty in a Skirt (NSFW Below):

Soap added a bit more pressure, grinding his hand against Roach. Roach knew he was soaked, he could feel the slick at his inner thighs. He was sure he'd been wet since Soap had whispered in his ear that they were going home. He was sure he'd been soaked since the man had tucked him close to his side in the back of the car, his hands rubbing up and down his thighs, only occasionally dipping underneath the offending fabric that had held the other's attention since the moment Roach had stepped foot in the building.

Roach gave a desperate little whine as Soap repeated the movement again, grinding his palm against his clit. "I- oh god," he tossed his head back against Soap's shoulders with a short moan, "Hmm, I just- just wanted to surprise you." He gave a desperate gasp as Soap's hand moved away until he could push Roach's panties to the side. His fingers were quick to press against Roach's clit, rubbing slow circles against him.

Soap chuckled into his ear and let his mouth press against Roach's skin. He traced a line with his tongue and teeth, slowly working his way down to the collar of Roach's shirt.. He nipped at the skin as his mouth moved, leaving little bruises in his wake. Roach tilted his head to the side, obediently allowing Soap further access to the expanse of his neck.

"It was certainly a surprise," Soap muttered the words into Roach's skin. There was no speaking for several minutes, the only sounds that left them were Soap's satisfied groans as Roach squirmed in his hold and Roach's moans as pleasure spiked through him.

Soap was unrelenting with his hands, his fingers working slow harsh circles against Roach's clit, pulling a symphony of desperate sounds from his lips. The pleasure was strong, but it wasn't enough and kept Roach in a cycle of perpetual and unforgiving heat.

#you asked luke #gary roach sanderson #simon ghost riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #captain john price #soaproach #kyle gaz garrick

[elderwisp]

Hi! Can you give a summary of what’s happened in your story to this point for people who want to continue reading but may not have time to catch all the way up? Or do you have a summary linked somewhere? 👀

oke oke so quite a bit has happened and writing a summary would quite literally turn into an essay LMAOO so I was thinking about how TS2 would have brief descriptions for each family so I'll do that for each character and the story as well. If there's any lore u wanna know in regards to a particular character or the lead up to a certain scene, feel free to reach out! <3 oke here we go:

Tessellate is a story about a group of individuals between their early to mid twenties. Each character’s storyline ebbs and flows into one another as it creates a tessellation. There are no good or bad characters, simply people being people making human decisions.

Atlas has always been a bit of a dreamer, using his charm and with to create the narrative that others want from him but no one has quite uncovered who he really is. The artist harbors a bit of a secret and that is that he has relapsed again. Part of why he uses is simply because he likes himself more in that state while the other half has yet to be discovered.

Life is hard being your own critic. Frances always finds herself on the go from one thing to the next. If she's doing nothing, then surely that must mean she's a failure, right? After landing a job as a caretaker, her notion of what life has been the last four years is challenged as she learns what it means to slow down.

Dan finds herself in a perpetual state of being an underachiever. Whether it's maintaining a low GPA, making terrible decisions, or simply putting in zero efforts in creating any new, meaningful relationships. What's really the point of anything she does if it’s overshadowed by a belittling mother?

Kai isn't the best when it comes to trusting others but when it comes to his friends, he'd do absolutely anything for them. Maybe Atlas more than the others. I suppose sharing your first kiss with your best friend gives him privileges most don't have.

After losing his parents in his senior year of high school, Icarus has had to grow up fast if it meant that the people closest to him would make it. Nowadays, he spends his days tip-toeing between reckless freedom and being the person that his family needs. It isn't easy living a double life.

Constantly being taken advantage of at work or at home, Taryn is truly stuck in the whirlwind of the mundane, never really feeling in control of her life. After one fateful night with Atlas, Taryn tests her own boundaries while uncovering the enigma that is Atlas.

Gabriel, Gum and Ares have grouped together as a band after Gabriel and Gum’s main vocalist dipped. Gum has reluctantly stepped up to the plate to take over vocals. Something about being in the spotlight terrifies her. Meanwhile, Gabriel exudes a confident, cheerful demeanor. There are many things he adores such as Kali Uchis, his guitar and meeting new people.

Ares has always had a calm, level-headed demeanor. Being the son of a famous producer and businessman has meant needing to maintain such a professional attitude all the time. After running into an uninterested Daniela, he finally lands his big break when the two share a cigarette at his party. He finds himself being a lot more outspoken around her, as well as curious about her inscrutable nature.

Syx, the best friend of Ares and Icarus, is no stranger to laying out the harsh truths that the people around her need to hear. Being in the food industry requires a keen sense of details and the ability to provide honest feedback. She’s encouraged Icarus to break things off with a toxic ex as well as find better hobbies, however he hasn’t quite agreed to things yet.

Theo recently moved into San Myshuno looking for a fresh start. After accidentally running into Gabriel, the two have a brief conversation outside of their apartment.

#THESE WERE LOWKEY FUN TO WRITE #gabriel gum ares syx and theo’s storylines are just barely ramping up so they have smaller blurbs so i don’t accidentally spoil things 💀 #tessellate: extras #asks

[columboscreens]

What's your headcanons for Columbo?

Does he have a wife? Does he have over 10 murderer boyfriends? Etc

part of what makes columbo so fun to watch is that the showrunners essentially wanted you to make headcanons about columbo. much of the intended fun and mystique of the character is thinking about his personal life and what makes him tick.

now as for me, i'm completely nuts, so asking me about my columbo headcanons is like opening pandora's box. it's overwhelming. i have headcanons about what the man wears when he begrudgingly remembers to take out the trash at 11 pm. so i'll try to keep it short with my more sane and general ones:

his name is francesco

his wife is real. it's fun to imagine him single, but the wifeless theory doesn't hold much water. as time went on, the writers made a conscious and overt decision to make columbo's wife a real entity. between private phone calls and cruise trips, it becomes an active effort for one to ignore her presence, despite the fact that you never see her. in fact, they came close to showing her:

my headcanon for them is that they're like most interesting couples: similar in important ways, but complementary. e.g. columbo clawed his way out of high school, she finished postgrad summa cum laude. he's messy, she's clean. he loves gourmet cooking, she burns water. she's a techie, he couldn't hack his way out of a paper bag. she has her series 7 license, he kind of knows what a stock is. etc.

he reads. constantly. even if it's just the newspaper

he's more refined than he lets on. columbo may be a self-proclaimed chili-eating mark twain louis armstrong cream soda kind of guy who confuses HVAC ductwork for art installations, but i think he's someone who cares about the integrity of the things around him. he has taste. he's realistic, he values simplicity, but he's not a rube. he appreciates quality items, good food, good music, and fine traits in people.

he's more introverted than he lets on. he can be garrulous and friendly with strangers, but lots of times we find him silent and/or lost in thought. he largely works alone and we often see him alone off the clock.

his job affects him more than he lets on. i mean kind of a given, right? he's seen it all, but he's still human. aside from being perpetually tired and hungry because he's hyperfixating on his work, i imagine he has some degree of post-traumatic stress. in my head columbo wakes up sometimes in a cold sweat thinking about the girl who jumped off a balcony or the guy strangled to death at the gym

he was a troublemaker as a kid. i love imagining him as an agent of the law born out of his chaotic, delinquent upbringing. i sometimes entertain the theory that he's killed or had someone close to him killed as an impetus for the sheer drive he has for his work. i also think he was definitely the most annoying motherfucker on the block as a kid and his brothers bullied him for it so hard he turned it into a strength

his fashion sense is actually good. more of a gripe i have than a headcanon. it irks me when people diss columbo's fit. young columbo clearly knows how to dress, and stock standard columbo changes subtly throughout the show. but the basics--the tan raincoat, grey/reddish/brown suit, white/creme button-down, dark green tie, brown chukka boots--are very well-coordinated in color and material. they're baggy out of necessity, not sloppiness. he moves around constantly and thus prioritizes comfort in a job and milieu that require a suit and tie in sunny southern california. it makes perfect sense that he'd eschew a sharply tailored worsted wool getup and opt for roomy linen! he dislikes overly tight clothes. which leads me to...

...he's a certified Freak and he gets "weirder" with age as he grows less and less concerned with how he comes off to others--"masking", so to speak. related to this is that the raincoat is his safety blanket, as he's sensitive to textures and levels of pressure/constriction. just look at him trying to think in the Wrong Coat:

he's got a thing for belly dancers:

sometimes he'll swing by the grocery store at 10 pm to pick up something for the wife and when nobody is looking he rides his shopping cart through the store like this

he has a strategy when he goes to buffets. the little old lady in front of him may be piling noodles and rice onto her plate but columbo's got so much steak and shrimp on his that they're about to ask him to leave

#columbo #ask #misc #longpost #text #headcanons