#like cadets wearing white

[universalcaffination]

Concept: as you go up the ranks instarfleet, your uniforms saturation gets stronger. Kirk's command gold is a rich ochre, and ensign chekov is a pastel yellow. Sulu's yellow is bright, but somewhere in the middle

Department heads like bones spock uhura and scotty are very vibrant! They're just missing the "richness" of their colors that's only reserved for the captain

#oohhhh symbolism #i love love love the idea of starfleet having more variance in their uniforms #like cadets wearing white #and anything past captain starts adding a darker tone since it cant get anymore saturated #(also a very loud metaphor for how once you reach admiralty and upper command your focus shifts and the shows tend to depict those people #as like #bad or morally corrupt) #which would be interesting imo gjjsjakajfj #the top chief admiral or whoever wears all black #i say sarcastically 😆 #i also liked the idea of different departments in the same sector of the fleet having different hues #like how bones in medical has a lighter blue (because of the material) and spock as a science officer has a mid/darker blue #oh and armbands/pips/whatever identifies rank stay as well i like those features a lot

[andypantsx3]

𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 : 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: 1.7k of unedited alien prince shouto thoughts based on this post from the other day! sfw, gender neutral reader. several elements of this universe were borrowed from my fave sci-fi novel; see end notes for deets!

he's beautiful—the todoroki prince. tall and strong in his high-collared uniform, strapped with lean muscle and handsomely humanoid. he's the first thing that snares your gaze as your party is guided into the hall of the sun—the reception dome that overlooks the rise of the star yuuei in the morning sky, used by the ruling family to receive visiting dignitaries.

it is morning, in endeavorian planetary time, and the sun has begun to rise. its light is weaker than you remember from back home—almost watery, pooling like quicksilver in the panes of the dome's ceiling.

up at the front of the hall, it catches in the strands of the white half of the prince's hair. from what izuku has told you, it's the half that indicates he's part of the himura bloodline. the himura dynasty has ruled the yuuei system from its capital planet of endeavor iv for tens of thousands of earth-years. it's the second longest line of unbroken rulers in mapped galactic history, an impressive feat.

the other half of the prince's hair is a fiery red, like that of the man who stands next to him—todoroki enji, the general of intergalactic renown, who donated half of prince shouto's genome as well as his clan name. each time a himuran royal from the main line marries, izuku had explained, talking at lightspeed in the podship, they take a branch name, typically sourced from the primary gene-donator. it helps keep inheritance lines clear.

prince shouto looks like he's inherited empress rei and todoroki enji's genes in exactly half—his coloring split down the middle, though his features are perfectly, almost hauntingly symmetrical. he wears a pin of flint at his collar that symbolizes his gender—one of yuuei's thirteen official designations. from what you understand from izuku, it most closely aligns with earth designation "man".

it's embarrassing how much you notice about the prince as you file into the hall, stationing yourself right at the gap between izuku and tenya's shoulders, so you can still see todoroki shouto.

"you don't think they'll reject the treaty and kill us all, do you?" denki mumurs nervously as he presses in behind you.

"no, i don't think so," izuku's gentle voice drifts back to you. he's a three-star ethnologist, studying for a command ethnology post. subsequently he's the most informed of any of the cadets that have been sent along with the treatise party. you and denki are just mechanics, sent along in case anything goes wrong.

"the alliance would be too much trouble for the yuuei," izuku explains. "they have good relations with the surrounding galaxies and tight control over a lot of resources. but the alliance is really large now, compared to the last time they approached the yuuei. they'll likely want to accept at least a loose federation with the allies."

up on the platform at the front of the hall, prince shouto blinks long and slow, like an earth cat. you realize with a start it's the first time you've seen him blink at all, and the subtle reminder that he is not just an extraordinarily handsome human man but the prince of an alien species makes your skin prickle.

"don't you think it's weird they are all this pretty?" denki asks. "it's weird, right?"

"definitely weird," you laugh, your eyes trailing over prince shouto's blade-straight nose, his pert, perfect mouth. "possibly illegal under intergalatic law."

prince shouto stills all of a sudden, and there is the tiniest tilt of his head. two heterochromatic eyes flick over your way, and you are completely embarrassed by the way your stomach swoops in response. you just manage not to grab onto tenya's uniform to steady yourself.

one of the prince's eyebrow arches almost imperceptibly, and you wonder if he's heard you from this distance—but no, that would be insane.

denki picks up his commentary, emboldened by your playing along. you think the prince's eyes linger just a little too long on the gap between izuku and tenya's shoulders, but then you're distracted by the reception beginning.

the alliance treaty officer strides forward, flanked by a few of the other officials your crew had ferried here. she performs an elaborate bow, as do the other officials. from izuku's muttering you gather it's some sort of ritualistic greeting, and empress rei at least looks pleased with it, waving a gentle hand to gesture the party forward.

there is some shuffling as various aides set up a table and a series of holo-tablets, along with various inks, a leathery roll of endeavorian traditional parchment, and—

"is that a knife?" you ask, peering at the long obsidian blade placed on the table in front of the officials.

izuku's fluffy head of green curls inclines. "treaties are sealed twice. once in the alliance fashion and then again in the local custom, to make it binding per both systems. blood pacts have been used in yuuei for millennia."

the brush of something over your face has your gaze turning back to the prince—to find him staring straight at you, those unblinking eyes boring into you.

"izuku, weird question. can the yuuei hear across rooms?" you ask, suddenly self-conscious.

a green eye peers back at you. "only in the event of their pair bonds—the yuuei are documented hearing their matepair across approximately ten earth-kilometers. i think we're safe over here though. why?"

matepair. the world settles strangely under your skin, as the prince's eyes brush across it.

"uh, matepair?" you echo.

tenya gives both you and izuku a quelling look, but it's not enough to deter izuku from ducking down to explain in slightly quieter tones. "the yuuei look human but they pair differently. they form a parapsychic bond with only a single partner, which they maintain and uphold for life. it's not just cultural—it's like a physical compulsion. they cannot take another pair, and they cannot be separated for long periods or they grow sick."

prince shouto is still staring straight at you, and it's not quite comforting enough to know that he cannot possibly hear you.

it's only his role in the ceremony that seems to eventually break the prince's weird focus in your direction. he steps forward to perform his duty as empress rei's chosen heir. you almost flinch as the knife draws across the pale skin of his palm, and he adds several drips of silvery blood to the parchment, symbolizing yuuei's intent to uphold the treaty across future monarchs.

the flesh of his palm knits itself back together in seconds, and another little shiver goes up your spine. those mismatched eyes flash back your way as he steps back, and the various aides and officials once again converge on the documents.

there is a brief flurry of activity, various bows and oaths, some stilted endeavorian verse. the chief treaty officer looks relieved when it's all over, and the royal family steps down from the dais to greet the rest of the visiting party, as is the customary honor granted to allies to the yuuei. tenya ushers you into the queue near the back with denki, a symbol of your lower status as mechanics.

you don't mind, as the thought of reaching prince shouto has your stomach doing what feel like backflips in your gut. the longer the delay the better.

izuku had walked everyone through the appropriate greetings on the podship, a few murmured words and a hand touch at chest-level—extremely hard to mess up, even for you. but nevertheless your pulse kicks up the closer you draw to the royal family.

there's a long line of them you greet first. offshoot branch members, then general todoroki enji, whose enormous palm burns hot against yours and who looks he'd rather take your party's hands off than touch them. then rei's unchosen heirs—the princess fuyumi, prince natsuo—and a gap where prince touya would have stood, were he not offworld.

and then you're standing in front of prince shouto, your pulse pounding in your ears. he's extremely tall up close, clearing six feet easily, broad across the shoulders and handsome in a way that almost makes your teeth ache. the yuuei look deceptively human, but this near you can see the tiny details that separate them from you—the slight double-point to their ears, the silvery undertone to their skin, the prolonged space between their breaths and their blinks.

and of course their inhuman beauty. they don't quite look like regular people, and it sparks a tiny note of wariness in the primeval part of your human hindbrain.

prince shouto's mismatched eyes pin you, silver and blue, as a sudden, silvery flush creeps across his face. you hold your hand out in greeting, trying not to wonder if you've somehow managed to offend him already—but instead of pressing his palm against yours, his long fingers suddenly grasp yours, clasping tightly.

beyond him, empress rei freezes too. all at once you can feel every single himuran noble turn to look at you, hundreds of eyes pinning on you.

reflexively, words tumble out of you. "shit did i—what did i do? were you supposed to get a different hand thingy?"

you can hear the treaty officer's horrified inhale at the terms shit and hand thingy, deployed in crass galactic standard in front of a literal prince. you immediately wish you could take them back, but from the look on the prince's face, he's already heard them.

something at the corner of his mouth twitches, like he's trying not to smile.

"y/n," he says, in a deep tone. it's crisply accented and just as beautiful as the rest of him.

it takes you a second to realize prince shouto has used your name, which he could not possibly know considering the uniform you'd been issued for the yuuei visit has no unique identifiers on it. you glance down at yourself, then back up at him, befuddled.

"how did you—? where did you—?" you garble out. "did denki put you up to this? how do you know me?"

prince shouto's fingers smooth over yours, delightfully warm, calloused and sure. "i would know you in any universe," he says, voice soft. behind you, you hear princess fuyumi make a tiny sound of delight.

you blink. "universe? what—uh, what universe? how would you—?"

but shouto leans in, tugging you closer with those deceptively strong fingers. he's so very warm up close, and so beautiful it makes your brain short circuit, especially as he lowers his face to yours. a shiver rolls down your spine as his other hand takes you gently by the chin.

and then he murmurs a single word before pressing his mouth to yours—

"matepair."

𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: credits where they are due!! the idea of a space general dna donator, an overarching space alliance pursuing a treaty, & the flint pin denoting gender were taken from my fave sci-fi novel winter's orbit by everina maxwell! (if you love heartfelt gay love stories in space i am actually begging you to read it).

#todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #shouto x you #todoroki x you

[keldabekush]

It's Stone's turn at the deskwork tonight and he's a little bit glad about it. His feet hurt and he's sick of the way everything echos in the senate building - the ceilings are so high. He's loosening the fastening clip on his left boot under the desk and marking a file for review with his free hand when Marshal Commander Fox keys open the door.

Stone bashes his shoulder against the desk in his hurry to sit up straight. Fox is already strolling up to the desk and Stone has no time to say anything before he perches himself on the corner and pulls out a crinkly little package.

"Good evening Stone. Do you want a banana chip?"

"I...yeah?"

"Oh i wasn't talking to you. I was talking to her." Fox says, without pausing his careful scrutiny of the bag of dried banana chips

Stone says nothing, because he's confused and he doesn't want Marshal Commander Fox to know that he's confused him. He tries to subtly look behind him in case there is a "her" somehow peering through the window behind him, despite it being hundreds of feet above ground level.

He doesn't manage it before Fox holds out a banana chip to the wad of fabric that's been sitting on the corner of the shared desk since Stone sat down.

Stone is about to turn a devastating raised eyebrow in Commander Fox's direction when the little pile of fabric begins to move, and as he watches on in complete uncomprehension, a teeny tiny little pink hand reaches out and plants itself on the plastic desk top, and then a second, and whatever is in the fabric bag does a luxurious stretch.

Stone is holding his breath for some reason.

A little triangular head with quivering whiskers peeks out, and Commander Fox makes a noise Stone has never heard him make before, like a happy hum or a sort of short laugh.

The thing in the bag slips out into the open to take the banana chip from between his fingers - its a small rodent with four little paws and round ears, with a tidy coat of white and dark brown that makes it looks like it's wearing a little brown jacket with a hood. It eats neatly, holding the banana chip with both of its little pink hands and tucked into a tidy little crouch.

Stone remembers he's not breathed for a minute and does that while Marshal Commander Fox extends the smallest finger on his right hand and brushes the fur behind the thing's ears very gently.

"Sir." He says firmly.

"Stone." He doesnt look at him so Stone can't deploy The Eyebrow, so instead Stone makes his tone as flat as he can.

"Marshal Commander Fox, Sir. What is happening right now. This right here." Stone gestures to encircle the entire tiny scene, "what is this. Explain. Please."

The little creature is leaving tiny banana crumbs beside the Visit Coruscant! keyring Thorn kept on the desk.

"Commander Stone, this is Stone. She's our guest. Would you actually like a banana chip? They're pretty good."

Stone takes one from the bag Fox is holding out to him because its the easiest response. Its crunchy. It is pretty good, actually.

"Hullo, Stone." He says. He's probably asleep at the desk and he'll wake up and tell Thorn about this funny dream.

"She's here because its warmer in the office during the day and she was sounding a bit wheezy. And she likes sleeping when theres company around. Has she been sneezing?"

"No." He answers.

"Ah good. That's better isn't it, little'un?"

He's talking to the animal like it's a first cycle cadet.

"Do you want to hold her?"

What? Oh, that was aimed at him. Stone stares at the thing while Fox picks out another banana chip. It had finished the first treat and was washing its face and whiskers with its tiny paws.

"Sure."

Fox scoops it up like a handful of pudding and drops it into the crook of Stone's arm, and hands it another banana chip. It sits there, vibrating quietly and enjoying its treat while it leaves little banana crumbs on his elbow.

Stone extends the smallest finger of his free hand and smooths the fur between it’s ears. He looks up only after Commander Fox lowers the datapad that had been on the desk and grins at the holo image he's taken. He tucks it under his arm.

"No." Says Stone.

"Yes." Says Fox, plucking the fabric bag off the desk and arranging it into a nest in his palm. He holds out his free hand and makes a "give it here" motion, so Stone carefully transfers the tiny thing to his hand with the same tenderness he would show a live grenade. Fox attempts to tuck it into the nest, but it climbs up his cuirass to nestle up beside his neck instead and he just makes that weird noise again.

"Bye, Stone."

"Goodbye, Commander. Goodbye, Stone."

And like that the door closes behind them and Stone is alone in the office again, one boot unbuckled and the smell of banana in the air.

He wipes the crumbs off the desk and gets back to his forms.

#commander fox #commander stone #fox's pet rats #fic #kushwrites

[4ngeldusstt]

S I L K R I B B O N

A/N: I’ve been obsessing over Levi for the past few months, here’s a quick lil thingy, mundane but cute i think!! Enjoy :)

Word count: 417

Warnings: none

Something everyone remembered you by is your hair bow, you always wore your long h/c hair tied with a pretty white ribbon that, when out in expeditions, Levi couldn’t help but look for that white ribbon amongst all the cadets riding their horses, an easy way to spot you from afar.

The story behind that ribbon is short, one day Levi came into the headquarters playing around with it with his fingers, you saw that piece of silky fabric and your eyes immediately lit up, Levi seemed to take notice to your reaction “you want it?” He said, you nodded as a shy smile started to apear on your lips. “It’s yours.” He handed you the fabric and you didn’t hesitate to tie it around your pony tail creating a bow, Levi couldn’t look away, too mesmerized by your movements. “Does it look pretty?” You asked him with a big smile as you turned your head to the side giving him a quick glimpse of your new hair accessory “looks beautiful” his voice was barely audible, mumbling it only for him to hear. “Whatever.” He answered harshly louder this time, with the same cold tone he used for everyone as he made his way to the hallway leading to his office.

Damn he loved that ribbon, he loved how it looked on you, how it adorned your hair perfectly and made you look almost ethereal, in this dark filthy world he lived in surrounded by death and responsibilities the ribbon on your hair made you look so pure to him, a purity he could only dream of and never knew it existed until he saw you. He also adored the fact that ever since he gave it to you it never left your hair, you wore it every single day without a miss.

Levi, took notice that your favorite hair piece was starting to look used up, even if you cleaned it regularly and thoroughly it was showing signs of wear and tear. So, one day you woke up to a brand new baby blue ribbon perfectly folded on your side table, you happily did your hair like you always did, adding the new piece this time, when you entered the hall in order to have breakfast you whispered a feathery ‘thank you’ when you passed next to Levi’s side on purpose, when you already took seat on your regular table you flashed a sweet smile to Levi who was, to your surprise, smiling back at you.

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x y/n #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman angst #snk levi ackerman #snk x reader #aot imagine #aot levi #aot x y/n #aot x reader #snk x you #snk imagine #levi ackerman x female reader

[lenafromthenordiccoven]

Yes, ma'am | Bob Floyd x f!pilot!reader

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x f!Pilot!reader

Requested? no (unless you count my own brain pestering me with this)

Rating: M – MDNI 18+

Word count: 4370

Warnings: Pilot!reader,  switch!Bob, switch!reader, light fingering, oral (f!receiving) unprotected PinV (be smart and wrap it, folks), breeding kink, Bob Floyd fucks, Navy and Air Force inaccuracies are probably gonna pop up here and there, super self-indulgent

Summary: After six years of training, you’re finally graduating from flight school as one of the first female Eurofighter Typhoon drivers in the Austrian Air Force. Your boyfriend of six and a half years, Bob, has supported you every step of the way. And now? Now it’s time to celebrate his newly graduated, freshly made Lieutenant, girlfriend.

Read on ao3

A/N: Listen, this is gonna be SUPER self-indulgent, ‘kay? Thanks to TGM, the Austrian airshow “Airpower” in 2022 and the internships I’ve done with the AAF, I’mma try to enter flight school for the Eurofighter Typhoons once I’m done with my MA. This translator wants to flyyy, baby! 😂 So, this is my brain keeping me motivated to train for the entry exam by giving me ideas of what it could be like to actually do it and graduate. Also, I’m a slut for Bob Floyd. What else is new? 😂 This is basically an extension of @attapullmans International Bob Floyd Fucks month. I wanted to have this up by the end of January but didn’t have time. (Song to listen to for this would be Tell Me The Truth by Two Feet.)

Six years. You’d been waiting for this moment for six years. Had worked hard for it. And now, as officers, family and other invitees were applauding and two of the Typhoons soared overhead, you were officially being dismissed as a Second Lieutenant for the first time. The first female Typhoon driver in the Austrian Air Force. And yet, it didn’t feel real. Not the way your classmates, other pilots with the rotary wing or other fixed-wing aircraft, clapped you on the back as they cheered. And certainly not the way your boyfriend of almost seven years, who’d been there for you every step of the way since you’d told him you wanted to try out for the Air Force when you’d first started dating, was grinning at you. No, he was positively beaming.

The fact that your parents hadn’t been able to make it to your graduation might’ve dampened your mood, if Bob wasn’t looking at you with so much love and pride, it made your own chest swell. You’d done it. Despite what everyone else and your own mind had told you from time to time, you’d made it. And, to be honest, you’d been terrified of Selection Day. Scared that even after already three years of consistently being top of the class and adamant about wanting to fly the Typhoon, your superior officers would tell you, they’d assign you to the helicopters or air transport.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, blood roaring in your ears as you pushed through the crowd and finally reached Bob. You were trembling by now, the adrenaline slowly wearing off, the world coming back into focus. And with it, the thought that you had to get Bob out of here as soon as possible. He’d chosen to wear his dress whites, while you were in your dress uniform with its grey jacket and grey pants (thank god, they’d actually let you choose whether you wanted to wear a skirt or pants and nobody had pitched a fit when you’d gone for the pants, explaining that you would “stick out like a sore thumb as is”, you didn’t want to add to that by being the only person wearing a skirt. The other female cadets in your class had all chosen the pants as well.) – and the new golden edelweiss on your collar. Fuck, if he didn’t look like he’d stepped off the pages of one of the romance novels you’d been devouring recently.

“Congratulations, darlin’. ‘m so damn proud of you,” he murmured before bending down to press his lips against yours in what had to be the most chaste kiss of the century. But you were still in sight of your superiors, so you couldn’t go too far. Especially since your relationship had already sparked enough gossip – and a three-hour briefing on what you could tell your boyfriend and what you couldn’t, not that you hadn’t figured out most of the things with you usually being on the receiving end of Bob’s professional silence. You didn’t feel like adding fuel to the fire, even though you positively ached to kiss Bob the way you really wanted to and to stick your hands in his hair and mess up that gelled back hairdo he was sporting.

You could feel your cheeks heat at the thought of how you didn’t even want him to take off his uniform. You just wanted to get him home and have him fuck you while he was still wearing his dress whites. “Thank you, baby,” you finally replied to Bob’s praise.

He raised an eyebrow and slightly cocked his head at your reaction, but you saw recognition bloom on his face when you lightly bit down on your bottom lip. He leaned in close to whisper in your ear. “Do we still have to go to any official dinners or parties, or do you think, we can jus’ sneak off?” His voice was rough, lower than it had been just a minute ago, and it sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

You briefly closed your eyes before you looked back up into those light blue eyes of his, trying to look as innocent as you could muster. “I’m afraid, there’s one more we have to go to. My new squad leader’s paying, and it would probably be good to get to know them a bit before next Monday. But I’m sure, they’ll understand if we don’t stay for too long.”

“Whatever you say, Lieutenant.” His lips stretched into a smirk, the kind of which you imagined only you saw on the regular, as another shiver raced down your spine and left goosebumps in its wake despite the June heat. Damn it. You knew, how much he liked it when you called him by his rank. But this? This was new. And you loved it. “You wanna take the lead when we get home?” He wrapped an arm around your waist and drew you in closer as you nodded.

“Hell yeah, I do.” You both chuckled at your response. Usually, you had no problem handing over control to Bob, especially in the bedroom. But sometimes, especially if things had been stressful and since you’d joined flight school, you liked to be the one to make him whimper and beg for a change. Tonight would not be any different. You grinned as your mind was already busy conjuring up ideas.

***

“Good god, I’m so sorry. I had no idea, he could talk that much,” you groaned when you finally entered your off-base apartment with Bob hot on your heels. Initially, you’d expected to only stay for maybe two hours with your new squad. But then time had stretched on and now it was almost ten pm. You were exhausted. But also restless. Besides, you actually had the weekend off, starting with Saturday tomorrow. And Bob would leave on Sunday evening, so who would fault you for not wanting to go to sleep yet?

You toed off your shoes as Bob closed and locked the door and then leaned his back against it. His eyes were closed, a sigh left his lips and for the first time since you’d picked him up from the airport, he looked tired. You inched closer to him, snuggling into his chest, despite his buttons and ribbons digging into your cheek. You could feel him relax against you, just as the tension finally left your own shoulders.

“You know,” you began to mumble into his jacket, “I’d get it if you wanted to go to sleep after today. We’ve still got tomorrow and Sunday after that.” You really would have understood if his response had been yes, wouldn’t have minded just curling into his embrace and against his warm body in bed as you both drifted off to sleep.

But to your surprise, he simply lightly pushed on your shoulders until he could get his fingers under your chin and tilt your head up to meet his gaze. “I might be tired, but that doesn’t matter. Haven’t seen you in months. Just wanna … feel you. Make you feel good.”

“You want to be a good boy for me?” you replied with your own question, your own fingers inching up his neck until you could caress his cheek. He leaned into your touch and then nodded.

“Yes, ma’am.” His eyes were glued to yours, pupils blown a little wider than they had been just minutes before. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards when he heard the sharp intake of your breath at his words.

You groaned, squeezed your eyes shut and then leaned your forehead against his chest. His words only worsened the throbbing in your core, while you fought the urge to squeeze your thighs together. “I never thought, I’d actually like it when people call me that. Makes me feel so old.” You swallowed thickly. Well, you weren’t entirely honest. You’d thought about what it would be like to hear Bob call you “Ma’am” or by your rank. The two of you had tried it out once, where he’d called you cadet and you’d immediately shut him down. It had made you feel too small, by no fault of his really. You just hadn’t liked it. But this? Hearing him call you Lieutenant? Especially in this tone of his he sometimes got when he was particularly needy and wanted you to ride him. It ignited a whole new wave of desire in your core that quickly spread throughout your whole body.

He chuckled. You felt his chest vibrate underneath your cheek. “Now you understand what you do to me when you call me by my rank?” His hand came up to cup the back of your neck. Your eyes almost fluttered closed again just feeling his fingers brush against your skin.

“You wanted me to call you Lieutenant and Sir,” you started to defend yourself. Bob’s grip around the back of your neck tightened. Only lightly, but enough to make you take a half step back, so you could look him in the eyes properly. The light blue of his eyes was almost completely swallowed by his blown-out pupils now. His other hand took your wrist and brushed your hand against the growing tent in his pants.

You could see his nostrils flare when you flexed your hand and grabbed his dick over his pants, rolling the heel of your palm against his tip. He jerked, his hips involuntarily bucking against your hand. He barely suppressed the moan bubbling out of his throat and you bit your lip to hide the grin threatening to break out on your face. “I know, you feel weird about people callin’ you ma’am at work. But when we’re off-duty and I call you that or by your rank, I don’t want you to ever think, it’s not a sign of my utmost devotion to you. I love you, Y/N. And I wanna make you feel good. Please. Lemme make you feel good. Show you how much I worship you, ma’am.”

He kept his eyes trained on yours as you leaned up on your tiptoes to brush your lips against his ever so lightly. He groaned and chased after your lips, but you took another step back, took your hand away from his crotch in the process. “Well, then you better show me you mean it, Lieutenant. Don’t you think?” You began to slowly walk backwards into your small apartment, undoing the buttons on your uniform jacket as you watched him stalk after you.

While discarding your uniform, you were careful not to wrinkle it. You’d have to probably go to the designated dry cleaner’s anyway, but just wanted to be safe. A thought that immediately left your head when you saw Bob reach up to undo his own buttons. You surged forward, put a hand on his and then said: “Did I say, you could undress, Lieutenant?”

Bob’s gaze flicked from your face to your hand on his. You were pretty sure, he’d also eyed the semi-lacy bra peeking through your open shirt, but you couldn’t fault him. While your current underwear couldn’t possibly be classed as lingerie, you were wearing a pretty, white set that came with lace trim around the hems, was super soft and comfortable to wear – but also had your now pebbled nipples poking through the cloth. “No, ma’am. Sorry.”

“It’s alright, Lieutenant. I’ll let it slide this time. But just so we’re both clear, the uniform stays on until I say otherwise, understood?”

Bob startled, blinked once, twice, before he stuttered: “S-say again?” In another instance you would have teased him for so easily falling back into the standard ICAO phraseology, but this time, you just smiled. You shrugged off your white shirt, relishing in the way his eyes tracked every little one of your movements. He licked his lips as you pressed your body against his, nudging his cock with your thigh. One of your hands travelled up his chest, over his ribbons. Your nails lightly scratched the skin of his neck until you could tangle your fingers into his hair. And you tugged. Not hard enough to actually hurt him, but enough to elicit a broken moan.

“I said, the uniform stays on until I say otherwise.” You tugged again. “Did you understand me, Lieutenant Floyd? Or do I have to spell it out for you?” He leaned down a bit, until your faces were only inches apart.

You could see the twinkle of mischief in his eyes. He would obey for now, play along with your little game, but you would definitely be having a conversation about your apparent uniform kink later. And you knew, he would use it against you when he could.

“Loud and clear, ma’am.” He wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you a little closer, and you guessed, to keep your body pressed against his, give you a harder time to escape his grasp again.

“Good.” You pressed a small kiss to his lips, ducking away before he could deepen it. You started to back up again, into your bedroom while you opened the button and fly of your pants, pushed them down over your thighs and let them pool down at your feet. You heard him groan and felt his fingers lightly brush over your ass when you turned around to walk over to your bed. You swatted his hand away, then bent over to push down your panties.

Bob swore under his breath, and you couldn’t help the grin that lit up your face at his reaction. You’d soaked through your panties by now, knew he could see it. Was probably itching to bury his fingers and face in your pussy. But when you caught his gaze, your breath hitched in your throat and your overly confident, dominant persona faltered for a split second. Fuck. He looked like he was going to devour you the second he got his hands on you. For a moment, you wondered if you’d gone too far in teasing him this much.

“What’s your color, baby?” you asked and slowly sank down on the edge of the bed.

“Green. Still, very much green. But, damn, Y/N…” His gaze briefly landed on your pussy and the wetness you knew he could see staining your inner thighs. You swallowed, before you leaned back a bit, steadying yourself on your hands.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Get over here and show me what other talents your mouth and those thick, nimble fingers of yours possess.” He didn’t even respond verbally this time, only made a sound that reminded you of a growl. He nodded, once, just a quick, curt movement of his chin. Then he closed the distance between the two of you in two long strides.

His hands were on you before you could even tell him to touch you. One of them cradled your head and pulled you closer, so he could crash his lips against yours in what you’d call a complete 180° turn from how you’d kissed on base earlier that day. You moaned into the kiss, tangled one of your hands into his hair and easily opened up for his tongue to slip into your mouth. His other hand wandered down, quickly squeezing your right breast before it dipped down between your legs.

“Bobby,” you gasped against his lips as he swiped his fingers through your folds and pressed his index finger lightly against your clit.

“What, no more orders for me, ma’am?” He smirked against your lips as you desperately shook your head. You’d thrown your persona out the window the minute he’d fully touched you. All that mattered was feeling his body against yours now. Nothing else.

“Fuck that. Need you to take over. Fuck me, Bob. Please.” You could barely suppress the moan ripping out of you as he quickly shoved two fingers inside of you.

He groaned into another kiss; you knew he could feel you clench around his fingers. How you grew even wetter. “Oh, sweetheart. I’ll do anything you want if you ask me this nicely.”

When you opened your mouth to tell him what exactly it was you wanted, he gently withdrew his fingers from your pussy and pushed them past your lips instead. You closed your mouth around his fingers, letting your tongue swirl over the tips and let out a low moan at the taste – and the fact that he had just figured out what you wanted without you having to ask.

He slowly sank down on his knees in front of you, grabbed your thighs and placed them on either side of his head. He looked up at you, making you wonder if it was even possible for his eyes to grow even darker? Much like you, he’d foregone his usual glasses for the day and opted for contacts, making you almost miss the feeling of the frame digging into your skin. Without his gaze ever leaving your face, he turned his head and pressed a gentle kiss to the skin of your inner thigh. “This what you were gonna ask me to do, sweetheart?”

You nodded eagerly, trying to push him closer to your core with your heel, but to no avail. “Yes.” Any other time you would have been fucking mortified at how needy and breathless you sounded, and he’d barely touched you. But you’d done the same to him, it was only natural, he’d turn the tables on you as soon as he got the chance. And you’d handed him the reins freely after all.

“Yes, what?” He’d practically growled the words, raised an eyebrow at you and slowly leaned closer to let his hot breath ghost over your now practically dripping pussy.

You swallowed again, scrambling to find your voice and command your tongue to move. “Yes, Sir.” You could barely hear his mumbled “Good girl” in response; your heartbeat was so loud in your ears, you wondered how he hadn’t heard it yet. And then he dove right in. Licking, sucking, groaning into you as he got a taste of you after you’d barely been able to even talk on the phone for months. You leaned back further, your mouth fell open and you let the moans and gasps flow freely. When you bucked your hips against his face, his left hand came up to grip your right hip; his right hand landed on one of your breasts, pulling down your bra, so he could grab at the flesh and roll your nipple between his fingers.

Your arms trembled underneath your weight as your hands dug into the duvet underneath you. You didn’t even hold back the praise, told him how good he made you feel. In return, he doubled down on his efforts of eating you out like he was a man starved. It didn’t take long for you to reach the edge, but Bob made no move to slow down. Instead, the hand that had been kneading your breast wandered down until he shifted his mouth to your clit and thrust three of his fingers back inside of you, curled them up to hit the spot that sent you careening over the edge with a litany of “Oh my God”s leaving your mouth.

Your arms had now fully collapsed under you as you slowly returned to your body and your chest heaved with every breath as you were gasping for air. Bob pulled off of you and crawled over you, light concern shone in his eyes as he asked if you were okay.

You nodded after a couple seconds of blinking and trying to regain your ability of speech. “That was …”

You’d trailed off and before you could pick up your train of thought, Bob interrupted you: “So, what else did you have in mind for tonight?” His left hand was drawing abstract shapes onto the skin of your right hip and stomach while he waited for your reply.

You groaned, closed your eyes and dragged a hand over your face. “I … hadn’t decided, actually. Either, I ride your cock or you bend me over and fuck me until I can’t walk.” You peered up at him through your lashes with a sheepish grin. You couldn’t place the origin of the flush creeping up your neck and spreading over your chest. It was either desire or embarrassment. Or, more likely, a mix of both.

He chuckled and let his head drop down for a quick peck against your lips, before he shook his head at you. “Jesus, Y/N.”

“Sor–” you’d almost said before a hand over your mouth silenced you.

“Don’t apologize for that. Besides, I did say, I’d do anything for you, didn’t I?” He smiled down at you as you nodded, still somewhat bashful at your suggestion. Without another word, Bob stood up and you whined at the loss of contact as his hands trailed off of you as well. “Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll be right back where you want me. Where’d you put the condoms?”

Oh, that’s where he was going? No, no, no. That didn’t work with the fantasy you’d sketched out in your mind all week as you’d touched yourself – at night, in the shower… You sat up and grabbed his wrist with a hand to pull him back towards you. “No condom tonight. I’m on birth control anyway for my cramps. And I …” You looked down, wanting to look at your knees, but your gaze got caught on his dick straining against his pants.

“What is it, Y/N?” He leaned back down, put a finger underneath your chin and tilted your head backwards, so you had to look at him. You bit down on your lip and closed your eyes for a second, praying that he’d understand what you were trying to say. “You want me to fill you up, sweetheart? Hm? Feel my cock inside of you, feel me come inside you?”

You nodded, breathed out another “Yes”.

Bob groaned in response. He squeezed his eyes shut, his lightly dominant persona leaving the room for a second as he looked at you again and quietly asked: “Is that why you want me to fuck you from behind?” Again, you could only nod and respond in a whisper.

He chuckled, gently cupping your cheek for a second and brought you in for a slow kiss. You practically melted into his touch and sighed against his lips when he pulled away again. “Well, lose the bra, turn around and get on your knees, sweetheart.” His voice was back to the low, darker and more dominant undertone. His gaze felt heavy on you as you scrambled to unhook the clasps of your bra behind your back and then threw the garment behind you. You’d pick it up later.

You scooted back onto the bed, before finally turning around and waiting for his next move on your hands and knees, completely bare before him now. Your heart fluttered in your chest when you heard him undo his belt and pull down the zipper of his pants. Goosebumps spread over your skin as his fingers traced your vertebrae and his lips pressed kisses against some of the healing bruises on your back. (Nobody had ever said, flying a fighter jet at hundreds of knots and with multiple Gs wouldn’t leave a mark on you.)

The buttons and ribbons on his jacket dug into your skin as he leaned over you, putting part of his body weight on you. He lightly nibbled on the junction of your neck and shoulder and you whined, pushing your ass back against his definitely rock-hard cock. He slipped into you easily, setting a pace that had you squeezing your eyes shut again as you let your head hang low and exposed your neck for his lips and tongue and teeth to mark you up as his, just as his cock marked your pussy.

He kept mumbling praises into your ear in-between groans and moans from both of you. But with how you’d worked each other up, it didn’t take long for either of you to get close to the edge again. “Fuck, darlin’. ‘m so close.”

“Please, Bobby. Come in me. Want to feel you.” You whined at a particularly rough thrust and your whole body shuddered when his fingers found their way down to your clit.

“Right there, Y/N. Just need you to come with me, ‘kay? Can you be a good girl and come with me?”

You weren’t sure if you’d replied to his words when your second orgasm of the night hit you like a freight train. The wave of pleasure pulled you under and you distantly felt Bob’s hips stutter, then still, as he reached his own climax and spilled into you with a low, guttural groan and a mumbled “Fucking hell”.

It took a while for the ringing in your ears to fade out, your breathing normalized as did Bob’s. Although he didn’t move from his spot behind you. Instead, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled your back against his chest as he tipped the both of you over onto your sides. He kissed your shoulder.

“That how you imagined it, sweetheart?”

If you’d had any strength left in your body, you would have rolled over in his arms to look him in the eyes. But as it was, you simply craned your neck a bit, humming at the kiss that landed on your cheek in response. “Better. So much better.”

“’M glad. Have to take care of my new Lieutenant, don’t I?” You heard the grin in his voice and weakly rolled your eyes at the teasing lilt.

“Of course, you do. You’re always a good boy for me and take such good care of me.”

He groaned lowly and sunk his teeth lightly into your shoulder again. “If you keep that up, you won’t have to wait long for round two.”

You chuckled, before fully relaxing in his arms with a sigh. “Good. I was planning on riding your cock while you were still in your dress whites, anyway.”

#sophie writes #fic: yes ma'am #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x f!reader #bob floyd smut #bob floyd x you #top gun bob #bob floyd fic #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fucks

[callsign-rogueone]

the chess game - b.s.

Brennan Sorrengail x reader part four of Brennan and Duchess's story. words: 2.9k 🏷: IRON FLAME SPOILERS, she/her reader in established relationship with Brennan (Duchess!), some heavy-handed chess analogies (do they even have chess in Navarre?), Cat gets her own warning, canonical peril with the venin, tiny bit of angst between you but it’s resolved quickly, suggestive at the end, italic dialogue between reader and Bren is spoken in Tyrrish, proofread this with a migraine lol enjoy

Brennan’s breath catches as you begin your descent of the marble stairs. You’re the picture of a warrior princess; draped in fine black silk that trails to the floor, plates of silver armor resembling tiny dragon scales covering your bare shoulders, a sheathed longsword strapped down your spine. You’ve left your hair in its usual braids, but a spiky diadem sits atop them, silver engraved with runes of protection.

“Lieutenant Colonel,” you greet, surprised. “It is always a pleasure.”

He extends a gloved hand to help you down the last three steps. “The pleasure is mine, my Lady,” he replies, lowering his head in deference and pressing a featherlight kiss to the back of your hand. 

You suppress a shiver at the touch — one you’ve felt many times, but there is something new about it now that you’re out of Tyrrendor and nobody here knows who you are to one another. It almost feels scandalous.

“Allow me to introduce Captain Mira Sorrengail and Cadet Violet Sorrengail.” 

You dip your chin to them in acknowledgment, smiling warmly. “I must thank you both for all that you’ve done for our people,” you say with a look to Xaden. 

“It has been our honor, Lady,” Violet says, smiling back. 

Mira resists the urge to roll her eyes at the finery, instead eyeing your hosts with deep distaste and suspicion — she’s never been this close to a gryphon flier without trying to kill them.

Xaden and Violet are staring each other down, undoubtedly fighting across their bond — he’s mad that she showed up unannounced, and she’s mad about him leaving her in the dark about all of this.

Brennan watches you carefully, the two of you doing some silent communication of your own.

You have every piece you need to win this game. You just need to think three steps ahead of your opponent.

————————————————————————

The three Sorrengails clean up well.

You can only imagine the amount of coercion it took to get Mira into that dress, but it looks good on her. Violet wears a similar one, her hair down and flowing over her shoulders instead of her usual tight coronet, and Xaden can’t seem to pull his eyes away from the soft silver strands.

You can’t help but smile at Brennan. He must have packed the formal uniform himself, knowing the level of dress required at these types of dealings from the complaining you’d done every time you’d returned. 

It looks near-identical to the one he’d worn on your wedding day — that one now hangs in a closet in your parents’ estate in Lindell, beside your white silk dress, but that jacket did not have quite as many adornments; he’s earned a few more stripes in the last three years.

You may not be close to him now, forced to remain a professional distance away, but you take solace in the fact that your hands have been all over that uniform before — that you’d sewn on the Lieutenant Colonel’s insignia for him last year, that you’ve stripped that jacket off of him more than once.

The Viscount wastes no time making his first move. “Have you given any more thought to Drake’s proposal, Lady Lindell? He is quite eager to hear back from you.”

Your heart pounds against your ribs; you weren’t expecting to discuss this now. “I have, actually.”

Brennan has never been a jealous person, never quick to anger, but right now he looks like he’s going to break a bone in his hand from how hard he’s clenching it into a fist. 

You choose your words carefully, knowing that these negotiations may be over in seconds if you say the wrong thing.

“I must decline. Tyrrendor is still working to recover from the events of years past, and we are now being presented with new threats as well. It would be wrong to divert any attention from my people at a time when they need leadership most.”

“Always so noble, Lady,” Tecarus praises with a sly smile. “It is easy to see why he is so enamored with you, despite your differences. Perhaps the two of you could discuss it again after this matter is resolved.”

Of course he won’t take no for an answer. 

Brennan has relaxed, but he still looks upset, avoiding your gaze. 

You can’t seem to quell the bubbling fear in your chest. Does Brennan doubt your affection for him, your commitment to him? Surely he understands that this is strictly business, that you aren’t seriously entertaining the idea of leaving him for Drake Cordella.

“Do not take his distance to heart, royal one,” Ban says firmly. “He loved you through his dying breath, and he will continue to far beyond the next.”

She’s right. You’ve never given Brennan any reason to believe otherwise, and you’d probably feel the same, should he have received a marriage proposal from another.

You realize exactly why you’d doubted yourself — Cat is staring daggers at you from her uncle’s side.

“That’s not the real reason, is it?” She asks, and the discussion that you hadn’t really been listening to suddenly grinds to a halt. Every head turns toward her, then follows her burning gaze to you. 

If she wants to fight this fight, you’ll let her. There is no getting under your skin, under the crown you wear; you’ll play her game, and you’ll win.

“I had hoped the Viscount and I would continue this conversation privately, as it is not the focus of our gathering,” you reply in the cold tone you’d use to discipline a cadet. “There are multiple reasons for my declination, which I shall not discuss in present company, but the foremost is that I have already found the one I wish to share my title with, and it is not your cousin.”

Cat simmers with rage and embarrassment, clearly not done with you, but you revel in the look on her face nonetheless. 

You can feel Xaden’s eyes on you, burning into your skin, but you do not turn to look in his direction. You will not apologize for anything tonight. You will not retreat an inch.

“If she says another word, I’ll roast her and her bird,” Tairn purrs, making a rare appearance.

“Not until the luminary is secured,” his mate replies, almost playful — she’s just as sick of the girl as he is.

You build up the mental wall, but leave some gaps in the brick; enough to send a message, but not to block them out completely. They do not protest, leaving you to your business; likely headed off to sample Poromiel’s sheep.

The night air here is just as cold as in Tyrrendor, and you’re rather underdressed for the chill as you step out onto the balcony. You open the door of your father’s library just a crack, allowing yourself to draw a tiny fraction of Ban’s power to warm yourself, letting the gentle heat flow through you as you rub your palms over the exposed skin of your arms.

Brennan comes to stand at your right, maintaining a professional distance between you. 

You keep your eyes forward, surveying the arena, and speak quietly, even though nobody else here knows the language. “Have I ever told you how much I love seeing you in a proper officer’s uniform, Lieutenant Colonel?”

You can see him redden in your periphery — you’d found out after his latest promotion exactly how much he likes hearing you say that title.

“It does not hold a candle to you in that dress,” he deflects. “You’re always regal, even in flight leathers, but this…” he blows out a nervous breath, not daring to finish the sentence. 

“It took two ladies maids to do up all these clasps,” you say, a mischievous smile on your face. “I could use your help taking it off tonight — I know you’ve always been good with your hands.”

Xaden interrupts before Brennan can reply, the words coming out angular and unpolished. “Stop mind-fucking each other and focus.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Brennan scoffs. “You’re always looking at my sister like you want to eat her.”

You shoot the younger man a glare of warning, already knowing what his next words would be. “Don’t.”

Xaden rolls his eyes in response, but stays quiet.

Mira and Violet head down the stairs, and you step forward, intent to join them.

“Ah-ah, lady. You don’t want to get too close,” the Viscount says, and two of his men tug you back by your upper arms.

The wall you’ve put up is starting to crack, the emotions behind it slipping through as you realize there’s a very real chance that whatever’s in that chest is going to kill them.

The guards tighten their grip on you, likely instructed to keep you out of harm's way until this is over. You don’t struggle, focusing on your breathing, trying to reinforce the wall, to maintain the mask you need to wear tonight.

“Say the word, and we bring the castle down,” Ban growls.

“Not until we’ve made a deal,” you snap back.

It must be obvious to Xaden that you’re losing your grip. “He wants me to tell you two not to do anything stupid,” Sgaeyl forwards, sounding like she’s rolling her eyes. 

You don’t respond, don’t look to the boy to reply; you can’t tear your eyes from the lawn below you, where a living, breathing venin is standing less than fifty yards away from the two Sorrengail girls.

The wall crumbles in its entirety, rage and fear flooding through you. The guards pull their hands back, hissing in pain — you’ve scalded their palms.

Brennan is already heading down the stairs.

“Take this,” you call, finally able to form words. He turns, and you unsheath your sword in one quick movement, tossing it to him over the edge of the balcony.

You pray he won’t need to use it, but there’s nothing else you can do; even if you ran down there right now, it’s raining too hard for you to create a shield of fire around them, or to burn the thing to a crisp yourself.

All you can do is watch as the three siblings press themselves together, Mira screaming as she uses everything she has to shield them from the wave of decay.

“Incoming!”

Tairn is the first to arrive, swooping down into the arena to lift Violet up as lightning strikes the soaked grass -- electrocuting the venin. It crumples to the ground, dead.

The other four dragons weren’t far behind. They perch on the stone edge of the arena, eyeing your hosts with contempt. Ban appears to debate whether or not she’s hungry enough to polish off a whole gryphon, Sgaeyl looking like she wants to torch the gaggle of Poromish nobles that had appeared to watch Violet wield.

Relief floods your body, but it’s quickly replaced by anger -- anger that Tecarus would dare to risk Violet’s life in this way, to risk everyone’s lives by releasing a venin on his lawn.

Xaden is already on it; you turn back to see shadows curled around the man’s throat, his feet six inches off the ground as Cat pleads with him to release the man. There must be some silent communication between him and Violet, as he unhands him soon enough, sending him straight to the floor rather unceremoniously.

Mira still looks a little pale, but she’s standing on her own. You rest a hand on her arm, the other on Brennan’s, sending a soft wave of warmth to each of them; they’re both soaked to the bone and shivering.

Brennan motions for you to turn, sheathing the sword at your back. His fingertips brush your spine gently, both a soft gesture of thanks and a reminder that he is still here, despite the events of the last five minutes.

You take a breath, willing yourself to relax and building the wall back up. The game is nowhere near over.

————————————————————————

You wait in steely silence as the four other riders change back into dry flight leathers, your gaze not leaving the two guards who had restrained you earlier. They eye you with a healthy dose of fear, keeping their distance from you and your fellow riders.

You take this chance to rearrange your pieces, taking a different seat than you’d been assigned earlier. The other four fall into place silently; a united front of the Aretian leaders in the middle, a Sorrengail sister at each end. You sit eye to eye with Tecarus, Violet with Cat — both intentional choices. 

Everything you’ve done tonight has been a message, a statement, and you are barring no holds, taking no prisoners after he’d put your family in mortal danger.

You are not the ranking officer at this table, nor the ranking royal, but they let you make the call; it is obvious to them that you’re enraged. 

You keep your composure, letting the anger smolder as you speak. “I believe we have upheld our end of this deal, Viscount. We will-”

Tecarus cuts you off. “I’m afraid you are no longer in a position to be bargaining here, Lady.”

What?

“That’s ridiculous,” Brennan argues. “You won’t help us protect this entire continent, because she won’t marry your nephew?”

Your heart swells at Brennan’s unwavering defense of you, but you quickly realize what he’s done — and so does the Viscount.

“The fair knight is always ready to protect his queen,” Tecarus muses, a sly smile on his face. “But he isn’t just a knight to you, is he, Lady?”

You do not hesitate for a second, ready to put this business to bed, to finally be done with Drake Cordella’s advances and his uncle’s ceaseless meddling.

You turn to Brennan, your eyes not leaving his as you speak. “He is not just a knight. He is my husband, and when the day comes, he will stand beside me and take the title of Duke Consort of Lindell. We cannot be separated, even by death, and he is the one thing I will not compromise on.”

Brennan gives you a soft smile; after three years, you’ve finally told someone about the two of you, someone who wasn’t immediate family and hadn’t attended your wedding.

He reaches for your hand under the table. You take it, intertwining your fingers and lifting your clasped hands, resting them on the smooth wood for all to see, your rings now on full display.

You look back to Tecarus, who is uncharacteristically silent.

Brennan takes a turn to speak. “I will remind you that she is the one who has been weaving the runes embedded in those daggers my Lieutenants have given you. Should you continue to disrespect her, you will soon find yourself defenseless against a force beyond your comprehension.”

Check.

The Viscount smiles, though the expression doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Very well. In that case, I would like to change my terms.”

You nod, giving him permission to speak at his own table.

“I have taken in a hundred flier cadets and their leadership following the destruction of their academy. Take them with you back to Aretia, and train them to fight the venin, and the luminary is yours.”

You don’t bother to look to Xaden or Brennan to confer; it’s clear that everyone absolutely despises this idea.

“Fine,” you respond. “This threat is a threat to us all, and we will be stronger together than we will be separate. We will house and educate your cadets alongside our own, but it would behoove them to tread carefully. Riders and fliers have been enemies for centuries, and many aren’t quite so tolerant as us.”

You don’t need to look at Cat while you say it; she knows the message is directed to her.

“Then we have an accord,” Tecarus says, rising from his chair. “The fliers will be prepared to leave tomorrow at first light.”

“As will we,” you respond. You do not deign to thank him, watching in silence as he and his advisors file out of the room.

“If Drake so much as looks at you…” Brennan huffs, likely imagining the man with a broken nose.

You laugh, resting your ringed hand over his heart. “He can look all he wants, but I will gladly let you defend my honor if he tries anything else — you’re the only one allowed to touch.”

He groans in half-hearted complaint. “You can’t say things like that to me when we’re-”

“Your Grace,” Mira interrupts, bowing exaggeratedly.

“Cut it out,” her brother scolds, embarrassed.

You giggle. “I have a feeling she isn’t going to let that go any time soon, my love.”

“Nope,” Violet agrees, grinning from ear to ear.

“Need I remind you that you are in a very similar situation, sister?”

“You do not,” Xaden answers, stepping up behind her and wrapping an arm around her waist.

Mira nearly gags at the sight, still unused to seeing her sister with the Riorson boy.

You smile, looking at your family for a moment. “Excellent work, all of you. Now get some rest; we have a long flight home in the morning.”

You don’t need to tell them to stay on their guard — they know that this castle has eyes and ears everywhere, and that not everyone in it can be trusted.

The three of them nod, turning to head up the stairs.

You gasp softly as you feel one of the many buttons at the back of your dress come undone, your hand flying up to hold the fabric to your chest.

“I was never assigned a room,” Brennan murmurs, his warm breath ghosting over your neck. “Mind if we share?”

#brennan sorrengail #brennan and duchess #brennan sorrengail x reader #fourth wing x reader #mine #fourth wing

[nd-of-a-manatee]

I know this isn’t quite how ranks work in Psychonauts canon, just go with it.

[Image ID: The following is rendered in fuzzy digital pastel. Razputin Aquato–in his late teens, tall and skinny–lies breathless on his back on the ground, covered in sweat. He’s wearing sweatpants, a striped undershirt, and sneakers. His hair is disheveled, pushed back by his signature goggles. One of his eyes is a little higher than the other, now that he’s older. He stares upward with eyes wide, at his wit’s end. He lies in a white space, his colors graded dull blue. The foreboding cyan shadow of a three-digit number is projected over him: 206. End ID]

Raz has a problem.

He trains so hard to rank up his prowess as a psychic. He’s been training since the day he learned what a Psychonaut is. Now that he’s one of them, he sees diminishing returns for his efforts. That’s normal, they say. It gets harder over time. But he’s only 15, and it hasn’t changed in months. He’s way behind the other cadets his age, all approaching the 300s in their psychic specialities. Here he is stuck at 206.

This isn’t normal.

It’s not just about the number. There isn’t supposed to be a ceiling. A person can always improve, always extend themself to reach closer to their full potential. His mentors–his heroes, all well into the 1000s themselves–gave him a chance to be a Psychonaut because they saw so much of that potential in him. They were impressed that he picked up his first set of powers so quickly and used them to save the day nearly by himself–twice. What if that was the trick? He picks up a new discipline right away, then can’t advance it past a certain point. Hydrokinesis should be what he’s good at, but he’s barely better with it than anything else. That’s it. This is his potential. It was all a trick.

He lies awake at night, frantically weighing in anything that could be related to why. Anything he could do about it. He has often looked back on himself and thought that autism or ADHD or both could explain whatever being an enthusiastic little psychic nerd couldn’t. What if this is part of that? What if he can’t change it? His heart sinks.

He can’t hide it. They’ll all find out what he really is. What will they do if he can’t live up to the position he’s been awarded?

An old anxiety stirs. He doesn’t belong here.

Suddenly, Raz can’t concentrate. His performance falls below even his mediocre rank in practice, in study, in everything. He can’t even walk without tripping. His peers and mentors notice, though he insists that he’s fine.

It reaches a point where a couple of his teachers stop in their busy schedules and call him to sit down with them. That’s when the truth comes out. He tells them everything.

He waits nervously for their response.

They answer easily and say that he’s already proven his worth as a Psychonaut beyond any kind of rank or measure of raw power. His sense of duty, determination, willingness to learn from his mistakes, inventiveness, and compassion are what maximize the effectiveness of his psychic abilites–not to mention his unique skills as an acrobatic. If strength were all that mattered, none of them would be worthy of the abilities they wield.

[Image ID: Raz sits up. The hole in the zero makes it look like the shadow has retreated until it’s almost all the way off of him, lingering at the top of his head. His eyebrows are raised, but he’s calmer–having made an epiphany. End ID]

He hadn’t thought of it like that.

After some rest, Raz goes looking for new psychic sensitivities–not in a desperate attempt to find the thing that will bring him up to par, but with all the curiosity of an adventurer in search of new discoveries. By the end of the year, he has achieved adequate command of a wide, wide range of disciplines and has begun experimenting with using them in tandem. “Power juggling” is a difficult art for most psychics. It’s easy to get overwhelmed and lose control. As it turns out, Raz thrives in that kind of chaos and is able to compartmentalize his focus enough to practically create new powers unto themselves, if for a very short time. He shakes the dust off of his acrobatics. It’s no longer a grueling requirement to please his family. It’s his now. Fun and challenging, a test of dexterity and flow. He quickly renews his skills and finds new ways to wrap his powers around them. The other cadets come and watch him practice just to see what wild shit he’s up to that day.

He feels alive. He feels like himself, now more than ever.

[Image ID: Raz sprints out from under the shadow, turning to raise a middle finger at it with gleeful disdain. End ID]

[Image ID: The story shifts to a comic book sequence, also graded blue-green. Morceau Oleander has a green psychic shield raised to protect him, Milla Vodello, Adam Gette, and Norma Natividad from blue psychic needles that threaten to skewer them from above. The others use their own powers to try to fight the needles off, but it doesn’t seem to be enough. Someone talks over them. “Miserable fools.” A lanky white woman in a housecoat, plain shirt, sweats, and slippers with long billowing silver hair commands the scene from the center of some kind of pump room. Her arms are outstretched like a conductor. Her needles press buttons on control panels and hover menacingly over tied and gagged hostages. “I’ve had to devote my life to perfection to get this far,” she declares with triumphant superiority. We see her up close. She’s in her late 50s with sharp facial features and a high hairline, and she’s wearing a small earring on each ear. Her teeth gleam in a wicked smile as she shouts. “You have no idea of the sacrifice. The fortitude. I alone am qualified to correct the modern world’s failure to compete. Content weaklings like you don’t stand a chance. Just look at you.” She turns to face a shadowed corridor within a tangle of pipes behind her. “You can’t even sneak up properly.” Someone with angular shin-high boots runs down some steps deep in the corridor. That person– wearing black gloves and Sasha Nein’s old green jacket–uses orange psi power to draw water in the shape of a hand from a pocket-sized bottle. The hydro hand leaps forward toward the woman with its fingers outstretched. A coil of orange lighting snakes around it. Then, the hand freezes into an electrified claw. The hand is suddenly shattered on a horizontal needle that pops into existence. The woman sneers. “Ha!” The person uses the needle to swing forward and lunge out from the shadows feet-first. It’s Raz in his cool spy mission outfit. His boot folds the old woman in half by the stomach. She makes the dumbest surprised face, having been caught in her most confident moment. Raz looks determined and focused. Ice shards tinkle in the air around them. Raz then has her pinned on the floor. He has produced a helmet that looks like a Geodesic Psychoisolation Chamber from his jacket and plunked it on her head. “Did I break anything?” he asks, deadly serious. “My worldview is shattered,” she answers, bewildered. Raz pops into his excitable mode. “Oh! We can help with that.” He takes out a psi-portal. She turns to him and says, “Ok.” End ID]

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

I keep rewording my commentary on this idea, so here’s the jumble:

I love the idea of protagonist syndrome. Main character kiddo is the specialest one of all who overcomes impossible odds or has a big cool unique ability. You see it all over magical/superhero kid cartoons. And then, that all collapses when they get older and change or can’t measure up and have to learn how to detach from the initial self-image and explore who they want to be (Steven Universe & Future, Venture Bros, my actual life experience if you can’t guess). I know it’s a little weird to poke holes in fun kids’ media and should be done with care. But I’m super interested in how protag syndrome applies to real life post-straight-A/sports star/Good Kid TM imposter syndrome. I wanna use this kinda thing as a framework to explore ways to be kinder to and happier with ourselves.

And just look at the boi. He’s doing so good.

Special guest appearance by the Noodler’s mean aunt, the Needler.

[Image ID: The Needler–the woman described before–is depicted in an initial sketch in black and white. She looks annoyed, standing with her hands and fingers splayed out in an “evil wizard” kind of gesture. The image is a little simplified. She has no nose. End ID]

#psychonauts headcanon #razputin aquato #raz psychonauts #pn hc #psychonauts hc #psychonauts 2 #psychonauts fancomic #psychonauts fanfiction

[cinnaminyoons]

LIAR, LIAR !!

!!   ksj x m!reader

!!   wc | 5.7k

!!  tags | guns, threats, mentions of violence/sex work, drinking, reader has an older sister

[ event masterlist ]

petty thief/mob boss

stuck in interrogation rooms across from one another 

“i’ve been waiting to kick your ass all week.”

“i’m telling you, the guy’s innocent. just look at his file – look at his face. nobody that young and anxious can lead the country’s most notorious crime syndicate.”

the two officers glance into the plain white room. a dark-haired man sits inside, hands in his lap. he wears scuffed white sneakers and ripped blue jeans, and he shivers in a plain t-shirt. he’s staring across the hall into another room, where a younger man lazes with handcuffs around his wrists and a bored, dangerously calm expression – his head rolls in his direction and their supposed gang leader snaps his gaze quickly away, eyes wide as his knee bounces rapidly.

the older officer scoffs. “looks can be deceiving, junior. his handsomeness doesn’t make him innocent.” he shares a glance with another officer on the other side of the bullpen and claps a hand on his shoulder, herding him towards their suspect. the cadet fumbles with the manilla folder and clutches it to his chest.

“now,” he says assertively, “don’t speak to him. let me do the talking. guard the door in case he makes a run for it.”

the cadet isn’t sure that’s exactly protocol, but the senior officer has several major cases under his belt, and he’d be damned if he told an expert how to conduct himself. he nods, passing it over, and opens the door for him.

the officer takes a seat opposite the man, who watches them rigidly. he opens the folder and shuffles through the stapled and free sheets of paper silently, letting the room stew in uncomfortable tightness.

he whistles, impressed. “you’re a sky university graduate and student, mr kim? already one doctorate under your belt and you’re still studying?”

seokjin smiles tightly. “yes, sir.”

“what in, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“radiopathology. i’m going for a medical degree this round. sir,” he adds as an afterthought.

the officer locks his fingers together on the table. “studies like this – must cost you a fortune. how are you, financially?”

his gaze flicks to the younger officer by the door. he shrugs, small and tight, and his shoes scuff against the floor. he sighs, a haunted look in his eyes. “fine, i guess, but i’ll die before i pay off my student debt.”

the cadet snorts and covers it up with a cough. the senior officer gives him a sharp glance.

“then why continue?” he flicks through the pages, more for appearance than any mental refreshment. “your academic records tell me you could get a hefty paycheck, even fresh out of university, with your current doctorate. seems like overkill to me.”

something flickers over seokjin’s features. he drops his gaze and sits straighter, as if bracing himself. “my father developed cancer. an occupational hazard. with both degrees, i’ll gain the ability to not only prevent such deaths, but also to treat those in suffering, alleviating their pain.”

the officer eyes him with an unreadable smile. “you’ve practiced that.”

“yeah. i’ve had lots of experience with therapists and applying for tertiary grants. it gets easier to say every time.”

the officer leans in. seokjin leans away.

"so, will i be free to go anytime soon? i'm not trying to obstruct justice or anything, but i have a tutorial tomorrow at eight in the morning and i really need to get my affairs in order." seokjin frowns, mostly to himself. "i haven't even started my flashcards. i'm so screwed..."

"you'll be right to leave when i say so," he says sharply. "i've got a couple more questions for you, mr kim."

across the hall, a young woman in a blue pencil skirt and black heels enters the interrogation room. she shuts the door gently, sharp eyes raking the young man's figure, and shifts the folders against her chest.

"eyes up, little brother."

your gaze flickers upwards, following her without raising your head as she takes a seat across from you, smoothing her skirt beneath her legs.

"hello, yn," she murmurs, clasping neatly manicured hands over the files. "i haven't found you here since you were twelve. what would father say?"

"that i'm a terrible son. now everyone knows that i failed to get the job done."

she sighs, pursing her lips. "don't joke like this. what were you thinking? you're here for charges of petty theft and assault and battery. you're a better man than that."

"i fucked up, okay? it should've been a clean job – in and out without so much as a whisper. how the hell was i supposed to know that the lady had a side bitch? and," you lean forward, chains clinking as you press your palms against the table, "and, he threw the first punch. all i did was defend myself."

her eyes narrow into a glare. "you nearly killed the man! you're lucky he's not going to the media with this. there's only so much i can do for you, idiot, and i've only got two choices for you."

"jail time or – let me guess – community service?"

"no. jail time or help me find evidence for a case."

you blink. "what?"

she glances up at the camera in the corner of the room and sighs. "do you see the man across from you? white shirt."

you don't need to look over. "yeah. why, he your boyfriend?"

"he's the leader of an international crime syndicate. i know it. i just don't have the legal proof of it." she drums her fingers against the table. "this is where you come in. i need you to get close to him, grab some irrefutable audio recordings, and return to me. that's all i need."

you lean back in your chair, which creaks. you rub your eyes and wince. "fuck, noona, i'm not a grifter. i don't do long-cons. i like jewellery and shitty safes."

"it's either this or jail," she says firmly. "i can clean these charges off your record if i get him. let's just say that some very important people are banking on his arrest. please, yn – do it for me."

you shake your head incredulously, pressing your lips together. "you're asking cats to bark, noona. even if i wanted to, i don't have the right skillset – i'm no actor. and besides, what the fuck can someone like me do to get into a gang leader's inner circle?"

"i don't care how you get it done. if my intel serves, then he's partial to men like you," she emphasises, widening her eyes meaningfully. "get him chatty in bed if you have to; i don't give a shit. i believe in you, yn – you've got a solid history of excelling at everything you set your mind to. you could've been a brain surgeon, if you really wanted it."

you glance over at the man himself. your tongue darts over your lower lip. you turn back to the sergeant, slumping back in your chair. "there's no way that he's got any experience. he looks like a prude. he'll probably be asleep before i close his legs."

she makes a face. "i don't ever want to hear about that. listen, just try. for me? maybe you can get by with a little flirting – finally put that face of yours to good use. you didn't suffer through our family pinching your cheeks and telling you how you'd be a heartbreaker when you grew up to do absolutely nothing with it, right?"

"noona, i don't know..."

"oh, come on. it's not like he's hideous. can't be too hard to tell him he has nice eyes, can it?"

you sneak another glance, doubt written all over your features. it crumbles and you grimace, lifting a hand to rub the back of your neck. the other arm dangles from the cuffs. "fine! fine. i'll do it. for you. if i die, it's entirely your fault."

she lights up. "thank you! you've got this. stop by my apartment tonight, alright? i'll fill you in on the details, and you can get started in the morning. you can crash on my couch if you want to – i'm sure i've got enough of your clothes in a box somewhere to last you until you leave."

"yeah, yeah." you lift your hands towards her. "just get these fucking things off me, noona."

—

"what is this?"

"a good time, hyung!" taehyung grabs seokjin's elbow and drags him out of the sleek black car. he grins, bright and giddy, with a childish charm that suits his face but not the price tag of his suit. he wears burgundy, and if one looks closely, his glossy black shoes carry scars and scuffs from many tumbles. a surprising number of people have been close enough to notice – taehyung's carefree demeanour always masks his brutality.

seokjin's face twists, lightly peeved, as taehyung breezes past security without so much as a glance. "you told me you needed to pick something up. you lied to me."

he lifts a finger as the heavy bass music squeezes his lungs. "nuh-uh. i didn't lie – i do need to pick something up! i'll grab you something on the way in, too."

"can't you go one night without getting your rocks off?" seokjin nearly shouts. he can barely hear himself over the music. it is, however, satisfying to raise his voice, especially as taehyung flaps a dismissive hand in his direction.

"of course i can! but would i like to? no! oh – is that a new dancer? he's cute."

seokjin lets taehyung reel him through the club, blinking against the blue strobe lights. someone brushes against him and the hard steel lump in seokjin's jacket gives him pause, but seokjin meets his eyes unflinchingly and he drops his own, pushing his way through the crowds.

"i have better things to spend my time on," seokjin says, rather crossly. taehyung sits him down at an empty booth, firm hands on his shoulders. "not even a private room? i didn't raise you this way!"

taehyung huffs. "come on, hyung. it's not like it'll kill you. you deserve a little rest, especially after that fiasco with the mole! private rooms are quiet, and quiet means space to think, and space to think means that you'll be grumpy for the next two days. just let the music drown out the stresses of everyday life."

as he speaks, arms animated and dramatic, a good-looking man sashays over, wearing nothing but a pair of tight black shorts that leave little to the imagination. he sets down a beer in front of taehyung, who pushes the glass across the table towards seokjin.

then, when taehyung's mouth opens to continue his lecture, the man crawls onto the table with a seductive smile and begins to dance – or grind, really, against the air.

he's good. seokjin notices the snappy, controlled edge to his smooth, rolling movements more than his nakedness, and he wonders if he's a dancer. he wouldn't be surprised – with a body like that, he's bound to do well in such a place.

"are those moccasins?"

evidently, taehyung has different priorities.

taehyung prods at the dancer's ankles and he slides into a neat perch on the table's edge, his thighs trapping taehyung in the booth. he tilts taehyung's chin upwards with a flirty smile.

seokjin half-expects taehyung to vanish into a bathroom with him, but to his surprise, he shakes his head and gently places his legs aside.

"we're here for you," taehyung explains in response to seokjin's raised eyebrow as the dancer sways away. "plus, you're my ride home; my car's still being fixed up, can you believe it?"

"it's been a day, taehyung. give them time." seokjin glances around, hands resting almost mechanically on his thighs. if it wasn't for the frown on his face, he would look at home on set and in front of a camera. "so, your plan was to get me drunk? i'm not going to drink this."

"why not? you're getting paranoid again."

"someone could've spiked it," he argues. "and it's not paranoia – it's called vigilance and helps me stay alive. do you know how many times you would've died if i wasn't there? more times than i can count."

"oh, please. you're holding air above my head. i can take perfectly good care of myself. you just like to feel important."

if he were anyone but his little brother, he would no longer have a tongue to wag.

taehyung shrugs and reaches for seokjin's untouched beer. he lifts it to his lips, sipping delicately, and his face screws up in disgust. he gags, pushing it back towards seokjin. "no. still gross. ew."

he shakes his head like a dog ridding itself of water before his expression clears. he leans forward. "anybody here catch your eye?"

"no."

"come on. someone here has to at least touch your impossibly high standards."

seokjin rolls his eyes. his gaze sweeps over the dark club. "the bartender."

"bold move." he squints harder at the bartender through the strobe lights. he purses his lips. "you know what? i don't think i know him. damn. but finders keepers, i suppose – i'll go find out who he is."

"taehyung," seokjin says sharply. "he's working. don't make it harder than it needs to be."

he blows a raspberry, settling back down in his seat. "buzzkill. fine – you go talk to him, then. give him your number, or something."

"and do what everyone else does? present myself as desperate? absurd."

taehyung groans. "you are making my job way too hard. i am trying to get you laid. you're as good-looking as me – this should be easy!"

"as good-looking," seokjin mutters disdainfully. he raises his voice slightly. "i was just accused of a myriad of crimes, embezzlement and racketeering included. forgive me if i'm a little wary of strangers."

"you're fine," taehyung drawls. "you played the good boy so well. i barely recognised you in cuffed levi's." he casts an appreciative glance in the bartender's direction and begins to stand. "i'm gonna shoot my shot with smiley over there. my dear, he's a sight for sore eyes. wish me luck!"

"i'll break your legs."

"it's 'break a leg', generally."

"sit," he demands.

taehyung whines, "i'm not a dog," but sits anyway.

seokjin rises to his feet. "stay," he says, as if he hadn't heard his last words at all.

taehyung wiggles a finger. "that's the kind of attitude that makes people dislike you, hyung." he starts to sway. "be open-minded. easy as the ocean waves. light as a sea breeze."

"are you drunk from one sip of beer?"

he stops swaying. "you're so cruel! you'd be nicer if you just shot me in the head. since you care about your stupid reputation so much, i'm gonna go have my fun, and you can sit here and brood like the handsome and emotionally-unavailable man that you are. good-fucking-bye."

he stomps off – far too suavely, so that it looks more like a catwalk stride than a temper tantrum. however, once his grumpy gaze catches sight of a familiar head of blond hair sitting at a booth with three equally-familiar friends, he brightens and waves his arms, shouting over the music in frantic german.

the woman turns, her arm linked with a pretty korean girl. she grabs taehyung's hand and pulls him down next to her, squishing the three of them into the wall, and the beaming grins and laughter around the table suggests to seokjin that taehyung has been rather well-received.

a small smile tugs at seokjin's lips. at least he has his friends.

he sighs and stands, dusting off his trousers. he pauses by the end of the booth's table, his attention caught by the bartender. he's smiling, chatting to a co-worker as he shakes a mixer. he wears a bowtie and a waistcoat, the sleeves of a crisp white dress shirt rolled up tight at the elbows – same as the other bartender. but he seems to glow in it: everything around him appears brighter, sharper, more vivid.

maybe taehyung was right. maybe he does need to loosen up.

"hey. what can i get for you?"

seokjin slides onto a bar stool. "just a rum and coke, please. thanks."

the bartender grins. nods. he looks better up close. "not a problem. shall i open up a tab for you?"

seokjin hums in thought. he shakes his head. "i'll just take this one. you have a nice smile."

it takes a half-second for the bartender to register the compliment. that smile grows slightly flustered. "oh! thank you. one rum and coke."

he bustles away. seokjin thinks it's a shame that he wears no name tag.

he returns quickly with seokjin's drink in his hand, and seokjin almost smiles at the fact that he skipped over all the other waiting patrons to complete his drink first. he hides his amusement with the chilled rim of the glass.

"so, handsome... when does your shift end?"

the bartender grins. "half an hour. is there any reason in particular you're asking?"

"i'm not so ill-mannered as to take your attention off the other lovely patrons just to compliment your arms or the way that bowtie looks on you. i can appreciate a strong work ethic."

"you're starting to sound like my boss," the bartender laughs. "but for you, handsome, i can make it twenty minutes. think you can nurse a rum and coke for that long?"

"for you?" he raises the glass. "as long as you need."

—

seokjin's waist fits in your hand ever so perfectly. when you'd first met him, you'd played it so safe that you'd almost forgotten to give him your name. you gave yourself a new last name and a subtle accent, but that was as far as the changes went. sure, you were well-known for being in the drama club in high school, but it wasn't your... passion. nothing quite hit the spot like black gloves and diamonds.

"you look lovely tonight," you comment with a smile, leaning in to keep the waitress out of it. she slows to a stop beside a table set for two and bows before taking her leave.

"as do you," seokjin says gently, a smile lighting up his face when you pull his chair out for him. if it's not the candlelight throwing shadows, you think there's a warm blush on his cheekbones. "i adore the way you dress. i can appreciate a taste for the finer things."

you finger the diamond choker around your neck, set with white gold. it sits above the deep v of your black shirt, accentuating just how deep it falls, and provides a nice contrast. it matches the chopard watch and its woven steel bracelet on your wrist.

"finer things?" you tease, stroking the collar of your shirt. his eyes flicker from the diamonds to the split of your chest. "it's more of a... bad habit, to be truthful. but when i heard where we were headed tonight, i was afraid i'd be wildly underdressed, and then overdressed."

he laughs softly – a sweetly unique sound that has your lips curving up automatically. "you don't have anything to be worried about. you look like you were born for this life. actually, you make me self-conscious – i should've tried something more avant-garde than a suit."

you shake your head with a laugh. "it's a learned skill. you've found something you look ravishing in; why not exploit it?"

"you're too kind." he's had a thousand people compliment the cut of his jacket and tailoring of his pants, but none felt quite so heart-fluttering as yours. he hides his smile with his slender fingers and averts his eyes to escape the alluring heat of your gaze. "but, truly – those diamonds do look stunning on you. do you have much of a collection?"

"oh, no; i couldn't afford it if i tried. it's such a shame. i feel like they're calling for me to touch them, and sometimes the desire is simply too strong to resist, you know? i indulge myself terribly."

he brushes his fingers over his plush lower lip. "it's alright. i know the feeling. i really do love the way you look with them, so would you mind bringing me the next time you go to a jeweller's? anything that catches your eye, you can have. anything at all. it'd be a sin to deprive you of them when i've seen you in these simple ones – i can't imagine what i'd do with myself if you wore something a little more... eye-catching."

you pause. your eyes widen. "oh – oh, no, seokjin – i couldn't ask that of you."

"that's why i'm offering, love." he smiles sweetly.

"you'd really buy such expensive things for me? i'm flattered, truly, but i wouldn't want our relationship to become... transactional." you reach across the table and place your hand on his. his bright smile turns shy. "i've loved our time together, seokjin. i don't want to lose that."

it takes a second longer than usual for him to compose himself and find his words. "you wouldn't lose it. they'd just be gifts – you wouldn't have to do anything in return. don't worry," he emphasises, squeezing your hand gently, "about the money. i have lifetimes of it. i'd be glad to know where it's going."

you squeeze his hand as well, turning your palm up to grasp his knuckles as if you're about to kiss them. your thumb runs over his joints and the curves of his knuckles, and chuckle. "you really are too good to me, seokjin."

the hum of the restaurant fades away into a low murmuring ripple. the lights fade to dull spots. everything but him vanishes, pushed to the furthest extremities of your consciousness, and you lean in. he follows.

the kiss is soft and silky. his lips tingle where they press to yours, like the gentle tang of a teaspoon of lime juice. you sip on him slowly, like mezcal, and relish in the sweet sting, as rich and bright as an amaretto sour.

he tilts his head, and the kiss deepens to something more appropriate for the bedroom. he catches himself before it goes too far with a soft gasp, pulling away. his dark eyes flutter open, flicking up to yours.

he clears his throat. "so, are you hungry?"

"of course," you reply, matching his nonchalance. you shrug with an embarrassed, lopsided grin. "i've just never been to a restaurant that doesn't offer their menu anywhere..."

seokjin's eyes widen slightly. a flush remains on his cheeks – the memory of your lips on his sticks to the forefront of his mind, crowding out much else. "oh! it's a fixed menu, love. it's why i asked for your dietary requirements the other day. they base the size on how many people there are. i'm so sorry – i'd forgotten all about it the moment i saw you." he giggles at himself endearingly. that severe, revenge-served-cold persona at the bar seems entirely removed. he even sits differently – a little more open, relaxed.

you watch him with a soft smile. "you're quite the charmer, did you know that? i could sit here and listen to your voice the whole night long."

"well," he laughs again, "i think that's how dinner dates work, so you’re in luck."

a waitress, different to the one who seated you, stops by with a polite smile and the entrees. you thank her and glance back down at each other, smiling when your eyes meet.

this might not be so hard, after all.

—

it doesn't take much to slide into seokjin's 'inner circle' – and not the one he lets you into in the bedroom. that one came first. after that, it was simply existing by his side, practically living in his luxurious penthouse apartment and massaging his shoulders when work became rough, until he grew comfortable enough not to flip over his classified papers when you leant over his chair to kiss him on the cheek.

you have yet to find anything incriminating in those glances; it's all reasonable numbers in those financial year statements. he takes his work with him – not just between work and home, but even to the bedroom. he sets his messenger bag on a chair with his tie next to the wardrobe, which means that you can't creep away and take a late-night sneak peek at anything under those superficial numbers.

one night, you're milling around the living room directly in front of the entrance, your shoes patient by the front door. the apartment is oddly shaped, as far as apartments go. maybe they're different for rich people, but you haven't seen one quite like it before. the living room branches out like a capital 't' and hooks around in a loop, with a staircase on the right leading up to a mezzanine containing the bedroom, office, and bathroom. in the day, it's brightly lit; huge panels of glass stretching across the walls from floor to ceiling display downtown seoul's skyline. at night, spots of light glimmer in the darkness, and a slow, blinking red dot will sometimes make its way over the roofs. before you, seokjin says, he kept the curtains closed as soon as the sun went down, but that you've shown him a beauty in the night that he can no longer ignore.

you lie along the leather couch, a pillow folded beneath your head. your eyes are closed. conventional, inoffensive radio songs float through speakers inset in the ceiling. despite those speakers in every room – so that he doesn't have to carry one around with him – he still has a dedicated movie setup, complete with atmos speakers. somehow, he'd found the sweet spot for the audio, despite his open-plan home being a noticeable springboard for sound.

the door opens, and a set of footsteps enters. the door closes behind them. your brow furrows and you're on your feet in half a second – those aren't seokjin's steps.

the young man in front of you instinctively reaches for something at the back of his belt. you've watched enough movies to know what it is that he's got his fingers around.

"well, he-llo, gorgeous," he greets flirtatiously in a deep, smooth voice. he wears a peach-coloured three-piece with a matching tie and a black shirt. a lock of dark hair curls romantically over his eyebrow, and you wonder how long he took in the bathroom to get it right. "you look familiar. have we met?"

you don't relax. neither does he. you smile politely. "i don't believe we have. i imagine someone like you would be hard to forget."

"hm." his lips curve up. "then allow me to introduce myself. kim taehyung: art aficionado, music connoisseur, and lover of many. i decorated this place – do you like what i've done with it?"

"it's better than most apartments i've been to."

he hums and moves towards the bar on the corner. he moves behind it to pour himself a glass of cherry cola – he's not as clueless as he looks, then. he'll keep an eye on you this way. he adds ice, and it clinks in his glass. 

he begins, "my brother... he's not one for aesthetics. i'm certain he'd live in a cement box if it had everything he needed in it. i've made it my personal mission to fill his homes with as many useless objects as i can before he becomes suspicious. take this, for example."

he points to a white vase of lilacs on the end of the bar and fixes it, brushing his knuckles over the flowers. "this vase... it's beautiful, but it cost as much as a car. i haven't the slightest idea why. i could go to the nearest department store and get something identical for a handful of spare change."

he lifts his glacial gaze, staring at you from the corner of his eyes. he's not talking about vases.

you scoff and sit back down, turning your back to him. he's not going to do anything – not when he's assuming such things about you. "you don't even know my name, but you're already insulting me."

"i've been pushing him to release some stress. he takes himself too seriously – someone needs to loosen the stick up his ass, maybe replace it with something better." he pops a blue umbrella in his glass with a twirly pink straw and lifts it to his lips. "i've had this conversation with three other men before you, did you know? you're the first to understand it." he tilts his glass in your direction, almost a toast. "i like you."

"what are you here for, kim taehyung?" you ask bluntly. you rest your arm over the backrest and watch him over your shoulder. his sad little glass of cola makes your fingers itch – you need to make him a proper drink.

he gestures vaguely at the city skyline with the cola. it sloshes dangerously close to the rim. "what we're all here for. a good time. that, and i wanted to know who had my stoic brother wrapped around their pinky finger. seeing you now – i can see why."

"thought he wasn't one for aesthetics," you comment drily.

he laughs at that, full and animable. "oh, attractive and witty. that must be the reason why my brother can't think straight anymore – as soon as someone has a sharp tongue, he's completely enamoured. do you like him as much as he likes you?"

you rise to your feet, finally unable to hold back the carnal desire to make him a drink of the clothes he's wearing – that little party glass won't do. smoothly, he moves around the bar, keeping to the opposite side at all times as you slip off your white jacket and drape it over the bench you wouldn't notice the action if you weren't looking for it. you already had seokjin in the palm of your hand – it was this boy you needed to worry about. his suspicion might brush against something it shouldn't.

you reach for a coca-cola and the bottle of grenadine syrup. "i keep his company because i enjoy our conversations."

"sounding more and more like an escort," he comments blithely. "there's no need to be so tense around me, big boy. i just want to know if my big brother is in good hands. yours seem very capable."

plucking a couple of maraschino cherries out of the fridge, you balance them on the ice in the tall glass. you turn, and you bite back a smirk as taehyung's brow twitches upwards.

"thank you," you say, setting the glass down and sliding it across the bar. "i didn't poison it, if you're wondering. just a simple roy rogers. a man of your standing deserves better than a can of coke garnished with an umbrella."

he watches you move around the bar, whipping up a pisco sour. he plucks the cherries off their stems with his teeth and chews slowly, savouring the sweetness. "huh. you're ticking all the boxes – hyung might have to share you with me. that – or you can tell me why you're really after him. you're not an escort, so it's not about money. you don't fuck him nearly as often as he needs to be, so it's not about sex."

a dull, steely thump. you turn around, the shaker in your hands.

his fingers slide off of the silver handgun on the bar. he raises the roy rogers to his lips, his eyes fixed on yours.

he's seen a lot of reactions to a gun. he's seen fear, he's seen hysteria – hell, he's even seen lust. the drink pauses halfway to the bar when you laugh boisterously.

"you can't intimidate me, kim taehyung," you chuckle, shaking it dry. "you wouldn't believe the number of people who've pulled a weapon on me. some were twice your size – ex-military types, far too trigger-happy to continue shooting and call it patriotism. i'm not going to hurt you or your brother, and i won't tell the cops that you're packing. pleased?"

you pop open the shaker and drop in the ice. you resume shaking.

the front door opens. those are seokjin's footsteps.

you turn around with bright eyes, grabbing a glass. "oh, seokjin! how was your day? i've been waiting to kick your ass all week – my mario kart skills are getting better."

"my day was boring, but much better now that i've seen you. you'll have to show me your new moves." he looks up from digging around in his messenger bag and halts at the sight of taehyung in his peach-coloured suit and platform boots. his gaze hones in on the glint of steel taehyung didn't quite manage to hide.

his eyes narrow and his expression hardens. his voice snaps their consonants, arctic-cold. "are you threatening my partner, taehyung?"

"of course not," you interrupt, sending taehyung a candied grin. "your little brother was just making himself comfortable. it'd be hard to be at ease with that digging into your back, wouldn't it?"

the thick silence between them is palpable.

"come now, darling," you hum, pouring the cocktail. you add the garnishes and hold it out with an inviting smile. "you're at home. relax."

after a pause, he steps forward. another step. he dumps his bag on the couch as he passes it and accepts the drink with a grateful sigh.

"you're too good to me, love," he murmurs, tilting his head to allow you better access with your kisses. "i'm sorry i didn't introduce you to taehyung earlier. he's always so busy with the family business. did he play nice with you?"

"mm, of course," you whisper sweetly, sliding your hands up over his thighs and hips. you press a kiss to his jaw and lift your eyes to taehyung's – he glares daggers back, and his mouth thin into a tight line. "we're getting along well. a few initial speed bumps, yes, but all relationships have their rocks and pitfalls. even if we didn't," you nibble on his earlobe just to see taehyung divert his gaze, "he'd have to get used to me, sooner or later."

#seokjin #kim seokjin #kim seokjin x male reader #seokjin x male reader #seokjin x reader #bts x male reader #bts x reader #kpop x male reader #x male reader #male reader #m!reader

[kybercrystals94]

First Brothers

Read here on Ao3!

Angstpril 2024 | Day 6 | Prompt 6: This isn’t going to work. 

Rated: G | Words: 720 | Summary: Rex and Fives have a conversation about past brothers. | Character Focus: Rex, Fives, Echo 

“This isn’t going to work.” 

“Humor me.”

Fives sniffs at the steaming beverage and makes a face. “Ugh, why does it smell like that?” 

“Just drink it,” Rex says, patience wearing thin.

Fives takes a tiny sip. “It tastes worse than it smells!” 

“Maker, Fives! Drink it before I pour it down your throat myself!”

Fives glowers at the offending concoction a moment before he pushes it away, the glass bottom of the thick mug grating across the tabletop. “Captain, you can threaten me all you like, but I’m not drinking that. It’s disgusting.” 

“It’s kriffing Sapir Tea, Fives! It’s supposed to be soothing.”

“Well, I don’t feel very soothed with you yelling at me,” Fives grumbles. He pokes the mug of tea further in Rex’s direction. “You drink it. You seem to need it more than I do.” 

Rex glares at him, but takes the mug anyway, gripping it in both hands. The warmth against his palms reminds him of rainy nights on Kamino before he was deployed for active duty. A lifetime ago, sitting with his batchmates, speculating what the promised war might be like. He’d been so naive back then. All of them had. Flash training taught them everything and nothing. The stain of a brother’s blood on shiny, white armor was a lesson they’d not prepared for in the sterile environment of Kamino. 

Rex turns the mug in his hands. “I’m not yelling at you,” he mutters at Fives. 

Fives leans forward, folding his arms on the table. “I beg to differ,” he says, but Rex sees the mirth in the eyes identical to his own. “Did you call me down here just to bully me into drinking your weird boiled leaf brew?”

Rex sighs and decides to rip the bacta patch off. “When you mentioned you’ve been having trouble sleeping,” he admits, “I thought you might want to talk about it.” 

Fives groans, dropping his forehead to his arms. “Ah, c’mon, Rex. I’m fine. There’s nothing to talk about.”

“It’s been a year.” 

“I know.”

Rex brings the mug up and sips at the scalding tea, waiting. 

Fives doesn’t lift his head but a sigh sifts through the barrier like a hiss. “What do you want me to say, Rex? We lose brothers everyday. Good brothers. It’s the only sure thing in this war.” 

“It is,” Rex agrees. 

Fives sits up, rubs a heavy hand across his eyes. “Echo isn’t more important than any of them.” The ARC keeps his sharp gaze focused on the wall past Rex’s shoulder, not meeting his eye. 

“I never said he was.” Rex puts down his mug. “But he was one of your first brothers. That means something.” 

Fives’ expression softens at that. “I’m the last Domino,” he says, then chuckles bitterly and adds, “I always thought Echo would be.”

“Why?” Rex asks. 

Fives shrugs, but doesn’t explain further. He changes the subject instead, finally looking at Rex again. “I bet Echo would like your kriffing tea.” 

“That’s because Echo had taste,” Rex says. 

Fives barks out a laugh. “You’re talking about the man who read and memorized regulation manuals during his downtime.” 

Rex chuckles. “I didn’t know he memorized them.” 

Fives scoffs. “Oh, yeah. He was worse about it when we were cadets. Between parroting regulations and orders, he more than earned his name.” 

“That’s why his name was Echo?” 

“He tried to make us stop, but that just made the name more compelling.” 

The floodgates open, and Fives regales Rex with stories about his brothers, the ones Rex had and hadn’t met…and the one Rex had known well enough to feel his absence like a reverberating wound. Rex finishes his tea, but he and his little brother reminisce long into the night. 

|<<>>|<<>>|<<>>|<<>>|<<>>|<<>>|

“What’s this?” Echo asks.

Rex glances up from an intercepted report he’s been pouring over. Echo is examining Rex’s tin of Sapir Tea, turning it over in his hand. Echo doesn’t wait for an answer before he opens the lid and sniffs at the contents inside. “Smells good,” he comments, almost to himself. 

Rex grins. “Tastes better. Make us both a cup, will you?”

The last Domino smiles at him. “Sure thing, sir,” he says, even though Rex has told him repeatedly, like an echo, that he’s not a captain anymore. 

But old habits die hard. 

END

I can't believe we are already 6 days into April! I feel like it just started!! See below for links to all our stories thus far!

Prompts Completed:

@the-little-moment (1. Homesick / 4. Longing)

@just-here-with-my-thoughts (2. Frozen / 5. Self Surgery)

KyberCrystal94 (3. Broken Hearted / 6. This isn't going to work)

✨Let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list!✨

Tag List: @followthepurrgil @isthereanechoinhere96 @amorfista @mooncommlink @arctrooper69 @nagyanna424 @proteatook @ezras-left-thumb

#Angstpril 2024 #Day 6 #Prompt 6 #This isn't going to work #Star Wars the clone wars #Star Wars the bad batch #captain rex #echo and fives #fives and echo #TCW Fives #TCW Echo #TBB Echo #TCW Captain Rex #TBB Captain Rex #Angst #Memories #late night #domino squad mentioned #star wars #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #the bad batch #fics by kyber

[toska-writes]

Heyy could you maybe write another fives x platonic reader your stories are so good I binge read all of them

Wooo I love when I see you all binge reading on my posts!

“Keep your head up”

Read here on ao3: (✩)

Summary: After being rescued from some seppies Fives try’s to help you accept and love your newly acquired scars

Paring: Fives x GN padawan reader (Yes everyone it is PLATONIC)

Warning: Mentions of scars and injuries. Insecurity’s but Fives will make it all better

Word count: 713- and be so proud because I actually proof read

Notes: Don’t worry this is just a hold me over, an appetizer if you will, for a longer fic I plan to write later. Also there could be a part 2 to this with Alpha-17 maybe if your interested

He watched as the rest of his brothers started to exit the ship for their quick supply run on the rainy planet of Kamino, however Fives hung back with a quick nod from his general.

Rain pounded all around him as Fives waited for a moment before he saw your figure walking towards him, you made your way over to him a limp still present in your strides.

Fives or Rex normally volunteered to wait for you since it’s been a slow recovery since your last encounter with the separatist. With much begging Anakin finally let you come back with them on this mission.

And so far Fives could safely say that senators were dicks.

“You ok sir?” Fives asked as you came to a stop next to him.

You gave a small ‘Mhm’ as you kept your gaze trained to your boots. You’ve been getting a lot of that lately and you just wished thing were like they use to be.

Fives planted a firm hand on your shoulder making you glance up for a moment, he wouldn’t say anything but he could tell something was up.

His gloved hand traced over the raise red skin on your face, the stitches helped stop the bleeding but it still looked irritated and gnarly.

“I mean did you see what that senator was wearing? He couldn’t even talk.” Fives quietly spoke to you. You let out a small laugh and rolled your eyes.

“He did look stupid.” You thought back to a few hours ago.

Fives was taken aback almost with the searing white flurry of rage he felt in that moment when a senator made a comment about his commander. His vod’ika. About their appearance.

He looked over to where Jesse was stationed next to him, one of his hands were held in tight fists while the other hovered just over his blaster.

Rex took a step closer to you. If looks could kill the senator would be long gone from all of the men present. Fives didn’t need the force to sense that everyone was livid and Anakin was ready to explode.

“What if people are scared, what if those cadets don’t like me?” Your small question brought him back to reality.

Fives let out a small laugh of his own as you looked at him with wide eyes. Oh how he wished he could erase all the doubt from your mind.

“First off kriff what they think.” Fives brought your face into his hands being carful not to hurt you. His tone became serious and you listened closely.

“Second of all do you know how much respect you’ll get from all those men in there? You saved some of their brothers by getting those scars and your not a shiny nat-born now. Alpha-17 is going to go crazy because that’s what he wants to see in the brothers he trains.” Fives smiled at you as he wiped a tear.

“And it makes you look like a total badass.” He added

You laughed now wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your robe. The pair started to walk off of the ship and through the hanger.

“You think so?” You still spoke unsure.

“Oh of course, I mean you look way more intimidating now. Kinda like Wolffe.” Fives thought about his older brother and commander for the 104th. A shiver shot down his spine.

“I do don’t I.” You looked up to Fives with a smile on your face, a smile he hasn’t seen since the days before that mission. It felt like lifetime ago.

“Just keep your head up.” Fives lightly tapped the underside of your chin. “Everyone’s going to be blown away. Your one of the most skilled people I know. And if they are hooked up on this,” He gestured. “Then clearly they aren’t looking hard enough at you.”

You and Fives walked side by side into the stark white halls of Kamino. The pride he felt for you was through the roof, the familiar bounce in your step returned as met up with the others.

You knew you had Fives and all the other men to make sure you were all right. A personal posse of hype-men at your deposal, and you were forever grateful.

_____________________________________

@arctrooper69 @thereforepizza @padawancat97 @pb-jellybeans @floffytofu

#star wars clone wars #star wars #the clone boys #the clone wars #clone wars #my writing #toska-writes #clone boys #clone trooper fives #fives x you #Star Wars x platonic!reader #501st #arc trooper fives

[arteastica]

Early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (19)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters.) no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?)

wc: 2.7k

It was the kind of morning that encouraged the wearing of many layers. The thicker the better. And Sasha, who looked busy feeding soaked hay to the horses of a nearby stable, seemed to have reached that same conclusion before leaving her room that morning. You observed her as she struggled to drain the wet grass without dipping her fingers into the water, and realized you didn’t remember what she looked like under her scarf and wool hat.

Was this winter ever going to end?

The calendar gave a rather optimistic answer, but the weather seemed to be so very in love with the snow, and it didn’t look like it was letting go of its lover anytime soon.

You rubbed your gloved hands against each other and noticed how this was the first time you actually felt cold this season, even though the harshest days were already long behind. But back then, when low temperatures would make everyone complain, and the biting wind would paint their ears and fingers all shades of red, you could rely on your memories and the pleasant fire they lit within. And back then, you also had his body heat to keep you warm.

You glanced at the man standing beside you, his attention completely lost somewhere in the woods before him, and his hand, idly hanging to his side, looked especially inviting under this weather. And you wished you could reach out and take it, but you weren’t sure he would let you hold it.

His breath, turning into white mist as soon as it left his body, was clearly visible against the somber, almost starless twilight sky. His eyes were also a dark shade of blue this morning, and they seemed just as gelid as the sudden gust of wind that caused you to wrap your arms around yourself, rubbing your shoulders as you tried to shrink your body to a size that would be too tiny for the cold to spot.

“You can wait inside if you-”

“I’m fine.” You rushed to say, before realizing the hastiness in your voice risked coming across a little discourteous, and he was your boss after all. “It will start warming up once the sun rises a little more.” You explained, this time trying to soften your voice with a smile, a smile that you hoped didn’t look as unnatural and stiff as it felt on your own lips.

Yes, you had no doubt that the weather would warm up soon, because like a promise kept, the sun would always rise in the morning. And, as you thought about such kind of tacit, unspoken promises, you glanced up: The sky didn’t promise snow today. Maybe it would warm up a little after all.

But, was it really a promise or just your own foolish assumptions? In your case, there was always a bigger chance that it was the latter, and, therefore, throughout the years you had learned to not let yourself get too hopeful about things. That way, when it did snow later and you found your feet stuck under six inches of snow, buried so deep that you couldn’t move backwards and neither forwards, the disappointment wouldn’t hurt as much.

You could tell his eyes were on you, but you didn’t feel like looking back. Instead, you tried to find if there was even a single star still visible in the sky.

It had been almost a full week since he went back to work, and make no mistake, you were happy he did. You were glad to see him instead of the sad empty chair your eyes had been constantly met with for the past six weeks or so. However, it had also been a week since you moved back to your room. A full week since you last heard the raspy good mornings and lulling good nights he would whisper against your ear. A full week since you last engaged in any form of conversation that didn’t have the words ‘maintenance budget cuts’ or ‘decreasing staffing levels’ in them. A full week since you last saw him smile. At least at your way.

And most importantly, it had been a full week since you last felt the reassuring warmth of his lips against yours, and the sweet comfort of his arm around your body. A full week since you told him some very big words. And a full week since he didn’t say them back.

But, could you blame him for that? Not really, and you weren’t mad at him. Because, now that you had a lot of time to spend in the loneliness of your dark room, you started to consider the possibility that maybe he had his boundaries; and that maybe, just maybe, you had been overstepping them lately. Or who knows since when, to be honest.

There was something, however, that you knew very well.

You knew that the life of the Survey Corps’ Commander was already difficult enough as it was, and that he didn’t need any of his subordinates to make things more uncomfortable for him, whether that was with their irrational requests or the unsolicited confessions that left their mouth when they were in bed together. And, all things considered, you figured he could go back to sleeping alone. Not to mention he must be craving some personal space as well. After all, you had practically glued yourself to his side for a month.

As you let your mind travel to warmer moments lived during that month, you realized the silence was making you a little bit too nostalgic, so you welcomed the sound the leaves made as they drifted wherever the wind blew. As well as the distant clatter of hooves.

“They’re here.” He said, and you looked up to find the convoy in the distance. Within a few moments, the shapes grew in size, until they reached the entrance of the castle.

The enclosed carriage that was leading the caravan waited in front as two soldiers opened the gates. It was big and rather opulent, and the glossy finish on the wood told you that it had been polished very recently, and with such dedication that now it resembled a mirror. A mirror that, with its gilded features and painted panels, successfully reflected the personal taste of the owner, whose face remained anonymous thanks to the satin curtains covering the windows.

But the carriage wasn’t the only notable thing in the caravan. The four horses pulling it, as well as the two dozens waiting behind, were splendid enough to overshadow the sumptuous vehicle.

The commander walked to the entrance of the stables, and you followed behind, your eyes still captured by the mesmerizing creatures. When the carriage parked nearby and its doors opened, the identity of the owner was finally revealed: a middle-aged man of imposing height and cinnamon hair who looked surprisingly familiar, and that, judging by his elegant demeanor and conspicuous wardrobe choices, could be nothing other than the lord of some faraway estate.

He hugged the Commander as if they were the oldest of friends, and, as they laughed about some inside joke you were certain you wouldn’t get, you found yourself wishing things were as merry and jolly between you and him as it was between the two of them. But then again, you were pretty sure this old man had never said he was in love with him.

Although, to be fair, it was not like he was avoiding you. In fact, to an outsider it may even look like you were the one doing it. After all, you were the one who decided to move back to your room, and you were the one who was actively trying to keep your eyes glued to your desk instead of looking his way. You were also the one who decided to start leaving immediately after your shift ended.

A stranger reading your latest journal entries would be forgiven for thinking you were the one putting distance between you two, but you were convinced that anyone in your position would understand that it was not something you had chosen deliberately. You were merely reacting.

Reacting to what you felt and perceived: a switch in the atmosphere, a change in his eyes, the feeling of not being welcome anymore. You could see it there, in the icy blue of his irises, and that’s why you tried not to look at them. It made your throat tight and your vision blurry. So you decided it was best to look at the horses instead.

They were truly some of the most magnificent stallions you had ever seen. So bright and alert. The glow in their coat told you that all their nutritional requirements were met, and the bounce of their mane, that they were frequently groomed. You had once heard that even just one of these horses was worth an average person’s lifetime income. And you could see why.

But after some minutes of contemplation, wonder turned into gloom, as you found yourself feeling sorry for them. There was no way these innocent creatures knew about the dangers that awaited them. It was truly such a shame that such gorgeous animals had been born in a world like yours. They deserved to enjoy their days eating fresh grass and running up and down a green hill, somewhere in the middle of a picturesque countryside, and not to spend their lives outrunning titans.

But you tried to cheer yourself up by thinking that they would get to live good lives for as long as they could cling to them. After all, the scouts treated their animals with the utmost care and respect, almost as if they considered their horses to be comrades too.

To your right, you heard the Commander animatedly talking with the wealthy stranger. But your eyes were still lost among the horses, absentmindedly watching their mane dance in the wind. The sound it made when blowing through the trees, delicately rustling their leaves as if telling them it was time to wake up, was something you had always found relaxing. And you realized that, despite the uncomfortable cold, it was such a beautiful day in the forest. If only you could enjoy it.

You wished you owned the carefree disposition of that tall man who had just dismounted his horse and now seemed to be thanking it for the ride. He looked so content and joyful, utterly delighted with the simple act of ruffling its mane, and so did the animal. It looked as if the man was fluent in whatever language it is that horses speak. He looked a lot like a horse whisperer. He looked a lot like-

“Leon?” You heard your own voice calling seconds before the man turned around and smiled, confirming that was indeed his name.

“My lady.” As he made his way to you, his hazel locks danced to the exact same tune his horse’s mane did behind him. His hair had gotten longer, but his smile was as warm and welcoming as you remembered it.

“How come you’re here?” You asked, surprised to find this was the first time in days your smile felt like it belonged on your face.

“I’m accompanying my lord uncle.” He paused as he kissed the back of your hand. “This gentleman right here.” You looked at the man he was pointing at, the one standing next to him, and also the same tall stranger the Commander had been animatedly conversing with.

So this was Lord Koch. His face did look a little familiar after all.

“Commander Smith.” Leon gently let go of your hand before sending an acknowledging nod to the Commander, and extending his hand.

“Lord Angert.” The Commander shook the hand Leon was offering and smiled politely. “Thank you for traveling so far, my Lord. I hope the winter woods weren’t too rough.”

“As someone who was raised out in the cold, my esteemed Commander, I found the weather rather nostalgic.” As the two men shared a chuckle, you couldn’t help but join in, amused by Leon’s interesting way of speaking.

“We had to make a couple of small detours, as we weren’t sure if it was safe to travel anywhere near Ragako or Dauper.” Lord Koch explained. “That added at least half a day to our schedule. We should have been here by yesterday night, so I apologize, Erwin. I think Leon here was the only one who appreciated the change of plans.” He grinned at his nephew, and you noticed that Lord Koch’s eyes also had the tendency to turn into crescent moons when he smiled. “He really wanted to get a present for the beautiful lady here.” You blinked a few times to shake the confusion away when you suddenly felt all three men’s eyes on you.

Leon slipped a hand inside his jacket before handing you a tin box that was all too familiar to you. It did look like you were starting a collection after all, you had three of these now.

And for the first time in this bitter morning, you felt warm, the pleasant feeling immediately taking over your lips. You could really use the sugar today. The sugar, as well as the comfort only your favorite childhood treat could provide.

“Leon, you didn’t have to.” Your fingers reached for the present, unable to keep your lips from curving when you had the small box in your hands. You expected the metal to be cold, but it was actually comfortable to the touch, and rather warm from the cozy pocket he had kept it in all this time.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I figured since I was coming here anyway, I could at least bring you a piece of home.” He explained, using his hand to brush aside the importance of his kind gesture. “Although, I must admit the idea only found me after we were more than halfway through our journey here. But Luckily they had these in one of the villages we stopped by.”

You stared into the forest he had for eyes and wondered if you could find a friend there. Because you felt like you could really use one right now.

“Erwin, these were selectively bred to be approximately five feet tall and nine hundred pounds give or take.” You turned your attention to Lord Koch, who was pointing at the group of horses that was now being taken into the stables. “They may seem heavy but you don’t need to worry about maintenance out there in the field, they can get by perfectly fine on a simple diet, and travel many hours without complaining.” You eyed the horses, they certainly looked way more muscular than your average horse. “And their weight doesn’t affect their performance either. Their top speed is between forty to fifty miles per hour. Pretty impressive, right? We trained them to maintain a swift twenty two miles gallop, even when pulling a carriage. Like I said, a fine speed all the way through. But I don’t pretend you believe just my words. I actually would like to show you right now if you’re up for it. What do you say?”

The sound of the wind waking the leaves from their slumber was the only thing Lord Koch got for a reply. You turned to look at the Commander at the same time Leon did, and were surprised to find him staring back at you. An unreadable look in his icy blue eyes.

“Erwin?” Lord Koch called again and this time he seemed to have more luck in getting a reply.

“Yes, yes, we should.” The Commander said, eyes still fixed on you.

“I’ll get them ready, Uncle.”

“No, son, you can stay. Erwin and I are only going for a quick ride.” Lord Koch smiled to his nephew before turning to the Commander. “Let’s go, Erwin. Let’s leave these two to each other. I bet they have a lot to talk about.”

The Commander threw one last glance your way, a closed-mouth smile on his face, before turning around and following Lord Koch.

-

next chapter

taglist: @elnyrae @mchlist @angelaevangelion @depitaangeline @ynackerman9499 @afatalheat @pumpkin-toffee @velouria17 @gassytritis @goddessinsweats @nube55 @jeanboyjean @crazychaoticizzy @braunsbabe @erwinawesomeness @apts2000 @lucifers-nipple-piercing

#arteastica writes #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot erwin #attack on titan erwin #commander erwin #erwin smith #snk erwin #erwin smut #erwin smith x reader #erwin snk #shingeki no kyojin erwin #erwin x reader #erwin x y/n #erwin x you #erwin smith x y/n #erwin smith x you #erwin smith fanfiction #aot x y/n #aot x female reader #aot x reader #aot x you #aot fanfiction

[amywritesthings]

silver underground. / chapter six.

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x F!Reader (Attack on Titan / Shingeki no Kyojin)

Word Count: 3.9K

Summary: Day 121 - Also known as the day you officially leave the cadets and join the Scouts.

Warnings: Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Eventual Romance, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Flashbacks, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Nonbinary Hange Zoe, Touch Starved Idiots

( Read on AO3 )

Previous Chapter. / Next Chapter. | Masterlist.

CHAPTER SIX.

“Are you ready to head out?”

A perky voice breaks you from your fixated attempt at dragging the remaining pesky leather straps up your left thigh. You’d been rearranging your uniform for what feels like hours — taking it off, putting it back on, staring at your wavering reflection in a bucket of fresh water in the barracks to see if maybe you look out of place.

You certainly feel like you are, as the cadet that joined for three-something weeks only to disappear, plucked up by the Scouts at a moment's notice. An anomaly.

What you're wearing isn’t your old uniform, not exactly — that one’s cut up, bloodied and destroyed in a pile of ashes with all the other discarded jackets and trousers — so you’ll have to get used to the one they’ve given you.

At least the Wings of Freedom reside once more between your shoulder blades.

(A gift from Commander Erwin, who could not attend this momentous departure from the training camps to the real deal.)

“Hey, Petra,” you call back to her, dropping a boot onto the wooden floor. She watches you with budding excitement. “Are we leaving now?”

“Just about!” she exclaims. “Eld is finalizing supplies, but we’re ready when you are.”

“Great.” You hold both arms out as you walk to the doorway. “So?”

It takes her a minute, but her eyes finally connect with the white and blue emblem. “Oh, finally, you got your jacket back!”

“Erwin apparently sent a new one over with Hange,” you tell her as you follow her leisurely pace towards the front of the cadet training camp.

“Are you feeling good about this?”

“About coming back to the Scouts?” you ask. She nods in confirmation. “I’m a little nervous but yeah, I feel good.”

“Don’t be nervous. We’re like a little family.” Petra pauses, making a face at the sight in the near distance: a man with dark hair waves his hand beside worn wooden wagon, where several people and horses wait their departure. “...a bit of a weird family but a family nonetheless.”

“Oi! Is that her?” the man shouts across the way, standing on his toes to wave harder — like Petra doesn’t see him.

“Yep!” Petra calls, murmuring low to add, “That’s Gunther Schultz. You always kicked his ass in spars. He's never not been bitter about it.” She chirps again to him in her sweet, peppy voice. “It’s her!”

“A-ha! Alright, awesome!” Gunther replies, dropping his hands to his hips.

From here you can see the silhouette of a tall person with a high ponytail sitting at a spot at the head of the wagon, body facing you — Hange. On their left sits a man on a horse with a mop of dirty blond hair — probably Moblit — holding two additional reigns. A smaller, black-haired person sits to the right edge of the wagon with his arms stretched along the back, his one leg folded over the other. You immediately recognize that it's Captain Levi.

At the mouth of the wagon, two other people await your arrival. Petra gives you the quiet catch-up as you walk together: the man with long blonde hair is Eld Jinn, the squad’s second-in-command (she’s quick to divulge that you pull rank, in technicality) and last is the disinterested looking individual with curly hair and an undercut — Oluo Bozado, a skilled asset to the squad who won’t hesitate to brag about his high titan kill count at any chance he gets.

So this was it.

These were the people you spent your life with.

“She doesn’t look injured,” greets Oluo as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Memory loss doesn’t look like anything, Oluo,” Gunther hisses, before perking up at your arrival. “Hey, Lieutenant. How’s it going?”

“Fine, I think,” you greet pleasantly enough, reaching to shake his outstretched hand. “Thanks for letting me come back.”

“The decision was unanimous,” Eld tells you, hopping into the wagon. He spins on a heel to help Petra up first, and she takes her spot across from Captain Levi. Then he holds his hand out to you, smile vacant but there for comradery’s sake.

You accept his help, pulling up to the wagon to sit beside Petra. Gunther rounds the cart to take the right-hand side horse. From your peripheral, you can feel Levi and Hange watching your interactions with the remainder of the team.

“That’s good to hear," you reply. "Petra went through the roll call, but if you wanna introduce yourselves…”

“We heard you remembered Moblit on sight,” Oluo interrupts gruffly, hopping into the wagon once Eld is settled at the head of the group with his hands on the reins. He plops beside Levi, taking up a corner seat.

“Ha, she totally did,” Hange beams with a grin, and you can see Moblit sigh under his breath. “It was kind of crazy to witness in person. She remembered some things with me, too.”

"She did?" Petra asks, awed.

Eld whistles sharply, and the wagon jerks.

You’re leaving.

Sharply you turn to watch the camp grow smaller, its gates closing shut once the Scouts are out of range.

(You’re actually doing this.)

You blink away from it to look ahead. Immediately your eyes connect with Levi's as he stares directly at you.

Your face grows hot at the unspoken energy settling at your boots.

Hange continues, addressing the group. “Our hypothesis will really come into play once we reach the old headquarters. Our objective is to regroup, train with James so she can refamiliarize herself with Commander Erwin’s strategy before the next expedition. Once we're certain she's caught up, then we'll plan to make our way towards the northeast quadrant of Wall Maria. We've yet to explore that part of the walls, and we're certain we can capture new titans for experiments."

"Capturing more?" Petra asks with the smallest of squeaks. "The last two weren't enough?"

"Yes, but that's only part two of the overall plan. Right now, we're focused on rehabilitation James.” They fix their glasses between a pinched thumb and index finger. “The more we spend time with her, the better her memory will get. The better her memory gets, the easier our expeditions will become.”

“As if I want her to remember all the damn dirt she used to have on me,” sours Gunther, laced with a hint of amusement as he rides alongside the cart.

You look over at him, running your tongue against the seam of your lips. “What? Like when I used to kick your ass all the time?”

Gunther gasps, causing Oluo to break out into a surprised laugh.

“Petra told you about that!” Gunther protests.

You shrug a casual shoulder. “Did she?”

You blink back to Levi, who has his head bowed.

(You swear you see the corner of his lip lifted.)

“Oh — c’mon, you didn’t give her any shit about the rest of them? Petra!”

“What?! It felt like pertinent information,” Petra argues back with a giggle. “She just spent a couple of weeks fighting all of the new hopefuls.”

“And how’d that go?” Oluo asks, shifting his weight in his seat to mirror Levi’s casual body language in the cart — he reaches back, draping his arms over the edge of the wagon.

“Yeah, how did you do with combat training, James?” Eld Jinn asks from the front perch.

You shrug. “Well enough, why?”

The blonde snorts, turning his chin over his shoulder. “Because I’d kill to see if you can still go toe-to-toe with the Captain like you used to.”

“Eld,” Petra warns under her breath.

“What?” he squawks.

One by one, you see the remaining pairs of eyes in the cart turn to the conversation to focus on what may come next. Petra’s ginger hair bobs when she leans forward to chastise him.

“That’s inappropriate to request,” Petra argues.

“How’s it inappropriate?” Eld retorts, raising an elbow as he makes the horses turn out onto a main dirt road. “That’s all they did back in the day was fight. It’s been months!” 

“We’re not about to haze her.” 

“Why not?”

“I could.”

Hange’s eyebrows fly up their forehead, transparent in surprise at the sound of Levi finally speaking up since the wagon’s departure from camp.

You turn your chin to look his way. The captain’s brow raises a tick as his eyes connect with yours.

The wagon goes silent. The only sounds surrounding the Special Ops squad are grunts of horses and the light dips of the wheels against rogue pebbles in the dirt road.

Unable to look away from Levi, a slow smile creeps up your lips. “Is that something we used to do?”

“All the time,” Gunther confirms to the side of the cart while Petra shushes him.

“He’s right,” Levi agrees. “We did.”

Warm spreads through your chest and makes your heart soar. Levi not shutting down Eld’s idea is… good. Great, even. It’s a step in the right direction — right?

Levi said he wouldn’t spell things out for you, but he didn’t discourage others doing it for him. A loophole. You can’t help but widen your smile.

“I’ve spent so much time fighting kids who don’t even know how to hold a proper fist,” you tell him, dropping your hands into your lap to squeeze them together. “Captain: would you be interested, then, to spar when we reach the castle? Be my first real fight.”

A first, even when it’s anything but.

Levi keeps a neutral expression in front of your anticipated comrades.

All eyes shift in tandem from your face to the captain.

“Couldn’t hurt to welcome you properly,” he replies, legs still crossed and arms draped, chest straps on display under his stretched jacket.

“Oh, hell yeah,” Gunther breathes under his breath with a grin. “The Special Ops are back.”

.

.

.

.

The trek to the castle takes a few hours, but you spend it occupied enough. Between Gunther and Oluo’s constant questions (What was the next group of cadets like? How does memory loss feel? Do you remember when we—?) and Petra’s combative defensiveness to keep you protected from overexertion, the wagon ride back is promising.

Exciting.

Your blood is buzzing with the very real possibility of fighting Levi Ackerman once the group is settled at headquarters.

Anxiety should be hitting you once you reach the familiar sight of the run-down castle, but all you can feel is exhilaration. Anticipation. Like you finally have a worthy opponent who may give little mercy despite your situation.

Hopping off the wagon without the help of Oluo’s hand, you shrug off your Scout jacket and hand it to him to hold instead. He makes a disappointed noise in the back of his throat, tossing the item of clothing over his shoulder.

Levi hops out without help, light on his feet and graceful as he steps around the wagon to walk with you.

“We doing this right now?” he asks, tone bored, offering a sidelong glance to you.

“Absolutely.”

“Are you sure about sparring so soon?” he asks, lower this time.

(If you didn’t know any better, then you would believe his question hits a note of concerned.)

“What, are you afraid I’m going to beat your ass in front of the squad?”

“No,” he answers, matter of fact. “The opposite.”

Eld whistles low when you turn on a heel, walking backwards to grin at Levi. Levi doesn’t return the same excitement nor does he remove his jacket or cravat, but he doesn’t let you out of his sight.

He stalks you to a clearing right in front of the castle, a lopsided circle patch of dirt and weeds.

“Don’t cream your pants,” Levi crudely quips about your growing smile, his fists rising to rest in a defensive stance at his face. “I don't plan to go easy on you.”

“Oh fuck off,” you reply with equal-parts unprofessionalism, prepping your own fists to your face as your right boot shifting, forming the start of a semi-circle in the dirt. “If you did, I’d be mad at you.”

"Hmm."

Your other boot follows, stalking to find your opening.

Where you can strike.

“You got this, James!” Petra chirps from the sidelines where the Special Operations squad awaits, breath baited and muscles tense.

You do.

You’ll take him and show everyone you’re only just a couple steps behind.

You send a sharp right punch to see where it can land, but Levi juts his chin back at a supernatural speed to avoid it.

He could take a counterstrike, but he holds back.

(He’s lying. He’s going easy on you.)

Petra gasps from the sidelines when you throw a combination of a jab and left hook, but Levi ducks and recovers fast. He throws a fist at your gut, but you manage to slide away before his fist can land. There is a gleam of acknowledgement in his eye as you glide past one another. He throws another, but you lean back and avoid the blow.

It’s a dance choreographed and rehearsed so many times that your brain must have lost count, but your body holds its memory in a vice grip.

In truth, you know — know exactly where he’s going to step next, or the exact direction he favors to dip, and the knowledge delights you. Excites you, even, that this feels so…

Natural.

Like you’ve dissected Levi Ackerman until his movements are your own, mirrored and fluid.

Except you get so caught up in the revelation that he manages to land a sharp jab to your arm. You abruptly dip from the painful hit, teeth grit, but you’re light on your feet and quickly avoid additional attacks. You both strike, arms entangling and locking, to the point where you're mere centimeters from the other's face.

“C’mon, James,” he growls under his breath, and you can’t help but smile.

"Banking on an easy win?" you quip, pushing him away with force and ducking a counterattack.

"This isn't a challenge," he assures, stepping around the invisible circle for a reset.

"You sure?" you ask, catching your breath. Your hands flex before curling back into fists. "Pretty sure I see sweat."

"Little shit." He huffs. “If you say so.”

He strikes, but you counter with precision and manage an uppercut straight to his jaw. Levi’s head snaps back, boots faltering on the ground for a brief second.

You feel it: the whites of your eyes alight with pride.

The hit landed.

You can keep up with Captain Levi.

“I do say so,” you coo belatedly, and Levi rubs his jaw.

“Huh,” he hums. “Lucky shot.”

“Are you giving up that ea— shit!”

If he was holding back earlier, then he isn’t doing so now. Levi comes at you with a flurry of limbs, forcing you to expend all your energy to block his advancements. He is lightning fast, focused on you and you alone, and punches with the intent to land.

To win.

Less cocky than before, you dodge his incoming punches and duck at his swings, holding him back but not enough to land hits of your own.

Shit.

He’s going to win.

If you just keep his arms at bay and—

Wait.

From the corner of your eye, you see it: the smirk on his face when he knows he has you wide open at the legs, and when your mouth opens to gasp, he switches technique and sweeps your legs out from under you.

Suddenly you lose balance and become airborne.

“Do you think we’ll ever get to go up there?”

Right in front of your eyes, the sun turns black. 

Your back connects with the ground, and it’s as though you’re transported to another world: one that’s dark, devoid of the warmth of the sun.

Overhead you see Levi smirking down at you, but his Scout uniform is nowhere to be found. He greets you with a billowing white shirt cinched at his torso in a burnt orange vest, hair just as floppy but eyes less vacant.

They’re… warm. Amused.

The lines of his war-worn face are all but gone. His eyes still have dark circles, but they’re less prominent. If you didn’t know any better, then you’d call it a near-youthful glow.

(As much as one can get from being a child of the Underground.)

“Gonna stay down there forever?” he asks you, his translucent hand leaving his side to hold a lifeline for you to take.

All it takes is for your hands to connect for the world to shift, transform, and everything echoes.

“Do you think we’ll ever get to go up there?”

“Up there?” It’s Levi’s voice. 

He sits in the dirt beside you, dropping unceremoniously to your side with a grunt of discomfort. You're lying in the dirt, wearing an unassuming maroon long-sleeved shirt and dark trousers. You sit up to meet him, stretching your legs out to cross them at the ankles. Without a rhythm, your boots sway. 

“You’re worried about going up there?” Levi adds.

“Who isn’t?” you ask him, dropping your chin to your shoulder as you regard him from the side. Scents of damp Earth and leaking cobblestone invade your nostrils. “You can’t really want to spend the rest of your life down here, right?”

"It's a pipe dream, James."

"So? Dream with me for a second."

"You're starting to sound like Isa."

"Is that such a bad thing?" you inquiry. "She wants a chance on the surface as much as the rest of us. Hell, she's been to the staircase. That's further than I've ever gotten."

“They’ll call us freaks,” he bluntly tells you, hooking his skinny wrist between the loop of his thumb and index finger when he drags his knees to his chest. “I’m not exactly keen on going.”

“But we’d eat a lot of amazing food and get a lot of sun — maybe even a tan.” You gasp childishly, leaning in to bump his shoulder with yours. Levi stays put, immobilized by your words. “Imagine us with sunburn? How crazy would that be?”

“So your dream... is to become a tomato?” he flatly asks.

You grin, holding off on a laugh until you can’t stand it. It starts breathy and low so as not to alert the chatter in the cobblestone house behind you, but it bubbles and breaks the seal to a full-blown giggle.

Levi shakes his head, the floppy hair in his face following a delayed second.

“Fucking ridiculous.”

You grin towards him. “What?”

“You. You’re fucking ridiculous,” he interrupts, but something miraculous happens:

His eyes crinkle. His lips curve to a smile.

Suddenly the dream of the sun doesn’t feel as beautiful when you’re looking at him.

“James.”

Levi Ackerman dissolves at your side, and you feel weightless all over again.

Darkness; you want to reach towards the sunlight, but a billowing cloud rushes towards you and knocks you back to the dirt once again.

You cough at the dust clouds around your head, disoriented and confused, until a nonchalant boot digs into your side.

“Get up.”

“But I was just up,” you mumble in protest.

“No, you weren’t.”

When you blink up, you’re met again with the sight of Levi hovering over you. He still wears the same loose white shirt and vest, legs covered in dark trousers and boots, but he looks… even younger than before.

Whereas he could pass as a young adult in his early twenties just a short few minutes ago, he now looks as youthful as a teenager.

You grit your teeth, counting down the seconds. “Actually, I kinda dig it down here.”

“Seriously—?”

You get an idea. A bad one, but an idea nonetheless.

The question that trails in disbelief earns you enough time to reset your approach to fighting him, your hand quick to wrap around his ankle. Pulling as hard as you possibly can, you use your core and sweep his leg so that Ackerman goes airborne. 

When his body hits the ground in a nasty thud, you hurry to scramble over him. The bone of your forearm presses into the boy’s neck, causing Levi to grunt with discomfort.

You grin above him as he grimaces.

“Dirty trick,” he spits, but he doesn’t fight it.

In fact, he doesn’t try to escape at all.

You shrug a shoulder, pressing harder onto his windpipe. He sputters, but his face remains just as neutral as ever. 

“What’s got you so pissy today?”

“What?” Levi asks from beneath you. His hands curl around your elbow and fist, but he doesn’t push your forearm away just yet.

“You’re moody.” The correction has you laughing gently under your breath, and the sight beneath you? It’s one to behold. 

His dark hair frames his face messily, splayed across dirt and gravel. His teeth continue to grind, growl bubbling in his chest, but when he decides to push against your arm, all you do is push harder into his throat. He coughs with a curse.

“I’m — fuck — not.”

“Are too.”

He narrows his eyes. “And I’m letting you win.”

“Are not.”

“Wanna bet?”

Easing up on his windpipe, you crawl off of him and extend a hand to help pull him up to a seated position. Levi begrudgingly takes it, hoisting himself up on the flat of his palm. He angles closer to you, voice low with a feigned warning.

“Thought we didn’t do draws,” he states.

Your forehead drops to his shoulder, lost in a belly laugh when all you want to say is—

“James!”

When you come back to the world, the sun is blocked by a face. Levi barks your name with an intensity that frightens you out of your dreams of the Underground and into the reality of the old headquarters.

Hange hovers over his shoulder. Their glasses are pushed into their hairline where concern etches over every line of their curious face. The uncertain murmurs of the rest of the squad are somewhere behind your head where they observe from a distance.

"Are you alright?" Levi asks with less fervor.

“I’m fine,” you breathe, rolling your neck to look up at Hange.

“Are you? Because you disappeared on us for a second, kid,” Hange tells you, but something squeezes your arm to the point of hurting.

You blink down to the source — Levi white-knuckles a hand around your forearm, holding it steady to the ground. When you meet his eyes once more, he lets go like your body is the temperature of a steaming titan.

"We're not doing that again," he decides for the both of you.

"Wait."

Sitting up on your forearms, the warmth of the sun brings unbridled joy back into your stomach.

"We have to."

"Excuse me?" Levi snaps, eyes narrowing for a split second until it hits — his expression releases built-up tension. "...did you...?"

At first you can only grin, delirious and overjoyed. "...dream of becoming a tomato, one day?"

His face slacks with dumbfounded surprise.

"Is that an inside joke?" Hange whispers in a hiss over his head. "Is tomato code for something?"

"In a way," you reply, but your attention isn't on Hange. You're too busy beaming over at a crouching Levi, who looks at you in way you've never seen before.

He's warworn and childlike, an oxymoron of your own muddled mind, but he knows.

You know he knows, too.

Because you might have finally figured out a plan to — quite literally — knock some sense into you.

Author's Note: Gosh, your theories have been so fun to read! And we only get brief moments with the Scouts, so I sort of took some liberties with their personalities. Your likes, comments, & reblogs have been wonderful! My inbox is open anytime xo

tag list: @lazylizzy3

#attack on titan #levi ackerman #snk #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #attack on titan fanfic #attack on titan fanfiction #snk fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #wip series #aot #aot fanfic #aot fanfiction #amywritesthings #fic: silver underground. #silver underground

[quills-of-freedom]

Short Story ~

First kiss with Reiner Braun 💋

Female Bodied Reader X Reiner Braun

You're just about halfway through cadets and the tension between you and Reiner has been thick for a while now. Caught in a downpour, his true gentleman self certainly shines through and you just can't seem to resist his authentic charm...

Tag list info here 🐙

Themes: Fluff. Soft.

Warnings: None.

It’s into year two of the cadets. Reiner finally has you all to himself as you browse the market stalls in the quaint town of the Trost District.

But a summer shower quickly dampens his already low spirits, knowing these feelings for you are strictly forbidden…

As the sky began to darken over Trost, Reiner glanced up at the gathering clouds and wondered if he should call it a day. He was reluctant to; it wasn’t very often he got to have you all to himself.

His golden eyes glanced at you as you pondered over the stall you were standing at – the vendor excited to show the wares. His eyes then fell to the pavement under his feet. You looked gorgeous as usual. The white dress hugged your curves and it flowed right down to just above the ankles. He’d noticed the glances you'd gotten from men, of course he did. He also noticed the second looks he had gotten.

Eyes filled with envy.

Those men thought you were a couple and Reiner secretly loved it. What he wouldn’t give for that to be true.

“Reiner?” Your soft voice called out, snapping his attention.

“What do you think of these gloves for Mikasa? They’d definitely help with her training.”

Sweet y/n.

Whenever you had spare money, you would spend it on your friends. Mikasa had been getting blisters from her pairing blade hilts. They’d joked she takes out her frustration towards Eren’s behaviour out on her grip; pretending they were his neck.

“Uh, yeah. I think they’ll come in handy, sure.” He replied half dazed.

“Everything okay?” you ask as you hand the salesperson the cash. “You seem a bit out of it.”

He instantly pulled up his usual facade. “Me? I’m fine. Looks like it’s going to rain though. We should head back.”

“Okay.” You smile slightly, taking the paper bag with the leather gloves inside. You both began to walk down the street back towards the barracks.

He silently kicked himself.

He wanted to take each step as slowly as possible, trying to wring out as much alone time as he could.

When did it get so bad?

If you didn’t have your swarm of friends around her constantly, and Bertolt didn’t act as his shadow, maybe he wouldn’t be so desperate to be alone with you in the first place.

Why did he even want that though?

He wasn’t dense. He knew he had a soft spot for you and despite his best friend’s warnings, he ignored his advice to stay away. It got worse and worse like an neglected cavity in a tooth. The longer he left it, the deeper you bore into him. He wondered if the pain of a toothache would be better than this constant yearning to be near you.

When did he become so pathetic? When did he become so… weak?

Reiner Braun was the strongest male in the 104th with the highest grades. Dedicated. Focused. Yet this H/C’d girl walking beside him with her sparkling e/c eyes could easily bring him to his knees.

He’d gone through the implications in his head over and over. His friends from back home wouldn’t approve. It’s not like they didn’t like you… In fact he was surprised how well you got along with them.

It was because they didn’t join cadets to fool around with beautiful women.

They were there to return home. Home… He wondered what his family would think of her. That was when he shook his head.

No.

There wasn’t any use in going down that trail.

“Oh no…” You wince as fat rain drops began to fall from the swollen clouds.

It was a summer day so you didn’t think to bring a jacket. In fact, none of your friends earlier had been wearing one.

Within seconds the heavy drops were crashing down all around you both, people ran for cover and merchants began to hurriedly set up a canopy over their goods.

Reiner grabbed your wrist and began to run.

With his free hand, he began undoing the buttons on his shirt.

“Summer shower.” He explained. “It won’t last long, but it’ll be a soaker.”

Women around you let out a squeal as a loud rumble of thunder echoed out over the town. Puddles were already forming as Reiner hurriedly led you down the clearing street. As you ran, water splashed around your ankles as the water was already collecting on the road.

“What are you doing?!” you called out over the loud crashing of water. “You’ll catch your death!” By the time you uttered the last word of your sentence, he whipped around and lay his large shirt over your head before returning to pull you along.

Not long after, you’d reached the stables where the transport horses were kept. It was deserted, being the cadets weekend off and were carting the soldiers to their home towns for the next couple of days.

“Dont want that pretty dress to be ruined, do we?” he joked, yet his face stayed serious.

“Reiner…” you whispered in awe, inaudible due to the crashing rain.

Reiner pushed open the large wooden door of the hay storage barn, before ushering you inside.

“Are you crazy?” you laughed once they were tucked in away from the downpour.

Beads of rain rolled down his bare flesh, trailing down his pronounced pectorals and solid abs.

Reiner shrugged. “Didn’t want you getting cold and wet.”

Your eyes softened gorgeously as he turned to rub his hand over his hair, getting excess droplets off him.

His back muscles flexed with every small movement before he turned back around, Goosebumps raising on his skin and his nipples hardening from the chill.

The barn was filled with the relaxing sounds of the heavy pattering of rain on the wooden roof above your heads. This was the side of Reiner you’d been waiting to see.

You knew he had it in him, underneath the crude jokes and the flirting attempts. He was a gentleman through and through. He just liked to hide it for whatever reasons you didn’t know.

His shirt was warm and his scent rolled off it into your nose.

You hadn’t realised how much you actually enjoyed his smell until now. It sent waves of comfort over you, like the smell alone was his big strong arms wrapping around your body, ensuring your safety and comfort.

Yes.

You’d decided.

You had been pondering on your feelings towards your classmate for a little while now and wanted to be sure. The torment of professionalism as well as distractions from training had been hanging over your head.

But there was just something about him that you were pulled to.

He jumped a little when you placed your soft hand gently on his forearm. The skin across the bridge of his nose and under his eyes instantly heated up, turning a hue of pink.

You were so close to him and he got what he always yearned for – for your skin to be touching his.

The next thing he knew you were reaching up and planting a tender kiss on his cheek.

The breath caught in his throat and that pinkness burned more brightly. Every muscle in his body tensed and his eyes enlarged slightly. But what really sent his chest thudding, was when you pulled the kiss away.

You kept your face close to his, now bearing the same pink hue. Your gorgeous eyes glistened, long lashes framing them beautifully. You smiled adorably, pulling at his shirt that was now draped across your shoulders.

“Thank you…”

You spoke softly, your hair a little messed up from the shirt, but it just made you look even more beautiful.

“For what…?” he replied in a haze.

“Being you…”

Those last words penetrated straight through his macho exterior and felt like they pierced into his heart, injecting some sort of warm fluid that quickly spread across his entire chest.

He didn’t even think.

It was like he went on auto pilot and his instincts just took over.

Placing the side of his index finger under your chin, he tilted your head up slightly and closed the gap between you, gently pressing his lips against yours.

His heart smashed against his solid barrel chest as you return the kiss, your lips softer than he had ever imagined them to be.

You run your hands up his shoulders and hung them, opening youe mouth a little wider as you kissed, giving him full permission to explore your mouth.

He did so without hesitation.

Sliding his tongue passed your sweet lips, he entwined it with yours.

It felt like fireworks and explosion were going off around him and he thought he could see stars behind his closed eyelids.

Having you kissing him and getting to be this close and intimate with you was the best feeling he’d ever had.

The adrenaline was richer and sweeter than any fight he’d been in or any training exercise.

It just felt perfect.

It began to get heated pretty quickly as your pace quickened slightly, deep exhales leaving his nose and his brow became furrowed and desperate.

You truly did make him feel weak.

He handles you gently. Although he knows you're strong, you also felt delicate, like his big lumbering body could break you at any moment.

Your fingers run through his hair and you press up against him, his arms wrapping around your form in a sweet embrace.

Although he thought he was the luckiest man alive to be able to kiss you, his body quickly began needing more.

He battled with it, keeping it under control and letting you now take the lead of the kiss.

You gently pull his pouty bottom lip with your teeth, making it that much harder for him to not throw you down and lift up that dress.

Instead, he settled for a pleased grunt, his brows creasing deeper as he became hungrier.

You slowly pulled away.

He pressed his forehead against yours, unable to hide the dumb grin that spread across his face as he caresses your hair with his right hand.

“What’s with that goofy grin?” you joked quietly; her sweet breath warm on his face.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He replied, his grin stretching further.

Smiling, you lower your head almost shyly at that titbit of information.

You then fix your eyes on his. “Really?”

“Of course…” he looked genuinely surprised. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“Oh stop.” You laugh.

He took your hand and placed it on his bare chest over his rapid heartbeat. His honey eyes not removing their gaze from yours. “I swear.”

You didn’t know what to say.

“Well, you have awful taste.” Was what you settled for.

But having Reiner Braun, of whom didn’t really catch your eye at first, now you'd gotten to know him, was extremely attractive; his chest bare and holding you close like this set a burning desire deep within you.

One that you would have to keep under control.

…For now.

You gently place your hand on his jawline before replacing your mouth onto his.

He let out a small unintentional exhale from his nose, more than happy to slide his warm tongue back inside of your mouth.

Your hands gently caressed his broad shoulders, pace quickening and teeth grazing his lip.

You didn’t want to let things get too heated too quickly, but battling your urges seemed like an uphill battle. He’d grown on you a hell of a lot over the last year and a half and having him hold you like this felt amazing.

As Reiner kissed you, he pushed away the little voice inside of his head that was telling him this was all a big mistake and he had just complicated things massively.

He didn’t care.

His feelings for you had always surpassed the doubts that swirled around in his mind. And now, knowing you had some reciprocating feelings it was incomprehensible that he would now turn his back on you.

He grazed his hand lightly up your arm as he slowly and almost gracefully devoured the inside of your mouth. Your skin was the softest thing he’d ever touched like some fine silk from a faraway land. He almost felt like he was ruining you, just by having his unworthy hands upon your flesh.

You pull away once again and he sealed the kiss with another gently peck.

“This is crazy…” you sigh, taking a step back. “We’re training to be soldiers.”

“I know how you feel, believe me.” He muttered, a frown tugging at his mouth. “But I think life’s a little too short to be putting good things on the back burner.”

You pondered on that for a moment.

He began to feel desperate. Now that he had your affections within his grasp, he wasn’t about to let them slip through his fingers.

“I mean…” he took a step forward and took your hand into his large pair. “I know I joke around a lot but you…”

He paused for a moment, choosing his words.

“I didn’t kiss you with the intention of just having you then leaving. …I want us to be together. Properly. Hell, if we weren’t in Cadets, I would be asking you to marry me right now.”

That blushing hue returned to his face as he shyly looked away, not used to spilling out his feelings like this.

But the humiliation and discomfort would be worth it if he managed to gain you as his own.

Again… When did I get so weak?

You do a better job than he at hiding the grin that was threatening to spread across your face.

Instead, your face matched his reddening tone.

“Are you saying… You love me, Reiner Braun?” you spoke softly.

He pushed away every instinct that told him to run and hide.

“Yeah. As a matter of fact, I am.” He replied steadily.

Now it was your turn to ignore her instincts to run.

“R-Reiner. It’s not that I don’t care for you too, I do. But… Ah, it’s complicated.” You grimaced. “I don’t know when.. uh… I’ll be ready to…” your face was almost glowing at this point.

“Hey hey…” he soothed. “Its okay. I love you. I don’t care about waiting.” His face returned to the familiar serious soldier expression you were so used to seeing during training. “Even if you’d wanna wait until after marriage. I don’t mind.”

You squirm uncomfortably. “Its not that. Maybe we can talk about it… Another time?”

It perplexed him but he didn’t mind. “Of course.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“So…?” He melted back into that cheeky smirk.

The classic Reiner grin. Mischievous and cunning.

“You wanna give this a shot?”

You had noticed the rain had slowed to a stop, the clouds had moved on and the sun was shining once again.

You'd known Reiner now for almost two years. Spent every single day pretty much in his presence. You'd worked together, laughed together and well… Now this.

You reminded herself how strong that urge was to kiss him only minutes ago. Why you initiated closeness in the first place. Your mind fluttered through the pages of your recent memories and how he had been making you feel these days, and how your eyes have been lingering upon him a little longer than you'd have liked.

You let out a sigh before smirking back at him. “Sure. But don’t get comfortable now. Just because you have me doesn’t mean you can start slacking your charm.”

You playfully pushed his cheeks together with your index and thumb, resulting in a chuckle rumble from his broad chest.

“I swear it.” He grinned, kissing her.

“Come on. We’d better head back.” You smile, handing him back his shirt.

#reiner brainrot #reiner x you #reiner x reader #snk x reader #reiner braun #reiner fluff #aot headcanons #snk x y/n #snk

[polaroid-paranoid]

Could I request the mercs with an s/o who steals their clothes because they're cold? I absolutely LOVE your writing, keep it up and remember to take regular breaks!!!!!

Absolutely! And thank you! :)

The Mercs with an S/O who Steals their Clothes!

✧Scout✧

It doesn't show, but he finds it so sweet if you steal his clothes for some reason, especially since you fit his clothes and his general 'style' so well!

He acts rather casual about it, yet internally he's melting seeing you in some of his clothes for absolutely no reason, perhaps it's just because he finds you attractive, or that he's secretly always wanted to see you in his clothes; or both.

He often wears styles similar to streetwear; most of his casual wear just consisting of slightly oversized hoodies or plain shirts, he's rather "calmed" with his clothing choices. (Albeit, he has probably has a plethora of Tom Jones shirts.)

✧Soldier✧

Soldier, on the other hand is incredibly loud about how good you look in his clothes, and will most likely just hand you some of his clothes if he notices you appear cold next time.

"YOU LOOK INCREDIBLY NICE IN MY CLOTHES, CADET!" ~ He honestly doesn't even care you stole his clothes, he just thinks that you look nice in them.

He literally wears anything that has to do with America; it's atrocious. Patriotic shorts with an American flag tank top; for the Winter it's a sweater with the American flag on it, with blue jeans that have white stars spangled all over them.

✧Pyro✧

Seeing you in a slightly oversized firefighting suit makes them so giddily excited for some reason, and while it does have the ability to keep you warm, it's a bit hard to move around in; especially whilst Pyro is clinging onto you via a hug.

If you wear one of their spare gas masks, that's +10 points, because they'll feel as though they're doing a little "twin" thing with you, and quite frankly, it's adorable.

They don't have such thing as "casual wear", they wear firefighting suits and gas masks in public, and as far as you've seen, you've never seen them without it. (The only merc that has seen them without at least their gas mask is Engineer, and Pyro had asked him not to tell anyone what they look like.)

✧Demoman✧

He finds it so cute whenever you wear his clothes, it's strangely endearing in a "they're wearing my clothes?!?!?!" kind of way; and he internally freaks out whenever you do so.

"SEE THAT LADS?! Y/N'S WEARING MY CLOTHES!" ~ The moment you walk away, his mouth is agape and he's freaking out to all the mercs about it.

He often wears turtlenecks, sweaters, and all the such for casual wear; he's incredibly calmed about his clothing choices, and doesn't really have anything of interest. Although his clothes have the distinct smell of almonds, for some reason.

✧Heavy✧

He finds it rather hilarious (yet also strangely cute) if you're a bit smaller in terms of frame due to how tiny you seem in comparison to his clothing; although if you're around his size, he'll honestly find you to look great in them.

He's honestly rather casual about it other than that; as he really doesn't mind you stealing his clothes, just as long as he gets them back in decent condition.

As with Demoman; he's incredibly casual in his clothing choices, even a bit "basic" (although he doesn't really care about style, and more rather if the clothes are practical), as he often just goes for regular t-shirts, sweaters/jackets when it's cold, all the such.

✧Engineer✧

He found you so damn adorable when you wore his sweater; it was just slightly oversized on you and you looked amazing in it; and he made sure you knew such a fact.

He probably just GAVE you some of his clothing from then on; just in case you ever felt cold again, as he just wants to make sure you have some form of 'protection' from the cold.

He wears the comfiest casual wear dear goodness; soft and fuzzy sweaters are his main go-to, although he also wears knitted sweaters/cardigans as well. The only thing being is that he has no regard/tastes for style, as he mainly cares about comfort.

✧Medic✧

If he catches sight of you wearing 5 different layers; all of which are HIS clothes, he's going to be absolutely enthralled by how you look in them, even if it was an absolute nightmare for you to even get on (and most likely a nightmare to get OFF as well).

"Hoohoohoo! Y/N, you look absolutely stunning!" ~ He'd love to see you in his clothes more often, honest to god he just adores how his clothes look on you.

He's so overdressed it's not even funny; he wears like 4 layers just to go to the supermarket, it's ridiculous. He often wears brown vests with white undershirts (often accompanied by a tie); although SOMETIMES (if he's feeling up for it) he'll just go in nothing but tourist wear. It's terrible.

✧Sniper✧

When he first saw you in his clothing, he was incredibly confused; although once you explained that you had gotten cold, he "begrudgingly" (he honestly finds you adorable in his clothes) allows you to keep his clothes.

It doesn't show, although he finds it strangely endearing that you are to even wear his old (and most likely crusty (/j)) clothes, although he finds that you wear them much better than he does.

He doesn't have much for casual wear; albeit he has striped pajamas he'd literally go to the store in, perhaps a DECENT button up, and a few aged t-shirts, although other than that he just doesn't have all too much in terms of casual wear.

✧Spy✧

When he saw you in his clothes, he hadn't even reacted, trying to distance himself as far away from the monstrous casual wear he typically wears far AWAY from the mercs.

He pretends the entire day that he doesn't notice you; even if you hand him his clothes back, he'll desperately pretend as though those don't belong to him.

His casual wear just radiates 'miserable' feelings from them, he has striped pajamas, old, white tank tops, and incredibly loose shirts/hoodies, as he most likely will never allow anyone (even his lover, unfortunately) to wear his suits. Also; fair warning, all his clothes smell of cigarettes.

Requests have been taking a VERY long while, although I'm about to get my computer charger, so once that happens; requests should speed up!

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 headcanons #tf2 x reader #team fortress two #tf2 medic #tf2 scout #tf2 mercs #medic tf2 #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #tf2 engineer #tf2 pyro #soldier tf2 #tf2 soldier #spy tf2 #tf2 demoman #heavy tf2 #tf2 heavy #spy x reader #medic x reader #scout x reader #heavy x reader #engineer x reader #engineer tf2 #soldier x reader #demoman x reader #sniper x reader #🗣️🗞️ #🔨💥💣

[rottenpumpkin13]

The great wall of Genesis depression text :^)

Genesis being sweet. Genesis being kind to the junior Soldiers and cadets. Genesis reading to them and recommending them books. Genesis being vigilant of Sephiroth's every move including when he forgets to eat. Genesis always having an apple in his pocket in case Sephiroth needs it, in case anyone needs it. Genesis being the only one Angeal can open up to, the only one his best friend can cry with. And Genesis listens.

Genesis being the most charismatic out of the trio, not arrogantly, but in such a way that he talks to people. He talks to everyone. Sometimes they say he talks too much, that he quotes that silly poem a little too often. But he has other thoughts about it. Would you like to see his annotations? Read his papers? He has dozens of them and would love to know your opinion.

Genesis brushing fallen autumn leaves out of Sephiroth's hair, nagging Angeal to wear a coat too, then lighting up when he sees how the trees have turned red. He adores the color red. Have you ever had a Banora White? The juice at least? He'll make sure to get you some, raving about his invention as you drink it. He'll be as proud as a peacock if you compliment it. He always is.

Genesis scours life looking for small pieces of validation and praise to add to his endless scrapbook of reasons he's worthy of living. If he has to look ridiculous in his pursuit, challenging those twice his size and strength to fights he know he could lose, then so be it. When you're born broken, a quiet newborn not making a sound as you gasp for air, you spend your whole life being as bold and arrogant as your health allows you to. You spend your whole life grasping for meaning, any meaning, to give to a life that should not have been yours.

If that craving for answers manifests itself through the love he has for an old poem, then so what?

So what if they mislabel him as the arrogant one? The spit-fire drama king? Sephiroth's failed equal? So what if they don't see his kindness? So what if they don't see his humanity, his fragility? So what if they don't sympathize with him?

It's all a small price to pay for existence. And when one fears death as much as Genesis Rhapsodos, they quickly learn to prioritize their beating heart over the peace around them.

#ffvii #ff7 #final fantasy 7 #genesis rhapsodos #final fantasy 7 crisis core #ffvii crisis core #ff7cc

[lenafromthenordiccoven]

Yes, ma’am | Bob x f!Pilot!reader - Snippet

You know the drill 😂I've got a little snippet for you for the next Bob x f!reader oneshot. Planning to have this one up by Friday, Feb 9! Just gotta do some fact checking and, uh, finish writing the smutty part.

Anyway, enjoy this little snippet of a super self-indulgent oneshot I didn't even wanna post originally, cause I'm not sure about it being a) self-indulgent and b) reader's gonna have parts of my own background and plans for the future?

Six years. You’d been waiting for this moment for six years. Had worked hard for it. And now, as officers, family and other invitees were applauding and two of the Typhoons soared overhead, you were officially being dismissed as a Second Lieutenant for the first time. The first female Typhoon driver in the Austrian Air Force. And yet, it didn’t feel real. Not the way your classmates, other pilots with the rotary wing or other fixed-wing aircraft, clapped you on the back as they cheered. And certainly not the way your boyfriend of almost seven years, who’d been there for you every step of the way since you’d told him you wanted to try out for the Air Force when you’d first started dating, was grinning at you. No, he was positively beaming.

The fact that your parents hadn’t been able to make it to your graduation might’ve dampened your mood, if Bob wasn’t looking at you with so much love and pride, it made your own chest swell. You’d done it. Despite what everyone else and your own mind had been telling you from time to time, you’d made it. And, to be honest, you’d been terrified of Selection Day. Scared that even after already three years of consistently being top of the class and adamant about wanting to fly the Typhoon, your superior officers would tell you, they’d assign you to the helicopters or air transport.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, blood roaring in your ears as you pushed through the crowd and finally reached Bob. You were trembling by now, the adrenaline slowly wearing off, the world coming back into focus. And with it, the thought that you had to get Bob out of here as soon as possible. He’d chosen to wear his dress whites, while you were in your dress uniform with its grey jacket and grey pants (thank god, they’d actually let you choose whether you wanted to wear a skirt or pants and nobody had pitched a fit when you’d gone for the pants, explaining that you would “stick out like a sore thumb as is”, you didn’t want to add to that by being the only person wearing a skirt. The other female cadets in your class had all chosen the pants as well.) – and the new golden edelweiss on your collar. Fuck, if he didn’t look like he’d stepped off the pages of one of the romance novels you’d been devouring recently.

“Congratulations, darlin’. ‘m so damn proud of you,” he murmured before bending down to press his lips against yours in what had to be the most chaste kiss of the century. But you were still in sight of your superiors, so you couldn’t go too far. Especially since your relationship had already sparked enough gossip – and a three-hour briefing on what you could tell your boyfriend and what you couldn’t, not that you hadn’t figured out most of the things with you usually being on the receiving end of Bob’s professional silence. You didn’t feel like adding fuel to the fire, even though you positively ached to kiss Bob the way you really wanted to and to stick your hands in his hair and mess up that gelled back hairdo he was sporting.

You could feel your cheeks heat at the thought of how you didn’t even want him to take off his uniform. You just wanted to get him home and have him fuck you while he was still wearing his dress whites. “Thank you, baby,” you finally replied to Bob’s praise.

He raised an eyebrow and slightly cocked his head at your reaction, but you saw recognition bloom on his face when you lightly bit down on your bottom lip. He leaned in close to whisper in your ear. “Do we still have to go to any official dinners or parties, or do you think, we can jus’ sneak off?” His voice was rough, lower than it had been just a minute ago, and it sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

You briefly closed your eyes before you looked back up into those light blue eyes of his, trying to look as innocent as you could muster. “I’m afraid, there’s one more we have to go to. My new squad leader’s paying, and it would probably be good to get to know them a bit before next Monday. But I’m sure, they’ll understand if we don’t stay for too long.”

“Whatever you say, Lieutenant.” His lips stretched into a smirk, the kind of which you imagined only you saw on the regular, as another shiver raced down your spine and left goosebumps in its wake despite the June heat. Damn it. You knew, how much he liked it when you called him by his rank. But this? This was new. And you loved it. “You wanna take the lead when we get home?” He wrapped an arm around your waist and drew you in closer as you nodded.

“Hell yeah, I do.” You both chuckled at your response. Usually, you had no problem handing over control to Bob, especially in the bedroom. But sometimes, especially if things had been stressful and since you’d joined flight school, you liked to be the one to make him whimper and beg for a change. Tonight would not be any different. You grinned as your mind was already busy conjuring up ideas.

#sophie writes #fic: yes ma'am #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x f!reader #bob floyd smut #bob floyd x you #top gun bob #bob floyd fic #robert bob floyd x reader