#u can’t tell but I have been Stepping Out Of My Comfort Zone

[lianaloverr]

I Wanna Be More Than A Friend/Drunken Confessions

Pairing: Colby Brock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Colby have always had some tension between your friendship, but one night and a party, a drunken Colby confesses his desires.

Warnings: fluff, drinking, smoking, kissing

Word Count: 1.2k

My gif!

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Hiiiii! I’m so sorry i haven’t posted a fiction in a while! I hope y’all still with me! Anyways sit back and enjoy!

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“Hey girl you almost ready?” your friend Alexia said from down the hallway. “Yea! I just gotta put on my earrings.” you say.

•

You and your friend Alexia are getting ready to go to a party set up by your best friends Sam and Colby. You’ve known those since you guys were 16 and still are stuck together till this day. However, you and Colby have chemistry together. Everybody knew had a crush on each other but just never wanted to admit it. Honestly you couldn’t deny you had feelings for him, but u never thought he liked you. You liked him very much, but you didn’t want to ruin the seemingly perfect you guys had if you got rejected.

•

A tap on your shoulder knocked you out of your thoughts and it was Alexia asking you if you were ready to go. “Girl, you ready to go?” she said. “Mhm yea.”

•

Colby’s POV

“Hey Sam! What time does the party start again?” I yelled out. “9!” he yelled back. “oh crap I only have 20 minutes to get myself ready.” I say. As i’m getting ready, Sam walks in the room. “Ooo getting a little fancy i see?” Sam says as i’m putting on my rings. “umm i guess so.” i say kinda confusing knowing damn well what i was doing. “Yea.. I know and i’m pretty sure everyone else knows who you’re getting all dressed up for.” Sam says in a suggestive tone. “Uhh who?” i ask. Sam just looks at me like i’m stupid, then he walks out.

•

I acted clueless but i knew exactly who he was talking about. Y/n has been my best friend and Sam’s since we were 16. We always stuck with each other through thick and thin, she was by our side when Sam had his car crash, she was by our side when I pushed myself out of my comfort zone and made my first song, she was there for most of ur heartbreaks and basically everything. Of course we were there for her too, but we wouldn’t trade her for the world.

•

She’s amazing. She’s beautiful. She’s helpful. She is quite literally the most perfect girl i’ve ever met. I can’t lie, i’ve had a crush on her for a while, but never expressed it due to fear of rejection, then our friendship be ruined. “Hey Colby, party’s about to start.” i hear Sam say but he walks out of the room before I can look at him. I guess I should start heading downstairs.

•

Y/n ’s POV

•

You and Alexia start pulling up into the house’s driveway. Just looking at it for the 1000th time makes you even more proud of your two best friends for how much they worked for it over the years. You see your friend Clara sitting outside smoking a cigarette. Once you get out the car you go over to her and ask her how she’s doing. “Not so great, my boyfriend just broke up with me.” she says. “Oh really? I’m so sorry to hear that girl.” you responded. “Yea, i’m glad I was invited to this party so i can keep my mind off of it. Thanks for bringing it up again.” she looked at you. “Sorry girl.” you say as you walk into the house.

•

As you step into the house you see a bunch of strobing lights and loud music playing. “Hey girl i’m gonna go find some cute boys, wanna come with?” Alexia says to you as she passes by. “Mm nah. I’m gonna go look for Sam and Colby.” you tell her. “Mkay babe, i’ll be on the dance floor if you need me.” She says as she walks away.

•

As you walk through the hallways that are drowned in red solo cups and burnt cigarette ash, a guy walks up to you. “Hey, your really pretty, wanna dance?” since you had been looking for Sam and Colby for a while, you thought it would be nice to take a break. “Uh yea, sure!” you say to the boy. He walks you out to the dance floor and you start dancing. “So, what’s your name?” you ask. “Leo, you?” he says. “Y/n.” you respond. “Pretty name.” he comments. As you and the boy are dancing, you can’t help but feel a little bit guilty. You had your eyes on one boy only but it felt like you were giving it up so easily with this dance. Even though you doubted he liked you back, you swore up and down you could see Colby from the corner of your eye, and he looked… jealous? “Hey, i’ll be right back.” you tell Leo. “Oh, okay.” he says.

•

As you start looking for Colby since he disappeared, you bump into sam. “Have you seen colby?” you ask the blond haired boy. “Oh i think he went upstairs, and hi to you too.” he says. “Sorry, hey sam.” you say as you hug him, he had the smell of alcohol all over him. “see you’ve been having fun.” you tell him. “Oh yea” he laughs. “Well i’m gonna go find Colby, see ya later.” you say. “Adios!” Sam says and you chuckle.

•

As you walk upstairs, you hear the music dying down as you head further. Upstairs, you check every room to find Colby, but he wasn’t there. The last room you didn’t check was the game room. When you walk in, you see a Colby downing bottle after bottle. “Hey Colby! Are you trying to kill yourself?!” you say as you take the bottles away, including the one he was drinking. “Why do you care?” Colby says slurring his words. “Of course i’m gonna care, you’re my best friend.” you tell him. “I wish i was more.” he says. “….. What?” you ask. “You heard me.” he says. “Colby, you’re just drunk.” you say, not believing him. “No, I know exactly what i’m saying. Y/n, i’ve been in love with you since.. forever. You so perfect and much too good for me. You’ve just always been there and it makes me fall even harder.” he confesses. “.. Colby.” you whisper. “What i’m trying to say is, I wanna be more than a friend.”

•

You flutter your eyes open as you see sunlight flooding into the room. as you yawn and think about what happened, you turn to the other side of the bed and see a passed out Colby shirtless and hair ruffled up. As you sit there admiring him, he wakes up and looks at you. “What happened last night?” he asks in a deep, sleepy voice. “Drunken confessions.” you respond. “What?” he says. “Colby, i like you. Scratch that, I think I love you. you everything I need in life and i think we would be the perfect coup-“ before you could finish, you feel a soft pair of lips land on yours. It feels like heaven, but the heaven doesn’t last long when he pulls away. “Y/n?” he says. “Hmm?” you ask. “Will you be my girlfriend?” he asks you. “Of course Colby.” you respond. When you say that, he grabs your hips and pulls you to spoon him. you lay like that until you both drift back off to sleep.

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Hiii! I hoped you liked my story! I’m sorry it took so long for it to come out, didn’t know what to write about a love story lol. Thank y’all for sticking with me. Byeeeee!!!

Masterlist

#colby brock #colby brock x reader #sam and colby #colby brock smut #colby brock x reader smut #colby x reader #xplr club #sam and colby x reader

[brbzonedout]

Miles comforts insecure reader

Pairing: E!42 Miles x Fem(tomboy)!Reader

Warnings: Body Imagine issues, catcalling?, Crying.

You stared at yourself in the mirror turning to see the pair of jeans at every possible angle.

“Ain’t no way,” you muttered to yourself.

The pair of snug fitting 2000s style jeans hugged your thighs and hips in a way that made it uncomfortable to stand let alone walk.

Eying yourself in the mirror you started to feel extremely insecure. Ever since you hit puberty you’ve been thick and developed faster than the other kids in your grade. It wasn’t a bad thing by any means it’s natural but for you it brought a lot of unwanted attention at such a young age and that carried well into your teenage years.

Earlier before you and Miles entered the store you both decided to stop for chick-fil-a. While in line an older guy maybe in his late 20s and his friend decided to take it apon himself to comment about how you looked in your school uniform. Commenting that you had quote on quote “anime thighs” and that he’d “Take that over a desk any day,” Miles wanted so badly to chew them out up held back after you said not to start anything.

Bring a shy person to begin with didn’t help much, so to cope with your feelings, you started wearing slightly baggier clothes. They gave you a sense of comfortability you hadn’t felt in a long time. On top of that the style was just cute in general.

But today while in the mall with your boyfriend he picked out the jeans for you. Was this him saying he didn’t like the type of clothes you wear now?

“You good in there?” Miles said from outside of the dressing room.

You jumped being startled out of your zoned out state.

“Y-yeah i’m cool…” you shouted back making sure he heard you.

You didn’t want to have to lie twice.

“Can I come in?”

“If you want…” you cringed at the way that came out, like you didn’t want him in there.

Miles slightly parted the curtain and slid in through the crack.

“If I want?” he said eying you up and down with a slight smile.

You shrugged.

Miles look up and met your eyes through the mirror before you broke eye contact causing him to start worrying.

“What you don’t like ‘em?”

You shrugged again lightly pulling at the material around your thighs.

“They’re nice…kind of tight-”

The boy put his slim fingers through your belt loops and pulled back lightly.

“Mm, yeah I guess- ain’t that the style though? Want me to go get a bigger size?”

“The style? You sound like your mom,” you forced a giggle at the boy honestly trying to change the subject.

He smiled at your comment and stuffed his hands in his pockets. But, his eyes glanced up at yours. Once you broke eye contact for the second time he knew something was wrong.

“So do you want a bigger size? They’re right out there.” The boy peeked through the curtain and squinted to see the available sizes, “I think the next size u-”

You cut him off, “Don’t we gotta find something for you too? Is it getting late?” You rambled and scrambled to find your phone to “check the time”.

“Baby….” he said flatly with a slight confused look on his face, “why are you avoiding my question?”

Eye brows furrowed trying your best to create a false confused expression, you turned around to face him.

“What question?”

“Seriously?”

“Miles-”

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”

With a slight pout you played with the hem of your white collard shirt, “I just don’t like the pants…”

“Ok? That’s fine we can look for more.” he shrugged.

You looked in the mirror once again noticing how the denim tightened around your hips…and thighs…and butt. The man’s voice played back in your head, “I’d take that over a desk any day,” it was too overwhelming. You just broke down.

In your relationship with Miles he had never seen anything trigger you this much and this fast.

Without hesitation he stepped forward and gently placed his hand on your arms to calm you down.

“Hol’ on hol’ on, chill i can’t understand you if you’re crying. Just relax ok?” said as he rubbed his thumb soothingly over your arm.

You took a deep breath in and wiped your tear stained cheek with the heel of you palm then nodded head.

“I don’t like how they look on me, and it just triggered me cuz of what happened earlier.”

Miles sat you both down on the dressing room floor listening intently making sure you understood he heard you.

“Then why’d you say you liked them?”

“I thought you would want me to get them? I don’t know. I just wanted to get out of here.”

He chuckled, “Since when do you care what I think about clothes?”

With a quick glance up you thought for a moment then laughed sniffling and wiping your tears once again. “Ok true, I don’t. I don’t know you just seemed to like them a lot.”

“Listen I don’t give a fuck what you wear I just wanna make sure you’re comfortable,” he leaned back against the dressing room wall, “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I told you what to wear all the time.”

“A bad one.”

“A bad one,” he parroted you. “And what that bitch said earlier don’t matter he was ignorant and obviously gets no play talking about anime thighs. Looked almost 30 acting like a little bitch.”

You smiled slightly and nodded sitting up to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for an embrace.

“I’m sorry that was dramatic, breaking down out of nowhere.”

Miles hugged back and laid a quick peck on your cheek.

“Stop apologizing for dumb stuff, no offense. You were sad so you cried it’s normal, now come on we gotta go I don’t think i’m supposed to be in here.” he laughed and handed you the skirt you walked in with.

A smile came across your face as you took the clothes from him.

“Wanna get Cinnabon after this?” you asked unbuttoning the jeans.

“What kind of question is that? No duh I want Cinnabon!”

This is lowkey based on myself, this was really fun though. Exploring different emotions I feel like i’m getting slightly better. Thank you for reading!! Remember requests are open right now so don’t be shy!

#across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #miles morales #earth 42 miles morales #miles morales headcanons #spider man #earth 42 miles fluff #prowler miles #miles g morales #e!42 miles x reader #e!42 miles morales #e!42 miles #earth 42 miles

[moonjxsung]

Hello my precious twinkle, how have you been lately? I read about your promotion and congratulations!!! You deserve the best.

I have not been very active online lately because I’ll be leaving for college soon (don’t worry I’m 18 and not a minor😅😅) and have been feeling sooooo overwhelmed. I have absolutely no idea what I’m going to do in the future or where I’m going to go, nothing. I cry everyday thinking of everything and everyone I’m going to leave behind because I’ve never left home before. I rarely ever get to meet my friends outside school so I’ve just sort of isolated myself from everyone. My parents are so caring and I’m really grateful for everything that they have done for me and I don’t want to leave them at all. I know it’s a part of growing up but I feel I’m not ready to let go of my childhood. I don’t feel like I’ve grown up at all. The last two years of high school have been the best years of my life, I’m friendly with all my classmates and this is the first time it’s happened. I’m going to be all alone for the first time with no one by my side in a completely new environment and I’ve heard that people get swayed away with alcohol and smoking and I don’t want to be that person at all. I can’t bear the thought of disappointing my parents after all that they’ve done for me. Am I being childish?? I’m constantly told that I am…

Anyways, I’m sorry for dumping that all on you. I really hope you enjoy your stray kids concert😊😊😊

HI ANGEL I AM DOING SO GOOD !! THANK U BABYYYYYY 🫶🫶🫶🫶

Also TRUSTTTT when I tell you I have absolutely been there done that !! I don’t think I really truly knew what I wanted to do until a year into college and even then whenever I struggled in a class or didn’t feel passionate about a project I was constantly like…. “Is this what I want to be doing? Is this what I’m supposed to be doing??” Even in my current day-to-day tasks at my job there are a handful of things I just don’t enjoy doing and I have to really ask myself why I’m in this role and what I want out of it at the end of the day, and though I don’t love every single part of it, it’s still what makes sense to me right now. College wasn’t hard for me, per se, but it was very confusing learning to navigate life as a young adult and develop how to carry myself like a grown up when I didn’t feel like one at all. The best thing I can say is that you will learn as you go along! Push yourself out of your comfort zone and do your very best in all your classes, take your education seriously and invest in your future. And the rest will play out naturally. I didn’t secure an internship until my final year of college and only then did I really start to make a plan for myself, and ever since it’s just been a whirlwind of learning how to be an adult and interacting with senior leaders. Most days I’m still not 100% what I’m doing, but I just learn as I go! And don’t be afraid to admit to yourself or the people around you that this can be confusing or scary- honesty is what allows room for help. People will help you along the way, adulthood won’t just be throwing you to the wolves and expecting you to be great. You’re already halfway there- you got into college, you’ve made it to young adulthood, and people helped you get there! College and your life beyond that will be the same sort of thing. Be proud of how far you’ve come and keep pushing and learning from those around you until you get the hang of it. I promise you’re doing a much better job than you think (and I’d say your parents think so, too!)

Sending you all my love, I’m here for you every step of the way! 💖💕💓💞💘🩷

#anon <3 #ask

[matan4il]

So fascinating that Carla will be back for the fantasy episode and Chris episode. Let me clear not speculating because I don't. But you also like to write so your perspective please? Carla is a curious character to me because she is like the Buddie Fairy Godmother .

She was witness to Buck in whoo mode with Abby

She is witness to Eddie with just Chris.

She sees Buck with them.

Weirdly she's the one to tell Eddie follow his heart. Honestly weird advice to someone in a healthy relationship unless.... You know he's not in it, and also know the behavior of the other part of the pairing. It's not like Carla sat there studying Anna and Eddie you know?? Also Buck thought "things were going great with Anna" supposedly months after that moment. Carla honey what did u see!!!

Then last year was back for Eddie's decision to leave the 118. She's his sounding board. Kind of like Maddie is Bucks.in conclusion I can only hope for something sappy and life changing.

Hi Nonnie! Thank you so much for this ask!

I do think Carla can be used as a Buddie Fairy Godmother. She has been portrayed as someone who is both observant of other people’s feelings (even before that “follow your heart” conversation, for example back during s1 with Abby) and unafraid to speak up, giving her own opinion and advice on a certain situation. She’s also someone who’s shown as honestly caring about her clients. Currently, that’s Eddie and Chris. But we also know she considers Buck a friend, so she’s perfectly set to connect the dots and help our resident oblivious morons figure out some stuff.

Will she? That’s an interesting question. I feel like something drastic has to happen to Buck and Eddie in order to get them to step outside of their comfort zone and see what they actually mean to each other. That can’t just be yet another chat with a friend. However, once that something drastic happens, Carla can be the perfect address for one of them (most likely Eddie) to consult and hear some eye opening truths from, which would help in dealing with whatever happened, and with drawing the right conclusions from it. And yes, I absolutely think that could be Carla, and she can help introduce something sappy and life changing for Buddie. Would it be in 6a? I’m not currently holding my breath, but that’s because I think that if something drastic like that would happen in 6a, then the Carla talk that would help Buddie would come later, so presumably in 6b. Do I think something drastic will happen in 6a? It might, but I always assumed that if Buddie were to go canon, it would be at the end of a season, not as a mid season finale. It just makes more sense to me that the show runners would wanna use that kind of buzz to keep the viewers returning for a following season. But this is just broad speculation. As always, take everything with a grain of salt! ;)

Thank you again, hope you have a great day, and here’s my ask tag! xoxox

#buddie #911meta #buddie meta #911 meta #9-1-1 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #edmundo diaz #evan buck buckley #911 spoilers #911 speculation #carla price #ask #anon ask #911onabc #911 on abc #911abc #911 abc

[shadowjax]

Red Orchid

Silver Bullets pt.2 A03

{previous}

Donna Beneviento x reader/you

Series Summary: The head gardener has taken you under his wing and as you grew older you viewed him as a father figure. You and the young mistress grew close over time but due to mysterious events she shut herself out form the world. A childhood crush left inevitable yet impossible. Soon other servants and inhabitants of the manor began to disappear one by one. Eventually the head gardener left without a trace and yet you stayed, where would you even go if you ran? The night became more dangerous as the years went by, screams echoed through the night homes left untouched.

Warnings: little steamy/human experimentation, violence, paralyzation, heartbreak, self sacrifice, tell me if u missed anything  

       *＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

The full moon had lit your path up well enough tonite. Your boots crunched in the snow as you clutched your machete tightly. The wind may have died down but the lycan numbers had only increased as you heard them all over. People shouting, guns firing, and blood spilling. An occasional fire breaking out here and there, the village had become a war zone. The most lycans you have seen since they started to appear, Miranda must be planning something. Best time to strike while she is busy making sure things go according to plan. You noticed an odd amount of birds in the trees, as if they were filling you. They probably were, knowing Maranda, she has eyes all over. Luckily the lycans had seemed to not bother you as you made your way through the village. An occasional villiger had pleaded for your help but you remained vigilant. No need to waste your energy. White snow had turned bloody red beneath your boots.

You finally made it to Miranda's building, your heart still tugged at you to get alway. Your last chance to turn back was right here.

You turned your back towards the permafrost outside and in the warm arms of another. A night of rest then waking up in a comfort you had been seeking out your entire life. The morning had crept its way like a gust of wind. Your lady’s arms protectively wrapped around your body, happy of your return. You watched her soft and steady breathing patterns, studying her sleeping unveiled face. A friendly face that has brought you joy as a child. Oh how those few pleasant memories can not outweigh the painful ones. You could simply escape into the first and start anew, but that would be frivolous. You knew what dangers lurked inside the village, who knows what lurks beyond the familiar area.

Miranda had answers you’ve been searching for your entire life. She was the cause for everything gone wrong in this village. For all the death and pain she caused you, the lords, and those dumb ass commoners.

The art of revenge, a quick poison that slowly kills the body as long as you acknowledge its existence.The answers to your questions are so close within your reach, you can’t stop now. Somewhere you knew even if you turned around right now things wouldn’t go back to the way they were before anyway.

“I’m sorry my lady, but a peaceful life was never an option for me as well as for you.” You whispered those words and kept your head low, eyes closed for a brief moment of silence before the chaos unleashed itself. You looked forward, eyes filled with determination as you stepped into Maranda’s hideout.

“I see you’ve come alone, what poor timing on your part.” You found her in the center of the room, raven wings on her back, a black moss had scattered around the room and was pulsating as if it were alive. She turned to face you, eyes dripping black ink.

“I’ve come for answers!” You clenched your teeth and held onto your machete as tightly as possible. “And you know that.” Before you could take a step forward something had latched itself on your throat and lifted you off the ground.

“I must admit you are one of my more successful subjects. Let’s see how that little parasite is favored?” Her grasp on your throat had tightened as you were pulled closer towards her.

Her gaze pierced through your bones, sending chills throughout your entire body. Heart pounding in your chest, catching fire. You tried to claw your way out of her grasp but she was too strong. You attempted to kick but not prevail. You gathered what little strength and used your machete to cut your way out of her grasp.

Miranda screamed in pain as you fell to the floor, gasping for air. “UGH why you LITTLE!”

She sent another black moss your way which hit your chest and sent you back flying into the wall. You could feel something breaking as you made contact. You fell onto your feet and knelt to the ground, trying to gather your strength again. Something inside if you tugged for release as your head began to pound. You did not fight as you felt your heart tighten and the pain slither up your neck, your right shoulder blade aching as something broke free from your skin. A bat-like wing sprouted itself out and spread open to stretch, blood dripping down your back. A surge of indescribable strength erupted throughout your entire body, setting it ablaze. The other half of your face becomes numb as the entity inside your body takes over.

“That’s it, let the battle commence. But do make things quickly, I’m on a tight schedule.” Her wings expanded and the ground beneath you began to shake. She remained in the center as her molds did her bidding, pushing you around and throwing you to the ground.

You shredded through the mold with ease, doesn’t mean she was going to make things easy for you. She was still stronger no matter what, though you were faster. You slid behind her with ease and landed a blow to her back, a mold winded itself around your ankle and launched you into the air and threw you to the ground. Spliteres pierced through your jacket and tore it to shreds. Before she landed another blow you rolled to the side, barely escaping. You managed to successfully doge a few of her attacks, only to be caught when something coiled itself around your neck and squeezed tightly and you gasped for air again. You were at eye level with Miranda again.

“Such defiance, you need to be taught a lesson.” Miranda said blankly as she crept closer. She placed a hand over your heart and something stirred inside you. This little bit of power you had inside began to eat you alive, crushing your soul. You screamed and squirmed like a dog for some sort of end to the pain. You felt your bones breaking from the inside, “You wish for answers, you’ve had them all along.” She let you go as you laid in the ground and another memory played in your mind. “We’ll, here is my gift to you.” Miranda spat before she flew off.

You had died the night you fell down the waterfall and Miranda had brought you back to life. Your father saw himself unfit to raise a child, unknowing Miranda was the reason his family had died to the lycans in the forest. He gave you up and hoped the people he gave you to would take better care of you, although the village had changed them entirely. They weren't the most grateful or nicest anymore, you had become a burden to them. They were glad to be killed by the lycans a few nights later, leaving you alone for the second time in your life. Your mind, unable to cope with being alone again, created the illusion of them still alive. You had forgotten who your father was and viewed these visions as your parents instead.

When some unknown feeling leads you back to the Benivento manor your father had noticed but did not reach out. You felt a familiar connection with the man but the entity in your body had not allowed you to remember. All you had ever wanted was a family, to be alone in this disastrous world and only experience loneliness had scared you to the core. Was this entity Miranda had planted inside of you the cause for your future connection with the mistress of the Benivento manor?

Tears pierced your eyes as smoke filled your lungs. As you regained consciousness you noticed a giant hole in the ceiling like someone broke it open. A fire had spread around the building and spread to the planks above, the mold clearly not comparable with fire. Your body refused to move, screams could be heard from outside of the building. You turned yourself around and attempted to stand up. Your entire body was aching and legs kept shaking as you slowly walked out of the building. But before you made it to the exit you heard a loud crash and looked up, then everything went dark for a moment.

When you came back the side of your face burned in agony and you were no longer able to feel your legs. You got a quick glance behind to see that your legs were trapped under rubble. You were free to crawl to the exit but your legs wouldn’t budge and it felt like you were ripping your body in half. It didn’t take long for your energy to completely diminish. Tears fell down your cheeks in defeat, you laid face down on the ground just waiting for your death. It was slow and painful while the smoke filled your lungs. Your last bit of strength was used to hold your wooden box close to you and you let the memory play out in your mind while your body slowly gave out and finally gave up.

“I’m sorry I could not be your white knight, my lady…..” The last words you had spoken before your world became dark and quiet. A quiet peace at last.

Your first kill is always the most memorable, especially when that was the night you stumbled upon the manor for the first time. 

Things at home weren't easy and you had to learn to take care of yourself from a young age. Begging had become a formality but eventually everyone began to turn their heads the other way. Stealing had become easy once the monsters at night began to attack at night, leaving stores empty while the owners were dragged away into the woods. Except for one particular night you had been spotted and fought for your life. 

You observed this small bakery/farm and the family’s behavior patterns throughout the day. Waiting for the right moment to strike when the night enveloped the skies. The family lived above the room their shop was in and when you successfully snuck in a few shouts from above startled you. Not a moment after you stuffed your makeshift bag and exited the building a body was tossed out the window and landed in front of you. The body of the mother had been torn to shreds and the image has forever been burned in your memory. You look back to the seceding floor like an idiot and make eye contact with the father whose body had changed in ways that almost made him unrecognizable. 

The 7ft mutant leaped from the broken window and landed in front of you, slowly making his way towards his next prey. A surge of energy rushed through your veins followed by a wave of confidence that came from nowhere. You grabbed a long glass shard from the cold ground and held it in your hand, getting in a fighting stance. Although this beast may be bigger than you, whatever this adrenaline rush was had made you faster. You were able to easily dodge his attacks and struck his throat that was left exposed when you slid underneath. The creature fell and your eyes locked on a young girl not much older than you whose eyes are filled with horror. 

In her hands were a small gun she pointed towards you, her hands shaking significantly. “You… you killed him… you took my family AWAY FROM ME!” 

Before you could move the sound of a billet echoed through the night. Luckily due to her inexperienced and unsteady grip she missed. You weren't sure what caused your attitude to shift but you felt no fear and took a step closer to the child. In a matter of moments another warning shot was fired, this time you managed to dodge the bullet as if knowing where exactly it would fire before it was lit. You had gotten terribly close to the barrel of the gun when the sound of screams could be heard in the distance. Mixed with the screams you heard barking as well, could spot hounds running your way. Being smart enough you decided to run as quickly as you could. 

You ran towards the edge of the village where you came across a familiar bridge you had never seen before. It was made of wood and ropes, not the safest thing but the only option. Howls could be heard not too far and you carefully made your way across the old bridge. Everything from your knees down had begun to feel cold due to the quality of your clothes, the fierce winds of the mountain piercing through your shirt. After a lovely trip through a path along the dark woods you stumbled upon a giant manor. 

The cries of the dogs echoed not far behind and you threw yourself at the gates blocking the manor’s entrance. The bars were too small to crawl through and the gates were too far for anyone to hear with the winds. To the side there's an edge leading towards the bottom of a waterfall, you wander towards the edge hoping that there’s another way around the gates. There isn’t much space between the gates and the very high fall above freezing water. The sounds of the waterfall overpower the dog’s howls in the distance, your hands hold onto the frozen bars for dear life. A familiar fear spreads throughout your body as you imagine yourself plummeting to the bottom into the water. When you finally reach the garden behind the manor you spot a small shed with a faint light. 

You run towards the building and kick against the gates. Your attempts to shout are silent when you feel a stinging in your throat. Not a moment later a figure kicks open the door with a shotgun and a lantern, quickly glancing around the area until the light blinds your eyes. The figure runs off to the side, unlocking the gates and gesturing for you to quickly follow. You attempt to run inside but your legs refuse to move, you can’t feel them anymore and you fall in the snow. Next thing you know you’re being wrapped in a warm blanket and being carried into a hot room. You assumed it was the mix of frostbite and exhaustion but something about this place felt familiar. The word father was on the tip of your tongue, must be the exhaustion causing you to hallucinate. 

The sound of the waterfall was comforting, you opened your eyes to find yourself standing near the edge between the entrance and the bottom. You attempt to remember how you got here, last you remember there was a fire… Something causes you to look down and you notice there is a tombstone in front of where you were standing. Your name was etched in stone, your body was translucent. No wonder you couldn’t feel the chill of the wind or the droplets of water fly in the air. 

“Gasp!” A familiar voice rang out and you turned to the left to find your lady standing beside you, her veil was covering her face but you could hear it in her voice her tears were filling her eye. 

“I have returned, my dear. Just as I promised all those years ago.” You shut your eyes and cracked a smile, hoping to lighten the mood. What you didn’t notice was a permanent scar of the cadu traveling up your neck was visible as well as a burn from when your face was hit, leaving a half smile. Flames dancing from your jaw to the tip of your forehead. 

Turning into a ghost didn’t really phase you after all you've experienced living in this village. You couldn’t exactly control when you’d appear and disappear, when you’d disappear it would lead to a dreamless sleep. One of the few times you appeared the sound of a gunshot echoed, fear spreading throughout your soul. You ran into the manor quickly to find dolls everywhere, some furniture was out of place and droplets of blood were tainting the floor. The sound of stone cracking came from above, when you saw what had caused the disruption you froze. There stood a tall man with a pair of scissors in his hand and a pile of broken stone. You brushed past the stranger as you surveyed the area and you spotted a familiar doll beside the rubble. 

Is this what had become of your lady, just a pile of rubble. You feel at peace for some reason clashing with a fiery anger bubbling towards the stranger who killed your Lady. You simply turn towards the stranger and launch yourself at him. Throwing him and yourself out the nearest window, landing on a pile of freshly fallen snow. You pushed yourself off the strange man and paced a few steps back while he took a moment to stand back up and regain his bearings. 

You reached out for something to come at your call and what came to your rescue was a bundle of vines sprouting from the ground and holding the stranger in place. They slowly climbed their way around the stranger and began to tighten around him. The more he kept struggling the more guilty you felt and once you regained your sense you let him go. Your lady was finally at peace, it was time for you to be at peace and join her. 

“Take out Miranda and all this will be over. Heisenberg is a decent person, he’ll give you what you need.” And like that the man scurried off into the woods. Moments later the sound of a growl and a gunshot rang in the distance. 

“Are you just going to stand there or are we going to go?” Pops appeared behind you, how you’ve missed his voice. 

“Pops?” Tears filled your eyes and you ran into his arms. “I never got to thank you for everything!” 

“Look how you’ve grown, I’m sorry I left you to fend for yourself. I had no idea that they’d treat you so terribly. C’mon, let’s get out of here. Wouldn’t want to keep the Lady waiting now do we?” The two of you walked back into the manor and a bright warm light filled the room. 

You awoke to the sound of someone calling your name, “…it’s time for you to wake up. Breakfast is ready and everyone is downstairs.” Her voice was recognizable and when your eyes adjusted to the light you remembered her form when you were younger. She was one of the first servants to disappear mysteriously. 

“I’ll be there in a moment.” You spoke instinctively. You weren't sure what room you were in, let alone who’s room. Elegant casual clothes were left at the foot of the bed and you tossed them on them and quickly made your way down the stairs of the manor. The smell of delicious food filled the room as you made your way down the stairs. It’s been years since the place had felt so lively, too long. You stepped into the dining room to find Lord and Lady Beniviento, a lady who resembled your lady but you didn’t recognize her, your father, and of course your lady were all sitting at the table. 

All eyes fell as you entered the room, “Morning sleepyhead.” Your Lady rose and kissed you on the cheek. She wore no veil and her hair was in a wavy ponytail, her eyes sparkled like you’ve never seen them before. She ran her fingers through your hair in an attempt to fix it. 

“My Liege, breakfast is served.” 

“I'm going to go help my wife in the garden, thank you for the meal.” Pops stood and headed out the door. Mom? 

“I think it’s time we head into the village dear, care to join us Claudia. Lady Dimitrescu is expecting us to present some samples.” Lord and Lady Beniviento and Claudia left upstairs as well, leaving you and your lady alone in the dining room. 

“So my love, we have the manor to ourselves today. I see Lydia choose your good outfit, care to join me for a picnic later.” She placed a hand on your chest while the other one massaged your scalp. Her eyes were beautiful, there was a light you had never seen before shine in her eyes. 

While gathering things for the picnic you spotted Vivian and Angie on a shelf in your shared room. Seeing Angie so lifeless you half expected her to jump out and something not appropriate. 

“You all set dear?” Your lady was waiting for you at the back door, her black sundress illuminating her pale skin. 

“Of course, my dear.” The two of you walked hand in hand into the woods. That eerie feeling you became familiar with had left and you felt a comfort you had been searching for years to find, Home. 

BONUS

Draft idea for the end:

“What happened to POPS?!” You begged your lady to answer, warm tears staining your cheeks. “He became one of Maranda’s experiments… I swear I did not know until afterwards.” “Is he that THING around Claudia’s grave?” “Yes… I’m so sorry.” You took a deep breath and signed heavily before speaking, “I know it wasn’t your fault. Let’s discuss this again in the morning,  I need to sleep on this' ' you kissed her goodnight as she fell asleep in your arms. But you weren’t able to sleep at all, something in the back of your mind nagged at you. You rolled your lady out of your arms, giving her one last kiss goodbye and paid a visit to mother Maranda. ~~~~ Thinking back on what made you so determined to seek her out wasn’t quite clear. You wanted wanted have a family, hoped to form a family with your lady. But that day won’t ever come. Your determination for revenge was stronger than your wish for something you searched tone whole life for, something that was never given in the first place. Maybe it was the repressed feelings whenever you’d push something aside, the cadiu in your chest, or a combination  of both. You wanted mother Maranda’s tournament to end, for the villagers and the lords who all suffered because of her. The battle didn’t last long, it ended in flames burning the thing keeping you alive. Your box holding the flower crown was the only thing that remained, underneath the ash for your lady to stumble upon. ~~~~ When you were little you died falling off the edge of a cliff and hitting the waterfall’s bottom. The gardener pleaded for his child to be saved and Miranda agreed if she would allow him to be experimented on. He agreed and she planted a cadou implant in your heart. Feeling unfit as a father he left you with some old friends of his in the village but they soon died due to lycan attacks. Your father thought you were better off without remembering him and the accident. Your mind and the cadou created the illusion your ‘parents’ were still there. Unable to handle the thought of losing two sets of parental figures, imagining and forgetting you were alone had been easier for you to adapt to as a child. ~~~~

Twisted alternate ending??

Miranda had complete control over your body, she was the host of the cadou. It was natural for it to follow her in the end. Your skin was devoid of all color and your eyes pale with no sole or will to fight left. Your soul is buried in the ash of the roof. The sight of becoming a soldier of her’s had deeply bothered the other lords and even if they wouldn't admit it the sight had terrified them. Your Lady had pleaded with Miranda to free you but knew this creature wasn’t you. You died in the fire, your body is just a vessel for Miranda to use.

What a nightmarish thought that came into your mind, luckily nothing along those lines came to be true. The fire had completely destroyed your cadou which in the end killed you. Things remained dark for who knows how long, the concept of time irrelevant. The sounds of the waterfall had woken you from what seemed like a bad dream. Although you found yourself standing by the side of the waterfall, you couldn't feel the snow beneath your feet. Or the wind that had blown the freshwater into the trees to form icicles.

BONUS

The art that started it all

#donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #donna beneviento x oc #resident 8 fic #resident evil 8 fic #angst #donna beneviento fic #donna beneviento x you

[neilujen]

jealousy, jealousy?

what are you gonna do if your own brother is at the top of the list of people who envies you?

i’m saving up to go to japan as i will watch my favorite artist and also go to the country that is on my bucket list. two birds in one stone eh? already secured my concert &plane tix, and hotel. visa is the last thing i have to secure so i could finally be at ease about my travel. last friday, before going on a local trip at my favorite place in the country, i planned on applying for a visa, but i wasn’t able to come until their cutoff time, it was 1 hour earlier than what’s on their site. anyway i took my time to breathe as i was pissed and i don’t want that to ruin my trip. i know that a trip with my bestfriend will always be a good one, no matter how many shitty stuff occurs, we can turn the table around, so i thought of focusing in the trip first instead, eat dinner then meet up at the bus station.

while i was at the place i love, a specific spot in the city where it feels home for someone like me, where there’s beauty in chaos, i received a message from my younger brother. he told me what our older brother said about me not being able to submit my files… he said ‘what do you call that? deserve??’ and my younger brother just cursed him, idk if jokingly tho but maybe.

i always felt it in my bones tho. that he wasn’t happy about the things i am able to do. things i can do with my money. it’s not my fault that i earn more than him. idgaf on stepping out of my comfort zone, give 6 hours of my life for travel time, 2x a week in office work, as long as i am paid well and be able to live comfortably. am i at fault for still having money after giving my share at our house? dude if u want to do what i am capable of then maybe step up your game. he always thinks that it is unfair that all of his money goes to house expenses, but he’s building a motorcycle without hearing any word from me. i totally don’t care since that’s his money, he can do whatever he wants. but i couldn’t understand why is he so envious??? is he going to be satisfied if i pour all of my money at home? i stopped pushing him to work in tech (which is his degree) as he doesn’t like working outside of his comfort zone. if he has always been in tech, he would’ve been earning my more than me.

i always try and comprehend what’s wrong with me or if my actions affect others negatively. but idk what’s up with my brother. it actually hurts to know that he said that. i always tell people how responsible he is as an older brother, and always care about us and yet…. :( i really don’t know. i guess i was wrong… i’m still pretending that i didn’t know he said that. also jokes on him, why would he tell that to our younger bro when he knows that my lil pooper would tell me. or did he think he wouldn’t?

anw, it’s disappointing. i knew it, when he saw my bank account, he kept asking me to treat them, or to buy stuff for the pets etc. that was 18k and was swept just as he wanted. i am really fucking confused as hell. why would you act like that to your own blood? because i’m second born? i’m not even asking mom for anything when she goes abroad, my mom’s plan was to buy me a house but i told her to give it to the older instead since he’s spending so much for us and he might not be able to save for his own since he ain’t into taking risks, can’t even try to work in tech.

after japan, i’ll save money so i could purchase my own home or start whatever ,without them knowing and take my pets, and lil pooper if he wants to. because of course, mom is on his side, as always. first born complex perhaps?

i guess we will never resolve this money issue just because i earn much more than them. and they just simply hate me. fuck it.

[yasuijp]

Perma Beginner

This applies to pretty much everything, but i feel like 10fold more for language. You will never stop being a beginner if u keep buying beginner textbooks. If 5 years into your language study you’re still looking up the best book for beginners you are on the wrong track. This doesn’t say anything about your ability to learn more so than it says something about your ability to choose learning material. You’re just afraid of the next step. Hop out of your comfort zone.

This show would be way too hard to watch i should learn 4000 more words first. I can’t read that book its too long. My pronunciation isn’t perfect i shouldn’t speak. God where can i learn these skills I need....oh wow brand new language learning book for beginners i should try that. NO. Stop it. the best way to know what you don’t know is the try to jump head first into something that you think is above your level. You’ll figure out very quick where you stand, and I promise you the thing that is going to bridge that gap isn’t a beginner guide.

The biggest problem with getting another beginner guide is redundant explanations. You’ve learned the japanese Kana already, I promise you its more effective to just read at that point than picking up a book that teaches it to you again. Learning the basic grammar pattern of kore wa pen desu. Is not going to be more valuable the second time. You know how to make past tense verbs already. You learned about possessive nouns. You know all of this. Don’t buy another book to tell you all of this shit again. You might be thinking “Well I don’t understand it and im a beginner so i need another book to explain it to me in beginner terms.” and i get it. But here’s some secret sauce for u. Simple Grammar is only simple to you because you’ve been drilling it since you were a toddler. You have to be ok with not understanding something immediately 100s of times. It frustrating but it doesn’t make you stupid. By choosing to dip back into a new beginners guide instead of just getting some more hands on practical experience, you’re robbing yourself of the 100 failures that will lead to your first success.

Im not saying not to review stuff you’ve already learned either but im just saying that theres this obsession with having perfect understanding and recall of a concept but its not really needed as much as you think it is.

[ppersonna]

swipe right - jjk | m

“ i wanna ruin our friendship. we should be lovers instead. i don't know how to say this, cause you're really my dearest friend “ - jenny, studio killers

♡ summary-  after a horrible breakup, you sign back up for tinder and ironically match with your best friend, jungkook. a date for fun is harmless, right?

♡ genre- best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, jk is a minecraft streamer, brother namjoon, brother-in-law jimin, namjoon is kind of a himbo stay at home dad ngl, ex-boyfriend seokjin (mentioned but doesnt show up)

♡ word count- 9k

♡ warnings- mentions of a bad breakup (smh seokjin wtf??), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (u know the business folx), oral sex (m receiving), teasing, SO MUCH BODY WORSHIP, jk is a simp, slight dirty talk, lots of just talking during sex yall it happens, creampie, cum play, praise praise body worship praise, did i mention body worship, tit-fucking, cum eating, i think thats all.

♡ a/n - helloooo and thank you for your wait for this fic! i’m so happy its done and i loved writing it! it’s a little bit different feel for my usual style of writing (smut-wise) so please tell me your thoughts! i didn’t use dom/sub themes OR a daddy kink LMAOOOO praise me please. i hope you enjoy!! pls feel free to comment, chat, message, carrier pigeon, email, mail, WHATEVER U WANT, me. i love u babies. thank you to @kimtaehyunq​ for the sexy banner. and for @xjoonchildx @ladyartemesia​ @untaemedqueen​ for the writing support and idea generation. i would be nothing without my council. and thank you to my beta editors @hobi-gif and @ughseoks​ and @hongism​ for the perusal and help in writing this!

Jungkook is the person you call when your world falls apart.

He answers, voice raspy from the late hour, and the second he asks you what’s wrong, the downpour of torrential tears you’ve been holding back finally escapes and you’re sobbing through the phone that you just lost the love of your life—that he left and with little effort on his part, and a lot on yours.

Jungkook listens to you—his heart aching deep in his chest at hearing the utter heartbreak that’s clear in your voice. You’ve never been hurt like this, and he’s desperate to hold you, to make it go away. He wants to drive over to Seokjin’s house and throw a left hook into his stupid, handsome face for making you feel you weren’t worth it.

Because if there’s anything in the world that Jungkook knows, it’s that you’re worth it. You’re worth everything. Add up all the money and all the gold in the entire world, and it still doesn’t meet a fraction of what you’re worth to him.

“Where are you?” He asks as he cradles the phone against one arm and pulls on his jeans.  

You sniffle. “Jungkook, it’s 3 am.”

“So? I was up playing Minecraft,” He lies. “Where are you?”

You can’t help but laugh the tiniest bit, a sliver of warmth wrapping itself around your raw and exposed heart. Like a balm to a flesh wound. It doesn’t heal it, not yet.

“I’m at our park.”

Jungkook smiles as he grips the phone back in his hand. The park. The place you and Jungkook spent your childhood playing make-believe games, and formative teenage years loitering around smoking clove cigarettes to look cool.

“Give me five minutes, okay?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. 

“Okay.”

Jungkook arrives with two minutes to spare. His beat up Nissan that he insists is “vintage” and “priceless” idles next to you.

He can see you through the darkened glass of your car—your mascara is running down your face, tears streaked through your flawlessly applied makeup.

You still look so beautiful.

And it angers Jungkook that all that time you spent looking good for Seokjin meant nothing to him.

He motions for you to come over, pats the passenger seat next to him and smiles as he watches you open the door and slide into the security of his familiar car.

“You cleaned your car,” you murmur as you notice a severe lack of McDonald’s trash.

He sniffs haughtily. 

“The trash added character.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to respond. Instead, he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you as close to him as he can get you. The instant his arms wrap around your body, the floodgates open again and your once-quieted tears turn back into full-fledged sobs.

“I loved him,” you gasp through the pain in your throat.

He rubs your back, pats your hair gently, soothing you the way he has for years now. Through every breakup, through every family fight with your older brother Namjoon, through all the mean girls in high school. Jungkook is the north star—always consistent, always guiding you back to safety.

“I know, babe,” he sighs. “You deserve someone who’s going to treat you right, who’s not just going to give up when things get hard.”

You choke back a cry against his Patagonia hoodie and bury your face further into the crook of his neck. He smells like Old Spice and the shampoo he uses, along with the smell of laundry soap you buy for him—he uses dish soap when he runs out and nearly broke his washing machine last time.

“I thought he was the one. I’m so stupid.”

Jungkook swallows hard. Tonight is about comforting you, not about feeling sorry for himself that you’re his best friend and not his girlfriend. He can’t help but think of what kind of life he would give you. He knows it’s one that wouldn’t end with you crying in a parking lot at 3 AM.

“You’re not stupid, you just loved him. And there’s nothing stupid about loving someone, even if it doesn’t work out,” he sighs as he cradles your head against him. It feels right having you there, pressed up against him and seeking comfort from the solace of his arms.

“Let’s go get a milkshake, yeah?” He asks as you pull your head up and look at him with sad, glassy eyes.

“Yeah,” you nod after a moment of staring.

Jungkook’s eyes sparkle with love, with hope. It makes the desperate, alone feeling inside you—disappear. Jungkook presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then starts the shaky ignition of his car, that takes three cranks of the key before it turns over.

He sends you a look, a laugh evident on your face.

“Don’t even start,” he warns. “The engine is fine.”

“Whatever you say,” you snort as you wipe an errant tear from your face.  

“It’s a certified classic car! I could get millions for this baby!”

As the weeks pass, the pain of losing Seokjin becomes further and further from your mind. You can get through the day without crying anytime you see something that reminds you of him and even start flirting with others without feeling like you’re cheating.

You just still haven’t reached the point where dating someone else even feels possible. You’re terrified of allowing someone close to you, letting them into a place where you’re inviting them to possibly hurt you. You’re not sure your heart is ready for it. 

“I think you’re just scared,” your older brother Namjoon states as he warms up a bottle of milk in boiling water. 

He cradles his new baby in one arm while the other works at the bottle of milk. 

“I’m not scared,” you huff. “I just don’t think it’s the right time.” 

Namjoon sighs and hands the gurgling newborn baby off to you and readies the bottle for you to feed your new niece, Jisoo. 

“Look, Seokjin sucks, okay? I know you two were together for some time, but in the end, he wasn’t the right one for you. There’s someone out there who is the right one for you. You know how many shit frogs I had to kiss before I got my prince?” 

You make a face as you feed Jisoo, who happily sucks and gazes at the lights above. 

“You call Jimin a prince?” 

Namjoon sighs dreamily as he watches the baby and thinks of his husband. 

“The dreamiest prince,” he breathes, eyes closed in bliss. “But back to your problems. I think you should get back out there. Go on some dates, meet some people. No one is telling you to fall in love and get married tomorrow. Just go have some fun.” 

You allow Namjoon’s words to mull through your mind. What could be the harm in joining a few dating sites, perhaps spending some time at the gym or grocery store flirting with someone cute?

“Fine,” you say. “I’ll think about it.” 

“Good. I can’t be the only one giving our parents grand-babies. Soo needs a cousin.” 

You smile down at the tiny bundle in your arms and imagine a future where you have a baby of your own. 

“Okay, I’m not trying to get knocked up, Joon.” 

“Whatever,” he sighs. “Help me choose a wall color for me and Jimin’s new master bathroom.” 

Tinder’s changed since the last time you used it, years ago. It’s gone from any semblance of dating to strictly an app used to get laid. 

It’s discouraging swiping through all the obvious fuckboys. Sure, a quick and easy lay sounds great, but you’re also trying to go out and enjoy real, traditional dates, and it seems none of these guys want to step foot outside of a bedroom. 

The swiping left becomes almost monotonous. You’re sitting on your couch, watching some documentary about serial killers, when a startling profile pops up on your Tinder feed. 

The picture that pops up is... Jungkook. You can’t stop the bubble of laughter that leaps from your chest. His profile is so authentically Jungkook that you’re swiping right before you even know it. 

Your brain doesn’t even comprehend what a match with Jungkook means, really. You’re still laughing as you click on the bubble to message him and send him as many laugh emojis as you can. 

“Hey guys, what’s up, Kookie here with another Let’s Play Minecraft video for ya. Be sure to like and subscribe if you enjoy this kind of content.”

Jungkook’s headset is firmly wrapped around his head, mic next to his mouth and hands at the ready on his mouse and keyboard. He’s set and in the zone. 

The game is well into play when the familiar chime of his phone goes off. It’s a Tinder notification—he can tell by the sound. He can’t help but roll his eyes, wondering what sort of boring conversation he’s meant to have with a girl who will probably ghost him, anyway. 

He lazily lifts his phone and glances at the notification, before dropping it back to the desk. 

His hand freezes on his mouse as he finally comprehends what he just read. 

He just matched with YOU. 

His best friend. 

His secret, lifelong crush. 

He sputters something into the microphone and stops recording his game, wildly grasping for the phone and unlocking it. 

YN: 😂😂😂😂 is your bio a Minecraft pickup line?!

He pauses, attempts to collect his thoughts, before desperately typing on his screen. 

JUNGKOOK: Why? 😉😏 did it work?

You spend the rest of your night jokingly flirting with Jungkook, sending GIFs and emojis in between the silly lines you’re using on each other. 

Right before you’re about to head to sleep, Jungkook sends one last message. 

JUNGKOOK: What if we went on a date lolol. Haha jk. Unless?? 👀👀👀

Your thumbs hover over the keys to your phone. 

A date with Jungkook? Even though you matched with him, you’ve never thought of a date with your childhood best friend. 

YN: alright, it’s only fair since we matched 😝 show me how you treat these tinder ladies

“I have a date with Jungkook tonight,” you tell your brother, Namjoon, over the phone. 

Over the crying of your newborn niece, you hear Namjoon splutter in confusion. 

“You what!?” He nearly screams. “Jeon Jungkook? Like... the annoying kid you’ve been friends with since fourth grade?”

You huff. 

“He’s not annoying! He’s my best friend. We ironically matched on Tinder and… Well, why the fuck not? Nothing serious is going to happen. We’ll go out and have a story to tell about how incompatible we are.”

Namjoon doesn’t reply. Instead, you hear him speak to his husband. 

“She’s going on a date with Jungkook,” he says over the muffle of his hand on the receiver.

There’s a shuffle, and the dulcet voice of your brother-in-law, Jimin, comes over the line. 

“Girl,” he starts. “What the fuck?”

You chuckle as you move about your closet, trying to decide what’s appropriate to wear on a date with your best friend. 

“It’s nothing!” 

“Mm-hmm,” Jimin tuts. “You know the boy is in love with you.” 

“Okay, Chim, you’ve been spending too much time cooped up with my brother. It’s affecting your grip on reality.”

“Sure, honey. I just tell it like it is. Don’t break his heart.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“I won’t break his heart because there’s nothing there, Jimin.”

“I’ll be expecting your call later.”

“Yes, dad. Love you guys.”

“We love you too, sweetheart. But really, don’t break that poor boy’s heart.”

You open your mouth to retort yet another reassurance that there’s nothing to break, but the line goes dead.

“Fucking Jimin,” you mutter as you throw your phone to the bed.

You can’t allow yourself to think that Jungkook might have feelings for you. It’s totally out of the questions. He’s your best friend. The guy who shoves Cheetos up his nose to make you laugh and falls asleep during every movie night with his face in the popcorn bowl. He’s just Jungkook. This date is just a funny way to hang out.

So, why do you care so much about what you wear?

You’re still standing in front of your closet, attempting to find something respectable to wear. It doesn’t matter that the last time Jungkook saw you; it was with mascara streaming down your face and a hoodie from Namjoon’s college swimming days and ripped leggings. Jungkook has seen you in nearly everything you wear, so your indecisiveness gives you pause.

Do you want Jungkook to be attracted to you? Do you want to do your best to look as presentable as you would for a normal date?

The thudding of your heart tells you that maybe you’re more interested in this being a date than you’re allowing yourself to believe.

You shake all thoughts off. 

No, you won’t allow yourself to overthink a night that should just be fun.

You settle for a fitted and simple summer dress, tights and heels. Simple, easy, respectable but also showing enough cleavage and sculpt of your ass to ensure you look more dressed up than not.

Perfect.

With one last look in the mirror, you’re ready.

JUNGKOOK: I’m outside!

ME: See you soon!

Jungkook taps his foot anxiously as he sits on the bench outside your apartment. His tight black jeans feel like a second skin on his legs, and the black button-down shirt he’s tucked in makes him rethink his choice of outfit.

Is he too casual?

He’s never really worn something like this around you. This is what Jungkook wears when he wants to seduce. This is what every girl he’s desperately wished was you got to see. The girls who swooned over his messy hair, the way his jeans display his toned thighs, the peek of skin at his throat.

Maybe it’s too much.

Maybe he’s afraid he’ll scare you away.

Maybe he’s afraid you won’t like it.

He’s given no chance to ruminate anymore because you’re exiting the building and walking straight towards him.

He doesn’t think he remembers how to breathe.

It’s as if you walk towards him in slow motion. Angels chorus around him and the setting sun sparkles on your face like a spotlight. There’s nothing in the world anymore, nothing but you.

You’re the most beautiful human he’s ever seen in his life.

“Hi,” you smile as you approach him.

He continues to stare, eyes traveling over the soft curves of your cheeks and jaw, trailing down to the way your dress clings just right to each dip of your body. His throat goes dry.

You are without a doubt the girl of his dreams. 

“Jungkook?”

It pushes him out of his reverie, eyes widening as he realizes he’s been staring at you for maybe a few minutes too long to play off as normal.

“Hey!” He coughs, attempting to right himself.

“You okay?” You ask, eyebrow lifted in concern.

“Yeah! Yup! Totally! I’m okay—a-okay, absolutely great.” He internally slaps himself.

“You clean up nice,” you smile as your eyes elevate up and down the lean form of his body.

“Oh?” He asks, taken aback. 

In his daze, he never even realized what you’re thinking about him, rather only how intensely he was thinking about you.

“This must be the Jungkook that all the girls in college couldn’t stop begging me to hook them up with.”

His cheeks flame with sudden embarrassment, hand moving to the back of his neck to rub it awkwardly. 

“Ha, yeah,” he swallows. “You look r-really nice too. I don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress since your brother’s wedding.”

The smile that he’s rewarded with nearly knocks him on his ass. “Thanks! It’s fun to dress up cute again. Jin hated this dress.”

A stab of pain eeks its way into Jungkook’s heart. Seokjin. God, how he hates that man.

“Well, uh, you can wear whatever you want with me!” He assures. 

You loop your arm around Jungkook’s, saddling up to his side as you look at him expectantly.

“Well, are we going?”

Jungkook can’t help but smile at the sparkle in your eye, the way you peer up at him with those soft, cherry lips. He wants to capture them with his own, kiss you until you don’t remember Seokjin’s name ever again.

But he resists.

“Let’s go!”

You never thought you’d admit it to yourself. You never even thought it could happen. 

But the date is everything you’ve ever wanted, and more. 

Jungkook is still Jungkook, still just as silly and easy to talk to as he always is. 

But he’s also charming. Flirtatious, even. He holds doors open for you; he rests his hand on the small of your back as he guides you towards your table at dinner. He feeds you bites of his dessert and lets his eyes linger on the way your lips look wrapped around his fork. 

Jungkook treats you the way you’ve always wanted to be treated. Like someone he wants to cherish for the rest of your combined lives. Someone he wants to take care of, build a future with, enjoy life with.

And as much as it thrills you, it absolutely frightens you. 

It’s when you’re walking down the small river trail together that Jungkook slips his hand into yours and laces your fingers together. The once-steady beat of your heart becomes erratic. He continues chatting—as if holding your hand was a subconscious act for him. He’s knee deep in a story of his Minecraft server when you stop walking, causing him to pause. 

“What’s up?” He asks curiously. 

Your eyes glitter with anticipation, with fear, as you stare at the gorgeous man before you. He looks like a full course meal in his tight jeans and he makes you feel like a princess. You can suddenly see doing life by his side—no longer his platonic best friend, but as his lover and lifelong partner. 

You say nothing. Instead, you simply close the space between you two by grabbing the buttons of his shirt and tugging his lips onto yours. 

“Wha—oh, mmmmmm.”

Jungkook is still for a second as he battles the surprise, but jumps into action and cups your face with his hands, deepening the kiss by pushing his tongue past your lips and swirling it around your own. 

Your bodies press close together. He can feel your breasts against his chest and he desperately wants to rip the dress off your body and worship you like he’s always wanted to. 

As soon as the kiss started, it’s over. You’re pulling away with eyes wide with fear.

“I’m sorry, I—I need to go,” you stammer awkwardly.

Jungkook’s heart drops to his stomach.

“What? We were going to get ice cream?”

You can feel tears building in the corners of your eyes. You’re so confused, so unsure of what you’re feeling. You want to stay and kiss Jungkook until you’re clawing at the clothing on his body, pressing kisses to the firm column of his neck. You want to run far away, too scared to admit it to him you’re sure you could love him for the rest of his life.

You can’t lose that friendship. You can’t risk everything you love about Jungkook. He’ll only hurt you the way every boyfriend ever has.

“I don’t really feel well,” you swallow hard as you lie. Jungkook always knows when you’re lying.

His body stiffens.

“Okay, let me walk you home.”

You shake your head, already moving away from the man.

“It’s fine. We’re nearby. I’ll just run or something.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but you’ve already turned face and started running the direction away from him.

Jungkook watches, misty-eyed, as the girl of his dreams runs further and further away from him.

You’re sobbing as you finally reach home, out of breath and confused. The phone call to Namjoon is quick.

“Yo,” he says cooly as he answers the phone. His tone changes when he hears your whimpering sobs on the other end.

“Joonie,” you whisper. “I fucked up.”

“Oh god,” Namjoon quickly shuffles and calls his husband over, before putting the phone on speaker.

“What’s happened, baby?” Jimin’s sweet voice asks.

“I—I kissed him,” you sob, holding yourself close in the comfort of the elevator. 

Namjoon and Jimin look at each other with knowing looks.

“We’re on our way over.”

Jimin knows the first order of business is to stop the crying. He places sleeping baby Jisoo in your arms, which quiets your whimpers enough as you cling to the tiny baby. He knows your weakness is sleeping babies.

Namjoon looks on anxiously, hates seeing his little sister upset and with no way to make it better.

Jimin’s been asked to take the lead on this, because he knows his husband's response is to cry as well—he gets emotional anytime he sees her cry. Namjoon agreed, knowing Jimin was better suited for the conversation.

“Tell us what happened,” Jimin asks quietly. You’re rocking the baby gently, sobs turned to sniffles. “Did something go wrong on the date?”

Your eyes peer up at your brother-in-law’s, a wounded look that makes Jimin feel sad. Namjoon clenches beside him, and Jimin lays a hand on his lap to soothe the protective brother.

“No,” you whisper. “That’s the thing. It was an amazing date.”

Jimin watches you curiously, but remains silent to let you continue.

“We had dinner, and we played arcade games and we walked around. And he was so… fuck, he was perfect. It was like dating the guy of my dreams.”

Jimin nods knowingly.

“And it surprised you how much you liked him.”

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “At the end, he was holding my hand and just talking about normal, stupid Jungkook shit, but this time it felt like more. Like, I felt in my heart that I wanted to be the one he always talked to about it. I wanted to be the one he came home to at night.”

Jimin pats your cheek lovingly, the care for his sister-in-law clear in his gaze. 

“You don’t just like him, honey. I think you might even love him.”  

You pull baby Jisoo tighter into your grasp and nod, pathetic tears slipping down your face. 

“I just left him. Like, I ran away from him like an asshole.”

Namjoon grunts and takes a spot next to Jimin. “If he loves you, which I’m sure he does, he’ll still be waiting for you.”

Jimin nods and rests a hand on his husband's back. “But you better have one hell of an apology.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer your phone calls. He doesn’t respond to your texts, snapchats or Instagram DM’s. He doesn’t even look at the TikToks you sent him! It’s becoming infuriating to get in touch with him.

You take matters into your own hands and storm to his apartment after work, the rising tension in your shoulders and stomach full of rocks an indicator of your anxiety about the future of this relationship.

Jungkook opens the door wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweats. All the carefully crafted words exit your mind at light 

speed and you’re left gasping, wide-eyed at the chiseled body of your best friend.

“Can I help you?” He asks, tone flat.

Ouch.

You push past him into the apartment you know so well. “Yeah, you could start by answering your phone.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and closes the door, then heads back towards the large gaming setup in the living room.

“My apologies for not responding to the girl who literally ran away from me on a date.”

Your cheeks heat uncomfortably as you stand in the center of his living room, arms crossed over your chest. 

“Jungkook, listen. I’m—”

“Please,” he shakes his head as he sits down at the impressive gaming chair. “Save the apologies. I get it.”

“You don’t get it!” You say, exasperated. “You don’t get any of it! That’s why I’m here.”

Jungkook narrows a look at you then stands from his chair. Slowly, he makes his way towards you and stands inches from your face. The proximity of his bare, toned chest to your body makes your throat dry.

“No, you don’t get it.” His voice is threateningly quiet, completely different from his usual chipper tone. 

“Jungkook, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He quirks his head sarcastically, and you’re struck by the sharp lines of his jaw. “Sorry for running away from the date? Sorry for going on a date? Sorry for making me feel like I had a fucking chance when you kissed me?”

You swallow hard and open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry too. For giving myself way too much hope that this could ever be something. I’m sorry for myself for thinking you’d at least respect me enough to reject me politely.”

“You always had a chance!” You can feel tears building in your eyes and Jungkook feels his heart pound in his chest like a drum.

He scoffs, a harsh and mirthless laugh. “Clearly not.”

“I just—,” you start. “I never saw you like that before and suddenly you became everything I’ve ever dreamed of. It was like getting hit by a train, Kook! Suddenly my best friend turned into the man of my dreams.”

He shakes his head, stepping back away from you.

“I really find it hard to believe you,” he whispers. “I can’t let myself hope.”

“Jungkook, please,” you beg as tears start slipping down your face. “Please believe me.”

“Just leave,” he sighs. “I hate making you cry.”

You want so badly to wrap yourself in his arms, cry into his chest like you always do when you’re hurt. But you stand still, frozen in your shame and embarrassment of hurting your best friend so badly.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, before you spin around as quickly as you can and leave Jungkook’s apartment in a flurry.

He watches as the door slams behind you, eyes full of sadness and regret. As much as he wants to believe you, have faith in every word you said, he can’t allow himself to get his hopes up again.

He can’t watch you run away from him again.

“Welcome back to Kookie’s Wild Weekly Walkthrough!” Jungkook cheers as enthusiastically as he can through his microphone. “The weekly segment where I react to your Minecraft worlds!”

Jungkook needed to dive back into streaming to take his mind off of you. He hasn’t left his apartment in days, only subsisting on takeout and coffee. At least he was making more money and his subscribers didn’t seem to mind the up-tick in content.

“Tonight I’ll be walking through a creation sent by,” he squints at the username. “‘Kookiesgal95’ Aww that’s cute.”  

He readies the content and starts his camera as he watches the YouTube link. His subscribers love his reaction videos—it’s a highly requested segment.

The video starts off easily, a generic Minecraft world that looks like a park.

“Hi Kook.”

The voice that reverberates through his headphones makes him pause the video quickly, wide-eyed with recognition.

It’s you. He’d know that voice from a million others. 

Shit. He’s going to have to edit so much of this clip. He’s staring at the screen as if he’s just seen a ghost.

Unsteadily, he clicks play again and watches as you lead him through your Minecraft creation.

“I wanted to recreate something for someone very special in my life.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother to react to this anymore. This entire video is going to be worthless—there’s nothing he can say.

The video pans around the Minecraft setup and he can see what looks like handmade swings and merry go rounds.

“It took me a really long time to do this and an embarrassing amount of help from some twelve-year-olds on the internet.”

He laughs and is stunned by the wet tears rolling down his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he was crying.

“I re-created a park that is really special to my best friend and I.”

He feels his chest tighten and relax. The park. 

“This is the spot where he held me when my dog died when I was nine. I still miss that dog.”

The view is on a spot next to a blocky oak tree. Jungkook remembers that day, remembers your heartbroken sobs as he whispered words of comfort to you. He misses that dog, too. 

“This is where he and my brother got in a fight when we were eleven, because my brother called me a stupid-head. My best friend has always been protective of me, even from my own big brother.”

He can still remember pushing Namjoon around after hearing him call you names. He pushed Namjoon over and threatened to use his “big muscles” if he did it again.

The camera pans to an enormous structure, rather sloppily made, of a slide and monkey bars.

“This is where we first shared a joint in high school. I coughed a lung up and he ran down the street to a gas station at ten pm to get me a bottle of water even though I told him I was okay,”

The memory of the bewildered 7-11 employee plays through his mind. The man watched as a very stoned, very out of breath, Jungkook paid for a bottle of water in coins.

The video continues playing, moves towards what appears to be a parking lot made of cobblestone blocks.

“This is where he held me when my world fell apart.”

The break-up. The way you cried and cried and cried in his arms and he held you as if you were the only thing left on Earth. 

“This is where he reminded me I’m worthy of love, that I’m not broken. This is where he held me like I was delicate, but treated me like I was unbreakable.”

His tears don’t stop. Jungkook feels his heart thundering in his chest like a summer storm. 

He can hear your sniffles through the recording of the video—you were crying too. It pans around to the swing set.

“And this is where I’ll tell him everything, tonight. Where I’ll tell him how deeply I love him and how I want to make him the happiest guy in the world. In all of Minecraft and beyond. I hope he comes.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother turning his camera off.

Instead, he’s running to change out of his three-day-old clothes and bolt out the door.

The creaky, rusty metal of the swing set is deafeningly loud in the silence of your park.

It’s dark, just a few street lights around to illuminate the perimeter, but it’s otherwise only lit by the moon.

It’s getting cold. You shiver in your hoodie and kick at the dirt under your swing. 

Maybe he didn’t see the video. Maybe he wasn’t going to show.

Maybe it was too late.

You spent hours working on the Minecraft world, staying up at all hours of the night to build and craft a poor re-creation of this park. The twelve-year-olds on Reddit had been invaluable and Namjoon definitely made fun of you for your creative assistants. But it had all been worth it. 

“Fuck,” you speak out loud to no one, as you try to warm your hands in the pockets of your sweater. “It’s cold.”

“You should have brought a jacket.”

The sudden voice from behind startles you. You hop off the swing and whip around to face  down the intruder.

Jungkook.

He looks so good. He’s wearing a thick coat and tight jeans. Your eyes take a delicious journey from head to toe.

He can’t help but preen at your blatant appreciation. He enjoys knowing you’re attracted to him, at least physically.

“You came.”

He nods and takes a nervous step towards you. He’s still far away, more than an arm's-reach away. You’re desperate to bring him closer, to pull him tight against your body and wrap yourself around him. You never want to be without his gentle touch again.

“I felt pretty compelled to come after you made all this in Minecraft for me.” He cracks a wry smile, a boy-ish grin that makes your heart flutter.

“It took me twenty-five hours and some teenagers to help.”

He laughs, a beautiful sound that warms you. “I’m sure they were ecstatic to help.”

You chew at the inside of your cheek, nervous at what he thinks about your in-game confession.

“Did you mean it?” He asks. He steps closer—one more step.

“Every word.”

His eyes are searching yours for the truth, desperately diving into the depths for validity.

“Why did you run away?” Another step.

You swallow hard, heavy tears brimming in your eyes.

“You went from being the silly best friend to being the person I could spend the rest of my life with. It all hit me. It’s always been you.”

One more step and now he’s just within your reach. If you stuck your hand out, your fingers would graze the soft puff of his coat, the delicate skin of his neck. 

“I’ve always felt that way about you. I never thought you’d feel the same.”

You smile softly, timidly. “It just took me a little while longer to realize it.”

All at once, Jungkook closes the gap and holds you gently by your cheeks. His thumbs wipe at the moisture under your eyes. 

“I promise to never make you cry again,” he whispers reverently. 

“And I promise to never run away from you again.” 

Jungkook smiles at that, cradling your face like you’re the most expensive and precious jewel. 

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks, somewhat unsure of himself. 

“I would like it if you would.”

As Jungkook presses his cold, plush lips to your own, you make a promise to yourself to never go a day without kissing him again. 

“I can’t believe you’re in my bedroom,” Jungkook murmurs as he kisses at your face. After the park, Jungkook loaded you into his priceless Nissan and scurried home. You could hardly keep your hands off him as he drove you back to his place—reaching and caressing the spots on his body you’re dying to become familiar with. 

“I’ve been in your bedroom before,” you remind him as he tugs up the hoodie you’re wearing. 

“God, don’t be so semantic when I’m trying to fuck you,” he says before throwing the hoodie to a corner of the room. “You know what I mean.”

Jungkook kisses you again, all lips and teeth and tongue. He kisses you like you’re the last breath of air, and he’s greedy for every bit. He grips your hips, not too tight, and brings your body against his. You can feel him grow in hardness in his too tight, and it feels like bliss. 

Teasingly, you grind your hips against his, making him shudder with desire.

“I want you,” he whines as he nibbles at your lip. 

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

He opens his eyes to level a look at you, pulling his mouth away from yours. 

“You’re such a little smartass.”

His hands become feverish on your jeans, tugging apart the button and flicking down the fly. He pushes them down quickly, and you kick them off carelessly. 

He can’t stop looking at you in your bra and panties, standing at the foot of his bed. 

“Holy shit, okay, this is happening, right? Like, this is real?” 

You smirk, pleased with Jungkook’s obvious excitement. 

“Let me prove it’s not just a dream.” 

Softly, you spin Jungkook around and push him down to sit on his bed. He complies easily, eyes wide and excited. 

“If this is a dream, would you be able to feel this?” You ask as you unbuckle  his belt and open his jeans. He doesn’t reply, simply watches you as you tug his jeans down to his thighs. 

His cock strains hard against his tight boxers, and you run a teasing finger over the obvious bulge. 

“Oh fuck,” he breathes. 

“Feels pretty real, huh?”

“Y-yeah.” 

Your delicate hands gently tug at the waistband of his boxers and easily work them down enough to free the length of his cock. It springs out easily and your eyes widen at the impressive size. You assumed he would be at least average, but you’re looking at something definitely more. 

“Oh wow,” you whisper. “You’re fucking huge.” 

Jungkook grins. “All for you, baby.” The cockiness is palpable. 

One solid grip around him wipes the presumptuous smile off his face, replaced with a gasping, shuddering moan. 

“How about this? Not a dream?”

He struggles to find his voice, instead he’s gulping for air like a fish out of water. 

“That’s what I thought,” you whisper before settling into a position on your knees. “I’ll admit, I’ve dreamt about this too. I always felt so ashamed for dreaming about sucking my best friend's cock.”

You press soft kisses to the head of his length, teasing the sensitive areas at the tip before kissing up and down the length. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

His evident desire for you encourages you, and your tongue swipes at the crown of his tip and swirls around it gently. 

“Oh my god.” His eyes shutter closed and you trace the veins in his dick with your tongue. 

“This h-has to be a dreeeaaaaam,” he whines as you make an exceptionally long stripe with the flat of your tongue. 

You pull off for a moment, humming. He springs his eyes open and watches as you reach behind your back and unsnap your bra. Your breasts escape with a bounce and his eyes widen, nearly bulging out of their sockets. 

“What the fuck,” he whines. “You have the most amazing tits.”

He reaches out to grasp them and you slap them away playfully. 

“Not yet,” you smirk. “Still trying to convince you you’re not asleep.” 

He sucks in his breath and puts his hands back to the bed to steady himself, eyes never leaving yours (except to stare at the luscious curves of your body). 

Grasping your breasts in both hands, you smash them together lightly in an elaborate show of what Jungkook wants most. You lean over his body and place the throbbing thickness of his cock in between your tits, allowing him to feel just how soft and warm they are. 

“Shit!” He yelps, grabbing his sheets in a tight fist. “Are you really tit-fucking me right now?!”

Slowly, you lift your body up and down, allowing his cock to feel each stroke of your breasts. You nod at his question and continue to pump up and down. 

“Still dreaming?” 

He whines and shakes his head, already feeling so close to the edge. His cock is slick from your teasing licks and the pressure of your tits surrounding him had his mind spinning with desire. 

“Ahhh, I’m so fucking close,” he warns.

You continue, speeding up the friction and pressure of your strokes. 

“I want you to cum on me, Kook,” you whisper encouragingly. “Cum on my tits, please?”

Jungkook feels like he’s a wire about to snap, and your thick, sultry voice and incredibly perfect breasts are the snips that breaks him apart. 

“Oh, shit,” he grunts. “Gonna paint your titties white, baby.”

His moans echo around the walls of his bedroom, small gasps of pleasure and your name escaping his perfectly plump pout. 

His hot load splatters on your chest, and you stroke him through each pulse of his cock. You’re slippery with his seed now, and when you pull away from his spent length, you make a show of rubbing in his cum over your chest.

“Okay, definitely not dreaming,” he says in a daze as he watches you lift a wet finger to your mouth, popping it in to clean it off. “Who knew you were so fucking kinky?” 

His confidence grows as he catches his breath. He can’t believe he’s sitting on his bed with you on your knees, breasts covered in his load. You’re suckling the cum off your finger like it’s his cock, and he’s desperate for more.

“There are lots of things you don’t know about me,” you shrug. 

Swiftly, he grabs you gently by your bicep and pulls you close, sucking at your lips until you’re both standing. 

“I plan to find out everything.” 

Suddenly, you’re switching positions and Jungkook is pushing you down into the bed. You lay flat in the center, body relaxed and eager for your best friend.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He’s still standing at the end of the bed, watching you get comfortable. Once he’s satisfied that you’re lying exactly how you want, he settles himself by your feet.

“Worshipping you,” he says as he lifts an ankle and presses gentle kisses to your calf. “Showing you how much I adore you.” More kisses, soft and sweet. “Showing you how I plan on treating you for the rest of your life.” 

He takes his time, lavishing your legs with his mouth. He kisses and sucks at any spot, sexual or not. He mouths at the roundness of your knees, your firm hamstrings. He presses his love into the skin of your thighs, mouthing his praises with each kiss. 

He reaches the dip of your hips and he gently kisses your exposed skin as he tugs your cotton panties off you. 

“I have loved every inch of you since before I can remember,” he praises as his lips skim over the mound of your cunt. “And I don’t plan on stopping soon.” 

Your body feels like it’s on fire, as if Jungkook lights a match at every spot his lips press against. Your eyes close, and you allow Jungkook to continue his pious worship of your body. 

He teases around your folds, kissing your labia ever so gently—making you gasp. He doesn’t linger long, only kisses you enough to stir the licking flames of heat in your belly.  

He kisses at your stomach, gently nibbling and laving at the softness there. You try to hide from him, try to hide your insecurities of your body in his thorough exploration, but he moves your hands. 

“I know you don’t like this part of your body,” he murmurs. His voice is so soft, so pure and sincere. “But I do. I love everything about you.” 

His tongue swirls around your belly button, making you gasp at the ticklish sensation. 

“You’re so pretty. So perfect.” 

He continues upwards, lips now trailing to your full breasts. He takes his time there, licking and kissing and flicking at your nipples with his tongue. It feels exhilarating—Jungkook’s mouth feels like everything you want it to feel like. His tongue is warm, and he bites with just enough pressure to make your back arch off the bed into his embrace.

His hands explore, taking stock of every millimeter of skin he can find. He wants to memorize every freckle, every bump, every scar and line. Your body is his paradise, and all he can think of is you, you, you.

One hand travels down your body as he moves his lips up your neck. It snakes down your stomach and deftly slides over your soaked core. You whine as you feel his fingers part your folds and dip into the wetness.

“So wet,” he says out loud, verbalizing every tantalizing detail of your body. “So perfect.”

His lips are finally at your own and you kiss him passionately, tongue swirling around his as he slides his two fingers past your clit and into your drenched hole. You gasp against his mouth, eyes widening as he slowly scissors his fingers into you and pumps slowly. It’s almost teasing, the way he fucks his fingers in you. Slow, firm movements with his powerful hands.

“Jungkook!” You gasp. He doesn’t reply, instead he bites at your lip and tugs, then trails his hot mouth back down to your nipples. He can’t get enough of your breasts and the slightly salty taste of him still lingering.

“You feel so good,” he says as he speeds his fingers up minutely. “So tight and wet for me.”

Your hips writhe in need. He’s giving you what you need, but not enough. You need more, more. You want to feel him, all of him, spearing you open.

“Please, Kook,” you groan. “I need you.”

He laughs softly against your nipple and sucks extra hard, letting it pop out of his mouth audibly.

“And I need you, my love.”

“Fuck me, please.” You’re desperate, thighs quaking from the slow teasing. “I want you to fuck me, Jungkook.”

Chills shudder down Jungkook’s spine and he’s powerless to say no, not when you demand it so well.

“With pleasure,” he agrees. He pulls his fingers from within you and copies your move, sliding them into his mouth to suck your essence off. 

He’s never looked sexier. His eyes are dark chocolate pools of burning intensity, and you feel your breath become shaky as you watch him clean his fingers with precision.

After he’s deemed his fingers sufficiently clean, he settles himself between your legs. Easily, he lifts your hips and shoves a pillow underneath, elevating you to a more comfortable position. He grabs your legs and tosses each over his shoulders so they’re higher in the air. 

“I’m going to fuck you so good, baby,” he promises as he rubs the tip of his cock on your soppy slit. “Condom?”

You shake your head, appreciative of his question but desperate to feel him completely.

“Birth control. Regularly tested. Haven’t had sex in a while,” you blurt out. “You good?”

He nods in agreement. “Same. Well, except the birth control. But, I’d take it if they made it for men.”

“Jungkook!” You whine. Your best friend is so easily sidetracked. “Please, can you fuck me?”

He grins. “Tsk, someone is impatient.”

A low moan is rumbling in your chest as he continues to rub his thick cock at your entrance.

“I swear to god, you’re the biggest tease.”

“Oh, I’m definitely the biggest.”

Before you can react, he’s pushing past your entrance and sliding deep in your walls. Your position makes his cock feel deep, and he bottoms out and stills there, eyes closed in bliss.

“Holy shit,” he gasps. “This is absolutely the best pussy I’ve ever felt.”

You wiggle your hips as you get used to the sensation of the delicious stretch.

“Please don’t tell me how many pussies you’ve felt when you’re balls deep inside of me.”

Jungkook turns his head and kisses at your legs resting on his shoulders, lavishing them with his praise once more as he keeps his cock buried inside your tight heat.

“Yours is the only one that matters. The only pussy I’ll ever be in for the rest of my life.”

“That’s a good answer,” you smile. “Now, fuck me, lover boy.”

Jungkook winks and grips your hips with his hands. He swiftly pulls out, enamored with the way his cock is already covered in your creamy essence, then eagerly pushes back in. He sets a pace and soon the sound of skin clapping on skin echoes around the room.

“Oh god!” You’re moaning loudly, unabashedly. You’re thankful that Jungkook’s old roommate, Yoongi, moved out to live with his boyfriend Hoseok months ago. He’d definitely complain about the noise for months. “Fuck, Jungkook, you feel so good.”

Jungkook fucks into you with ferocity, speed and power gradually rising as he feels his core tighten with the coming anticipation of release.

“Mmm, you look so fucking sexy like this,” he murmurs. “Getting fucked by your best friend’s fat cock.”

He moves a hand from your hip, trails it up your body to squeeze at your breast, before he’s cupping your face once again. His hips snap against yours and he loves the way your mouth utters little squeaks and gasps with each deep thrust into you.

“God, my beautiful girl,” he groans. “Can’t wait to cum in this pussy, shit, you got me so fucking close.”

You open your mouth desperately and Jungkook easily slips his thumb in. You latch on quickly and suck, tongue swirling around the tip like you’re sucking another cock. It nearly sends him over the edge and the speed of his hips matches his desperate need for more.

“Fucking hell,” he bites back. He can feel his belly tighten, driven further and further to the edge by the constricting wetness of your cunt. 

He pulls his thumb out and moves it down to where his cock spears into you, allowing your spit to swirl with his thumb around your clit. Your core tightens around him at the added stimulation and your back arches up in ecstasy.

“I’m so c-close, Kook,” you plead, as if begging for mercy. “Please, I want to cum so bad.”

The speed of his thumb increases, and he watches as your face twists in pleasure and desperation. 

“Cum on my cock, baby, let me see you fall apart. Show me what I’ve dreamt of for so long.”

A high and wanton cry ripples out of your body as he savagely increases his speed, both his cock and thumb working overtime to drive you towards your end. The butterflies that erupt in your lower stomach make your moans louder, higher. You’re so close, closer than ever. It’s building to an incredible crescendo.

He can tell you’re close—he sees it on your face as your back arches and your fists grip his sheets.

“You look like a fucking angel, baby,” he whines as he soaks in the vision of you writhing underneath him. “I bet you cum like an angel, too. Let me see it, let me see.”

With just a few more swirls of his thumb and his deep, hard strokes, you’re soaring over the edge into a pool of nothingness. Your cunt pulsates wildly around his length, milking and stroking it with your tight walls. You throw your head back, moaning out his name at the top of his lungs, letting his neighbors know just who fucks you so well.

“Holy shit,” he gasps, hips stuttering as he fucks into your juicy hole. “That was so fucking sexy.”

You grip his forearms, holding onto him tight and encourage him to go harder. “Cum inside me, Kookie, please. I’m all yours, make me yours.”

His heart feels like it might burst in his chest. He’s always wanted you to say it to him, to hand over your love to him like he does so easily to you. It’s all so much, so overwhelming, and the feeling of your hot cunt still fluttering around him sends him reeling into his own completion. 

He spills into you, warm seed coating your walls and pooling inside your womb. He fucks himself through each throb of his cock until he’s sure he’s drained every ounce of himself into you.

Your legs slip off his shoulders easily, and he gently pulls himself out of you. He falls beside you, panting with exertion, and wraps an arm around you.

After a few silent moments of catching your breath, Jungkook pulls you in close to him until he can koala-cling to you, arms and legs both wrapped around your body.

“Mine,” he whispers as he kisses your head. “All mine.”

You return the favor, clinging to your best friend—boyfriend—like he’s your only lifeline.

“All yours.”

“So, you’re telling me, you got together because of Minecraft?” Jimin asks, pointing a fork in your direction. It’s been months now since your grand virtual declaration of love for Jungkook. Months of bliss and romance, laughter and companionship. 

You were right all along. Jungkook is everything you’ve wanted in a man and more.

You’re sitting at your brother’s expensive dinner table, enjoying a meal with his family with your boyfriend at your side.

“Yeah, Jimin, I guess that’s what I’m saying,” you retort as you roll your eyes. “Minecraft and Tinder.”

Baby Jisoo is awake and in your brother’s arms, but she’s whining and wiggling to leave him.

“What’s wrong, Soo?” Namjoon asks with a pout on his lips. “Why don’t you want daddy anymore?”

Jimin snorts at his husband and you hold out your arms for your baby niece. “Come here, baby, I know you want auntie.”

Namjoon dutifully hands over his daughter, sulking that he’s been picked over for his sister. 

You cradle the baby in your arms, expecting her to calm once she’s there, but she continues to fuss. She’s thrusting her arms out and nearly crying, reaching towards Jungkook who’s busy chowing down on Jimin’s homemade ramen.

“I think she wants you, Kook,” you murmur. He looks at you, then to the baby, then back to you, before he wipes his hands and face clean with a napkin.

“Oh, okay,” he whispers, slowly taking the baby from your arms with your help. “Hello, ma’am.”

Namjoon and Jimin laugh. “She’s a baby, Jungkook, not an elderly woman,” your brother teases.

Jungkook doesn’t listen. He’s too busy cooing at the baby in his arms and playing with her tiny hands. Namjoon turns his attention away and looks at you.

“Guess I won’t be the only provider of grandchildren for much longer.”

You playfully glare at him and turn away to watch your boyfriend. Watching Jungkook interact with your niece makes your heart swell, your soul sing. He’d be a perfect father.

“I swear, if he teaches her how to play Minecraft, he’s banned from the household,” Jimin grumbles. “This is a No-Nerd-Zone.”

Jungkook cradles the child and rocks back and forth, singing her a soft, made-up song, before he looks over at you.

“Hey, I want one of these,” he smiles. “Can we have one?”

You lay a hand on your stomach, a soft bump not quite visible yet. It’s only been one test, the lines faintly indicating ‘positive’ on the stick. You wanted to make sure, get confirmation before you spill the beans.

“Sure, Kookie.”

He grins and leans over to kiss you, before turning his attention back to the baby. “Okay, Jisoo, now let me tell you all about the Endermen.”

Jimin groans. “Oh my god, do not give Minecraft facts to my infant!”

tag list - @giadalin @nohayarcoirissintormenta @pjmislovely @xhazmania @marcoazam2 @eggbutnotyolk @feel-the-sunset @unicornbabylover @aretha170 @jeonmisha @hordanhearsawhooo 

© ppersonna - 2021 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts fic #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #ficswithluv #jjk smut #bts fics #jjk fic #jungkook fic

[levmada]

First Times Anthology, ch6.5: let go

work summary » Intimate, vulnerable, gentle. Concepts Levi is a stranger to, until you.

ch.summary: You and Levi have a heart-to-heart. There was never going to be another answer—it’s time to let go. Afterwards, you both step outside your comfort zones.

content/warnings: healthy communication😌, brief description of a panic attack, Erwin gives romance advice, so much love, use of tobacco, Hange being a menace, oral (f!m!receiving), edging (m!receiving), light subspace/description of subdrop, eating Levi out, slight exhibitionism, confessions, multiple orgasms (m!receiving), light use of gags/restraints (f!m!receiving), (very) heavy petting, bittersweet end, everyone is fragile

wc: 16.6k

a/n: I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS!! beware, this chappy is mainly 10k words of smut 😭 with lots of emotions. i even got all weepy while editing one of these scenes (guess).

i feel like it's also helpful to add that it's year 849 (1 year before canon aot) seeing how this is a precanon fic n all.

only one left :33 i hope u guys enjoy. also this song goes well w/ this chapter!

previous part・work masterpost・next part

Listened to while writing:

taglist: @peace-for-levi | @sckerman | @jayteacups | @levi-my-beloved | (if you’d like to be added, lmk!)

When the frigid night air hits him, Levi tugs his suit jacket tighter around himself and descends the marble steps. Without thinking he does so two at a time, but the tension leaves his shoulders when he sees that you haven’t gone far at all.

Around the paved path, bunches of carriages form an arc. Every one of them looks the same, as if one after another they’ve been cloned, but there’s only one dark silhouette donning a flowing dress: you.

He’s confident, because even if he got the carriage wrong (which isn’t likely; Levi has a good memory), he’d always know you, even while draped in shadows.

You look like a helpless little thing that’s been locked out of the house for too long. Once your head shoots up in his direction, there’s surprise, crumpled relief, and then a mask of neutrality falls over face; count that as double when he gets past the quip that you look extremely shitty and he goes to ask what’s wrong. He knows all the tells of your anxiety—tearing at your sleeves, scraping the cuticles around your fingertips raw—but he won’t assume anything of you when you look so out of sorts like this.

It only prickles him when you tell him nothing is wrong. Further, how it was thoughtful for him to come and find you, but it’s about time you let all those lights and all that food and all those people swallow you back in again. 

But, you’re fighting air, which is why he feels something inside shrivel up, and plants a hand on your shoulder to stop your yammering. When he frowns, gets a good look at you under the streetlight, you don’t look well. He feels under his palm where your shoulders lift with your breaths; like the outside world has been vacuum-sealed.

“Stop,” he says, both hands on your shoulders now. Though the order is careful, he means it as just that: an order. “Breathe.”

Your gaze swivels between him, then this way and that. “The party—”

“Doesn’t exist right now,” he finishes for you. It’s just you two here, right now, for however long it takes until this notion that the world is ending evaporates. Maybe he can’t comfort even a little kid, but he can coax your attention towards him well-enough and try. Eventually, finally, your arms slip around him, and your frame becomes a little less like razor wire and more like a heavy blanket.

Suddenly, he no longer hates what he wants, what he does, what he is. Suddenly he’s not a predator. He’s a watchdog, or a pillow. He can be something safe and strong for you.

It’s “Relax, alright?” and, “Good job. Keep going,” and when you give a heavy sniff, he cradles the back of your head. Your hair is delicately done-up, not too unlike his own, but he can’t bring himself to worry much. This is the least he can do.

You’re lovingly crushed under the weight of how much you have to thank him for right now; but first, you swallow like a stone is in your throat, and pull away a fraction. He looks as concerned as you’ve ever seen him, and that measuring frown pulling his lips down twists your stomach again. You feel so anxious that it hurts.

“Thank you… But, we should still go back,” you resolve with a sigh, and try to stand up a little straighter. “Wasted enough time.”

The side of his mouth twitches. “Wasted? You’re kidding. You needed air, so you got air.”

He notes the fine sheen of sweat on your brow with an air of caution. “Did this whole thing really get to you that much?” Maybe it’s his fault, for leaving you alone. “Something happen?”

Vehemently, you shake your head, and it’s honest, which is why you can’t be honest about breaking down over nothing. Or maybe it’s a string of every little thing that mixed to create a ripe concoction stinking with panic.

“No, really,” you try. “I'm just a little tired… It’s not worth all this fuss. I know you’re worried,” you give his arm a reassuring rub, “but I probably just haven’t been sleeping well.”

His gaze sharpens, because if that’s truly the case then that’s his fault too. “Not sleeping well? Why?”

You shake your head dismissively, and immediately regret it when the world does a few extra wobbles. “Stress, maybe. I don’t know, but I don’t want anything bad to happen to our funding because of me, so—”

“You’re a lot more important than pig cash.”

In the dark, his stern glare looks almost supernatural. Without thinking much of it, you give a little shake of your head. Frankly, arguing is making you feel worse.

He makes sure it doesn’t show on his face, but it feels like hot coals in his chest, hearing you fully admit that you’re nothing but slop for those pigs. It makes him sick.

Of course securing funding is important—it’s the second lifeblood of the regiment, besides lives—but why should he give a damn about that now, when the night is a step from being done with and something is wrong with you? That is, you can’t breathe and the air becomes calcified to his lungs too? Maybe this problem isn’t all that catastrophic in the grand scheme of things—maybe you’re just the air Levi breathes—but it’s still his fucking air.

You really do look ill. Your skin isn’t running terribly warm when he touches the side of your face, but he feels a cold sweat sitting on your temple that tells him you’re anxious and drained and overwhelmed. 

He doesn’t want to leave you alone—“It’s just for an hour.”—and you’ve done enough; he bets they didn’t earn half of what they would have without you—“Please, that’s not true. You don’t need to lie to make me feel better.”

A careful sigh slides between his teeth. It’s not new, you talking like this, but self-depreciation isn’t helping your case (nor did it ever) because for one, he’s stubborn and set in his feelings, and two, you’re his air. He maintains careful patience, though, because it’s worse than usual.

You stare at him, pleading. “This isn’t a big deal, ‘Vi. Just tired. I’ll nap in the carriage and you’ll be there when I wake up, right?”

Those words chew him up and spit him right back out. He has to steal a breath, because something is cutting at his insides. 

“Shut up. Don’t–” he wrenches back, “–ever fucking say that.”

Your brows shoot up to your forehead, stunned. Then you understand, and guilt floods your stomach.

“Don’t.”

“No,” you breathe. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

You are tired, to be fair—from all those faces, from three or four days worth of supper lining silken tables, from some kind of unbearable pressure crushing you that is invisible and attacks from nowhere.

You have to be better; anxiety feels like a cheap excuse, even though it isn’t. It isn’t at all. You wish calling for help didn’t feel like speaking mute. You can’t put on a sugar-coated mask and convey to the world that you look okay, act okay, sound okay—and be okay. It’s not possible to be fine all the time; but how fucking weak that makes you feel.

It’s mildly tempting to say you didn’t ask him to come, but you feel cornered. You shouldn’t have lashed out when he was trying to help, and the very fact that you didn’t ask is likely why he went looking for you. It’s not his fault you’re like this. 

His tongue feels too swollen in his mouth to say anything. He doubts snapping at you for something you didn’t even mean helped very much. It’s not your fault he’s like this.

“Tell me it’s nothing one more time.”

You don’t; it doesn’t even cross your mind. While you deliberate, your hands stray to your sleeves again, and gingerly, he pries them apart. He doesn’t say anything either, but he won’t look at you: just off to the side, rather.

A little sigh. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“I get it.” He does.

“I am,” you insist, “and I need you.”

He nods like a mannequin would, squeezes your wrists, and his touch goes away. “Okay, tell me what…” What you need, except you already said that. “…what to do.”

Your smile is fragile like a feather. The most you need to ask for in words is a moment by yourselves; in the carriage, that is, where the seats are comfy and it’s quite dark—save for the slender streetlights and what little of their gold trickles through the windows.

You sit side by side as Levi allows you to drag his hand over and fidget with his bony fingers. It lets air enter your lungs easier, not fixating on yourself but Levi, who you like much more than yourself. 

The coarse skin on his palm runs a little cool, but you sense the strength in it under just a few fingers. There’s the creases and edges etched into it, the myriad of tiny, wobbly lines, his own fingerprints; they’re unlike yours, or anybody else’s. These countless little rings remind you in more clarity that Levi is unlike any other person, and you’re unlike anyone else, too. Billions of patterns which are clear, even pleasant to the eye, others tiny and unknowable unless you took your time searching. He has a jagged, almost invisible scar on the fringe of his palm, below his thumb. You trace it and recall that when you asked, he couldn’t remember where he got it from. 

Now, your head rests on his shoulder like there’s a pillow there. You have to slouch a little so his head rests on your head. No surprise that his eyes are heavy.

“No,” he’s saying, “I only heard of her through Nile, since he’s married to her. Two kids and a house or something.” He’s not sure why you’re asking. “Erwin really gave you a straight answer about all that?”

You snort. “He never gave you one, did he?”

“I never asked.”

Now you laugh, and he’s inclined to smile a tad from a fond feeling.

You were curious about Marie, a woman who Commander Erwin was apparently set on marrying before he graduated from the Cadet Corps. Though, the couple guys in the Garrison you spoke to who claimed they graduated with him insisted it was the other way around. But of course, that’s something only Erwin and Marie know, and if the Commander never chatted with Levi of all people about it, then it’s a closed case. 

It was the first you heard about it, and it made you wonder; not why he chose the Titans over the supposed ‘woman of his dreams’, but why she didn’t fight him tooth and nail on it. 

You imagine—in some faraway, alternate universe—living day by day for three years in the Cadet Corps with Levi. Even though you’d still be fighting for that fresh, unknowable haven—freedom—and even though it must come first, you would do just that. No matter if you or he ended up making the ultimate sacrifice; that excruciating moment that would tear through you as time freezes and the air becomes sludge, only to be buried in the cold aftermath of love’s death. Even further, even if you were forced to live the rest of your days half-alive until you eventually met a similar fate—there would be nothing you wouldn’t do.

“Maybe he just didn’t like her that much,” he quips, forcing you to muffle an amused little huff into his fine suit jacket, where you gladly drown in his cologne. 

But he honestly doesn’t know. He knows that—once every three blue moons or so—Hange grows low and serious and insists that joy is a diamond cradled in the mud at the bottom of a swamp cradled deep deep deep in the bedrock of this world. 

“Seriously, shorty,” they’d sigh. “You have no idea what you’re gonna miss if you keep on this will-we, won’t-we stuff.”

In lieu of leaving you high and dry and without a likely answer, he decides to settle on, “Erwin’s got his own ambitions. Who fucking knows how many laws he broke getting me here in the first place?”

You squeeze his hand, and he bullies his fingers between your own to squeeze back. “You think it’s a little selfish?”

“Maybe.”

“Aren’t we?”

His lips press into a line. Yes, beyond a shadow of a doubt. Despite all the reasons we shouldn’t be. 

Selfish, like the times (many times) where you lay sprawled on Levi’s little sofa in his office. The thing’s pretty small, so your knees tend to dangle over the armrest. On those days, you always do your paperwork your own way. All the while, he’s hunched over his desk, doing nothing at all spectacular—signing his name, reading, maybe—but your eyes dart over to him, watching him do nothing while the giggles start bubbling up in your throat.

The smile reaches the apple of your cheeks, showing teeth, and when he shoots you the exact opposite look and asks, “The hell are you laughing at?” and subtly glances down at himself in case something’s out of order—you can’t offer him any real answer. You just get the feeling of flowers and flapping butterfly wings and a good night’s sleep when you look at him. 

And through the little giggles you try (and fail) to hide under your hand, you tell him, “I don’t know. You’re just–” and you have to pin your lips between your teeth. Cute isn’t the right word. “I like you.”

And he stares at you, the way he would a stubborn stain. “...Alright then.” 

Levi’s knocked from his mind when your hand lands in his slicked hair again. He has to do the unthinkable and grab your wrist, then do something less unthinkable: slide his grip down so he can link your fingers together.

He forgot all about your current topic of little talk, which he and you—but mostly him—still pretend is hypothetical: what would change, what it meant if you took the leap. There’s been a surprising amount of long pauses so far.

Normally, he avoids this topic like the plague, and you don’t push him. It’s not so scary to muse on, though, not like it used to be. As for you, your shakes have gone away, like the anxiety has spit you back out so you can clamber to your feet.

“...I wouldn’t have to lie to everyone. And you,” he eventually answers, well and truly grasping at straws now. “About wearing your stupid sweaters.”

You bump his cheek with your nose: you have too much lipstick on to risk stains. He’s adorable. Since the biggest sweaters of yours puddle around his waist and swallow his hands, Hange loves to point it out while Erwin pretends not to avidly listen.

“Honestly?” You turn your head, and your voice is clear. “I already knew you loved them. You really think I mind?”

He rolls his eyes at the word you use. Of course you don’t mind, and of course you know how he feels. He’s the same. You’re both a week of sleepless nights past agonizing over selfish feelings, actions, and maybe even promises. 

“How could I forget?” he retorts. “You know everything.”

You nudge him and shake your head. “I don’t think anyone knows anything.”

He recognized a long time ago that you’re much smarter than he is, which is why he can’t contribute anything that meaningful and instead changes the subject. He needs to talk to Erwin, but he’ll be back, so: “Don’t move. I’ll send a search party if you disappear again.”

Your brow wrinkles as he shuffles away from you. “What about?”

“Your job is to kill Titans, not schmooze to assholes,” he replies, after a little deliberation. “The night’s almost over, anyway.”

A pause. You open your mouth, close it. “...Okay. I trust you.”

“...I know.”

Cold air slaps him in the face, but the sound the carriage door makes when he shuts it feels final, in a good way; something like closure, the gavel going down after the judge deems you innocent. It feels like you came to an understanding somehow.

And he helped you. He knows how important performing well at this thing meant to you; but proving yourself is always important to you.

Old habits die hard as well. He knows all about that.

Navigating the crowd inside is a challenge, but the Commander has hair like cornsilk and he’s as tall as a tree. Levi gets a sinking feeling when he spots him schmoozing to a few straight-edge looking corpsmen with green horse patches on their leather. Good thing Erwin has his priorities straight, because the MPs clear away almost as soon as Levi’s name is out of his mouth. It seems he still has a reputation with them.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Levi crosses his arms when he gets the suspicion Erwin is carefully concealing a smile. “It’s not—whatever filth you’re thinking of. I said she’s not feeling well…These things make me sick to my stomach too,” he grumbles.

Erwin hums wisely around his cocktail glass, but that funny look in his eye has gone away now. Levi informs him you got overwhelmed, and Erwin agrees that’s understandable, considering the circumstance. Levi believes he means it without question.

“Things went well enough, right?” he goes on, a little dumbly.

“They did. The results of our last expedition contributed to that. You work well together, both on the battlefield and off of it.”

As much success as they reaped then, he’s referring to the two injured in Levi’s squad. You two played quite the role in ensuring Petra and Eld lived back then.

As Erwin speaks, he turns his back and heads in the direction of at least three table’s worth of drinks. Levi obediently follows behind, thinking to himself that Erwin should lay off the booze, but he doubts any one of them will be appreciating their livers in another fifteen years. It’s understandable, even, what with the heightened responsibility Erwin carries. Levi doesn’t envy his job at all. 

He says nothing.

“Those casualties weren’t your fault. You’ve always been masterful at quick and efficient decision-making.” He sets the empty umbrella-shaped glass down on a table of crystal.

Unimpressed, “The sun will rise before you get to the point you’re trying to make.”

Erwin’s lips crinkle at the edges when he smiles, reminiscent of a genie, or a guy who thinks he knows everything; for all Levi knows, that might be the case. He can never quite tell what Erwin’s thinking until he goes on and says it.

“What I mean to say is, you ought to make a choice before you lose the chance.”

Cryptic as ever. Then, Levi’s eyes widen a fraction with understanding: he comes to Erwin and requests you both return to HQ early, and Erwin decides it’s time to divulge romance advice for the first time ever.

“Normally… I wouldn’t lecture you on personal matters. It isn’t my place,” he goes on, uncharacteristically sheepish. “But I wanted to speak from personal experience. It’s none of my concern, one way or another.”

Levi blinks up at him. “I intend to.”

“You’re welcome,” he teases.

“Ugh. Shut up.”

With that, Levi turns his back and leaves this friendly exchange. He marches away like Erwin just gave him an order, but he didn’t, and ironically enough he already planned on it. He already decided.

Back in the carriage, actually.

The sight looks promising: you, no longer hunched up inside the carriage, but leaning against one of the paneled doors, smoking a fat cigar. You have to raise it to your lips around the giant, puffy sleeves, and suddenly he’s no longer just relieved, but amused.

“You must be feeling better.”

“Mm.” You sigh. He presses the back of his hand to your cheek just in case, and it’s deliciously warm. “I threw up.”

Levi takes a perilous look around your immediate vicinity. He repeats after you, incredulous, before you insist that you feel better now; not that you caught a bug, but this time anxiety triggered your stomach, as it has on more than one occasion in the past.

He believes you, mostly because he’s seen firsthand. Then again, he wants to know where, exactly. “–not in that tiny box we have to get back to Trost in, right?”

You shake your head. Your mouth feels like tumbleweeds and acid. “Those ‘pigs’ will have something to clean in the morning… Did you know they keep a whole box of cigars just—in the carriages?”

He knows very well: a pig’s favorite pastime, after all, is indulging in good mud. But he only indulges in tobacco every once (once) in a very long while, because otherwise you’d go around stinking like smoke with teeth like baked corn. That shit never comes out.

Thing is, everyone and their mother in the Underground smoked. Kenny in particular always had a pipe in his hand when it wasn’t a knife or a tankard, but if Levi wanted to be adventurous, Kenny would dangle it above his head before locking him out for the night—to be certain Levi learned his lesson. Very kind in retrospect, considering the man Kenny is, or was.

The smoke is a comforting, disgusting smell, but either way Levi still does it. As for you, you indulge only when you’re past carrying all the stress your shoulders can handle.

You swallow. Quietly, “We’re not going back?”

No. Erwin already thinks you’re sick besides, which is why Levi cranes his neck to get a look at where the stagecoach should be, and isn’t. Odds are, they’re off rolling tobacco or chowing down on whatever slop that doesn’t measure up to what the guests get. Either way, you can’t leave. Maybe that can work out.

The chilly air cuts when he breathes too deeply. He’s thankful when you offer him the smoldering cigar, trapped between all five fingers. 

Around a huff of amusement, he takes it between two of his own. All these years, and you still handle your tobacco like a toddler.

“What?” You sound like you know what he’s thinking.

He spares you by saying nothing and inhales deeply, pleased with the rich taste that curls over his tongue; pig’s mud indeed.

A smirk threatens one side of your mouth. “Only you can make smoking that stuff attractive.”

He blows the smoke out one side and clears his throat, flustered. No way you’ve always thought that and just never told him—you’re fucking with him. His eyes go somewhere else. “Tch. Watched and learned is all.”

You decide to tease him if he’s going to assume you’re doing that already. “Am not. It’s only sexy on you, princess.”

He opens his mouth, stammers horribly, and shuts it with a buzz in his head; probably the tobacco. “Th-That’s–” He plants himself against the carriage. He needs to recover. “Shut up. Now. Shut your sh-shitty mouth.” You don’t. His lips wrinkle. “Stop laughing already… That’s enough.”

He flicks your forehead and your laughing dissolves into giggles. How thankful he is that it's dark: he can feel the heat flock to his cheeks. 

“Your joke isn’t funny,” he complains. “Unless you intended to creep me out.”

“Who said I was joking?”

“I did.”

He’s done with this conversation. It’s too late to go back, and while Erwin excused you both, the stagecoach is absent to do just that. It’s not the end of the world, though. Carriage rides, no matter the destination, tend to drag on so long it’s worth more of your time to find patterns in the upholstery than look around outside. Neither of you are inclined to add nearly an hour to the trip by sitting inside. 

Let’s look at the stars, you suggest. He caves, surprisingly without much fight at all, considering it’s colder than the underside of an ice cube tonight. 

But first, he’s bullying a mint between your lips and thoroughly, furiously lathering every bit of your hands with a cloth soaked in something clean and cold he draws from the depths of his lapels. Just in case, he claims; who knows what germs stew around in the stomach all day?

“What is that?” You almost gag. “Gin?”

“Absinthe. Stop fucking—” he spreads your palm, “—jerking everywhere.”

I’ll jerk something—

You laugh, mostly at yourself. “Where’d you get absinthe?” That’s some strong alcohol, the sort heavy enough to even roll Levi over like a train. 

The side of his mouth twitches as he tells you he has friends in high places, as if that means anything. He probably threatened someone rich. You let it go and shake your hands out, appreciating the clean taste of the mint. 

That’s until he swipes the absinthe-rag across your lips—“Ugh! ‘Vi–”—and dabs around your mouth like you have crumbs stuck there. He considers asking you to suck on it like a lozenge, an old trick for stomach problems he learned from no one other than a boozehound like Kenny, but it might just put you out. It usually worked for Levi, though. 

“Why?” you ask incredulously around a shot of nausea. Your nostrils feel like you’ve snorted floor cleaner. “Lemme guess. It put you to sleep?”

“No.”

You don’t get an explanation at first. He’s too busy tossing the rag in a bin, drying his hands, then fiddling with his waxy hair with a sour look on his face. You take initiative, and he melts a little.

“It got me drunk, and I threw up,” he finally relents, expression thoroughly pinched with disgust. “But you’ve had enough of that for one night, right?”

You tut. “Yeah. Not very romantic.”

Saying that, you slip your arms around his waist and tuck yourself against him. His skin is soft and fairly salty here since you’ve been under lights all night. You note also, with a touch of longing, how his whole body clams up before strong arms stray over your shoulders. Technically you’re in public here, where not a single person doesn’t know you and him by your faces; it’s not the anonymity you’re privileged to in Trost, or even Stohess. 

Nerves turn your stomach. You bury your face a little deeper to escape it, and his chest lifts with a deep breath. Under an oily night like this, it’s unlikely you’ll be noticed, but you hope you didn’t make him uncomfortable anyway. 

“You’re warm,” you whisper, voice muffled as if by a pillow.

His eyes sting when he allows them to slip shut. Maybe he’s tired or amused or fond, but there’s a raw feeling in his chest that glows to hear you say that. You’re warm, too.

He pets your hair. “C’mon.”

With all the factories tucked in the industrial district south of Mitras, the air is more clogged somehow. It doesn’t taste as clean as the countryside air in Wall Rose, let alone outside it in what is now Titan territory. 

The height of the castle, however, makes up for it plenty. If the stars could somehow be reached, touched, taken—those mere pinpricks in the fabric of the nighttime blanket—then the castle stretches far enough into the sky to convince you of that illusion. Tons and tons of drops of pure light.

You both lounge on a long, shady stretch of cobblestone, protected at all sides from a finely-cut stone barrier. The chill nips at your bones much more up here.

Once you settle in, Levi goes very still and very quiet, almost as if he was at a funeral, but he’s just craning his neck to marvel. It’s a solemn sort of wonder, one you understand. 

“I’m gonna sound crazy,” he mumbled once, but he didn’t need convincing to admit it. He always has one last weak defense in his arsenal; always before exposing a raw and very tender nerve. “But just listen. Doesn’t it look like you could….”

The quiet was severe that late at night, even at the Trost barracks. You understood. “Like maybe… You could reach out and touch one?”

And he stopped looking for one moment to shoot you a sidelong, thoughtful look; you and the blanket over your shoulders, because Levi always runs hot and he didn’t like to cuddle back then.

“Am I wrong?”

He looked away and didn’t say anything for a long time. So long you didn’t think he’d reply. “Not at all.”

You weren’t sure if you quite pinned down what he was thinking, whether you read his mind exactly right, or whether you said something he never considered—it’s still hard to tell now, sometimes. Levi has a million facets to him, some quieter than others, no matter how far your history stretches. Some a stranger can discern with just a passing glance, some only you know; no matter what, you always get to learn something new about him this way.

In comparison, your heart is permanently tethered to your sleeve, and you talk freely about this or that. He’s a very good listener, always sharp-eyed and attentive. That’s how it is now, though this evening’s chaos bouncing about your mind doesn't allow you to go on and on as much as usual.

The night is stunning. You think back: a dark, mildewy blanket of a sky, endless and echoing into nothing—that’s what the Underground ceiling is like, or that’s how he always described it when he opened up about it. You can’t imagine growing up in darkness: trapped, small, never-ending. 

But a kind word, an I’m sorry goes a bit over his head, always has. You learned to accept his grief for what it is, just like he learned to console you when you so much as forget to tip a waitress. You learned an apology is what you give your subordinate when your handwriting is a bit too messy to make out, or you show up a few minutes late to a meeting. True sorrow is as rare as true love: just as you can’t mend a crater in the earth with a bandaid, you can’t convey true love with words like, “You’re warm.”

You know what you share, and you think he knows that too. Part of this means listening rather than just hearing him, and if you can’t understand his trouble, you always understand how he feels. The amount of times he’s spared you the same reverent attention makes your head spin a little.

For all these little facets of what you share, a smile is drawn to your lips when you breathe in his cologne. It’s hard to pinpoint a time you’ve ever felt closer to him (nevermind the scarce amount of physical space between you now), though you’ve almost always been—in some invisible, demonstrable way—together. You walk on air.

Cross-legged, Levi does nothing to stop you as you toy with his long fingers some more, tracing patterns all over his hand. Beneath moonlight like this, his skin looks more like porcelain, making the baby hairs and pasty scars here and there a little more shiny. 

“You have small wrists.”

Your sides touch, and you vaguely register that he’s fidgeting the slightest bit. 

“Keen observation,” he drawls, thick with sarcasm. “Did you happen to notice my eyes are gray?”

You’re scandalized. “Huh? They’re blue!” You ignore his surly glare. “Like… Like how starlight looks. Or the sky when the sun’s about to come up. And in the dark? Right now? It’s how water looks when the moon’s reflecting off it. Don’t you get it?”

A flare of embarrassment ripples your chest—you’re rambling, and it’s obvious you’ve ruminated on his eye color, of all things—but he doesn’t mock you. His eyes are a touch wider, and the exact color you just described. The pull of some emotion raw and blatant looks outright uncanny without his bangs in the way.

You ask if he ever gave such a thing much thought, and really, no. Parts of himself he can’t change—the shape of his face, the slope of a small nose, his short, stocky build—he never gave much mind to. There’s no part of him capable of spewing poetry like you just did.

Suddenly, he feels convicted. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, furrowing his brow. “In general. Not just tonight,” and to add onto that, “Not just your looks, either.”

The look on your face reminds him of a very soft, pretty flower. He resists the urge to look away and leans forward, kisses you smooth and slow. You kiss back with earnest. It’s a shock to his senses when your chilly hand lands on his flaming cheek.

Your eyes are quite dazzled. Your lips part, then they close. “Have you given it any more thought?”

He knows that thin pull in your voice isn’t because of anything he’s done wrong, but he wants his arm around your waist anyway. It’s without a moment of hesitation that you shuffle up close. He stretches one leg out to make room, and suddenly his mouth is dry.

He realizes he didn’t answer you and nods a little stupidly. All day today (technically, since two nights ago when he last slept properly) he’s been ‘giving it thought’.

“I shouldn’t have asked, sorry. I don’t want to rush a decision like that, but you make it hard when you–” you nose his cheek, kiss the flaming skin there, “–call me that.”

You, as in all that you are. He doesn’t just stop at a pretty face, but it’s the little quirk in your laugh and the way you walk; your subpar cleaning skills and your knack for putting on a brave face no matter if it’s the fall of Wall Maria four years ago, or if a yowling cat trapped in a damn thicket. It’s just a word, but it means so much; you can’t quite tell if you’re overreacting or not.

His answer: A hand buries in your hair and he shakes his head. “It just isn’t easy for me. I don’t even…”

He stalls, because the first explanation he jumps to, he realizes, is a lie. “I know how I feel. I know how you feel, and it’s selfish. But I wouldn’t have regrets,” he head hangs, “I’d—I’d rather suffer than regret anything with you.”

You give a small, sure nod. “Me too.”

Your heart is on a rampage in your chest, but you’re very still, like a statue. You fear any slight move could dim this moment, or make him quiet. If only you could stay like this forever, or at least until the sun comes up. Together.

He’s reminded of how you reassured him shortly before Mayfest. Unsurprisingly, he still carries those words with him: “We’ve been through everything together, this is no different.”

He clears his throat, but his voice remains rusty. His duty demands he reiterate this: “W-We have a job to do. But even so, things have always been the same between us.”

“Yeah... Hange will always be making kissy noises when we’re in the same room together.” 

That too. His heart twists up, and an ocean of warmth washes over his chest. He feels protective suddenly; with both arms he cradles you closer, and nudges your temple tucked beneath his chin. He has to strain his neck a little to do it, but he doesn’t care at all.

“You’d t-train one-on-one with me s-several days a week,” he blurts out. He keeps fucking stammering. “On ODM, too. That’s, my condition.”

You’re happy to—thrilled, in fact, to bust your ass a hundred times and slash at cardboard Titans every day out of the week, if he preferred. His lips part like he plans to go on, but doesn’t. And don’t get killed, you think he’d say; Don’t get killed for me. Neither of you can uphold a promise like that.

There’s no air in his lungs. His voice is like thin, crystalline glass. “So, if, if you’d live with me, then…”

He stalls; he knows the answer. When you kiss him, you knock your noses together. It feels like fire and tastes like spirits. There’s no need to use so many words.

Where he’s slowly grown remarkably tense, his shoulders fall, welcoming your arms around them. The cold bristles your cheek where his hand leaves you in favor of the nape of your neck. Stay here, it says, and you mimic him. Stay with me. 

Levi stews in the confusion of this solid, warm feeling cramping his chest; it begs tears when there’s nothing to grieve. Death of the past, maybe. Too many sentiments roll around in his head to speak any aloud. You’d probably be better off counting the stars. The frustration is like a red-hot coil, deep in his chest. He feels the longing like a pinprick in the middle of his ribcage. 

He tilts his head and pushes more passion into the kiss. You must understand that this is him, trusting you, and giving himself away; and he will take care of you in return. He’d be horribly remiss to do any wrong by you.

More; the way your thin breath stutters and your fingers dance at the prickly hairs, short of where his undercut lays. Your lashes kiss his cheeks and your pulse thumps beneath his thumb. If you wanted to kiss any deeper, he'd have to part his lips for you.

He imagines—in some faraway, alternate universe—in which things never led to this moment, like naming a color no one’s ever seen. It simply wouldn’t make sense. He wants you to keep in your mind, to never think of yourself as any less than Levi at the best moments you have framed of him in your mind.

He thinks himself lucky, despite the rest; one precious jewel this world finally, for once, took upon itself to hurl at him despite all its wretchedness. But, that would be giving the world too much credit.

He wants you.

Your velvety tongue rolls across his lips, allowing you to breathe each other in, warm, hot and heavy, and a ghostly moan rises from his chest. For all his patience, he doesn’t want to stop; that’s until his palm lands on your cheek, and finds cold, sticky tears there. 

He pulls away as if he’s been burned, but you’re smiling with abandon; you tell him, “No, I’m just so happy,” and he is too. If only he had any say in this world’s inane rules, tears wouldn’t walk hand-in-hand with joy. Why should people cry when they’re happy?

“Oh,” he replies.

He wets his lips, tastes absinthe and mint and you; your lipstick is smeared, which means his are stained red. It doesn’t feel like he can move when you look at him this way. The shine in your eyes puts the stars to shame. 

Then, your thumb traces his high cheekbone. He twitches and realizes he’s trembling all over, like a cornered mouse. 

“You see?” You smear a silent tear from his cheek. “You’re doing it too.”

He has thick lashes; no matter how he blinks, tears stick to them. His nose is stuffy. If you were to ask if he’s happy, so happy, then he would melt. You kiss his smile—again, again, then once more. Tremors lay in his thumbs as he wipes away the tears pasted to your cheeks.

“For the record,” you tell him a very long while later, when the flashy lights and sounds from inside have dumbed down, when suits and flowy gowns have poured out onto the sidewalks, “you’re beautiful too.”

No, Erwin won’t mind that he ended up fibbing by spending the death of the evening anywhere but riding back to HQ. You ask him how he can be so sure of that, but he shakes his head. If by the slimmest of margins Erwin does mind, the excuse is your missing stagecoach.

Levi locks his arm with yours as you walk—one part not to lose you to the crowd, mostly because he can—and you’re scarcely able to avoid the Commander, but there’s no such thing as avoiding Hange. They’re steering Moblit in all directions (as they please) despite being exponentially more wasted than him, and nearly pass you both by. Levi is propping the carriage door open with his elbow and lends you his other hand while you pick up your dress so as not to trip over the steps.

You’ve just gotten situated when a screech—“Captain Shorty! Looking dashing as always!”—that could only be Hange sounds from very close by. Moblit may tear his arm off in efforts to drag them in the opposite direction.

If they get a good look at him, his hair askew, his collar utterly rumpled despite all your attempts to straighten it, a scene will be made. There also may or may not be red splotches from your lipstick on his neck, so all he can do is flee into the carriage. Already you dash for the hatch and slam it shut.

“It’s not over,” he croaks, and on cue the door lurches under Hange’s two hands. They stare in through the round window, big brown eyes wide with curiosity. 

He darts back just in time. You have to slap your hand over your mouth so as to not laugh your head off.

Finally, peace and quiet once Moblit gets a handle on them like the good assistant he is. Not soon enough, the carriage lurches forward, and you both start breathing again. 

You’re still laughing as you attempt to comb his greased hair back to its original shape, and the only reason he stays still and takes it is because it’s the only thing that can unwind his frayed nerves. It’s helpless until he can wash it out, but it’s a valiant effort on your part.

But (and for once), he’s not so stressed just because of Hange’s antics. You share another cigar, but only his hands are steady enough to light the match.

It’s a dirty habit, even dirtier to light it up inside someplace small and confined like this, but the evening and its happy lunacy warrant a little indulgence. He can wash, iron, and dry your outfits later, all you like. He can brush his teeth a hundred times and you can wash his hair until he’s brand new. You can do anything.

You take a small toke of the fat cigar. “We need a shower when we get home,” you say without thinking, and at his raised brow, you blanch. “Oh.” You think fast. “This reminds me of something that happened between me and my first boyfriend.”

Like a dolt, he blinks at you. He opens his mouth, then closes it. You’ve never mentioned this person before. “What did you say?”

You knock his shoulder, eyes wide and expectant; it reminds him of a little kid. You play innocent, insist that he knows him, like it’s the most basic of information. He nearly goes cross-eyed wracking his memories for any mention or face of some man you’ve dated in the past. 

You always strongly disliked the heart-eyes one of your past subordinates always shot you, besides this faceless steelworker or that stablehand. His brows furrow and a frown tugs his lips down. Jealousy sweeps over him in longer and larger waves.

Finally, he shoots you a petulant, vaguely helpless look. “Who are you talking about?”

Your lips break into a snarky grin. You sigh as if you’re about to explain something to a child, and climb astride in his lap (careful not to tangle your dress in the process). Close and comfortable.

He doesn’t move. “What–”

“It’s you, dummy. You’re my first.”

Before you can congratulate yourself on your wit, Levi sneers and captures your lips. His hand seizes the back of your head so you can’t try anything. 

It isn’t the first time you’ve accidentally referred to Trost HQ as ‘home’, but he’s also feeling petty from that joke; enough to pinch your bottom lip between his teeth, enough to do nothing when your dress slips from your neckline and exposes your shoulder to the rapidly warming air.

Your round thighs squeeze his hips, stoking warmth below his belt, but still manages to act petulant between the wet smacks of your lips: “You’re such a pain in the ass–” kiss, “–idiot.”

“Dummy.”

“Idiot.”

You pass him the smoldering cigar as a peace offering. His tongue darts across his shiny lips as he takes it. Spicy tobacco smoke plays around your nose until you duck your head and taste his soft cologne, his salty sweat. He nods his head back to make room, and regrets it as soon as he sucks a strangled gasp through his teeth when you circle your tongue around his adam’s apple. Your lips are smoldering. 

The tobacco has his head spinning brightly, and your teeth make his cock stir. Briefly, he abandons the cigar to just feel. 

A sweet shudder tickles your spine. You love to feel him cling to you despite how hard he fights to smother the slightest hint that you’re getting to him. You’ll never get over how reactive Levi is, perfectly pliant under your mouth, your hands.

You can’t help yourself. As you suckle a stretch of skin (that his cravat has no hopes of covering) between your teeth, you roll your hips where you’re perfectly slotted together, and gasp when you feel the ridge of his half-hard cock through your slip.

He screws his eyes shut. “You better stop that.”

You only vaguely ease off. “Why?”

“‘Cause I don’t wanna deal with a hard-on for two fucking hours.”

You whisper in his ear, “What if you don’t have to?” 

He almost drops the cigar, which is only barely still clinging to life. His free hand squeezes your shoulder—more for his stability than yours, honestly. “Ah, I see how it is. You’ve gone crazy.”

It seems you try to rub your thighs together, but you only manage to squeeze his hips instead. Your mouth has quit though, your hands gone still just in case he really means that. 

You watch his dark eyes grow glazed when you wet your lips, and insist: “Tell me you’ve never thought about it. Like this, here…”

But he has, and he’s no liar. He sighs instead—in defeat, lust, relief, or all three—and drags your hips over his lap with both hands. The way the friction has your breath audibly catching in your throat stokes the fire low in his belly. 

He wishes he could see more, with your dress and all the other barriers out of the way.

“Okay,” he breathes. “Have it your way.”

You catch him in a bruising liplock, sharing hot breath, tongue, touch; as if it’s been ages since you’ve brushed paths, as if close has never been close enough until this very moment.

Levi takes care to flick what’s left of the scorched cigar-butt into an ashtray so he can make a desperate grab for more of you. You sling both your arms around his neck and cling.

Your lipstick, ruby-red, makes the drag of your lips like honey. It mingles with the sticky taste of tobacco, but he needs more, so he takes your bottom lip and licks into your hot mouth when he first gets the chance. He loves it when you moan for him.

Your hand snakes up, massaging where his hair is prickly and short. Higher, where all of it is at your disposal, as slicked as it is—the sensation has pleasant shivers shaking up his spine. His lungs beg for air.

A moment to breathe. His blue-grey eyes have gone glazed and a tad lidded, and strawberry-colored smears decorate his swelled ones, and all around his mouth. You kiss his cheek, and revel in the saccharine satisfaction of the stain that’s left behind. There’s something about leaving a mark on him that licks flames at your insides. Irresistible.

You’re going to be forced to clean up later, but a part of you wants others to see the lipstick stains on the apples of both his cheeks; following down his sharp jaw, his high cheekbones, even his forehead. 

He doesn’t stop you either. In fact your heart leaps because, as breathy and small as it is, he very well could be laughing (his voice always cracks when he laughs for how rare it happens), so you start to laugh too. Then you’re laughing and kissing and grabbing at each other like two drunk idiots. 

Your lips fall below his chin, driving a shiver up his spine. Goosebumps rise to his skin, then his skin between your teeth, and he lightly gasps. He makes a blind grab for your thigh, but comes up with a handful of silk instead. 

Levi remembers himself finally— “Fucking dress,”—and scoops the hems up in both hands. He catches sight of fine, fleece stockings colored like snow; then garters. Fine, black lace following up beneath your slip, surely clipped to your panties.

A breath is punched from his chest. Your heels clatter to the floor with the haste that he hitches you up further, closer. His belly does somersaults and his mind fucking melts.

“The fuck—didn’t you tell me?” His hands roam all over, gliding up and down and under the thin lace. You laugh at the incredible petulance in his voice; shiver nonetheless when he thumbs under the stocking’s frills and has them snap back against your thigh.

“Our outfits were surprises, weren’t they?”

He scoffs, thoroughly through with your tricks. His palms slip inside your panties instead, taking two handfuls of your ass, and the gasp he gets in return has his chest fluttering. It’s your hips he takes hold of next, rolling his hips up shamelessly.

You curse in surprise, burning like a fever has come over you. So much fabric bars you from feeling him, and that has to change. 

“Are you—”

“Don’t stop,” you gasp. You’re not going to be the one calling the shots this time, and thrill like a firework shoots through your belly.

He holds you close, and doesn’t stop. When you begin meeting him in the middle, rutting hard against the hard ridge of his cock, he curses under his breath and throbs. 

You like the look on his face—pinched, bloomed pink—so you bite that feather-sensitive spot under his ear and his whole body shudders with a barely-concealed cry. He starts panting. 

“I want what you want,” you whisper.

Levi wastes no time. He puts you where he wants you: your backside on the cushions, sat up with your dress a heap in your lap, knees bent. 

Before he slides down to the fuzzy carpet, he kisses your chin. “Not a sound, right?”

Your teeth clack from shutting your mouth so abruptly, nodding like a bobblehead though that’s certainly not a promise you can keep. Between your thighs, your clit is throbbing.

Kneeling, he decides you’re not close enough and abruptly yanks you closer by the fat of your thighs. 

Your soul leaves your body, the ease with which he handles you. He could easily drag you into any position he wants—like now, he spreads your legs wide—and you would go limp and pliant and let him take you any way he’d like. 

Now he hitches both your legs up over his shoulders, exposing your soaked panties to the cool air, and his mouth. You cross your ankles over his upper back, where his shoulderblades lie, and hear your heart like a stampede in your ears.

You want what he wants—and he wants to taste you. Somewhere there’s a twinge of surprise inside you, but there shouldn’t be; that first time he shuddered when he first licked you, and seized your thighs to take more and more and more. 

Like now: he licks a long line over your panties from your hole to your clit, and though you gasp from the bottom of your lungs, though you urge his head right there, he’s determined to tease you.

He made out with your messy cunt until you whimpered if he so much as kissed your shaking thigh, that first time. You shook like a leaf all over in fact for the latter half of that night, and in the morning there was a crick in his jaw.

Now he thumbs your panties to one side, spreading your lips with his other between two fingers. His tongue—deliciously hot, heavy, and wet—laps between your sloppy folds, no barriers left, and you were crazy to ever imagine staying dead silent to be possible.

Occasionally, blindsiding you, his lips will close around your clit and suckle, and the gasp that leaves you makes your head spin. Your gasping is obnoxiously loud, but so are the squelching noises his lips make smacking on your swollen clit. 

It doesn’t even register that your hands are greasy from the gel slicking his hair. Half of your attention is paid to staying quiet and the other on mashing his face in your pussy.

And he gets off on you jerking him around like this; yanking him any way that pleases you, getting used by you. 

He never knows what to do or how without bruising his mind thinking, and this way it’s so much easier to let go and let you take him. There’s no reason to doubt that you want him, either. Need.

Spread open for him, he breathes hot and open-mouthed over your glistening lips. You’re soaked because of him. He did this, and a feeling randomly seizes him. 

He yanks your panties further aside, practically ravenous, only for fabric to tear abruptly, like yanking off a bandaid. If he didn’t pull them aside they’d drop from your hips on their own, surely. 

Through a thick haze you hardly hear, just feel him stop. You look up, and by the rueful look on his face, Levi must’ve forgotten his own strength. 

“Sorry.” He actually sounds genuine. 

You could laugh. “Come back here,” you whimper, giving his collar a small yank, and before you even finish he’s back between your slippery thighs.

He breathes carefully through his nose and adjusts you for an easier angle. Only now, distantly, does he notice himself idly rubbing his thighs together when that thick, heavy sweetness rolls over his tongue once more, and the realization vanishes. 

A squeak just barely dies in your throat, your grip painful again, and he wants to fuck his hand so bad he aches. He paints your clit with his tongue, drags his heavy tongue through your soaked folds and actually whimpers, it’s so hot, so damn tight.

Your thighs pin him where he is, and it’s a wickedly appealing desire to have your thighs to smother him; cushion his head so those sheer stockings mess his hair while he makes you come on his face again and again. 

Your voice—breathy and high and choked—has broken the surface; he can tell you’re close. It’s wetter, soaking his face from the slope of his nose down his chin, and he sweeps his tongue to lap it all up, but your hips keep fucking his face and there’s more every time he licks into you. 

Over and over is a grossly appealing idea right about now, all fucking night. 

He sucks your clit, and you jerk, fighting for air. You gasp his name, and flames lick at his lower half. So close. He needs it.

Faster, he strokes your clit with his tongue, for the first time uses his fingers to circle your entrance, and you’re in grave danger of keening out loud at the ceiling. 

For him too, a moan is almost wrenched from his throat. Shit, because the carriage is rocking—he’s licking you out in a fucking carriage—and there’s no way you’ll stay quiet this way. 

He squeezes your thighs so he can pull away and climb up between your legs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as does. Cushions hug your back, your thighs awkwardly pivoting back to accommodate his waist.

“Sorry—”

His palm falls over your mouth and he holds his finger up, glistening with your cum, to his lips in a way that says: Quiet.

You breathe noisily, gasping really, and tilt your hips towards him, silently begging. 

Your thighs are hefted up high next—folding you almost completely in half—so your ankles end up dangling helplessly over his shoulders. Your thighs strain immediately, a dull pain, but it’s thrilling to be exposed this way; from the waist down you’re spread open, allowing the air to kiss your glistening cunt. You vaguely register that you’re trembling. 

He leans forward and props your chin up on two fingers. “Can you handle this? Or too much?”

You open your eyes. His lips are plump and shiny, and a daring sheen in his bright blue-greys tells you Levi likes having you at his mercy like this. Still, he asks, and for some reason that leaves your head reeling.

It’s a touch too painful for your thighs, being bent like this, and without so much as batting an eye he props your knees up high around his midriff instead. You cross your calves behind his back while he spreads his knees apart further so your backside doesn’t slip forward.

“Better?” He whispers this. 

You sigh in relief. “Thank you.”

An abrupt bump in the road forces him to brace himself against the wooden rail above your head. Before you can yelp, he has you taken care of. His palm slaps back over your mouth, and your nostrils flare.

“That’s another problem.” He thumbs at your bottom lip and forces your lips into a pucker. “This mouth of yours. So,” he searches your eyes, “you gonna shut up this time? Or do I need to do it for you?”

Your pussy flutters hard, and the sound you make in kind has him huffing in amusement. Clearly not.

Experimentally, he bullies three fingers past your lips while his free hand falls between your thighs to play with your clit. 

You just about gag in surprise when his fingers press your tongue down flat, and swallow around them to compensate for the whines that vibrate around his fingers. Your cheeks hollow out, and as much as he likes to watch—you make his heart thump in his ears and his cock strain between his thighs—it’s no good.

You notice him yank his cravat free from his collar because he’s forced to pull away from your clit to do so. The ones pruned from your mouth he wipes off on his pant leg.

You swallow furiously, nod your head and breathe hard as it’s knotted tight around your head. Obediently you bite down, experimentally working your tongue around it. It’s silkier than most of his others, but you taste what light scent he wore this evening, plus thick traces of spice from the cigar. It’s good, you decide. 

You’re to pinch him if something’s wrong, and it takes every last speck of your patience not to force his hand and beg him not to treat you like thin glass that could shatter.

The carriage keeps on rocking, but he’s got you. It sharply occurs to him that you may be very short on time now, so his hand falls down to smear more cum coating thighs and pussy up, all over your clit. 

The way he rubs you in these quick little motions reminds you of the way he handles the ODM triggers. Grinding your teeth, you force yourself to stay near-silent. Your hips jerk sloppily, out of rhythm, shameless.

He sighs and sinks two fingers into your cunt. In the next breath he picks up a quick, steady rhythm, and finger-fucks you deep. 

You’re already drawing up shivery and tight, whining for him, groping his shoulders. The squelching sounds have you physically hot all over; your fabrics stick to you like an ugly sauna. 

Between the gag, he thinks you’re trying to say his name, and kicks his hips forward at nothing but air. A third finger slips through your folds before bullying in beside the others and your chest lifts, head nodding back. 

He swallows a groan, not that he's interested in getting caught, but no matter how he tries you just can’t obey his order. That’s how good it is for you, that’s how much you crave him, and that’s what’s getting him off. You’re far from silent, but quiet enough.

“That’s better,” he sighs, curls his fingers in a c’mere motion, fucks them deep, and is forced to cradle the back of your head so you don’t end up hurting yourself, you reel back so hard.

While you’re trying to say, Levi Levi Levi, he pecks one of your stuffed cheeks, then kisses, suckles your bottom lip. They’re split by spit-soaked fabric, but he’s too fond of your muffled, broken attempts at his name to resist.

You’re turning your knuckles white for how desperately you’re clinging to him. His thumb slips through your sloppy folds to give your clit some needed attention, and your cry, this time, is audible.

He’s attacking your throat with kisses. Never does he ramble so much, you’ve found, than when you’re fucking.

“Dirty girl.” His voice is severe. “Wish you could see yourself, getting fucked on my fingers,” he’s panting, “gagged and soaking wet for me. I want it, give it to me.”

So tight—your pillowy cunt split around his three fingers, your thighs locked around his waist. The first wave makes your vision flash between tumbling breaths over a high, red-hot peak. It shakes its way through you and then a little more.

Levi groans under his breath, fat cock pinned to his thigh, and protectively shades your face in his throat while your slippery cunt gushes all over his fingers. All for security, safety, privacy—and, this is for his eyes and ears only.

It’s quick and it’s dirty; drool paints both sides of your pretty mouth while he works your pussy through those last little flutters. 

His fingers slow until your hips have picked up a tiny tremor, shying away the slightest bit this position allows. The world floats like a heatwave behind your eyelids, then fingers are working in a flurry behind your head, and you’re free.

Soaked spit webs his cravat and your tongue, connecting them. With a sore tongue you wet your lips and just breathe. Your thighs seem to vibrate, but he’s letting your legs down, sarcastically asking if you’re alive. 

A smile breaks your cheeks. Your hand moves without much thought at all, in lieu of words you simply don’t possess right now; stroking his cheek, then to his destroyed hair, which you rub affectionately. 

Your eyes are still closed, but they open as he briskly goes about fixing up your appearance (however you’ll have to go without panties; he throbs at the thought) in order to straighten him out too.

“Fuck,” you giggle like a dream. His pupils are round with lust, cheeks stained red by a blush (and darker lip-shaped imprints speckling his face). Dark strands of hair can’t decide whether to stay pinned back or fall over his forehead, where they belong. You decide on the latter, and through a glowing fog ask how he can talk like that.

Embarrassed, scorched by pride, he smugly pretends to not know what you mean. You like to think even Levi blurts things out in the heat of the moment sometimes. 

Beside you, he flicks the curtain back, finds the glass fogged as if by a hot shower, and whips it closed again. You’re likely both stinking like sex, and all he has are mints. 

Your rumpled hems find the carpeted floor. Attempts to smooth them down are in vain, but you’re both in various states of rumpledness.

You’re dabbing a clean cloth over the lipstick stains on his chin. “Are we close?”

A snort, making you pout. Clever choice of words. “We’re here.”

He flicks his cravat in a wastebasket, and just when you’re about to apologize—silk costs a fortune these days—he points out that your underwear is wrecked, and neither of you paid for these outfits.

He wouldn’t be able to see himself ever wearing that cravat again, anyway, out of his others. Wearing refined silk or jewels, expensive furs and this fabric or that—it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. Always has.

The wheels stutter when they come to a stop over gravel, the carriage itself shuttering with it. 

He keeps crossing and uncrossing his legs, and you’re asking, “Mine or yours?” while the echoes of slamming doors shutter outside. Levi suspects Hange and Moblit, but mostly Hange.

“Mine,” he replies, then works his jaw in that strange way he does when he’s stressed. “Or both.”

Without needing to speak, you both already agreed to retreat inside after the rest of your comrades have passed, but now question marks wobble in your mind. The air grows somewhat awkward.

“Both?” Your mouth dries up. “You mean ours?”

He shoots you a little glance. “You’re still getting our clothes mixed up when you stay over, right?”

You laugh at this while Levi pretends to be casual, but his eyes are just as bright as they were on that balcony and of course, obviously, “I’d love to.”

The door only slams shut when you shove him against it as soon as you’re even remotely inside. Your kiss is a mess of heat, tongue, and salty perfume, reawakening his earlier lust with a fiery vengeance.

All this, but he still manages to fumble for the lock before his wrists are seized and slid up above his head. You hold tight.

Instinctively he gasps around a sloppy kiss, stomach dropping into somewhere bottomless, and bows back against you. He’s trapped, pinned, and he can’t decide if he likes it—not until your thigh pushes between his legs. 

His cock surges, and the fear feeling evaporates. Your breath is trembling—or maybe it’s his own—where you suck his skin between your teeth. 

All of this happens in a whirlwind, but he manages to hook his leg around your waist so he has you closer, tighter, harder. He gasps when the rolls of your thigh grow desperate, and throws his head back so he doesn’t make an embarrassing noise.

Then you, whispering filth in his ear. He tastes metal, because squirming isn’t enough, and the pain mashes with the pleasure so exquisitely that he doesn’t register that he’s right on the edge. 

His hips are rolling, humping your thigh like a filthy fucking animal, and you’re whining in his ear, “Ah, never took you for such a whore, Captain,” which flashes his mind in blinding light.

“Fuck—” he slurs, “—wait, fuckwait—” but he’s already shaking through his climax. He throws his head back, gives up, so he has no choice but to let you rub him through it.

This realization prolongs the throbbing in his cock and has him whining towards the end of the hot waves. For a long, endless moment you’re both (but mostly him) catching your breath. But then—once he has his mind back—he tugs his wrists free and gives your shoulders a weak shove.

You stumble a little, startled. “Oh, I thought you–” 

You’re doing my laundry tomorrow,” he huffs, shedding his vest, undoing his buttons in a flurry then yanking his shirt over his head. 

But when a beat passes without your reply, he watches you with his shirt bundled in his arms, good-natured, because he did like it. 

“Well?” he says weakly. He’s struck by an odd sense of insecurity.

Your mind catches up from moments ago—from calling Levi a slut and him shaking in your hold, the heat you felt spill under his slacks—to this very moment in a flurry. Your cheeks heat like an oven.

“Yes,” you manage, taking the bundle from his arms once you’re close enough. “I just wanted to make sure that was okay. Clearly I was right.”

Better, actually. His adam’s apple bobs when he swallows; this between a neck riddled with hickies. “You’re being embarrassing.”

“Do you want to stop?”

He wants to ask what there is to stop exactly, but there’s a mischievous glint in your eye and he can feel he isn’t quite satisfied yet. Stamina like his can be a nuisance sometimes. 

His endurance, too, is normally relentless, but not this time. Partially he blames you, but unsurprisingly, he’s a stranger to his own tastes. That much is clear. 

You’re not mocking him either—behind your eyes or otherwise—which makes whatever you’re implying much more tempting. 

Finally: “…I’m listening.”

“Undress, then.” You’re actually smirking. “On the bed.”

He pretends getting ordered around like this doesn’t make his knees weak, and follows your direction.

It’s pointless to act prude and fold everything, not with the state of his slacks and underwear (disgust and relief war inside him to be rid of them finally), so he shucks everything in the same pile by the foot of the bed, along with his socks and shoes.

You’re left in just a thin, silky blue slip when you push him on his back and crawl between his legs. Casually, you stroke his thighs until he parts them slightly, but he can read your nerves, and he feels clogged with them too.

“What’re you planning?” he murmurs, now half-hard and certainly not squirming at all. His inner thighs are glistening, mostly around the creases of his pelvis.

Honestly, you’re not completely sure. He gives it quite a bit of thought before shaking his head when you offer to try restraining his wrists above his head, and you get a shaky feeling imagining going any further than what you’ve tried so far. You imagine that’d be too much for him, too.

This is how you both agree, simply, to do as you please. His cock twitches a little against his thigh as your heavy tongue traces trails over his mess, speckling pecks, then long, open-mouthed draws of your tongue.

“Ah.” The hard muscles on his belly tense. He can’t quite bring himself to lay back than to watch you through thick lashes as you dutifully lap up his cum—now scraping your tongue through the wiry hairs below his navel. 

Where your mouth goes, his skin cools, causing goosebumps to prick up.

It’s completely unlike how he licked you in the carriage—rushed and feverish—this time you’re clearly making it a point to work him up slowly. You kiss his big thighs almost innocently, nudging bruises into the pale skin with your teeth. 

That’s the part that’s getting to him the most. He can’t recall ever being treated like this before. His elbow falls over his eyes, somehow embarrassed, thighs twitching. 

Without his realizing, he’s inching them shut. He only realizes when you tell him gently, “None of that,” and gently pry them apart again. “Legs open, princess.”

His chest lifts. He doesn’t know what to do with himself besides exaggerate your request—using his absurd flexibility to his advantage to spread them much wider than you probably wanted—then feel his hips twitch up and into the soaked heat that closes around his tender cockhead. Just before, you called how he spread himself perfect.

A mumbled version of your name is smothered by his elbow, pleading. He’s still sensitive, wracked by overwhelming jolts so soon after just coming—but somehow, it feels good. He can’t help twitching away from your mouth, the feeling borders on pain, but you hold him still and it feels like liquid heat.

You lick into his slit, gently pumping the base. The only reason you pull off is to say his name. You want him to watch.

His lower half melts. Somewhere, he’s knuckling the sheets. If he allows you to look at him, he’ll just embarrass himself. He’s too exposed like this.

“I can’t.” He shudders. “It’s. You’re goin’ too slow.”

You lay your palms spread across his thick thighs. Muscles draw a little tense. “You want me to go faster?”

Somehow, you doubt he’s upset about any more than being touched like this. His fat cock, almost fully hard again, idles up high in the crease of his pelvis. It’s even leaking from the flushed head already.

You’re hot between your legs, but you don’t want this to be about you anymore. He deserves to be loved on too. You gently beckon him with his name.

“No,” he whispers, though it sounds more like a question. He peeks over his arm at you, hesitant. “I don’t know.”

“That’s fine,” you lean over and kiss his forehead, “You don’t have to talk, or even look. I just want you to feel good.”

You wrap him in a tender fist, and his eyes fall into slits. “I already do.”

He can hear the smile in your voice. “You know what I mean, ‘Vi.” Your spare hand roams his strong chest, swiping over his nipple. He grunts. “I want you to do two things: tell me to stop, if you need to…”

His hips rock into your hand, face pinched. “I don’t.”

“If.” Your lips quirk. “And tell me when you get close, okay?”

He still doesn’t know what you’re planning—though, he suspects you intend to try something new—but he nods. That specific command makes him heat up. He wants to please you.

Another kiss, and then you’re back between his legs, still pumping him. Faster, then slower. He’s beside himself with impatience, waiting for what you’ll do. Then one stray finger, he feels, slips down to rub his taint, and his thighs nearly jerk shut again. His heart is in his ears.

You’re already there prying them apart. Then, still rubbing, sweet heat swallows in in his cockhead—already sucking. A soft moan dies in his throat, and blindly he’s groping for your shoulder, then the nape of your neck; not to push or pull, but for something to cling to. The sheets aren’t enough.

His mind is buzzing. You suck him in so tight, soft like velvet, sticky and buttery and warm. It’s not his first time getting similar treatment, but it’s different when it’s with you; when you treat his body like something to worship, and reel in his pleasure instead of roughly taking it. 

It’s you eagerly lapping salty cum welled over his slit, your heavy tongue tracing that sensitive vein on the underside, your touch down below, alternating between gently massaging his balls and sweeping over his taint.

He still can’t bring himself to watch what you’re doing to him. Instead he feels you squeeze his ass in both hands while hollowing your cheeks around all you’ve taken so far, and he snaps his hips forward with a wet moan. This has his swollen girth pushing past your lips and over your tongue, bottoming out finally. 

You only gag a little before going down on him harder, bobbing your head even, which has him throbbing under your tongue. His hand buries in your hair, panting hard. Another falls over your bulging cheek. He can feel himself just on the other side, a fiery realization that punches a gasp from his lungs.

Maybe his grip turns a little tight in your hair, maybe it happens just for the hell of it, but a long moan kisses the sticky heat swallowing his cock, and his head falls back. His hips rock and he tosses his head to the side. 

Gasping, “I’m close.”

The sound that follows your mouth slipping off his cock makes his toes curl. At first he’s confused, then his climax fades and whittles away, and he’s filled with desperate disappointment.

“What—” He was staring at the backs of his eyelids so long the scarce lantern light on the bedside blinds him for a moment. Then he spots the self-satisfied smile you kiss his thighs with. “What’re you doing?”

“Making you feel good,” you rasp, going on smacking kisses that do nothing but frustrate him. “How about you just be patient, hm?”

A curse. Miserably, he squirms around, attempting to both earn back your mouth and distract from his red, swollen cock, but you can’t be swayed.

“That’s not—fair,” he tries, still watching you. No reply. Between a soft sigh, his hand falls over his chest, and he hisses his pleasure.

You most certainly don’t seem to mind, for you sigh too, breezily, and soothe a smarting bruise you left upon a scar with your tongue—that is, a deep indent years of ODM have impressed on his body. These stretch around both his thighs in double rings.

Where he needs you most—his cock, hard and glowing with spit, besides what cum has spilled over since your mouth left him—remains ignored. 

His hips stutter. Both his nipples are sensitive to the very air from his pinching the next time he speaks, bright and peaked. “Fucking do something already.”

“Watch your tone, Levi.” Immediately, dark thrills shoot through his stomach. “I’ll leave you like this.”

He freezes. Chancing a glance down at your expression, he can tell you’re at least halfway serious, so he shuts up.

Three fingers abruptly fall over his taint, rubbing slow, hard, then buttery heat swallows in his balls. Your tongue massages them.

His hips nudge up, craving more, only for your other arm to pin him down by his waist and stay there. It draws a rough groan from his lips. He feels unbearably high all the sudden, up in clouds, drowning in sweltering waves. 

He’s out of control, and he actually likes it. He’s in your hands.

Over the rush in his ears he can vaguely register his voice cracking between all the sounds he’s making. You’re not even touching him; you’re bowed between his legs, tonguing at his taint, kneading the firm flesh of his ass with two spread palms. 

So, he plays around his weeping cockhead instead, smearing cum. His muscles ripple, lips parting with a shuddering moan. No part of his body wants him too, but he warns that he’s close again. 

Your tongue was so dangerously close to dragging over a tight, much more sensitive spot too, which is why he whines so loud when you pull off. His lost climax feels so much more this time; his balls are heavy, cockhead as red as his lips, and he shivers, feeling you mindlessly rub his thighs and kiss his eyelids. 

But you also brush his sweaty bangs off his forehead, and that’s much better at least. 

Your voice is silk. “You’re so pretty like this, ’Vi. I wanted...” You laugh a little. “…I just always wanted you like this.”

He really likes that—knowing what he’s doing is right. Complaints are outside his mind. His eyes open now, but he looks away instinctively. “Well… you got it.”

And he really is pretty; with his pretty cock straining between thick, muscular thighs, these bruised in places. Above, where dark hair dusts up his navel, soft muscles twitch under your touch. His nipples are hard, as red as the lips he hooks his teeth into; these still a shade darker than the rich blush stretching over his face, down his bruised neck, sharp collar, heaving chest.

You find yourself admiring him more than his patience allows—if he has any left at all. The fact he warmed your heart by accepting a compliment without shying away confirms that. The trust he holds to let you worship and unravel him in this way puts a flutter in your chest.

Carefully, you wipe what tiny tears have pricked at the sides of his eyes. “Give me one more, I’ll let you come.”

Finally. “Then hurry,” he whispers without air. As for what he wants, what there is to ask for or what to say—he’s helpless. A wobbly feeling.

When your lips meet he grabs for you, rougher than he meant. His arms over your shoulders, gliding all over the silk that hugs your waist, lightly scratching down your back. He’s humming strained as you lick into his hot mouth, almost a whimper.

Your hand falls around his thick shaft, steady at first; slow enough to let him fuck your fist. Then, you abruptly speed up as if you mean to get him off right there, in a sloppy flurry. He’s teetering on the edge in moments.

A moan is wrenched from his chest, vibrating between your open mouths. “Ah, coming I’m gonna—” he gasps—

—But of course you stop, stealing the release he’s in dire need of and all his breath in your wake. He’s on the very cusp of begging. That’s why the relief when your hand wanders lower has him shivering. He craves something to do with his hands, but there’s nothing, so they clench into pointless fists behind your back instead. All that’s left is to cling and writhe.

You watch his jaw clench, and ask breathlessly, “Have you ever been touched here?”

He nods, aching too bad to lie or even consider lying. His pride died the exact moment you both stumbled through the door. 

It’s up to you, whatever you wish to try, if anything. You don’t have to, and he reiterates this at least three times in the time it takes for you to kiss and lick back down his rippled body. 

Also for the third time, you shake your head. Your heart is pounding; you’ve never tried, but you want to.

He squirms around to accommodate you, so his knees end up bent apart, his feet flat on the bed. This pleases you enough to hum where you’re licking; a place that already has him twitching and resisting the irresistible urge to whine.

Sensitive, reactive—as always. You’re glad to know you’re doing this right. He tastes good, like clean sweat and spice, all complimented by a heavy musk that belongs to only Levi. Wet smacking sounds.

“Yeah,” he whispers, and a hair lands lightly in your hair. Much of his earlier nerves sound like they floated away. “Keep going. Don’t stop.”

His hole is pink and hairless. You sigh, unable to resist rubbing your thighs together. After spreading properly you glide your tongue over that very spot; once at first, to hear Levi’s low, punched cry; then you gain confidence and drag your tongue in even strokes up and down. Your surprise to feel it twitching under your tongue is burning hot. 

He’s been so shamelessly loud since the third time you deprived him. Maybe this is even the loudest you’ve heard him, period. The most desperate. You shiver.

Your tongue circles his hole like you’re drunk, or that’s how much he’s squirming, and almost constantly, little sounds are punctuated with his breaths. All with abandon. It’s a challenge to force him still. 

A tiny thrill shoots through your belly. You often forget that in any situation he can easily overpower you. This makes the fact he’s gasping and mashing your face flush with his tight entrance bordering on a mental aphrodisiac. 

Shuddering, you let yourself go completely slack except for your lapping tongue; above you, he’s grinding his hips down on your heavy tongue, riding your face. 

Your lips are swollen and tender, and spit dribbles down to your chin. It’s a challenge to breathe, but that problem is whisked from your mind when you realize just how loose and pliant he’s become. 

After just a brief reprieve for air, you suction an obnoxiously loud kiss right between his cheeks, and a cry shatters the air before a hand abruptly tugs you away.

“Lev’—?”

Panting, he shakes his head helplessly, trembling all over. “…Too close. I, you didn’t—” he stops for air, “—I’m too close.”

You blanch. No wonder: thanks to your tongue, his hole is lewdly pink and glistening. Silvery cum has drooled all down his girth, and compared to his entrance the head blushes a swollen shade of red. It strains helplessly above his full, heavy balls.

“No, honey.” You wipe your mouth, and, not understanding his panic, reach for one of his hands. Immediately, his hold turns deathly tight. “I said one more, didn’t I?” A fretful pause. “‘m sorry, I should’ve been more clear.”

You’re doing nothing but holding his hand, yet he’s outright panting. 

“You didn’t say I can,” he offers meekly.

Any moment it looks like he’ll shy away under his elbow again. You search his wide blue eyes, and sense his state of mind has definitely softened, or grown somehow weaker. 

He seems almost fragile, so you’re determined to treat him as such. To some extent he’s right, too, so you reach forward and gently tug his arm while your hand makes a brief home in the absolute disaster that is his hair. With soft words you reassure him.

A stuttered sigh, and he shakes and shakes. A prick of clarity makes him realize he ruined the moment. For some reason, the guilt finds him like a punch in the gut. “Sorry.”

It’s almost endearing, but you shake your head—“Levi, angel,”—and bring your hand down to play around his slit. 

First he gasps, then immediately tosses his head from side to side. It’s too good. He blushes a deep, dark shade of crimson. 

“I’m not mad. You know how wet you’ve made me?—just by watching you?”

You keep talking, all in that sweet, buttery voice of yours. He barely hears, what you’re doing is so fiery and confusing. His tongue feels too big for his mouth. “N-No.”

You’re jerking his slippery cock properly now, bowing over and licking his hard nipple into your mouth. He clings to you and fucks your fist, his head thrown back. Ghostly sighs rise into half-weeping, half-moaning, falling from his parted lips. 

“Keep making those pretty sounds,” you sigh by his ear, and, “You need it so bad, don’t you, angel?”

His nails dig into your arm, the one you throttle his cock with. Thick thighs hug your waist and he tosses his head feverishly, hips rutting. “Gonna—gonna come…! Don’t stop don’t—”

Suddenly he goes very still, his back draws into the tightest arch (nearly throwing your balance), followed by what can only be described as a soft wail from his open mouth. Even the wet sounds are smothered by him. 

He shakes through the first wave with a hard shout into your sweaty neck, but even then he’d be heard if someone happened to pass the hallway beyond his office. Loud enough to be unmistakable, which is why you all but collapse on top of him and let him thrash and jerk and bow up underneath you. 

The whole time he’s shooting ropes of cum between your bodies you’re cooing by his ear, working his pulsing cock. You're close enough to feel his jaw slacken against your cheek and enjoy the sweetest moans that leave his parted lips. 

“That’s right—” muffled, he’s moaning your name, “—that’s so fucking good, Lee.”

So messy. Heavy spurts of cum dribble down his cock until he’s weakly rocking into your tight fist. You’re watching avidly, not slowing at all.

“F-Fuck…”

With the receding waves he writhes in your arms, pretty sounds from his shiny lips dissolving to hiccuped sighs. There’s a heavy sheen of sweat on his temple you lick away, the unbridled bliss etched on his drawn brow falling gently slack, then tight again when you thumb his slit.

Breathlessly, “Can you give me one more, ‘Vi?” and he’s nodding, spreading his thighs, then shuddering when you guide his palm down around his twitching cock. It’s hardly gone down at all.

It takes nearly a minute, if even, while you’re hugging one of his thighs and licking around his hole. You even dare to reach between your thighs and use the thick wetness to breach the tight ring of muscles with two fingers.

His second climax is a testament to just how much you worked him up, especially since you were too worried about hurting him to finger-fuck him too hard, nor any deeper than your second knuckles.

He’s working his cock and desperately grinding down on your face when he shudders again and his muscles lock up tight. Your name, again.

A soundless cry with the first, pounding pulse of his second (technically his third) climax. It’s a white-hot heat—almost as strong as the last—that crests, then seizes his whole body in amazing tremors.

Where his thigh muscles are twitching hard through the last tremors, you slow your thrusts. They shake. You’re still partly drunk on the way his walls clamped down when he came. 

Breathing hard, you manage to sit up and work them out from inside him while he reels.

Amidst the warm weightlessness he must feel everywhere, his softening cock pulses gently where it lays across his pelvis. His shaky gasps for air while he catches his breath is the loudest sound in your bedroom. The air positively reeks; of heavy sex, sweat, and—you huff gently to yourself—debauchery.

He’s melted, he’s convinced. Grasping for even a modicum of a thought, all he comes up with is the warm buzz wrapped all around him like a blanket on the inside; he can’t remember a time he’s ever been this tired. Pleasantly drained. His fingers twitch. Drowsy.

Then, he hears his name quietly murmured from the side. You’re carefully soft in all you do, including touching him; your hand on his waist is enough to break his skin in goosebumps.

He surfaces from a thick warm place to you gently tracing his brow with your thumb. Then your voice and the words attached finally register: “—did so good, Levi. So good.”

A sleepy sound he’s never heard himself make rumbles in his throat somewhere. He needs a long breath before his eyes finally crack open.

Then he spots it: the cool thing gliding over his middle is evidently a rag you retrieved between his utter blackout and now. 

“Are you okay? That was a lot.”

“I.” His muscles sing when he shifts. If it’s possible for his dick to be sore, it’s sore, and there’s sweat pasted to his skin, especially his back. He feels used, in the best of ways.

Shutting his eyes again is an appealing idea, but you look very spent, and very very beautiful.

Finally he blinks at you and mumbles, “Kiss,” like he can do much more than quirk his lips a little while you lean down and give him what he needs.

“Bath?”

“Can’t move. Your fault,” he mutters, but as he says this he meagerly tries anyway. He ends up braced on his elbows, stomach dropping from just how sweaty, messy, and especially hickey-ridden he is. “Ugh. Gross.”

You’re still wiping streaks of cum off his pelvis. “So this is gross, but I’m not?”

He feels weightless and glowing. Like a golden light. “It doesn’t taste good,” he settles on.

You pause and gawk at him. “You tried it?”

There is nothing even the least bit intelligent he can say to defend himself, so he lays down again. The sheets are too damp for him not to make a face under his veiny forearm he’s slipped over his eyes.

You ask if he’s alright. A nod. More than anything his eyes are weighted by stones. The last time he slept properly was two nights ago and you fucked his brains out just now—he’s so thrilled to finally sleep.

A thread of feeling makes him a little sorry he can’t do anything for you, but you shush him before he can even be done talking.

“Let me clean up, and change the bedspread at least.” You trace his jaw. “Clean clothes?”

Tonight his world flipped right side up, everything that locked into place, rolled over, changed. But, he’s at least going to shower off. He doesn’t want to fall asleep before you, either. Doing nothing isn’t how he’s wired.

A pause before you nod. When you kiss him next, your lips don’t glide together as much as lock lazily. You both need rest.

So, while you put on fresh bedspread and clean up, he sighs when rushing hot water hits him, then washes down his body like a waterfall.

He doesn’t need but five minutes, but he regrets not inviting you in here with him. All by themselves his fingers hold a tremor still, like his mind has neglected to quite catch up from the onslaught you gave him; maybe he’s still back on that roof even.

He cried, he was so happy, and you did too. His throat tightens now like he wants to cry, but for polar opposite reasons too profound to describe. 

It’s an awful yearning. It would be easy for him to believe, even, that you’ve somehow disappeared into thin air and don’t plan on coming back. This horrible emptiness is cold mud.

Afterwards, he steps back into the dim room while the mirror is still steamed up, and smothers the hell he feels; you only need a few minutes to shower. The candles you lit are like little stars—he smells soft lavender and fresh vanilla. You kiss him with a smile.

He’s shucked on fresh underwear, but he feels a little lost when he throws a look at the neatly made bed. Laying down means sleep, which means falling asleep before you, but before all else he’ll lay there alone. 

The feeling still hasn’t left him, so that idea for some horrible reason, is more than enough to leave him standing, despite how he wavers.

Instead, he stupidly idles by the bathroom door for a long while, clenching and unclenching his trembling hands, waiting.

It blindsides him. He’s low and depressed, clingy, and not in the way he’s used to, not in a way that’s good anymore. Heaven’s gates only open when the water finally cuts off.

Breathing hard, he’s looking aimlessly at a bookshelf, the window, the floor in fast rotations. His legs are jelly.

Then you open the door and you must be surprised to find him just standing there. Your eyes grow a touch wide directly to concern.

“Levi, what’s wrong?”

He doesn’t know where to put his hands, or his eyes. “Nothing. I just—” But it’d be stupid for him to miss you. “—I don’t know.”

You step very close and rub his shoulders, to which he immediately melts. At once he goes very slack in your embrace, tugging at your sweatshirt, then anywhere he can reach, really. A gust of relief falls over his chest to be squeezed so tight.

You ask, but in no way did you do anything wrong. Your shoulder turns into a pillow for his head while you suggest he’s much more sensitive (Stupid, he’s apt to correct you, but doesn’t) after so much. Like a raw nerve.

“You could’ve told me,” you try, a little hurt.

A sigh. What he wants to say gets garbled somewhere, so ends up overlapping two sentences at once: “Don’t need to worry about me,” crosses with, “Didn’t want to worry you.” It’s better he just stop talking, he decides.

A precious kiss to his forehead. “Let me take care of you.”

“We can’t drop everything every time something’s wrong,” he grumbles, but also puts up no fight to be pushed down into bed, under the covers, then tucked so close to your side he can feel your slow breaths drift across his cheek.

You nod, because you know that. “But you don’t need to hide.”

“Neither do you,” he retorts. His eyes shut as soon as he settled into the mattress, but he cracks them now to make sure you agree. Softly, you hum.

This is so much better than before. He doesn’t have to think when you’re cocooned in thick blankets, not while you stroke his back in lazy circles. To the bottoms of his feet he’s very warm all over, even inside. 

In kind, you sigh blissfully and rest your hand on his nape. His arm is a firm, protective fixture around your waist, and lower, your legs are even tangled. It tickles to move.

Persistently, he’s just barely trembling. Nothing is wrong, but it’s not quite right.

He tries again. “Are you…good?” Alright or Okay are dull words.

“I’m good,” you snort a little. Many, many leagues above good, in fact. “But your legs are hairy.”

“Get lost then,” he sighs. A shadow of a ghost of a retort he actually means. 

This makes you laugh, which encourages him to admit it. He hides in the crook of your neck.

“It’s too good,” he whispers, and nuzzles a little. This is a secret he’s telling you. He repeats himself. “It’s too good.”

At his cheek he can feel you smiling lopsidedly. “What, the sex…?”

“No,” he scoffs. “Or, yes. All of it.”

As soon as the words leave him, affection grips your heart and you want, terribly, to tell him you love him. You’re stunned into silence.

You’re not one to hide your feelings: if he did something wrong you’d be the first to admit it hurt, and you were the one to chase him as much as he tried to pull away when what you share was still blooming.

Years later, the first time he ever broke down to tears before you was over a month ago, right around the time you first tried intimacy; much less, your relationship only took its first breath hours ago. 

You’ve loved him for a long time.

“Oh,” you say, a little tearfully.

He goes like a board and stiffens. Feverishly he searches for a reason that may upset you, but finds none. 

It’s been ‘too good’ for a long time. Yet, he still struggles to mold a racing heart and sweaty palms into something definable. He’s never admitted this out loud until now.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he gathers, unmoving. He’s frayed glass.

He prepares for you to pull away and stumble through some kind of denial, but you only do so to kiss him so hard he’s pushed back a little by the force of it.

“Not at all.” You’re still kissing him all over his plump cheeks and the cupid’s bow above his lips. 

The way you look at him hurts, it’s too good. He never wants you to stop looking at him like that.

“You’re good,” you say.

His eyes fall shut, dazed and warm and sleepy. He whispers back, “Yeah,” even though he means, “You too,” and muses to himself that if you both had more time to settle, he could learn to believe that. 

For once in his life he could relax and be normal. If you had more time, you yourself could live your life unapologetically. Your emotions tear through you like you fight without armor or even skin—you feel heartache like a raw nerve feels a strike—and if there was time, you could leave your ball and chain behind.

But every hour is a privilege, every passing day trickling down an hourglass. Time is precious, let alone times of peace that allow for such faraway dreams.

He again thinks, and he again can’t imagine a world or chain events that didn’t lead to this very moment: the two of you.

Soft blankets scrape his chin. Upon a weightless sigh, he pulls you closer into his strong arms.

Time is precious. All of this. He thinks, I’m a fucking fool, because, like he confessed on the rooftop, he would rather suffer than regret this life with you; barreling towards the blinding end of a fight that he, nor you, may very well never see. 

In any other circumstance, it is foolish. But his feelings can’t be changed.

No regrets, indeed.

| levi masterlist | main masterlist |

#Spotify #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman x you #levi x reader #levi x you #captain levi #levi x y/n #snk #aot levi #levi ackermann x reader #levi attack on titan #levi heichou #levi ackerman x y/n smut #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x female reader #g.scribe #anthology

[its-deputy-caleb]

How would the Lord’s be with a s/o who’s short like 5’0 but they’re super sweet but can be feisty

Heyy so i’ve been sick recently so this may not be as good as always and it’s a little rushed but i hope it’s not too bad! but this was still always enjoyable to write as always! enjoy

Alcina Dimitrescu

Alcina is lecturing one of the maidens for leaving one of the windows open when she feels something tapping on her leg.

Her eyebrow raises when she finds you tugging on the fabric of her dress, your hands covered in blood.

She picks you up by the back of your shirt as you give her the brightest but cheekiest smile.

“Now what have you been up to in these castle walls that has led you to put blood all over my dress.”

Your legs dangle in the air as you explain that you’ve spend the last four hours running around in the cellars and dungeons trying to find hidden trinkets. You didn’t anticipate to run into an array of grim reaper type creatures but you never turned down a challenge.

“My my, it seems you have been busy.”

Alcina throws you over her shoulder and carries you into her private quarters before she practically dumps you in the bath that swallows you.

“You, my dear are not coming to dinner looking like that.”

She’s seated on the edge of the tub, gloves removed as she rubs her expensive rose scented shampoo in your hair. For a moment it’s quite peaceful.

You’re ever the troublemaker and considering Alcina’s dress was already dirty you couldn’t help but splash water on her.

She grasps but plays into your cheeky ways and splashes you back just as playfully until you’re both soapy and covered in water.

You both dress for dinner with Alcina insisting you wear some of your more finer clothes but you still manage to pull some buttons loose here and there.

Although you’re a wild one, bouncing down the hallway and nearly knocking over one of Alcina’s fine porcelain vases, you still take her hand in yours and walk proudly into the dinner room with your lady.

You take your place at the dining table next to Alcina, your chair significantly higher to sit comfortably but she definitely pampered you with some of the finest cushions to boost you up.

Still you can’t help but feel happy and full of joy to see your family and that only lifts your mood further.

Donna Beneviento

Donna walks into the lounge room to find you chasing angie around, trying to get to her from behind the couch.

“You’ll never take me alive!!”

You’re just as crazy and rambunctious as Angie, the two of you instantly getting along. Donna smiles when she finds that Angie finally found a friend and she’s thrilled that Angie is taken with you.

“Will you two calm down before you break something!”

The two of you stop to stare at Donna who is holding a porcelain doll in her hands to stop it from being broken as you practically jump around the room.

But somehow through all your wildness you have a soft spot for Donna. Slowing your movements and walking up to her, you wrap your arms around her neck and hide your head under her chin.

“I’m sorry Dons, will you come exploring with Angie and I in the mountains??”

With you and Angie on either side of Donna, the three of you spend your afternoon exploring the caves near the waterfall.

Jumping over pools of rocks and mini cliffs, you always go first holding your hand out to Donna each time so she can hold onto while she jumps.

You’re always there to catch her too. It’s a little hard when you’re smaller than her but you’d never let her fall.

Eventually you come to an opening in one of the caves. The view is spectacular, with the waterfall cascading down and catching the fading light beautifully.

Your hand is in Donna’s gently rubbing your thumb on the back of her hand. However in a split second Angie comes up and surprises her with a loud BOO.

Donna’s surprised shriek rings in the cave she thinks she’s going to fall from the height of the cave, Angie’s creepy laughter eventually drowns it out.

You wrap your arms around her, keeping a calm but gentle hand on the back of her head to steady her.

“It’s alright, I gotcha now”

You hug Donna tightly, death glaring Angie behind her shoulder. When you pull away, you take Donna’s face and cradle it gently in your hands.

“Common, lets go home I could do with a nice warm cup of tea to go with a good book.”

Even though Donna was less adventurous as you were, she always enjoyed running around with you and Angie but you always spoiled her afterwards with a warm night in under blankets and warm tea while you read to her.

Salvatore Moreau

Salvatore was walking around the windmill trying to find you when he’s interrupted by a rather loud noise.

“HEY SAL GUESS WHO’S FINALLY TALLER THAN U??”

He audibly grasps when he sees you sitting on the wooden sail of windmill, smiling down on him.

You jump down and land in front of him, giggling at the small scream that leaves him. Stepping forward and into his space you place a kiss on his cheek.

“It’s me!!”

You take Salvatore’s hand in your own and lead him to explore all the nooks and crannies of the windmill with him.

Eventually you run off from him and hide behind one of the wooden crates stacked in the corner.

Poor Salvatore is confused by where you’ve gone trying to find you frantically as he runs around looking for you. You had the advantage however, being small had its perks sometimes.

When he’s not looking you run up and jump him from behind, your hands wrapping around his neck as you cling to him.

His laugh bounces off the valley and he spins around with you in a piggyback. One of your favourite things is making him laugh.

You spend the next few hours playing what is basically hide and seek as you run around all through the windmills, reservoir and mines doing your best to stay clear of any lycans.

You’re a wild card in Salvatore’s otherwise quiet life, but he loves you nonetheless. But you don’t miss the way his hand clings to yours in a death grip.

However, sometimes you’re a little too wild for his comfort zone and he definitely refused to do the zip line with you. But he cheered for you from his place on the ground because he never wants you to change the way you are. To him, you’re perfect.

Karl Heisenberg

Karl is always used to strange noises and loud bangs within the factory, but after living there for as long as he had; he can always tell when somethings out of place.

A rather large crash rings throughout the halls of the factory and Karl begrudgingly puts out his cigar, hoping that one of the Soldats hadn’t broken any of his equipment.

When he walks into a smelting room he finds you on the floor with metal boxes all over you and you buried under the toppled over shelf.

Karl flicks his wrist and all the metal moves to the corner of the room to reveal you huffing your hair out of your face.

You were looking for a mould to craft a new dagger with, sorting through the assortment of boxes when it all came falling down on top of you.

Karl moves his wrist once more, moving the mould you were looking for to his hand, a smug look on his face. He knew. For the last few weeks he’d seen you eyeing out that mould when you came to sit with him while he worked.

“Looking for something?”

You stand to your feet and try to snatch it out of his hand. Karl sees you coming from a mile away and holds it above your head, he doesn’t even need to use his powers for this one, his arm will do just fine.

He’s cocky and can’t help but torment the thing over your head like a child but in an instant you have him tackled to the ground. Now that one he didn’t see coming.

“Don’t think for a moment Heisenberg that just because I’m small that i couldn’t totally kick your ass if i needed to.”

Now you’re the one to be cocky as Karl stares in awe up at you, it took a lot of strength and maybe a hint of luck to bring down someone as powerful as him.

Eventually you let him up from his kindly uncomfortable position on the floor, his back strained against the metal grates. You totally don’t threaten to throw him at Alcina’s doorstep if he doesn’t make that new dagger for you.

Karl loved that about you, how feisty and wild you could be. It meant you were a great training partner and both of you either trained together often. Being small had its too. One thing Karl lacked was finesse and you were much more agile and skilled in your movements.

Other times you’d help Karl out in the factory by lifting boxes of scrap metal or even welding some of the weapons. He absolutely loved that about you, how he could easily be comfortable with you and his heart swelled when he could teach you all that he knew about metal. For the first time in a long time it felt like someone was on his side.

One day Karl saw you take a Soldat out with your new dagger and to say that it didn’t scare the shit out of him would be a fucking lie. Soldats were taller than him for christ sake.

Karl loved you though. He loved how fierce you were but you had the heart of gold and to him, you were this perfect little being that made his heart beat twice as fast when he was with you.

He loved that you could hold your own and would stand up to anyone but in the closed doors of the factory he got to see a softer more tender side of you filled with tender kisses and tight hugs.

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #salvatore moreau #salvatore moreau x reader #resident evil village #resident evil headcanons #resident evil 8 #resident evil #asks #prompt

[jakekiszkasgiggle]

To the ends of the earth…

Sammy x reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, 420, language

This fic is based off of this ask I received - platonic cuddling w/ Sam (his head in your lap or something) and then u absentmindedly begin playing with his hair until you realize what you're doing and stop and then he takes your hands and puts them back on his head, asking why u stopped.

It’s the end of another looong and stressful work week. Friday night and your wild plans are to get in pjs as soon as you walk in the door to your apartment. You’re so tired you can’t even think straight at this point. So the thought of going out with friends tonight was completely out of the question.

You were excited to do nothing but get comfortable on your couch, drink some wine and watch your favorite comfort movies. You finally had a day off tomorrow after working 6 days straight and you were going to enjoy it by doing absolutely nothing.

Your best friend Sam knows how stressed out you’ve been. He had plans on going to some party his brothers invited him too but he called you up and said he’s coming to hangout with you instead.

You grab your phone to send a text to sam telling him not to come over. You didn’t want him to miss out on a good time just because you’re tired and miserable.

Y/N - “Sammy please, go have fun tonight. It’s Friday. Have a shot for me”

Sammy - “Y/N, I’d rather hangout with you. Plus im looking forward to watching the same movie for the 6th time this month ;)”

Y/N - “Sam seriously, it’s no big deal. I’ll be ok I promise”

Sammy -“You’re my best friend y/n, and it’s my responsibility to make you feel better, I’m not taking no for an answer so you better let me in.”

Y/N - “Ughhh ok Sam fine. But don’t be mad at me when your friends are out having fun and you’re here bored with me.

Y/N - “Where are you anyway?”

Sammy - “At your door. Can you let me in already, it’s freezing.”

Y/N - “SAM you’re already here???”

Sammy - “Yes. Now let me in”

🌙 🌙

You and Sam have been friends since you were 5 years old. He’s always been the one to make you laugh when you’re sad, listen to you vent when you’re mad, make you step out of your comfort zone and try new things when you’re scared… He knows you better than anyone in the world. You don’t know what you’d do without him.

Friends and family have always made comments about you two being more than friends one day. You both always tell them there’s no way, you two are best friends. That’s the way it’s always been and the way it’ll be forever.

You can’t say you necessarily blame people for thinking there was something more going on between the two of you. You and Sam are super close. But not in a romantic way. It was all completely platonic.

You rip the covers off of you and stand up from the comfy corner of your couch to let sam inside. As you open the door he’s standing there with a giant goofy smile, a case of white claws and a bunch of your favorite snacks in hand. You playfully hit his chest and laugh

“Sam you’re so soft. Can’t go a day without your bestie, huh??” You say teasingly

“You know I can’t Y/N. I wouldn’t want to miss the chance to tease you about these awful pajamas either.” He says with a shit eating grin

“What, you don’t like my matching pjs with the puppy’s all over them??”

“Ok, I can’t lie. They are really cute.”

A light pink blush forms at the top of your cheeks for a moment. You turn around to make your way back to the comfy warm embrace of your couch and all the pillows you brought out from your bedroom.

As you and sam get comfy on the couch he starts to ask you about your day. Which is the last thing you want to talk about right now because you already know what he’s going to say. The reason work is so stressful right now is because you signed up to take on as many shifts as possible. Needing all the overtime you could get. As soon as you get home from work you’re already getting your uniform ready for the next day and heading to bed. Waking up super early the next day just to do it all over again.

Sam’s band is set to go on tour soon. You wanted nothing more than to be there and support him. You already bought tickets to the shows in Michigan with no issue. However you really wanted to be there for him at their show in England. It was supposed to be a huge deal. It’s a major festival with some of the biggest artists headlining. This is the perfect opportunity for them to get their name out there. You know sam is just as nervous as he is excited about it. He tried to play it cool but you know him too well. In your heart you knew you HAD to be there for him. The only thing stopping you is that flights are over $1,000 and you certainly didn’t have that type of money to spend right now. Which is why you’ve been working more than you’ve been home. you asked your boss about a month ago to give you as much overtime as possible. But now they’re just simply taking advantage of you. Texting you on your only day off telling you they need you there in 5 minutes because it’s extremely busy and someone called out. Having you work an 8am-8pm shift only to have you come back the next day and do the same thing. 6-7 days a week. They knew you were vulnerable and desperate for the money, so they used it to their advantage. It was driving you insane. When you were home you couldn’t even sleep because you couldn’t get your brain to stop thinking about work.

So here you are on a Friday night, sleep deprived, stressed and feeling like at any moment you could break. You weren’t even sure if all this hard work was going to be enough to afford this flight which was making you even more stressed.

Suddenly sam breaks you out of your deep thought. In a voice so soft like he was scared he’d break you if he spoke any louder, he whispers

“Y/N you know, you can stop working so much. I told you I got you. You don’t have to worry about it. Let me fly my best friend out to see me. I don’t want you killing yourself for me. you can stay with me and the guys in our hotel, you know they won’t care.”

He’s staring at you with those darn big brown eyes, like a hurt puppy, waiting for your response. Those damn eyes. He could get you to do anything with a simple glance in your direction.

“Sammy, I want to support you. I wanna be able to come see you, and pay for my own. You shouldn’t have to worry about me. I’m fine sam, really. It won’t be for much longer. I’ve survived worse.”

You didn’t even believe yourself so you know Sammy saw right through it. He also knows just how stubborn you are.

He knew he wasn’t going to convince you that him covering your flight was no big deal. So he drops it for now and decides to get back to focusing on making you relax instead.

“Okay, okay fine. Hey… I brought the good stuff” sam says as he wiggles his eyebrows at you

“I know Sam. I could smell it as soon as I opened the door you absolute pot head”

“You wanna smoke with me or not love?”

“… light up”

Sam throws his head back and let’s out an obnoxiously loud “stoner laugh” at your reply. He gets comfortable next to you by bringing his legs up and sitting with them crisscross on your couch. He starts rolling up the joint as you search for a movie on Netflix. The scent is so strong you feel like you could get stoned off the smell alone. As you burrow yourself further into your comforter sam lights the joint and takes a few hits to start it off. You watch as his plump lips wrap around the joint and your eyes travel down to watch the way his jaw flexes as he inhales. You’ve always admired how beautiful he is. You can’t help but notice the way the dim light in your living room illuminates his perfectly shaped cheek bones and sharp jawline. He’s sitting so close to you that your shoulders are touching so he doesn’t have to reach very far to pass you the joint. Before he does he turns his head and slowly blows out all the smoke he was holding in directly in your face and laughs teasingly. You roll your eyes at him and grab the joint from his fingers. Your hands lightly brushing against his as you take it from his grasp. You don’t know if it’s just in your head or what but you immediately feel a little better after you take your first hit. You and him pass the joint back and forth until it’s down to a little shrub and he opens your front door to throw it in the grass.

“I brought your favorite snacks too”

“Oooo grapes or Doritos??”

“You are so strange. I love it… But I brought both”

You’re a little high so you can’t help how excited you get when he pulls the big bag of grapes out and sets it on the coffee table in front of you.

“I already washed them before I came over”

“Thank god because I can’t imagine getting up right now. I’m fully glued to this couch” you say as you giggle a little too loud

You take a couple of grapes and pop them in your mouth. Your taste buds feel like they’re exploding. It’s been a while since you’ve been high so you forgot just how good everything tastes once you’re stoned. You’re still holding a few grapes in your hand when sam plucks one from your fingers and reaches forward to hold it up to your mouth so he can feed it to you. Sams holding it by the little vine at the top, so you open your mouth for him and bite the grape and pull. Leaving Sam with the vine in between his fingers. Giggling as you start to chew. You notice he’s looking at you differently. You can’t quite put your finger on it. After a few moments of you two just looking at each other - probably because you’re both high as hell, he breaks eye contact and grabs a hand full of grapes for himself.

You laugh at him as he shoves a bunch in his mouth all at once.

“Sammy slow down, you’re gonna choke and I’ve never done the heimlich before!!

With a mouth full of grapes he replies “don’t tell me what to do, love”

When he’s finished chewing he sets his head comfortably in your lap. Which is how you two usually end up cuddling while watching movies together.

“You smell good… like butterflies.”

“Sammy what do butterflies even smell like”

“I dunno. They smell, … pretty. Like a field of daisies and butterflies. That’s exactly how you smell.”

You’re not sure what to say so you hum in response. You feel your high completely wash over you. You feel so happy and relaxed in this moment, there’s nothing that could possibly make you move out of this spot. Without thinking about it, you reach down and start to run your fingers through Sammy’s long brown hair. You like the way it feels so smooth in your hands so you keep doing it. You get completely lost in what you’re doing as you lightly scratch his scalp with your nails and he lets out a satisfied sigh which snaps you out of your trance. In a panic you remove your hands from his hair and completely freeze realizing what you’ve been doing for the last 5 minutes or so. A deep red blush quickly begins to spread across your face from embarrassment. You’re so glad he can’t see your face right now. You wonder how you could possibly play this off when suddenly he lets out another long sigh and says “mmmmh Y/N, why’d you stopppp. That felt so good”. His voice is a little deep and raspy from his high. He reaches behind him looking for your hand. Grabbing it and placing it back in his hair to prompt you to keep going. Your heart rate picks up and you suddenly feel butterflies in your stomach. You try your best to calm your nerves and pretend like you’re not completely freaking out over something as simple as playing with his hair. His hair… his adorable long brown hair that flips up at the ends and shines in the sun light. Sammy stirs in your lap and you snap out of your thought.

“Y/N… I wanna ask you something” he says quietly. Nerves evident in his tone.

“Yeah Sammy?”

He rolls over to face you. His head still in your lap.

He starts to play with the strings on your pajama bottoms nervously as he talks. Lightly pulling at them and tying them, just to untie them again.

“Y/N, I- I want you with me”

“Sammy, what do you mean?”

“I just… god. Ugh, how do I word this...”

“Sam, talk to me”

“Y/N… I can’t go this long without seeing you again. Tour is 3 months long. I can’t go that long without- without this. Being with you.”

“Sammy I’m coming to all the Michigan shows and you know I’m going to do everything I can to come to the england show too. You know id do anything to support you sam, right?”

“Y/N… thats- that’s not it… Y/N I’ll miss you too much”

“Sam-“

“Y/N listen, I talked to the guys and our manager about it. I want you to come with me.”

“You want me to come on tour with you??”

“Yes. You’d have your own space on the bus and hotel rooms in between. The guys are all okay with it. It’s just… last tour I was so sad without you there.”

“Sammy I would absolutely love to come with you. I’d follow you anywhere. To the ends of the earth. But I can’t leave for 3 months, I have to work and pay my rent somehow.”

“that’s what I talked to my manager about… We’ve been needing an assistant for a long time. We have someone who does our schedule and all that but we really need someone to keep track of it closely and remind us when we inevitably forget. We need someone to make sure we’re all on the same page and that we show up on time. You know us, we show up late to everything. I never really know where I am I just show up and hope for the best…” he huffs out a nervous laugh before continuing

“What I’m getting at is, I really want you with me and we really need an assistant- a good one. I think you would be really great at keeping us in line. You somehow kept me on track in high school anyway... You don’t have to do it Y/N. Please don’t feel pressured to drop everything and follow me. But, if you do everything would be covered. You don’t have to worry about flights, tickets or hotels. It’ll all be taken care of. Most importantly, you can finally tell your boss to F off like I’ve been wanting to for weeks.”

You take a moment to process everything he said before replying. Is that what you wanted? Will you regret giving up your job right now? You mentally slap yourself at the thought. You’ve been wanting to quit this job for months, and when Sam is gone you feel like a piece of you is missing. Like you’re really only partly present in the moment. Just waiting for him to get back. In high school the two of you always talked about traveling the world together. You even made a list of the places you’d go to first. Promising each other you’d check them off the list one day when you could afford it.

You realize this is your chance to travel with Sam and you don’t know if you’ll ever get another opportunity like this again.

You breathe out a simple “yyyes”

“Yes?”

“YES. Yes sammy. Yes, I want to go with you!!” You say excitedly with a giant smile on your face.

“You will??? Are you sure? Please don’t do it just for me. I don’t want you to end up hating me because you left what you had here”

“Sammy I’m not doing it just for you. I’m saying yes because I want to. I wanna be with you too, Sam. I want to see the world with you just like we always said we would. I want to tell my boss to F off. All of it. I want all of it Sammy. Everything you said. I’m in”

He jumps up from his spot to wrap you in the tightest possible hug he could manage. He’s squeezing you so hard it takes your breath away and partially lifts you off of the couch.

He holds you in his arms for a few moments. When he finally pulls away he looks you in the eyes and says

“I love you Y/N”

To be continued…

🤍

#sam kiszka fluff #Sam kiszka #sam kiszka imagine #sam kiszka fanfic #sammy gvf #sammy kiszka #jake kiszka #gvf #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka fluff #josh kiszka fanfiction #greta van fic #jake kiszka fic #josh kiszka fic #josh kiszka smut #jake kiszka smut #sam kiszka smut #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet

[jisungsmochi]

request from @tyongf-sunflower99 ; Hiii how are u? <3 I'd like to request a mafia or racer thing for haechan or jeno? Like fluffy and lightly suggestive (if it's okay!) Idk much about the plot but I trust you 💗thank you un advance!!

thankyou for the request! i’ve chosen racer jeno hehe, i hope you enjoy it!!

racer!jeno + female reader (intended but can be read as gender neutral if ‘princess’ is omitted!)

word count: 1.4k

warnings: overuse of ‘princess’ — lots and lots of fluff, gets suggestive towards the end tho

//

“i can’t believe your parents let you come out tonight” jaemin teased as he walked closely behind you.

“you really think i asked for their permission?” you snickered in response, halting your movements once you reached the start line.

“that jeno kid really rubbed off on you” you gulped are the mention of his name. it was no secret that you and jeno had been ‘hanging out’ the past few weeks. it all started when you accompanied jaemin to one of these street races. personally, you had no interest in it, but when you caught the eye of the striking lee jeno, everything changed. he approached you first, charming you with his smooth words. it didn’t take long for him to capture your attention. the only issue was, you weren’t sure if it was just a friendship, or leading to something more.

“oh be quiet, he does NOT have an impact on me” you rolled your eyes, moving to scam the crowd, waiting for jeno to come in sight.

“keep telling yourself that” jaemin smirked, nudging your arm, causing you to turn back to him. before you could say anything, the person you were looking for, happened to be right next to your friend. you jaw was slightly ajar, you hoped he hadn’t eavesdropped on the prior conversation.

“evening, princess” jeno’s deep voice make your ears perk up. okay, maybe he did have an impact on you.

“h-hey” jaemin took it as his cue to leave, patting your shoulder softly, mumbling about going to grab a snack (to be honest, you honestly weren’t even listening)

“here to watch me again?” jeno stepped closer to you, making your breath hitch.

“i-well yes? i mean isn’t everyone else here for the same reason?” you try to play it off, making jeno chuckle softly at your rambling. he found you completely and utterly irresistible.

“that hurts me, princess. i really hoped you had come for me” he slightly pouted. you quickly moved to touch his arm gently,

“i did!” you blurted out, shutting your eyes in embarrassment. jeno moves his hand to hover over yours, that was on his arm.

“that’s what i wanted to hear” he muttered, rubbing his thumb over the surface of your hand. you finally looked up at him, your eyes meeting his glistening ones. he always liked looking into your eyes, there was something so comforting and innocent about them.

“i have to get ready soon, but meet me here when i’m finished?” he continued to hold your hand in his. it felt so natural.

“yeah of course” you nodded, feeling his hand slip out of yours, which made your heart sink. he sent you a quick smirk before he made his way to his car. jaemin snuck up behind you with a packet of chips in his hand.

“oh you’re whipped” you elbow his side, snatching the chips from him as he groaned in pain.

maybe you were whipped for jeno.

//

once jeno’s car passed the finish line, everyone started cheering. despite his cocky attitude when it comes to racing, he always performs. that was something else you liked about him. from the few times you hung out alone, he seemed to be off in his own world. he was always zoning out or mumbling about something random. you loved hearing whatever he had to say, which made him immediately comfortable with you.

his eyes were searching the crowd once he exited his car. despite being met with multiple people congratulating him, his main focus was you.

you timidly made your way towards him, struggling to pass the crowd. suddenly, you felt someone grip your wrist, pulling you towards them. you felt yourself slam into the figure in question.

“thought i was going to lose you, princess” jeno couldn’t wipe the smile off his face, you actually waited.

“i don’t break my promises” you gleamed, feeling instantly shy.

“wanna get out of here?” you nodded, rushing to the passenger side of his car. you also decided to sent jaemin a quick text, you knew he was going to tease you the following day, so you muted him before he could respond.

“sorry it was a bit crazy out there” he apologised, starting the engine of the car.

“it’s alright, i mean, i guess you’re famous”

he scoffed,

“highly doubt it. they’re just happy they’re getting money from betting on me” he shrugged, looking over at you to make sure you were all buckled up. this wasn’t the first time you had been in his car, but he could get used to this sight.

“where to, princess?”

“anywhere...as long as it’s with you” that caught him off guard. jeno didn’t get flustered easily, but you always hit a weak spot in him.

“the things you do to me” he muttered loud enough for you to hear. you chose not to respond, feeling heat rise to your ears. jeno slowly made his way out of the track, now travelling along the highway.

“do you actually like racing?” you weren’t sure what conjured you to ask him that, but you were curious nonetheless. he always played down his interest for racing.

“where’s this coming from? well if i’m being honest, it’s fun. i enjoy the adrenaline and sometimes the attention. the money isn’t too bad either. but it’s not a lifelong thing, you know? just something to do while i’m young” he goes off on this whole tangent about living your life the way you want to. you wish you could relate, but you were forced to study and take as many extracurriculars you could fit into one day. you rarely had any free time to be alone.

“i wish i enjoyed something as much as you enjoy racing” you sighed, fiddling with the keychain on your purse. jeno wasn’t sure how to respond. he turned to park at a random field, a singular street lamp hovering over the car, allowing you to see him a bit better.

“you’ll figure it out soon. i’m sure if it. you’re amazing like that, princess” jeno smiled softly, moving his fingers to brush against yours. you sensed he was slightly nervous, linking your fingers with his in response.

“i really like hanging out with you, jeno” you whisper slightly, pulling your face closer to his.

“i really like hanging out with you too. it honestly feels like you’re keeping me sane” he chuckled, moving so that there was a tiny gap between your lips.

“if i kissed you right now, would you kiss me back?”

“only one way to find out” and with that, jeno presses his lips to yours. at first it was quite gentle, his lips were definitely softer than you had imagined. his hand moved to graze over the side of your neck, resting it there as he continued kissing you. you placed your hands on the sides of his face, allowing his tongue to enter your mouth with ease. part of you wanted him to drive you home and continue this in your bed, but the thought of your parents catching you with a boy in your room had you shaking.

jeno pulled away first, his lips still close enough to brush against yours.

“you don’t understand what you do to me. being with you, it’s like a breath of fresh air. i cant really explain it” he wanted you to know how much he truly cared for you, before you went any further.

you pressed another kiss to his lips before trailing down his neck. jeno felt his breath hitch, his hands now balled into fists. this was only something he dreamed about, he didn’t think it would ever happen.

“you’re too good to me” he sighed, softly stroking your hair as you continued kissing his neck. you weren’t sure what came over you, but hearing him praise you, made you feel good.

“wanna take this to the back seat? only if you’re comfortable of course” he offered. you quickly made your way to the back, pulling him to hover on top of you. without another word, you continued making out. you let his hand rest on your waist, gently rubbing your sides as he kissed your neck. you softly whimpered every time he brushed over a sensitive spot. it made him more eager to make you feel good.

“jeno, be my boyfriend” you said in between kisses, making him smile against your lips. it’s as if he had been waiting for those words to leave your mouth, the moment you met him.

“i haven’t wanted anything more”

the rest of the night consisted of more kissing, more groping and a lot of compliments being exchanged. at the end of the day, you were able to score yourself a street racing boyfriend...now let’s hope your parents won’t be too mad.

#lee jeno #nct dream imagines #nct jeno imagines #jeno imagine #jeno fluff #nct dream fluff #nct dream au #nct au #nct imagines #jisungsmochi masterlist #jisungsmochiimagines

[neverdoingmuch]

ur post abt Beefy lwj is so true and in my personal opinion wwx totally thought nmj was hot. he's already an unreliable narrator u cant tell me him saying nmj had a build men envied or however it went wasnt him subconsciously being like 👁👁😳 wwx just wants to be carried in his big strong husbands arms and it's what he deserves!!!

look nhs and wwx can't be best friend if they don't have the whole 'oh shit your older brother is so hot and i kinda have crush on him/ew no dont you dare' thing going on. it's the rules. the law even. nhs may not like it but wwx is very much enjoying it (it being the view lmao).

so 15 y/o nhs really thought he hit the jackpot when he befriended wwx. like the guy was cheerful, clever, talented, (had really good taste in books), and didn't really force nhs to,,, perform. sure he drags nhs around and makes him do stuff, pushes him out of his comfort zone sometimes, and kinda expected nhs not to be a complete dud (nvm that it was only ever in areas where nhs wasn't actually a dud),, but wwx never made nhs do any of the things the rest of the cultivation world tried to make him do,, wwx never tried to force him to fight more or to develop his cultivation or to be more useful. and nhs loved that about him, wwx was The Greatest Friend Ever,,,,, at least until nmj came over.

why do nhs and wwx see nmj? idk,, does it matter? whatever the reason, nhs sees his brother stomping through cloud recesses one day and immediately whirls wwx around to face his brother while ducking behind him. safely hidden, he whispers to wwx to tell him when nmj is gone. wwx just makes a strange noise in response. given that his friend isn't exactly bad with words, nhs leans over to glance up at his friend and sees that wwx has gone bright red. oh no, nhs thinks to himself.

he'd known that wwx ahem "admired the male form in its peak physical state" or whatever the fuck he used to justify the way he blushed at the sight of lwj doing push ups but nhs hadn't realise that would extend to nmj. his brother isn't flexing or fighting or doing anything to show off his muscles but wwx has a weakness and nmj's strength is,, his strength,,, he doesn't need to flex to have the perfect male form. his brother simply embodies wwx's taste in men far too well to be allowed to continue,,, and, given that wwx probably won't stop being attracted to buff dudes and nmj won't stop being buff, the only choice is to keep them far away from each other.

and like the strategy works really well!! wwx is mostly too distracted with lwj, who is also starting to get buffer for some random reason, and nmj just assumes that nhs is avoiding him bc he did something wrong or just doesn't want another lecture on,,, something. there are a few times when wwx comes over to nhs and says stuff like hey nie-xiong do you know what your brother's work out routine is? and nhs is just squinting at him because he's not sure whether wwx is still convinced that his interest in buff dudes is because he wants to be buff and is just admiring 'what any man would nie-xiong really' because he's 'not a coward who can't respect another man's form bc beauty comes in all forms so don't be so close-minded' or whether he finally figured out that it wasn't a friendly admiration/academic interest/????? and just wants to watch his brother train sometime. tentatively, he tells wwx that he'll ask (which he won't because he knows that nmj admires wwx as a cultivator already and will want to spar with him sometime if he mentions wwx and nhs does not want that to happen). he does however end up extending an invitation to come visit him in qinghe before wwx is unceremoniously booted from the lectures, deciding that his friendship with wwx is more important than his fear of wwx's crush on nmj.

but then the ssc happens and wwx doesn't really manage to come visit for fun and by the time nhs sees him again his reputation has been torn apart and reconstructed into something wholly unpleasant. he's no longer wwx the talented head disciple of the yunmeng jiang sect, instead their terrifying weapon and a loose cannon on the best of days. he's using demonic cultivation and even when he isn't stalking around the camps like a caged tiger, glaring at anyone who stares at him for too long and arrogantly disregarding lwj's attentions like he's no one important, the very air around wwx is seeped with that sense of wrongness and danger that he's covered himself with. being nhs, he makes sure to keep a distance from the war efforts so he only sees wwx every once in a while, and every time he does it seems as if the man is getting more terrifying and wrong.

and when the war ends and peace theoretically settles back into the cultivation world, nhs still doesn't see wwx much - wwx is busy with his duties in yunmeng, nmj doesn't seem particularly endeared by wwx anymore and nhs isn't sure whether he'd even be seeing his friend if he asked wwx to hang out. he's simply changed too much. at least that's what nhs thinks until there's a sect meeting and he sees wwx walk into a door because nmj was asked to help lift a table.

(and then lwj sees that wwx is in the room and makes sure to step in to lift the rest of the tables and wwx is off like a shot to his side to,,,, nhs honestly doesn't even know what he's doing but he's doing it)

#modao zushi #mdzs #wei wuxian #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #lan wangji #wangxian #look i couldnt fit more wangxian in here bc this was a nhs&wwx post but it's there #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #and then nhs brings wwx back despite his well-founded fears that wwx will like see his brother's torso and be like hot damn #(which he does bc it's wwx /: ) #also! i feel like we don't give enough attention to the fact that the first time nhs sees wwx when he comes back he's being carried into #the room in lwj's arms like that right there is enough of an indication that it's wwx #and honestly after that time lwj barely ever sets wwx back onto the ground and yeah its kinda gross bc wwx is constantly staring at lwj #like he hung the moon but also wwx is finally happy and nhs is happy bc wwx has finally noticed that straight dudes dont look at other #guys' muscles like that and also lwj's body building has finally paid off and he can in fact make wwx swoon by flexing #so sometimes nhs decides to be a Real Bro and invite wangxian over to qinghe to do some uh friendly competitions which are just an excuse #for lwj to show off how strong he is while wwx and nhs gossip (at least when wwx isn't staring at lwj) #asks

[crybabyddl]

I WOULD VERY MUCH LIKE TO REITERATE SOMETHING

Yes, let’s circle back to the beautiful performance of Edge of Great. More specifically the BODY LANGUAGE, particularly Julie and Luke’s, which I will be analyzing with gifs.

Exhibit A

Jealous Luke looks over at Julie and Reggie vibing

Julie is aware that she’s avoiding Luke, which she is doing so bc she realized her feelings for him thanks to Flynn earlier in the episode.

Since Julie has put the task of ignoring Luke upon herself even though she has no obligation to, she ends up failing her own mission. She sees Luke’s reaction to the lack of her attention.

She literally FREEZES. She’s emotionally worried to confront what she’s feeling and it’s beginning to manifest physically.

Exhibit B

It gets better y’all. After Luke finally has even a crumb of Julie’s attention, he beckons her over with his signature head tilt. This is important bc he did this with his longtime bandmate during the soundcheck of what would’ve been their biggest performance. If he feels comfortable enough using that body language with a girl he’s only known for, what, a week and a half(?) then you know this puppy boy’s got it BAD.

Julie is well aware that Luke is getting jealous. But in classic Julie fashion, she will try to tune it out instead of addressing it. Our wicked beauty doesn’t like confrontation and would rather just deny and avoid than potentially make things awkward, especially when she knows Luke would ask her about it at a later time.

The look on Julie’s face. Her eyes widen and the classic tight-lipped awkward smile is present. She’s literally saying “ok enough of that let’s get back to work doo doo doo” with her face. The way her body SWINGS back into performance mode as she faces the audience again. It may have been a split second, but when you’re deliberately trying to avoid looking into the dreamy (dead) eyes of someone you shouldn’t be crushing on, any amount of time feels too long. Plus, she knows Flynn is watching and doesn’t want her to lecture her (but she does anyway bc Flynn is observant and knows her bestie too well to let any action slip past her).

Exhibit C

Keep in mind; NONE OF THE GUYS KNOW WHY JULIE IS AVOIDING LUKE. Flynn, Alex, and Reggie have noticed the Juke chemistry, but it’s still too soon for them to get past the “we like each other but we’re too clueless to notice that we reciprocate” phase, so even though their respective besties know, they are still denying. Besides, Reg, Alex, and Flynn know better than to keep pestering if they want to keep their kneecaps. In reality they’re both smart enough to tell by this point, but for the sake of the plot and to make everything more adorably frustrating, Flynn has the collective brain cell under lock and key, leaving Juke to be like *dog tilting its head and making that “a-roo?” noise*

Anyway, Reggie notices Luke being snubbed after realizing that his extra dose of Julie time was slightly out of the ordinary. Luke is clearly concerned (look at his eyebrows and how his eyes travel from Reggie, to Julie, then to the audience to trying and get his mind off it and bring his focus back to the main goal; the performance.) If he can’t have the moment of connection with Julie that he so desperately craves, he’s gonna fill that void as best he can by connecting with the audience. >:’)

But Reggie’s trying to help Luke brush it off by conveying his reaction as ‘look at julie coming into her own! i told you she was a star! and you thought you were the lead singer? think again buddy this girl’s got you beat!’

But since Reggie isnt a master at hiding his feelings yet, especially around Luke, —who was able to get under his skin earlier (“girls, am i right?”)—Luke was easily able to see through that and interpreted what Reggie was saying as “look at julie go, she all in the zone. you’re literally making heart eyes at her get a grip you’re slacking lmao” (hence luke’s right eyebrow quirking at reggie like ‘dude seriously gimme a break u know i need attention like tinkerbell’) even though Reggie’s true message was a bit less harsh and more lovingly teasing, but it’s Luke, he sees things through his eyes and at his intensity, regardless of who it’s coming from. (This is one of the reasons why Luke comes off as selfish at times.)

Exhibit D

Poor Lukey boi can’t seem to catch a break today! Not only does Julie ignore him, then has a cute lil (platonic but it’s luke so it still makes him jealous >:P) moment, but now she has the AUDACITY to interact with Alex? The guy who was out learning Ghost 101 with this Willie guy instead of rehearsing with the band? What gives?! What’s he got that your moody ghost bf doesn’t? >:’(

He literally just watches, and even glances back in a way that, to me, screams ‘did i see that right? did i just see what i just saw with my own dreamy (but dead) eyes? say sike rn.’ \_(*_*)_/

Meanwhile, Alex pays no mind. I like to think that Alex is fully aware that Luke is an angry boy rn, but has learned to ignore it, especially this bc literally NOTHING happened. Either that or Alex has no clue and just truly thinks nothing of it and is having too much fun to think about Luke’s moody and childish behavior. Either way, Alex is just straight chilling and we love to see it *^_^*

Notice how Reggie is right there vibing with Julie and Alex. Luke feels a bit betrayed like ‘not you too! i know you were the first to turn on me but i figured since you’re such a golden retriever you’d be loyal and come back to my side!😠🥲’

Also; Luke approaches the rest of the group, wanting to be included in at least SOME of the vibing, but when Julie starts dancing and smiling with her buddy Alex, he backs up like

“you know what? nope. nevermind. not doin’ it.”

and the group’s like “i mean hey it’s your loss, but luke we want you to-”

“no, bc you chose to piss me off right in front of my face so no luke time for any of you! no cuddles, no hugs, no nothing! you made your bed, now lie in it and perish.”

Exhibit E & F: This is where it gets a bit interesting and theorized hehe...

Now we all know that this moment is just fucking ICONIC

WEOWH NEOW NEOW!!! WEOW NEHR NEHR NER-NER-NER NEHR NEHR NEOWHR!!! (wer nehr-nehr-ner-ner-nehr-nehr!!) WUEHNER-NEUHNER-NEHR-NEEOW-NEOWH! DLOOLOODDUH-DOODLAH-HOOBLUEH-NEOWHR-NEUEHR-NEEEEEEUOWRH!!!!

But hear me out– HEAR ME OUT!

What if... now don’t shoot the messenger who just so happens to also be the theorist... but what if...

WHAT IF!!! Luke didn’t!! plan this?!!!

Listen i know you’re probably thinking:

“Well uh Nicole, isn’t that kinda the whole point? It literally wasn’t planned until Charlie realized Madi was gonna be standing on the piano so he suggested the idea for the guitar solo to Kenny.”

And you’re right! But here’s the kicker:

What if Luke THE CHARACTER, just decided to do this as an “Alright that’s it! You wanna be like that? Well what if I just hit you with my super awesome radical totally cool wowza guitar skills & make a moment between us? Huh? What do you think about that? Hmm? HMMM???!!!”

He licks his lips & that to me read** like he was nervous (**read rhyming with bed just to clarify) so that means it could’ve been a spontaneous, spur-of-the-moment thing.

In the second gif, you can see that Julie’s head is tilted, as if she’s a bit confused, but she’s also delightfully surprised.

Julie is quick to smile and scrunch her nose at Luke, something she does often. It tells Luke his impulsive action garnered a positive response from his favorite girl. Julie also starts to shake her head, but doesn’t go through the motion in full, which means she’s still a bit nervous to let her guard down. This is probably because she doesn’t know what he’s thinking or what he will do next. The lopsided smile mixed with the suave, gliding steps towards her probably brought her back to her daydream lol.

Luke’s happy bc Julie’s no longer ignoring him. He smiles like a GOOBER bc this chump is simping HARD for our Julie. So cute! :’)

Exhibit G

And hear me when I offer this:

What if Luke poofed the guys out???

I know, I know. It’s a bold claim to make. But the boys are special, considering they are a threat to Caleb (3 gay-variant himbos vs. a gay magician that could’ve been on broadway but decided to make some sort of deal with a devil so he just entertains capitalists who most likely sold their souls to get into the hgc which i will probably elaborate on in a future theory so dont do that bc im gonna lmao idc we all have big brains) So it’s not too crazy to think that they could share some ghost powers.

We know Caleb transported the guys during You Got Nothing to Lose. And the guys have left a place at the exact same time on more than one occasion.

And you may be thinking “well what if the guys poofed out to give juke a moment alone together?” And to that I say...

Look at Reggie. He isn’t looking back at Alex like “dude let’s give them some space.”

The timing of him turning around, at least to me, makes me think Reggie was surprised by Luke approaching the piano. (But also he lowkey was waiting for Luke to prove him wrong by doing something to get Julie’s attention so Reggie isn’t mad. Neither is Alex but he doesn’t like being told how or WHEN to ghost) Luke doesn’t even give his bandmates a warning eyebrow quirk, a hand signal, nothing. Reggie turns to Alex like ‘dude what is he DOING?’ And before he can even really convey that, they go *POOF*

This man had a plan and he was gonna do it, so he did. Whether it’s the power of love, they stopped performing, or Reggie and Alex actually poofed out, the odds worked in Luke’s favor so he and Julie could have a super special moment, a moment special enough to make an actual living person (Nick) wonder if a “hologram” has a better chance at connecting with Julie than he does.

Again, regardless of who made them poof or how they poofed, they mf poofed so Luke’s a happy hamster. (Idk it just sounded fitting instead of happy camper lol wait what if someone had 3 pet hamsters and named them alex reggie and luke🥺 someone buy some hamsters and let me be their godmother or their aunt and i’ll love them from afar.) Anyway, Luke’s thriving, flourishing, his crops are going to grow in time for the harvest.

You can see Julie lean back as she turns to see Luke. It’s... almost as if... She. Wasn’t. Expecting. Him. To. Be. There..??

Honey badger Luke bc he DGAF <|:) Bitch, it’s Luke mf Patterson and he’s gonna,, GET! IN! YOUR! FAAAACE!!!

You CANNOT tell me he’s not doing the absolute MOST to try and seduce Miss Juliana Mariposa Rose Molina.

Yes I’m making a headcanon that Julie has TWO middle names and that one of them is the spanish word for butterfly and that the other is her mother’s name. Also yes, I believe (i believe that we’re just one dream away from who we’re– oh, that’s not what we’re doing? okay, sorry!) that Juliana is Julie’s full name.

In this house we love and respect Juliana Mariposa (Dahlia)** Rose Molina

**I’m just putting Dahlia there for fun bc I can. :) Whether I’d consider it a possible middle name of hers depends. Anyway I just thought it was a cute thing to add bc it goes along with the other middle names I gave her *^_^* Also, I feel like I made a post giving a bunch of the characters middle names lemme see if I can find it later)

Ok i’m done this took me basically all day from like 10am until 4:08. I obviously took breaks in between, but not long ones...😶

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #julie molina #madison reyes #luke patterson #charlie gillespie #alex mercer #owen joyner #reggie peters #jeremy shada #jatp theory #jatp headcanons #carrie wilson #savannah lee may #jatp flynn #jadah marie #sacha carlson #edge of great #nick danforth evans #music #jatp netflix #jatp cast #jatp hc #juke #crybabyddl has a theory #i spent way too long on this #crybabyddl

[pastrnaks-sainz]

You’re My Home

Pairing: Charlie McAvoy x reader 

Type: Fluff 

Warnings: Homesickness, swearing 

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: The odds of getting into Boston University were slim to none, so when you got your acceptance letter, you were over the moon. You thought moving across the Atlantic Ocean wouldn’t be an issue, it wasn’t an absurdly long flight back to London from Boston, everything would be fine. Or so you thought.  

Request: Can I please have a request for Charlie McAvoy where the reader is from a different country and is living with him in Boston and one night she feels homesick and can't sleep and that wakes up Charlie and he tries to comfort her, just soke fluff please, thank u💕 (from anon) 

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It was the third night in a row you were up past midnight. Last week you would have blamed it on the jet lag, but you were well accustomed to the time zone in Boston by now. You knew it was homesickness. It was the only thing it could be. 

You had decided to live in a suite style dorm for your first year. Three other girls and four guys shared four rooms, a bathroom, a small kitchen, and a small living room. Your roommates were all nice. They were fascinated with your accent, always wanting you to tell them what it was like in London. You obliged, feeling welcomed into the BU community. 

But when the sun went down and you were left with your thoughts, you felt more alone than ever. You were a stranger in a strange city. No matter how many times your roommates and professors explained the city’s transportation system to you, you were completely lost. The streets weren’t laid out in a grid system like New York, and granted London’s weren’t either but it certainly didn't help you as you tried your best to learn the city. You were lucky enough that your closest friend, and roommate, lived in Boston her entire life and was teaching you the ins and outs of navigating. 

‘If you see the Citgo sign on your side of the street you’re across Route 90 from Fenway Park and on Beacon Street.’ 

‘If you’re at Faneuil Hall- don't go there it’s a tourist trap- State Street right there.’ 

‘If you’re ever hopelessly lost, try to find the path of red bricks. It’s the Freedom Trail, it’ll most likely lead you somewhere where you can get your bearings.’ 

She tried, she really did. You remembered some of it, like the Citgo Sign and the Freedom Trail, but most of it went in one ear and out the other. You needed to learn the city if you were ever going to survive a year here. 

The wood floor was cold beneath your feet as you snuck out of your room without waking up your roommate. You would feel horrible if her sleep was interrupted just because you were homesick. 

You always found that sitting in front of the glass windows and looking out over your little corner of the city helped. It didn’t make everything go away, but it helped you realize you were not alone. You weren’t alone in finding your way around the confusing street system, you weren’t alone in having no idea how the T worked. 

Charlie groaned as something woke him up. He had always been a light sleeper, and the light in the kitchen turning on definitely didn’t help. He rubbed his eyes and tossed the sheets off his legs. He ran a hand over his hair as he walked out to the kitchen. He was awake, might as well get a drink of water. 

“Y/N?” he asked, rubbing his eyes again as he walked into the main room. “What are you doing up?” 

“Shit,” you swore under your breath before turning to face your roommate. “I’m so sorry, did I wake you up?” 

“No, not at all,” Charlie shook his head even though he knew full well it was you that had woken him up. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, wrapping your arms around yourself. Charlie scoffed, unconvinced. 

“You’re a horrible liar, you know that?” he smiled gently as he sat down on the end of the couch. You laughed softly and looked down at the cushion beneath you. “Talk to me, what’s going on?” 

“I guess I’m just a little homesick,” you shrugged, avoiding eye contact with him. “Boston’s a lot different from London.” 

“Yeah, I bet it is,” Charlie nodded. You looked up at him in surprise. You fully expected him to offer some generic condolence and go back to bed. You were not expecting him to engage in conversation with you. Would it help if you told me what it was like back home?”

“Yeah,” you nodded slowly. “Yeah I think it might.” 

Charlie smiled to himself as he listened to you talk about your home. He interjected with questions every once in a while. What started as something to get your mind off being in a new place turned into genuine curiosity. He was enjoying listening to your stories about growing up in London, what your family did on the weekends, how different school is there as opposed to in America. 

“My friends and I back in secondary school used to go down to this cafe in downtown London for lunch,” you said, smiling at the memory. “In autumn we sat on the patio and made up stories about the people passing by. It was just something fun we did before we had to go back to class.” 

“That does sound like fun,” Charlie agreed. 

“Tell me about what you did when you were a kid,” you said, shifting the focus of the conversation off yourself and onto him. 

“I didn’t have nearly as interesting a childhood as you did,” he shook his head. 

“Oh come on,” you pleaded. “You have to have done something that was fun.” 

“Well, my town team used to play hallway hockey when we were at tournaments,” he said. You noted the smile that ghosted across his face. 

“What’s that?” you asked, trying to do anything to make the conversation last even just a little bit longer. 

“Something we always got in trouble for,” he laughed. “We used the soccer ball we brought with us and used our sticks to basically play a game of hockey in the hotel hallway. One night we did it silently because the hotel threatened to kick us out if we made too much noise.” 

“That sounds like fun,” you smiled. 

“It was,” he nodded. “I guess it was kind of like our pregame ritual. Whenever we played it we always won.” 

Your laugh was cut off with a yawn. Charlie chuckled. 

“I guess my distraction worked,” he smiled. 

“Yeah I guess it did,” you nodded. “Thank you.” 

“Any time,” he smiled as he stood up from the couch. “I’m right across the hall if you need anything.” 

Charlie could not fall back asleep no matter how hard he tried. He knew exactly what was keeping him up, too. Ever since he saw you on move in day, and met you a few days later, he’d had a crush on you. You were seen, kind, and you were the most welcoming person he’d ever met. He could tell you were in need of a friend in Boston, and so was he. He found himself gravitating towards you with no way to stop it. 

Across the hall you were having the same problem. Despite being tired and ready to sleep after your conversation with Charlie, your mind was alive with a flurry of thoughts. You hadn’t had a prolonged conversation like that with him before. The first time you saw him you thought he was cute, and then you watched how he interacted with his friends and you realized he was so much more than just a pretty face. And now that you knew he was an absolute sweetheart, you were physically unable to get him out of your mind. 

Tossing the sheets off your legs you padded across the floor of your room towards the door. You swung it open at the same time Charlie did from his room. You stood there, just staring at each other for a moment before you took a big step towards each other. Charlie grabbed you by the waist as you took his shoulders. Your lips met as you moved in sync. It was a quick kiss, just enough time for your brains to register what exactly is was that you were doing. 

“I’m sorry-” you said at the same time. 

“You first,” you said with a laugh. 

“Sorry,” he apologized, despite the fact that he still had a grip on your waist. “I-I should have asked.” 

“I should have too,” you said, your voice hoarse as you looked down at your feet. “But I wouldn’t be opposed to it if you wanted to do it again.” 

Charlie’s face lit up. He leaned in again, taking his time to savor the taste of your blueberry chapstick and the way your body fit perfectly against his. Somebody could have told him he had died and gone to heaven and he would believe them. He was almost euphoric. 

#charlie mcavoy x reader #x reader #nhl x reader #hockey x reader #fluff #charlie mcavoy fluff #nhl fluff #hockey fluff #one shot #charlie mcavoy one shot #nhl one shot #hockey oneshot #imagine #charlie mcavoy imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #fanfiction #charlie mcavoy fanfiction #nhl fanfiction #Hockey Fanfiction

[stolen-pen-name23]

hiii idk if u still take prompts but "i’m never going to let [her/him/them] hurt you again" for Obitine?

Ahhh thank you for the prompt! This is actually the last prompt in my inbox! I'll open up prompts again soon, but for now, I'm going to try and focus on a few bigger projects.

This one got away from me, so you can read the whole thing under the cut, or read on Ao3!

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When he is brought to her, it is like he isn’t even there.

“What’s wrong with him?” Satine asks when Anakin stumbles down the ramp of his ship, Obi-Wan slung over his shoulders. His eyes are open but vacant, almost as though in death.

“He was drugged,” Anakin growls.

“What did they give him?” she asks.

Anakin’s eyes are dark with rage. “I don’t know. But I can assure you, Duchess, that the ones who did this to him are dead.”

Satine bristles.

“Self-defense, my lady,” Anakin says before she can say anything about fair trials or neutral zones.

“Uh-huh,” Satine accepts mildly, paying more attention to Obi-Wan and his current state.

“Is there a medical facility here?” Anakin asks.

“I sent for healers as soon as you called,” Satine says. “They’re awaiting him in my quarters.”

“Thank you, Duchess,” Anakin says, the tight line of his jaw softening ever so slightly. “Lead the way.”

Satine leads Anakin through the palace entrance and down the long and winding corridors that lead to her quarters. Guards flank them on either side, though Satine thinks their presence to be unnecessary with Anakin there — even if he is carrying another Jedi with him.

By the time they reach her rooms, Anakin is panting. Despite his obvious exhaustion, he sets Obi-Wan down with gentle care.

Obi-Wan is fully unconscious now — a fact Satine is grateful for. The vacant staring was unsettling, especially coming from Obi-Wan whose eyes were always so full of life and curiosity. Conversely, a wild look still lingers in Anakin’s eyes, and it flashes as healers descend upon them.

“Can you tell us what happened?” one of the healers asks Anakin.

“He was captured by some Separatist scum. I found him, but he was drugged. I… I can barely feel him,” Anakin says, panic finding its way back into his voice.

The healer whips her head up and looks at him more closely. “Are you okay? Were you drugged too?”

“What?” Anakin asks. “No, I was never—”

“These two are Jedi,” Satine interrupts. “They share a mental bond. They can sense each other through it.”

“Ah,” the healer says. Whether the healer feels any ill-will towards the Jedi, as many Mandalorians do, she does not give it away. She continues to work dutifully on her charge.

“What are you doing to him?” Anakin asks as the healer begins drawing blood and waving scanners over Obi-Wan’s body.

“We’re just running some tests. We need to figure out what he was drugged with. I don’t want to give him anything that might mix poorly with what he was given.”

Anakin nods, but Satine can still see the way he clenches his fist and jaw.

“We need you two to give us some room,” the healer says, before she seemingly remembers who she is speaking to. “Respectfully, Duchess,” she adds.

“Of course,” Satine says graciously. She takes a step back, but sees Anakin frozen in place. Gently, she grabs his elbow and nudges him along. He follows her to the edge of the room, where they wait for the healers to help Obi-Wan.

Satine doesn’t know how long they stand there, hovering awkwardly from afar, when a scanner goes off.

The healer picks up the scanner and examines it. “Good,” she says to herself.

“What was that? Anakin asks.

“The results from his blood test. The drug they gave him was a pretty heavy-duty sedative. Not the type we use in med centers and certainly not comfortable, but it won’t kill him. He’s going to be groggy and confused when he wakes up, but he’ll be fine.”

Satine and Anakin let out a breath at the same time.

“You two can stay here with him if you wish. We’ll check up on him in a few hours, but do send for us if he wakes up or appears to need medical attention.

“Thank you,” Satine says, bowing her head.

Satine sits on a chair beside the bed and Anakin paces around.

“Anakin,” Satine says calmly. “You heard the healer as well as I did. He’s going to be alright.”

Anakin pauses in his pacing and moves to stand next to where Satine is sitting. “I know. I just… I can barely feel him,” he repeats. “I was… when they first drugged him, I thought…”

“I’m sorry, Anakin,” Satine said sympathetically, standing to meet his gaze. “But he’s alright.”

Anakin offers a small nod and takes a shaky breath. Satine notices the dark circles under his eyes and the unusual pallor of his skin. “You should rest.”

“I’m not leaving him,” Anakin says stubbornly.

“He’ll be just fine right here. Anakin, you’re exhausted. I don’t need to be bonded to you to see that,” Satine says.

“Why are you…”

She nods her head at Obi-Wan. “He would want me to make sure you’re okay. And I care about your well-being too.”

Anakin blinks his eyes a few times. Whether he’s trying to wake himself up or fight back tears, Satine isn’t sure.

“But, I—”

“Go, Anakin,” she says softly. “You are dead on your feet. Go get something to eat and a couple of hours of sleep. I’ll watch over him while you’re gone, alright?”

Satine watches Anakin’s reluctant gaze fall on Obi-Wan.

“You’ve done enough for him, Anakin,” she insists.

Anakin stares at Obi-Wan for a moment longer.

“You’ll send for me if he wakes up? Or if anything changes?”

“Of course,” Satine says. She turns to a guard. “Take him to the guest quarters, please. Make sure some food is brought to him.”

“Yes, Duchess,” the guard says.

Anakin looks taken aback by the accommodations—unused to such opulence—but he goes along with it easily enough. A guard leads him away, but another guard remains in the room.

“You may leave us,” Satine says.

“Yes, Duchess,” the guard says, though she can see the hesitation in his eyes.

She sits on the bed and leans back against the headboard. She looks down at Obi-Wan where he lays, still asleep.

“What am I going to do with you,” she murmurs, running a hand through his hair.

The hours march on like so many dutiful soldiers and Satine feels them weighing heavily on her. She is about to submit to sleep when Obi-Wan stirs beside her.

“Obi?” she whispers hopefully.

He lets out a quiet whimper, and it is then that Satine notices the sweat coating his brow.

“Hey,” she says quietly. “Obi, wake up.”

If Obi-Wan hears her, he is ignoring her. He tosses his head to the side and a sliver of light from the high windows rests on his face, revealing a tear track. His chest rises and falls rapidly.

“Wake up, Obi-Wan,” she says again, more forcefully this time. His eyes flash open and he blinks at her.

“Are you with me?” Satine asks.

Cloudy eyes look right through her, unfocused and unsure. I guess not, then.

“Come on, snap out of it,” Satine says. “You’re okay.”

“No,” he murmurs weakly. “Stop, stop.”

Satine yanks her hands away from him.

“Obi, please,” Satine says. “Obi-Wan, it’s me.”

Obi-Wan turns his head to her. The fog lifts from his eyes. “Satine?” Obi-Wan asks, confusion still evident in his tone.

“It’s alright now,” Satine soothes. “It was just a nightmare, you’re safe.”

“No, I—”

“Yes. You’re safe,” she reaffirms.

“Where…?”

“You’re in the palace,” she says.

“Palace?”

“My palace. On Mandalore.”

“Why…?”

“You and Anakin were far from Coruscant and you needed medical attention. Mandalore was the closest stopping point to your location. Anakin called me in a bit of a panic. I told him to come.”

“I was with the Separatists,” Obi-Wan says, his fingers clenching around the blankets. “They had me, they…”

“Shhh. It’s alright now. I’m never going to let them hurt you again,” she murmurs, knowing she has no real power to actually keep him safe from the Separatists, but she is willing to say anything to calm the Jedi lying in her bed. “Besides, if I can’t keep you safe, Anakin will surely protect you from them.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, his eyes flashing with a mix of concern and fondness. “Anakin was here. Where…?”

“I sent him to the guest quarters to get some sleep. He asked me to wake him if you woke up, but I’ll give you a few more minutes to wake up.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head and looks at her incredulously. “You asked him to sleep and he just went?”

“I don’t know what to tell you, my dear. People have a hard time saying no to me. Even your supposedly bull-headed Padawan.”

“There is nothing ‘supposed’ about it,” Obi-Wan says in indignation, becoming more coherent by the minute. “He is bull-headed.”

“Oh, so he does take after you then,” Satine smirks.

Obi-Wan scoffs. “Hardly.”

“Mmhmm.”

Obi-Wan glares at her but tilts his head back, his energy fading once more.

“You should get some more rest.”

“I don’t want to. I’ve been resting.”

“You’ve been drugged. That is not the same as resting.”

“Ah yes,” Obi-Wan says quietly, rubbing his eyes. “That explains a few things.”

Dust dances in the beams of light cascading through the windows. The sweet melody of a bird welcoming the morning permeates the silence that stretches between the Jedi and the Mandalorian. Satine grabs Obi-Wan’s hand and caresses his knuckles with her thumb. He doesn’t shrink away from the touch.

“You know,” she says, breaking the silence, “it seems that every time we are together, one or both of us is always in some form of mortal danger.”

“Yes, well, it certainly keeps our relationship interesting,” Obi-Wan replies. He chuckles lightly to himself.

Satine scoffs and rolls her eyes at him. “That doesn’t make me feel better about it.”

“Well, if it does make you feel better, I’m not in mortal danger anymore.”

“No,” Satine replies, continuing to circle his knuckles with her thumb. “No, you’re safe now.”

Satine hopes it will stay that way, even for just a little bit longer.

#the last prompt in my inbox! #thank you for the prompt! #my writing #obitine #tw non consensual drug use #obi wan kenobi #satine kryze #anakin skywalker