#the finger with the paper cut swelled a LOT

[netegf]

So We Won't Forget

pairing: f!reader x rafe cameron

plot: you meet rafe cameron at a grief support group while he struggles with the loss of his father. he's trying to be a better man, and you can't help but love him for it.

warnings: 18+, sensitive topics such as death and mourning, use of Y/N, fluff and flirting, challenging sibling dynamics, smut (P in V, size kink, lots of praise, some teasing), mentions of past drug use, rafe is reforming (?) lol

word count: 7.7 k

Rafe didn’t know what he was thinking.

He knew Barry had given him the bright pink flier as a joke more than anything else. And he’d taken it as a joke, at least after the initial roll of his eyes, too. Ended up crumpling the sheet of paper and chucking it into the garbage can near his bedside, muttering some iteration of ‘yeah man, that’s real funny’.

His dad was dead. For real, this time. He didn’t need some corny grief support group where people sat in a circle and sang their sorrows.

He needed a fucking time machine.

Still, he had done it.

Sleep was getting harder and harder to find these nights. The temperature never felt right.

Too hot when he pulled white sheets up and over his bare hips and too cold when he let them slip down to his feet.

He rolled his body over to his side with the intention of scrolling through his phone which had become increasingly dry since his return from Guadeloupe.

But then his hand was reaching down into the garbage can and he was squinting in the dark to make out an address he’d never seen before.

It was no wonder why. The Church was so far in the outskirts of Figure 8, it might as well have been on the Cut. But it wasn't, and that was one of the only reasons why he'd reconciled with making the drive.

It was a shoddy building with peeling paint and a slanted roof, and it took him a whole twenty minutes to step outside of his truck and through the front doors.

The place gave him the chills. He felt better thinking it was because it was so run-down and he was a Kook through and through, but a part of him knew it was for a different reason entirely. He wasn’t completely sure he wouldn’t burst into flames upon entry. It wasn't long ago that he’d melted a fucking cross for Christ’s sake.

Like the man standing at the entry-way can read his mind, he claps a hand on Rafe’s shoulder and flashes him a reassuring smile. He must've been staring guardedly at the blocked off pew.  

“We just use the space on this side of the building.” The man says, gesturing to the large room with groups of scattered chairs and a long table at the back with pastries and refreshments. “There’s no, uh,” he clears his throat, then continues with a knowing glance, “religious affiliation.”

Rafe manages a nod, his fingers feeling numb and jittery all at once. His eyes rake over the room once more. More specifically, the people in it.

Some of them look like they’re itching to talk, while others look so boxed up it makes the silence in the room more chilling. Rafe decides he connects more with the latter, but there’s a spot he can’t quite reach at the swell of his shoulder blade that suddenly feels like it could use a good scratch.

“I’m Leon, by the way. The program manager.” The man, Leon, introduces himself. “Help yourself to some snacks, then grab a seat. We’ll start shortly.”

Leon shoots Rafe another smile, then saunters over to the front of the room where he sits down by a dingy whiteboard. 

Briefly, he wrestles the impulse to sprint out through the double-doors and scrub the very essence of the place off his body in a scalding shower. Sterile and dizzying, just how he likes them. 

But then his feet are trudging clumsily toward the snack table, and he downs a hot cup of coffee that splashes uncomfortably against the acid in his stomach before filling an empty chair at the back. 

"Let's see. As you take your seats and feel out the room, some of you might be asking yourselves why you even bothered to show up. Why don't we take a moment to remind ourselves why?"

To you, the introduction by the man you now know as Leon leaves something to be desired. A reminder wouldn't be necessary because forgetting wasn't the problem. 

The problem was your best friend was gone, and nothing in the world could get your mind off it. It was a strange kind of irony, really, talking about her so you could end up talking about her less. 

What better place and time was there to mourn than the beautiful Outer Banks in the summer?

At least, that's what your mother had said in a chipper tone as you rode the ferry off the mainland together.

Taking in the ambience of your surroundings, you seriously doubt she's right. The AC is blasting and you still feel sweat beading on your forehead. The place had the humidity of a greenhouse and none of the natural light. 

"We'll start our conversation small. With a partner." Leon says, breaking you out of your trance. "I'll walk around the room and pair you up."

The friendly man that Leon is, it takes him a while to get to the back of the room where he pauses in front of you.

"Alright, so that leaves... you two!"

Leon points vaguely to a figure sitting at the far corner, who lifts his head for a second to meet your eyes. A flash of blue before he looks back down again. You notice that he's not moving a muscle and probably doesn't intend to. 

"Guess I'll come to you." You mutter shortly under your breath, dragging your chair behind you as you move closer. 

Taking a seat in front of the quiet stranger, the first thing you notice is that the top of his head is pretty. Then he lifts his chin and you come to realize that the rest of him is even prettier. 

Dirty blonde hair that seems to be growing out after a cut sticks to his forehead, slightly damp with sweat. Angular jaw, beautiful blue eyes, soft pink lips pressed into a frown. He gazes at you suspiciously. 

"Rafe." 

Your eyebrows furrow, temporarily stalling your ogling. "What?"

"My name." He squints at you, pointing a slender finger to the whiteboard on which Leon has messily scrawled the words: 'introduce yourselves and explain why you're here'. 

"Rafe." You repeat, trying the name out in your mouth. It feels harsh but satisfying. Like a swear word. "I'm Y/N." 

He nods, but doesn't say anything else, his eyes flickering between the floor and a black truck you can make out through the window - like he's worried it might disappear. 

You steal a glance at the pairs around you who seem to be getting far deeper into conversation than the two of you. 

"I think we're supposed to talk." You mumble.

Rafe nods again, and his lips part for a moment, but then they close again. You fight the urge to glare at Leon for dooming your progress before it could even begin.

"I can go first." You offer with a shaky breath. "I'm here because my best friend, Stacy... died. It was, um, a car crash." 

Hating the way the silence intensifies between you, you continue. 

"I don't really know what to say. Just that she was kind of my favourite person. And she, uh... always made me feel like I was the only one in the room, you know? She just wanted to make you laugh and it was like nothing else mattered. Just us, living in our own little world."

Rafe feels a certain tightness in his chest, pressing down on his sternum.

"You're lucky." He scoffs.

It makes your face fall.

He'd tried to make it sound like a good thing, but it came out ugly, like it always seemed to. 

"I'm... lucky that my friend died in a violent car crash? Gee, Rafe. Your empathy has no bounds.” 

The turn of your voice makes Rafe's spine stiffen, his brows stiffly pinched together as he attempts to soothe over his words.

"No, I didn't mean it like that, okay?" 

You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms over your chest.

Suddenly, the lips that you once thought were pretty look more like what they really are. Annoying, when they move. His crisp blue polo and stupidly expensive watch are starting to get on your nerves.

"I just meant that you - look, at least you had her. That's more than a lot of people can say."

That was rich coming from a guy that looked like he had everything in the world at his disposal.

"Who'd you lose? Your gardener?" You quip. 

Rafe stares bitterly then looks down at his lap where his fingers are fidgeting.  

"My dad."

You feel your stomach churn with guilt, face getting hot.

It's the way he says it that pains you. Like it hurts him physically to get the words out. You know that feeling like the back of your hand. You wish you didn't, but you do.

Suddenly, Rafe's rigidity feels less abrasive and more heartbreaking. You wonder how long it's been, hesitant to ask because it might make you feel worse. Maybe you deserved it for leading with pettiness instead of compassion. You remind yourself that you're grieving and messy, too. 

"Oh." You choke out when an apology feels tight on your tongue.

He lifts his head up to meet your eyes, chewing on his bottom lip. "Yeah. Oh."

"I shouldn't have said that, Rafe. I'm sorry." 

"No, I get it. I shouldn't have said that either. That way, at least. I'm trying to be better at... not saying the wrong thing." He breathes, shoulders falling. "I fuck it up constantly."

"You're not, you didn't." You shake your head. "I'm just on edge. Plus, I get really cranky when I'm hot, and it's boiling in here. Promise." 

You feel a sense of relief when he cracks a smile at that, wanting to savour it. 

"And...," you trail off, catching his attention. 

"And?"

Your gaze runs over him, from the top of his handsome face, down to his shiny designer boots. 

"You're textbook Kook. I guess my whole 'eat the rich' thing got the best of me." 

Rafe laughs softly, feeling a rush in his chest. For a second, he's not thinking about a certain series of events that looms over him everywhere he goes like some sort of 'never off the clock' paralysis demon. Nor any of the bad decisions he made that led him up to that point and drove him deeper into the ground after the fact. He remembers back when he was just a regular asshole. An arrogant rich kid with poor impulse control and penchant for adrenaline. 

He's debated if he would choose to go back thousands of times. 

Part of him wants to.

He had a lot less to worry about. More parties to throw, more girls to take up to his bedroom after very little flirting on his part, more blow to keep him heady and distracted.

Help keep his mind off of the arguments with his dad.

His dad, who blew a hole in his life, and now, was gone... forever. It's something he'd imagined more times than he could count, but he would have never guessed this feeling. 

Nothing felt good anymore. Like he didn't deserve any release because his dad wasn't here to give him shit, so he'd endured nothing to warrant it. He'd started feeling guilty, more than usual, and in a more physical sense. He could feel it when he woke up. Maybe it was the guilt that woke him up every day, gasping for air and clutching his chest. It was starting to sink in and sometimes he spent the whole of the night crying. It was like his soul was being reformed. He drove to a Church, instead of calling Barry, to feel something again. 

He secretly hoped for a big, ambiguous power that would slap him awake and help him trek forward like a strong wind behind his back. But believing took a certain lack of resistance and if his father's eyes were anything to go by, Rafe was stubborn like a grease stain.

Then there was the risk of believing and still watching everything spin into chaos around you. Feeling stupid that you hoped for something different.

But things are different now. 

He's still an asshole, sure. But he's trying to work on that. 

"You're not wrong." He admits, grinning slightly. "You been to the island before?"

"Couple times. I know how you guys talk." You shrug, amused at how the jargon piqued his interest. "It's been a pretty long time, though. Don't think we've ever met."

He nods, like that makes sense to him. You shiver when his blue eyes run you up and down. 

"I would've remembered you."

Before you can respond, Leon makes his way over to the two of you, smiling to himself, mostly, because the conversation he'd manufactured appeared to be a success.

"You two look chatty." He says brightly, eyes flickering over Rafe's posture, far more laid-back than when he first walked in. 

"Just doing what you asked." Rafe replies shortly.  

"Yeah, 'course. Just that you two seemed quiet, but turns out, you're chatty. It's nice, that's all. Keep up the good work, folks!" Leon says the last part loud enough for the room to hear, enthusiastically clapping his hands together while he does it. 

"Dude's weird." 

You chuckle at Rafe's comment, watching as Leon eagerly prods at another pair. You turn back to him and shrug. 

"Definitely weird. Kinda sweet, though?"

The rest of the session continues with Leon speaking to the group, promising that next time, sharing would take place in a larger circle for deeper community. You don't miss the way Rafe's knee bounces up and down next to you. At one point, you gently put one of your palms on his knee to keep it still. You feel his stare burning a hole in the side of your face, but you don't look at him. Just a hint of a smile on your lips. 

It makes Rafe nervous. He feels something different, and he likes it, but it makes him nervous. 

"Hey... you gonna come next week?" You ask him as you sling your bag over your shoulder, trying to make sure your voice doesn't sound so hopeful. 

He pauses for a second. 

"Uh, maybe. Maybe, I'm going to have to check on a few things first." By a few things, he meant Barry. Though they'd unloaded most of the cross gold, they still worked together sometimes. Mostly because they wanted to.

He was an unlikely friend. Gruff and hard to control, but in his corner.

If Rafe was going to show up again, he didn't want Barry finding out. He'd never hear the end of it - 'you're getting soft on me, Country Club!'.

"Okay." You chirp, turning to leave and taking all of three steps before stopping again with your bottom lip wedged under your teeth.

Fuck it. 

"Hey Rafe?" You spin back, sounding hopeful and a little desperate, but honest, at least, because you are those things. 

"Yeah?" He breathes, eyes falling all around you. 

"I really hope you come."

Quickly, you turn back around and make your way to the door, hand barely gripping the knob when you finally hear his voice.

"Y/N."

You look over your shoulder to meet tender blue eyes. 

"I'll be there."

Turns out, sharing circles are harder than they look. For Rafe, at least. 

You spoke about Stacy so easily. You spoke well of her so easily.

When Rafe heard your shaky exhales next to him, he clamped his warm, calloused hand over yours on instinct, listening thoughtfully to the way you described her favourite hobbies. The ones you loved along with her, and the ones you loved to make fun of her for. It was a good reminder for him, that the fruits of his instincts could be tender. An animal with at least some softness. He wasn't always so sure.

He spent a fair amount of time comforting Sarah and Wheezie when they cried as kids, but he was also usually the reason they started crying in the first place. 

After that first meeting, you awkwardly made your way out of the Church and Rafe followed behind you shortly after. When he watched you undo your bike lock, he puffed his red cheeks out and approached you with a slight shake in his knees. He wasn't nervous, it was just hot out - is what he tried to convince himself. 

He offered you a ride back to the house you were staying at with your mom in exchange for your number. You strapped yourself in his passenger seat with a smile on your lips and a special kind of spark flared up in your chest, the kind that makes you acutely aware of the sweat coating the back of your neck, sticking the hair to the skin, when your eyes met his in the rearview mirror. 

Rafe didn't look like the kind of guy that seemed well-intentioned when he asked for a girl's number. But he surprised you when he texted you once he got home. Then again all through the evening. And, in the days that followed. 

Between the texts and the phone calls, you covered a lot of ground. Now, Rafe knew about the time you peed yourself at an elementary school book fair, and you knew that he slept with his first dog's collar months after she died. You gushed about your favourite kinds of junk food while he raved about the hand-spun milkshakes at the club. 

Rafe's turn to speak in the circle was a mess, to say the least. He could hardly spit a few words about Ward, too busy navigating pregnant pauses and his newfound habit of stuttering. He thinks he might've called Ward 'nice', then very quickly grimaced after. When he heard his own voice through the rush in his ears, he thought it sounded nothing like him. He could barely even feel your gentle hand rubbing at his back when his words broke and cracked, leaving his throat with a nasty burn. 

Though Rafe knew his relationship with his dad was strained, he loved him.

It wasn't a comforting feeling, but it was the truth, and all he had. They both could have done better, he reminds himself. God knew that was true.

But at one point, he'd just been a kid. He needed help. He needed his father who always seemed to find business elsewhere. It made sense that talking about Ward was hard.

It made mourning him harder.

A perpetual flurry of emotions that kept his mind up at night and his hands restless. Anger and sadness always dominating the rest, but fighting their own fight with each other.

Anger when he thought about the ways his dad favoured Sarah.

Sadness when he remembered those rare early mornings Ward woke Rafe up for a surprise boat trip, just the two of them.

Back then, Rafe used to stay up entire nights in excitement at the prospect of spending some time alone with his father. Eventually, he had to force himself to accept that their last trip together had long passed, and right under his nose.

"Was it bad?" He groans, eyes screwed shut as he rubs a hand over his taut jaw, working lazily on a piece of gum.

He's still sitting when the room clears out. You stand to haul your bag over your shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile that he absorbs fully. Bright blue eyes drinking you in. 

"No, Rafe. It was fine. Everyone's too busy focusing on their own shit. You got through it just fine."

He gives you an unconvinced look, quirking a brow. Then he tugs at your bag, holding it instead. 

"You're lying." He frowns. With a hint of amusement in his voice, "God, and you're a bad liar, too."

Biting your lip, you take Rafe's hand in yours and drag him towards the exit, giggling quietly to yourself. He trails behind you, slowly shaking his head. He grins when you skip past the metal rack at the front of the building and pull him into the parking lot. You didn't bring your bike today. 

"C'mon, big guy. Let's get you a milkshake." You tease. "I know a place."

He rolls his eyes and laughs, letting you lead him in the opposite direction of his truck.

"You're going the wrong way, dumbass."

"I don't know, Rafe. It tastes kinda funny."

"That's because you mixed chocolate, vanilla, and peach. Who the fuck does that?"

Rafe sips on his chocolate milkshake as he sits across from you in the booth, an amused smirk tugging at his pink lips. The Island Club is somehow nicer inside than it is outside. The cherry-wood of the tables shines under the mood lighting and even near capacity, there's enough room for decent conversation. 

You pout, stirring your paper straw around in the metal cup. You perk up with an idea. 

"Let me try yours."

Rafe starts to laugh, eyes widening in protest. You're sweet, he thinks. He'd probably give you anything if you asked.

But that didn't mean he'd do it. He liked to think he was a little more challenging than that. 

"No, you made your bed." He shakes his head, gulping down another sip. It makes his Adam's apple bob. You stare mostly unashamed and lick your lips without thinking. "Now lie in it."

He watches your eyes get big for all of three seconds before realizing he'd lie right beside you.  

"Fuck, fine." He relents, taking his lip under his teeth, pang in his chest. "Don't look at me like that."

With two fingers, he pushes his cup in your direction and you hum happily as you sip from it. A sort of warm feeling in your stomach as you realize Rafe's mouth was on the same straw you're sucking on just moments before. 

"Do you know that guy? He's staring at you really hard." You mumble through the milkshake, but Rafe's eyes are fixated on your saliva-coated lips. 

"Huh?"

You turn your gaze to a guy at the bar. He's been staring at the back of Rafe's head for the better part of five minutes, squinting his eyes every so often as if to confirm it's really Rafe he's looking at. As he starts to come closer, you begin to understand why - his button-up shirt is half undone, his tawny brown hair disheveled, a far-away look in his blue eyes - he's drunk off his ass. 

Rafe turns to look. 

"Shit. Yeah, he's my sister's... long story." He sighs, forcing a smile as the guy approaches your table. "Hey, Top. What's going on, man?"

"Rafe!" The guy, Top, slurs excitedly. "I never see you around anymore, man. Where you been?" 

Then his eyes run over you and he chuckles. "Maybe I should be asking who you been with." 

It was true, Rafe had been sort of MIA since Sarah had returned with the news about his dad.

Well, except for that one incident. He hoped Topper was too drunk to remember that. In any case, he hadn't felt that guilty about their fading friendship - Topper had been MIA, too, ever since he went 'Rafe-crazy' and lit up the Chateau. He supposes that was his fault, too. 

Maybe he was avoiding him on purpose.

Topper reminded him of all the skeletons in his closet. It was hard enough living with the shame without a walking, talking reminder of his past. A lot of bravado and hair gel, is what it was. He regretted nearly everything now but sometimes he worried that if he spent enough time in the same places he used to, with the same people he used to, he'd somehow switch back. 

Rafe stiffens a little, but he gazes at you warmly. "This is Y/N. We met at, uh... she's..." 

"New." You finish for him. "Rafe's been showing me around."

At that, Rafe gives you a look. It made it sound like...

"Ah, that famous Cameron hospitality." The guy snorts. "I'm Topper."

The words 'Nice to meet you, Topper' die on your lips when he rams a hand aggressively on Rafe's shoulder and starts to laugh to himself, as if recalling memories. "Me and this guy? We go way back, Y/N. Best of friends, really."

You nod half-heartedly, shifting awkwardly in your seat. The leather of the chair underneath your bare thighs is starting to stick to the skin uncomfortably. 

"Alright, man, well it was good seeing you-," Rafe attempts to wave him off, but Topper doesn't let up.

"Look, dude." He whispers, lowering his head to Rafe's ear. He's not being as quiet as he thinks he is, and the next part of what he says makes you shudder. "I heard about your dad."

Rafe feels a wave of defeat wash over him. So, Topper wasn't too drunk to remember. 

It was one of the first nights after he'd heard about his dad. He'd spent as long as he could in the Island Club, ordering drink after drink, until he stumbled outside and spent a good chunk of the night puking his guts out. Unfortunately, that wasn't before letting his tongue fall a little too loose, and explaining to Topper how his dad hadn't really died on My Druthers because he was in Guadeloupe swimming in gold. But now, now he was really dead. And he wasn't coming back. And he'd barely said goodbye. 

"I'm really sorry, man. I know things have been really fucking weird, to say the least. But I'm sorry you're going through that. Again." Topper spills, feeling completely uninhibited. "Well, I guess it's only real this time around. But... you wouldn't have known that at the time." 

Topper winces at himself. He rubs a hand down his red face and stumbles away from the table. "Shit. Sorry. I'm just gonna-,"

"See ya, Top." Rafe cuts him off dryly. 

You look at Rafe cautiously as Topper makes his way, albeit clumsily, back to the bar. He lets out a deep breath and then slowly starts to shake his head, lifting his chin to meet your eyes with a look that seems to say - 'are you seeing this shit?'. 

"That guy used to be your best friend?" You ask with a hint of a smile, trying to diffuse the tension. You spare a glance at Topper who's slurring through his order of another drink. 

Rafe shrugs, letting out a wispy laugh. "We had our moments."

Moments he wasn't particularly eager to tell you about, but moments, nonetheless. 

"Do you wanna talk about it?"  

"What, Topper? Fuck no." He laughs harder. 

"No, not Topper. The meeting." You say sincerely. "Why you feel like you can't talk about your dad."

You feel your heart race a little at the question, wondering if Rafe is going to use it to be vulnerable. His face falls for a moment, but then it recovers. For a second, he considered it. But there's something bigger that's been weighing on his mind. 

"I was kinda hoping we could do something else." He says softly and moves in closer, cupping your cheek.

"Yeah?" You whisper, meeting his intense gaze. Hot breath fanning over his face. "And what's that?"

He tenderly moves a strand of hair out of your eyes, trying so hard to be soft that his hand is shaking. His blue eyes have specks of something else at this distance. It's the best colour you've ever seen. 

"I really need to kiss you."

He nods while he says it, like he's giving himself an affirmation. Then he's closing the space between you and pressing his lips over yours with a controlled kind of pressure you're really tempted to see snap one day. The way your mouth opens for his tongue nearly immediately almost makes it happen right now. And that'd really be a shame, he thinks, because he wants to ruin you when he has time and space to play with. 

"Stay with me tonight?" He mumbles breathily as you pull apart, and you nod as his thumb cradles your cheek.

You think you can maybe make out Topper whistling, but it's hard with all the blood rushing to your ears.

Rafe kisses like affection has been missing from his life for a long time. 

His hands are almost frustratingly gentle as they caress your jaw, but his lips, which haven't detached from yours since you entered his bedroom, more than make up for it.

They're hungry and wet with spit, entirely unsatisfied until your panting underneath him and have to bury your face in his neck to take deep, deep breaths of oxygen and his fading cologne.

He bites at your mouth and neck in the meantime, then soothes over the tender spots with his tongue while you whine and claw at the silky material on his still-clothed back.  

"This. Off." You murmur throatily, parting from his lips to tug up on the hem of his shirt. You stare unabashedly at the defined v-line that peaks out from underneath, tongue darting out to wet your lips in anticipation.

Rafe laughs, but humours you, throwing the garment off over the side of the bed so that it hits the floor somewhere. 

Still hovering over you, he leans down to press several kisses to your lips, and you take the opportunity to run the flat of your hand down his warm and muscular chest, the other hand curling around the sweaty strands of his dirty blonde hair. 

Rafe actually moans out when you tug on his hair, and the pretty sound brings a rush of heat to your core.

You squeeze your thighs together and plant open-mouthed kisses along Rafe's jaw, when his phone starts to vibrate on his bedside table. 

You turn your head to glance at the bright screen and Rafe scrunches his eyebrows together, fingers pinching at your chin to turn your focus back on him.

"I don't give a fuck who it is." He laughs breathily. "I'm not picking up. I'll break the stupid thing if I have to." 

You playfully roll your eyes before Rafe's lips attach to yours again, and you hum happily against his lips as he works them raw. Then his phone starts buzzing again.

"You wanna reconsider?" You giggle. Rafe slumps his face into your chest and groans loudly, arm extending to the table to pick up the device. He lifts his head up and glances at the notification, face twisting in what looks like shock.

"It's my sister." He says, confusion evident in his tone. "My sister never calls me."

He moves to stand up and passes you an apologetic glance.

"Sorry, I gotta take this." He mumbles in a stray kiss to the crown of your head. "Gimme a sec." 

A few seconds turns into something much longer. 

It turned out that Rafe's sister, Sarah, was calling him because of some kind of commotion that was happening at a bonfire she and her friends were at.

Apparently, the person causing the commotion was someone Rafe knew.

Based on Rafe's initial surprise and the way he's been chewing through his bottom lip the whole way to the beach, you assumed Sarah calling was a last resort for her. You got the sense she and her brother didn't talk often.

"I'm gonna handle this, alright? I need you to stay right here." Rafe says sternly, nervously running a hand through his hair.

You sit in the passenger seat of his truck, which has quickly become one of your new favourite spots, with a frown on your pretty lips that makes Rafe's chest hurt. He reaches up to cup your cheek. 

He'd tried to convince you to stay in his room while he dealt with the situation, but you were adamant about coming with. You needed to make sure he was safe. It didn't feel like there were many people that had his best interests at heart. 

"If you think I'm going to let you go out there by yourself, you really don't know me, Rafe." 

His lips twitch at that, his thumb caressing the skin under your eye.

"You're infuriating, you know that?" He murmurs softly. "Fine. C'mon."

The beach is pretty at this hour, too. The sky is dark, but not completely so - an expansive dark blue that blankets the moon. In the distance, you can see the reddish-golden flames of a bonfire that illuminate a group of people. 

"You had the cross!" An exasperated voice yells. "How was that not enough for you?!"

"Yeah, I'm afraid that's old news." Another man with long dark hair retorts humourlessly. "I'mma need my fucking money. The money your punk asses stole from me, or did you forget that shit?!"

Getting closer, you can see that this group is separated from the much larger crowd behind them. Four guys, and two girls. One of the girls has shiny blond hair that glows under the light of the bonfire flames. Sarah, you guess. 

Three of the guys stand beside the girls. The other one stands opposite the rest of them, hands smoothing over something his pocket.

A soft gasp leaves your lips when you realize it's a gun.

Rafe stops suddenly. He turns to gaze at you with an intense look in his eyes, pupils hard as one of his hands grips your shoulder. The other reaches for your face, thumb brushing over your lip tenderly. 

"Don't move." He whispers. "Promise me." 

You feel your stomach churn at the request, wanting nothing more than to tug him by the hand all the way back to his truck. But you nod, hoping it helps alleviate the tension in his forehead. 

"Barry!" Rafe calls out as he turns around and approaches them. 

The man with the gun tucked in his jeans, Barry, looks over his shoulder and huffs. Rafe roughly pushes him away from the rest of the group and they divulge into a heated conversation. Rafe's jaw ticks as he listens to Barry and receives a firm shove to the chest. But he manages to placate the other man by whispering something into his ear. Barry ends up nodding, and he casts one more angry glance at the rest of the group then begins to retreat. 

"Y'all have a good night, now." He chuckles grudgingly before leaving. 

Rafe makes his way back to the rest of them, nodding at his sister. You slowly come up behind him. 

"Thanks." Sarah seems to hesitate to say. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and there are frustrated tears in her eyes.

The relationship between Rafe and Sarah has been strained for a long time. They seemed to fundamentally disagree with each other.

It wasn't always that way. Or at least, Rafe thinks, it wasn't always that way. One day, his sister upped and left it all - the big house, the fancy clothes, the nice cars - for 'Pogue life'. It still made his nose crinkle in disgust when he thought about it. But the truth was, he hadn't thought about it in a while... their dad dying worked to break them out of that feud. There were bigger things to worry about, and despite everything that went down in the last few years, they'd lived a whole life together before that.

That still meant something to Rafe. 

It meant something to Sarah, too, he thinks, because she'd been less appalled by him lately. She checked in every once in a while. A few months back, he'd formally apologized to her, and of course, it would never be enough, but he felt a weight off his shoulder when she accepted it. When he realized she wasn't scared of him anymore. 

Maybe they could move passed everything. It would take a long time, sure. But he could wait for family. The only family he has. 

One of the guys next to Sarah, wearing a backwards baseball cap, stiffens.

"Don't thank him. He's Barry's bitch." He bites like Sarah's words are absurd, then stares hard at Rafe. "In fact, he's probably just here to score some more coke."

Rafe's grits his teeth, eyes fluttering shut for a second. He opens them and shakily exhales. 

"I'm clean, now." 

Your heart clenches at how raw his voice sounds. You watch with wide eyes as the same guy scoffs at him.

"Yeah, like anybody believes that." He mumbles under his breath. Before you can try and defend him, Sarah steps in. 

"Guys, I called him." She admits, fatigue evident in her voice. It makes you wonder how long the confrontation between them had gone on before you and Rafe showed up. Another guy, one wearing a bandana across his forehead, casts Sarah a sour glance and she sighs. "You know I had to, John B. Did you want Barry to leave, or not?"

He didn't have anything to say to that. 

Sarah steps away from her friends in an attempt at some privacy. She approaches Rafe, and by extension, you, while the rest of the gang diffuses around the bonfire. Whatever had gone down in the past between these people, it was clear they wanted nothing to do with Rafe moving forward, and it was perhaps only because Sarah was family that she even entertained speaking to him. You appreciated her for that. 

"It's been a while." Sarah comments. "You've been... doing okay?"

Rafe shuffles nervously in front of her, nodding without meeting her eyes. 

"Yeah, I've been good. You?" 

Sarah nods and a silence falls between them. 

"You're still hanging around Barry?" She asks, raising an eyebrow in disapproval. 

"He's not that bad."

"Yeah, I'll try to remember that when he's not threatening me and my friends for 25 thousand dollars."

Rafe shakes his head with a new-found confidence, raising his chin to meet her stormy and inquisitive eyes. "Nah, I talked to him. He won't bother you guys anymore."

Sarah nods again, and another silence falls between them. 

"You're really doing good?" She asks again, bottom lip wedged beneath her teeth.

"Yeah, I am. I'm, uh, getting help. Got this... group thing."

At the mention of a 'group', Sarah's eyes sweep over to you, drinking in your slightly turned face and averted gaze as you try to give the siblings some space for their conversation. She feels her lips twitch a little. So much had happened. A lot she didn't think she would ever forgive, maybe should never forgive. But she couldn't deny that it was more complex than that, nor could she deny that she missed her older brother. The one from before. Who she'd make eye contact across the dinner table with when Rose waxed poetic about their new marble counters. If they could find their way back there, she'd be lying if she said the idea didn't make her happy. 

"I'm really happy to hear that, Rafe. Honestly." 

Rafe smiles weakly. They say their goodbyes and manage an awkward side-hug with each other. When he turns around, you silently take his hand in yours, and you walk along the roaring beach back to his truck. 

Back at the truck, you lay your head on Rafe's shoulder as he sits in the driver's seat, still parked at the side of the road. Rafe keeps his eyes closed, taking a deep breath before he starts to speak. 

"My dad scared me." 

Instinctively, you reach your hand over the console and tangle your fingers together. You give his hand a gentle squeeze. 

"I fucked up a lot, embarrassed him. And I, uh, I don't blame him for that. I was high all the time. Angry. Violent." He continues, sniffling slightly. "He wasn't scared of me, though. Never was."

"I guess I just wanted him to look at me and not be ashamed, you know?"

Rafe gulps, trying to let the sound of your soft hums and the warmth of your body keep him steady. 

"I did some really bad things to people. Things I'm not proud of." He whispers with his head hanging. "They didn't deserve it... and now, I have to live with that."

He shuts his eyes and exhales. 

"It's, uh... it's really hard living with that."

Lifting your head from his shoulder, you bite your lip as you take in Rafe's words, fingers reaching forward to brush away the spare tears that collect on his cheeks. He leans into your touch, finding comfort in it. 

"Hey." You say softly. "Look at you, talking about your dad. You're doing a really good job, Rafe."

He smiles weakly, his eyes trained on his lap. "Sorry tonight was a bust."

"It wasn't." You protest. "Plus, it's not over yet."

Rafe lifts his chin to look at you, his curiosity piqued.

You lick your lips and trace your fingers along his jaw, maneuvering yourself over the console to firmly grip the sides of his face and pull his lips to yours in a long and messy kiss. It's clumsy, with your noses bumping, and teeth scraping - but it's hot and it makes you feel tingly.

Rafe nips at your bottom lip shamelessly, kisses trailing down the column of your throat. "In the truck?" He asks, and you can practically hear the grin in his voice.

"In the truck." You breathe, holding back a moan when Rafe sucks on your skin. 

One way or another, the two of you find your way into Rafe's backseat. He's sitting with his legs wedged apart while you grind on top of him, muttering obscenities under your breath and weaving your fingers through his hair.

The sounds of your pleasure do more for him than he'd care to admit. When you unzip his slacks and stick your hand into his briefs to pull out his leaky cock, he throws his head back against the headrest and hisses at the contact. He is so fucking sensitive already.

"No, don't." Rafe protests breathlessly when you stroke his hard cock a few times, his hand slipping from your hip to wrap around your wrist and pull it away. Your eyes widen and you unfurl your hand immediately, only to smile when you realize why he wants you to stop. He tries to calm himself down, but can feel it building. 

"It's been a while." Rafe defends, and you giggle on top of him, pressing a sloppy kiss to the underside of his jaw. 

"Honestly, Rafe. That's really fucking hot." 

You pull your top over your head and toss it to the floor, then quickly unclasp your bra. Rafe groans immediately, half-lidded eyes so pretty and pitiful as one of his hands reaches up to grope you, while his mouth latches on to one of the hardening buds. You raise your hips to pull down your shorts, but it's not quick enough for Rafe. He tugs impatiently at the lace of your panties. 

Rafe sits you down on him, letting you control the speed as he enters you. Your mouth falls open as you attempt to take him fully, eyes screwed shut, gasp after gasp leaving your lips. 

"Fuck." You pant as he bottoms out, unable to move for a second as your head slumps in his chest. Rafe chuckles underneath you, large hands squeezing your hips. 

"You okay, baby?" 

"It's just big." You murmur, taking your bottom lip under your teeth. "It's really big, Rafe."

"I know," he coos softly as you begin to rock your hips on top of him, his own face twisting in pleasure as your pelvises kiss. "But you're doing so good, huh?"

You can barely respond, too taken by the feeling of your tight walls squeezing around him. By the sound of Rafe's deep thrusts, pistoling up into you as your hips knock into each other sloppily. Your slick dripping from where you're connected down to your thighs, squelching obscenely inside Rafe's truck, definitely staining the seats. 

"Taking my cock so well." He praises. "Splitting you in half, and you're taking it like a champ." 

You moan brokenly as Rafe hits your spot, his hand trailing down at the same time to rub circles on your aching clit with his thumb. 

"My good girl, huh? Always will be?"

You reach your climax as he presses searing kisses on your shoulder, shuddering with the kind of white hot pleasure that has your toes curling and a high-pitched whine vibrating from your throat that Rafe is sure he'll never forget. 

He comes shortly after, the way you clench around him through your orgasm enough to send him reeling. He groans, pumping his hips a few more times before he stills completely and fills the condom with his spend. He holds you tightly as you both come down, the sounds of your heavy breathing overlapping with each other.

Before his cock softens, he pulls out slowly and disposes of the latex. He presses a soft kiss to your cheekbone when you frown at the loss of contact, whimpering sweetly.

"Don't pout, princess. You need to get filled up? Right here?" A slender finger trails down to your slit, bumping your sensitive clit in the process, and it prods at your wet hole. 

He chuckles, brushing the sweaty hair from your face with his other hand. "I got that. Just gotta be patient and wait 'til I get you home. You can do that for me, right, pretty girl?"

The next morning, you strap yourself into the passenger seat of Rafe's truck as he drives to a busted Church at the outer edge of Figure 8. He takes his seat amongst a circle of foldable chairs and you take your seat next to him. His hand reaches out to grip yours not different from how it did last night, through fucking and sleeping alike.

When it's his turn to speak, you squeeze his hand encouragingly and he takes a deep breath.

"My dad, Ward Cameron, passed away about a year ago. He was a lot of things..."

a/n: thank you for reading! comments/reblogs appreciated!!

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks x reader #rafe x reader #remember when i said i wasn't sure if i'd write rafe again

[wildemaven]

strangers : climax | dave york

pairing: dave york x fireader word count: 6307 content warning: 18+ blog; established relationship, workaholic Dave, Soft Dave, miscommunication, implied/ alluding to infidelity (there is none, reader just doesn't know this), Dave's phone deserves its own warning, mention of food and alcohol consumption, a moment in a dressing room where reader inspects her reflection/self image judgments, smut (oral f receiving, fingering, semi public sex, kissing after oral, public affection, some praise if you squint), angst and sad feels, somewhat jealous Dave in a kind of joking manner, lots of tears, reader is mentioned wearing a dress and jeans- but zero description features, no age given but it's implied she's at least over 30, no y/n, established relationship, this is au- no Carol or kids, if I missed anything let me know notes: it's finally here!!! I'm so sorry it took so long to get this chapter out into the world. I was working through lots of writing blocks, kids, travel, and sickness. But it's finally here!!!! This one is a doozy in so many ways but I'm so excited for it!! I'm so grateful for everyone who takes the time to read, share, comment and like each chapter of this series. I'm sad it's almost over!!

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It’s almost sadistic. Taunting every single fiber of your being as each chord of the melody, so perfectly orchestrated, looms over the hotel bar. 

Your body betrays you. So easily giving in to the song's familiarity as each word reverberates through your chest. Flashes of Dave dressed in black, spinning you in front of your closest family and friends drowned out the urge to ask for the song to be skipped. 

The liveliness of the crowd pouring into the dimly lit space helps block out the music. Your fingers swirl around the condensation slowly settling around your drink that sits untouched on the mahogany bar top. Your mind sifting through the day's events leading up to this moment, where you’re sitting alone, annoyance raging in your veins, in a dress you're starting to regret buying. 

*

Lunch was relaxed and pleasant. The oceanfront views of the small cafe were something straight out of a movie. The weather was warm enough to enjoy the patio dining, a subtle breeze cutting through periodically. The ocean swells breaking masked the bustle of beach goers and passing cars. It was everything you had wanted to experience in this beautiful city.

Dave had been fully present since the intimate moment you both shared back at the hotel. More than he had been the entire trip thus far. Keeping you close to him, his hands never leaving you once stepping out of the room. As if to silently say I’m all here with you and I love you. 

You relished in the closeness of him. Internally screaming with increasing avidity at his electrifying advances all afternoon. 

Pulling your chair closer to where he sat so his free hand could nestle between your thighs. Too focused on twirling the pasta around your fork between discussing the most current events Dave had read in the morning paper while waiting for you to return from your walk. 

Growing and falling Stocks. Government scandals that could trickle down and affect parts of his job. National affairs of all levels that jumped out to him. All things you hadn’t really kept up with until meeting Dave, were now things you looked forward to listening to him talk about and giving your input with your own perspective. 

It's when Dave starts discussing something about sports or sports related that throws you off balance. Not necessarily so much in what he’s saying, but in what he’s doing when he’s saying it. 

“So if they draft him this year, he’ll be a starting rookie…” Dave says as he shifts forward in his chair to adjust his position, hand slightly shifting where it still rests between your legs, his pinky sliding up the crotch seam of your denim with an ample amount of pressure. 

“I’ve got money on him this season…” Your mind is too cloudy to even focus on what he’s saying. 

An instant jolt of arousal splinters across your body, you use your napkin to hopefully muffle the moan you nearly choke on. Oh! It’s deliberate, Dave’s expression collected and unphased as he carries on, continuing to drag his digit up and down the thick layer of fabric. 

“You okay, Honey?” He smirks, applying a little more weight behind his touch, before directing his attention to the server passing by the table and signaling for the check.

“Mmhmm— y-yeah! I’m fine. Great!” Your voice pitches at an unusual tone, frantically nodding in response as you wring the napkin between your fingers trying to not succumb to the pleasure currently building in your core. 

It’s a tragic feeling when his hand abandons the heat of your thighs. His focus now is on inspecting the bill, pulling his wallet from his back pocket and tucking the proper amount of cash into the server’s book. 

“That’s good.” He says all blasé as he looks at you with deadpan expression, situating his wallet in place again. 

“Oh my god— Dave! You are the worst!” You toss your napkin at him, shaking your head as you laugh at his flirtatious behavior. 

*

A proper casualness flows between the two of you following lunch— a familiar domesticity that had become so foreign to you. It now almost seems too far-fetched to think things have been strained in the last few months leading up to today and this seemingly perfect afternoon with Dave. 

A stitch of guilt begins to weave through your mind as you take in Dave’s unreserved laughter and the way he looks so, extremely happy. Maybe you were premature in believing that there was anything wrong to begin with. 

There’s a liveliness to Dave that has felt so rare to witness as of recently. No signs of stress. No closed off demeanor. No inkling of any distress that threatens to disrupt a marriage you so desperately desire to keep intact. 

He’s remarkably your Dave— through and through. 

The sun becomes far more dominating as the day passes. It’s fiery intensity has you squinting as you step out of the cute little ice cream shop you dragged Dave into after lunch. 

Thankfully you’re more than prepared. A pair of dark sunglasses now perched on the bridge of your nose and the light fabric tank you opted for thanks to Dave’s attentive nature for planning, always checking the weather forecast incessantly as he sips from his morning coffee.

It’s no surprise at the influx of tourists that crowd the sidewalk as you both amble about. Your arm wrapped around Dave, his free hand gently resting at the nape of your neck, both of you working against the heat to keep your ice cream from dripping down the cone. 

There’s a silence that hangs around the enjoyment of the summer treat, but it’s not uncomfortable. People watching and window shopping paired with brief moments of sweet banter have seemed to reignite the flame that had slowly begun to dwindle. 

“Woah!” A swarm of teenagers rocketing by on skateboards out of nowhere has you stunned, several of them nearly knocking into you. 

“What the fuck!” Dave’s quick like reflexes immediately turn on and he’s pulling you into his chest as the last few of the trailing skateboarders roll by. “Get off the sidewalk before you hurt someone, you punks!” 

“Yeah yeah! Fuck off old man!” The last of the bunch, a typical backwards hat wearing unphased teen, yells over his shoulder raising his middle finger as he skates off into the distance. 

“You okay?” Dave asks, giving you a quick once over. 

“I’m fine. They didn’t hit me— just startled me more than anything.” You assure him. 

“Still— those little assholes almost sideswiped you. And that little fucker calling me an old man?” Dave grumbles, following your lead to continue walking despite wanting to track down the group and give them a piece of his mind. 

“Easy, they’re just having fun. If I remember correctly, you too were once a little asshole. There’s a laundry list of stories your mom has shared with me to back that up too.” He scoffs at your comment, knowing exactly which stories his mom has divulged to you about his wild adolescent years. 

Your favorite being when a senior year prank almost resulted in suspension and losing scholarships. Dave and a few of his high school friends had decided to roller paper and egg the principal’s home one night. The group of teens had thought they pulled it off until they came to school and their pictures were plastered in every classroom— security cameras were not taken into account while planning such a prank. Dave’s parents caught wind of the incident and the missing rolls of TP from their home and forced Dave to turn himself in. Dave confessed as a lone prankster, adamant that he didn’t know who the other students were in the images, resulting in tutoring lower grade classmates the remainder of the semester and a few weekends of community service. 

“I’m not an old man.” He murmurs against your temple, pressing his lips to your warm skin. His hand settles into your back pocket directing his attention to his almost finished ice cream. 

“Didn’t say you were.” Grinning at his annoyance. “Your mom earlier— How is she? Everything okay?”

“She’s good. Everything’s good. Just checking in. Making sure we’re settling in okay here— you know how she is.” It feels like he’s saying a lot without saying much of anything. 

“Yeah— definitely sounds like her. Feels like it’s been forever since I’ve talked to her. We should invite them over for dinner when we get back. Proper catch up— share about our trip with them in person.” You look at him, his head nodding along at the suggestion. 

You’ve always had a close relationship with his mother, Carol. Weekly trips to the farmers market and coffee dates became a regular thing after you and Dave married. Family dinners took place once a month, rotating between each other’s houses or restaurants. Carol never wanted to be one of those overbearing mother in laws, always making sure that you and Dave didn’t feel suffocated by her and Dave’s dad’s presence. 

“Okay. I’ll umm— I’ll call her when we get back. See what her and dad’s calendar looks like. I’m sure they’ll jump at the chance to get together, since our busy schedules haven’t seemed to line up in the last few months.” 

“Perfect.” 

There’s a beat of silence that follows making plans with his parents. Like there was more he wanted to say but left it unsaid. You don’t push for more and let any needling thought dissolve. 

“How was it?” Dave points to the remaining milky soup that’s settled into the top of your semi soggy cone. 

“It was delicious.” You tell him, then lapping at a few random drips racing down your wrist with your tongue, savoring the last of its salty sweetness.

“Let me have a taste of it.” He says, pulling you both out of the main flow of people walking behind you. 

“What? You don’t even like this flavor, Mr. Vanilla is the only flavor that truly matters.” You playfully mock his go-to choice of a single scoop of plain vanilla, not even a punch of vanilla bean or a sprinkling of chocolate chunks— he’s a simple man. 

“Maybe my taste buds have evolved?” He counters, pulling you flush against him under the shade of a store awning. “Give me a taste.” 

Everything around you fades to the background, it’s just the two of you. Dave’s lips molding to yours. His tongue gently skims over your lower lip, silently seeking entrance. 

It’s unhurried and thorough. A stark contrast from the chilly sensation that still lingers from the frozen dessert and the heat emanating from the way Dave’s tongue languidly traces over every bit of surface he can reach. Dizzying your senses, your mind fully immersed in the way he still tastes of sweet vanilla as he explores every detail of your mouth. Lapping at the remnants of the melted salted caramel that coats your tongue. 

It’s vulnerable and thrilling— feeling so right and fully present together. 

Your ice cream cone falls from your hand, crashing hard on the cement walkway, giving you the freedom to wrap your hands around his neck and relax even more into the kiss as Dave guides you through it. His hand squeezes your ass through your denim pocket, securing you against him. His other hand cradles your face as he swallows the small moans you produce when he nips tenderly at your bottom lip. 

“Dave—“ Is the only coherent word you can think of when he finally breaks the kiss. Your fingers tighten around his short hair as you float back to the ground. 

“I like the way it tastes on you. Might be my new favorite flavor.” He smiles, releasing small puffs of his breath over your lips. 

*

It was the first shop that caught your attention, the front display had you stopping in your tracks. Your initial interest to merely window shop, a signal to Dave that you were interested in the possibility of checking out more of their inventory. 

“Sweetheart? You doing okay in there?” Dave asks cautiously, as if to not scare off any potential decisions you might be deliberating over from behind the velvet curtain of the dressing room. 

It’s nothing new, a song and dance you’ve been through before— turning and inspecting from head to toe. Your mind in an epic battle with the reflection framed in front of you, dreading anytime you step foot in anything that resembles a fitting room. 

Except this time you’re not tearing apart every little thing about what you’re seeing, finding all the negative reasons as to why this particular dress isn’t working.

It’s the complete opposite, because you love the dress and you can see yourself wearing it on many occasions without a doubt. 

An ambered hue that reminds you of autumn when the leaves turn, and Dave spending hours in the yard gathering pile after pile while you bake a seasonal pie, watching him from the kitchen window. 

The tiered tulle fabric plucks a peculiar scene from your memory. Its flowy and dramatic silhouette is reminiscent of the dress you had worn to last year’s CIA Gala. Dave kept you close for the entirety of the evening. Your arm wrapped around his as he talked with colleagues, some new whose names you wouldn’t remember and others who had slowly worked their way into a more permanent place in your lives with regular dinner parties and monumental celebrations. Dave’s hand planted on the small of your back, his thumb drawing soft shapes where your dress strategically exposed your back, you were his grounding force among a sea of highly regarded men and their significant others.

“Hey- is everything okay?” Dave’s head now visible as he pulls the curtain back just enough to check in with you, his hushed tone barely audible over the upbeat music that the trendy boutique has playing through the store. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” You say flatly as you continue to inspect your reflection, the hang tag with the bold asking price of the dress held between your restless fingers.

“Wow— Sweetheart, you look… Wow!” Speechless. Dave stands stunned behind you, taking in every bit of you, completely captivated.

“Yeah? It feels like a lot. I have a dress back at the room I can wear instead…” You say, watching the arduous battle he’s sorting through in his mind, his smitten smirk doing wonders to help settle your dress turmoil.

“No— No this, this is perfect. I love it so much. You definitely should get this one.” Dave says persuasively, a beat of sensualism exuding from where he now stands with his chest flush to your back, his hands attempting to bypass the layers of fabric in search of somewhere to efficiently affix himself to you. “Reminds me of that dress you wore to the Gala last year. You looked stunning. So much so I couldn’t keep my hands off of you the entire night. Pulled you into that closet and fucked you while the awards ceremony carried on.”

“Hmm, I remember.” You smile, your stomach flipping at the way he so vividly remembers that evening too. “But the price is a little much though. Like too much.” Dropping the price tag, allowing it to hang freely from the dress instead of mocking your sticker shop distress.

“Don’t worry about the price— it’s fine.” You gasp when he connects with your skin, a shiver zipping up your spine, his lips fervent and assertive as they work up the expanse of your neck.

Dave’s hand catches your head as it tips to the side, allowing him more ample space to roam. Your skin in his teeth triggers a soft whimper in your throat, your eyes fluttering closed as you get lost in the sensation of him.

It’s a blur of calculated movements on his part, your body receptive to his smooth control, moving along with ease until your back settles against the wall of the dressing room. The carpeted floor envelops the sound of him falling to his knees. Dave’s eyes glazed over as he stares up at you, their usual golden hue dappled with gleaming eagerness. His hands fumble with the hem of the dress skirt briefly, delighted when he finally manages to breach the abundant layers of fabric. The brush of his fingers on your skin as his hands skim up your legs is all the forewarning you’re given before he’s pulling down and removing the lace panties that you’ve been soaking through all afternoon because of him.

“Dave— what are you doing?” A breathless question, one you don’t really need a response to as he looks up to you one more time, his pointer finger resting on his mouth then lifting your leg over one of his shoulders. 

He takes in the sight of your glistening wetness, his mouth watering at how you’re dripping for him. The urge to taste you is strong and he gives into it fully. 

From above all you can see is bunched fabric and brown tousled locks when he connects to you, his angular nose pressed into the patch of hair that covers your mound, that first tentative kiss to your sex delicate and heady. The soft pressure of his flat tongue has your eyes rolling back when he starts to lick up and down, savoring the deliciously sweet taste of your arousal. Desire forging through your body with a deep buzzing intensity. 

“Oh fuck! If we get caught— Ah!Shit. Dave— Baby, that feels amazing—” You purr in what you hope is a hushed tone, tilting your pelvis just so, a dire need for a climactic release. 

Dave’s tongue moves in slow circles, teasing and flicking at your clit. His ministrations causing a slow tingle to build in your lower abdomen, steadily increasing in strength as he goes. 

“Ma’am, how’s everything going in there?” The store attendant asks, completely unaware of the lewdness taking place on the other side of the current. 

“Mmhmmm! Great! The dress is p-perfect!!” Your voice shoots up an octave when Dave inserts two fingers into your fluttering pussy in one quick thrust, moving them in and out, matching the rhythm of his tongue on your aching clit. 

“That’s so great to hear. If you need any help, don’t hesitate to holler.” She says before you hear the clicking of her boots retreating. 

You are squirming and quietly moaning, your knees nearly buckling as the fiery pleasure gains momentum, completely lost in the blissful sensation.

“You hear that, Baby. She said don’t hesitate to holler. Doing so good for me— I can never get enough of you!” His fingers hitting that delicious little spot that makes your toes curl, over and over again. 

“Dave— don’t stop!” And he doesn’t. 

He senses the tension building in your body, your walls seizing up around his deft fingers, intensifying his movements, his tongue lapping at every inch of your folds as your arousal runs down his hand. 

“Baby, I'm coming.” You say right before your jaw goes slack, a silent whine only noticeable to you and Dave fills the small space. Your vision dusted in white, a euphoric sensory cloud of light bursting behind your eyes. 

Dave catches you when it becomes too much to stand, whimpering at the loss of his fingers seated so firmly inside you. 

Your skin is dewy. Glowing under the small dressing room light. The beads of sweat running down the length of your neck, sliding down the slopes of your breast, migrating somewhere below the fabric of the dress. 

Dave catches a few salty drops, his tongue trailing over your clavicle makes you aware that he has removed himself from the underside of the skirt. 

You taste the brininess and the sweet tang of your arousal when he licks into your mouth. Zero time to catch your breath, his tongue tangling effortlessly with yours. 

“Hmmm— I take back what I said earlier. I love the way you taste— only flavor for me!” He says smirking against your tingling lips. 

“You are such a menace. But I love you for it.” You pull him in for one last chaste kiss. 

“I love you so much, Sweetheart.” He kisses your forehead, then bends to pick up your discarded panties, stuffing them in his front pocket. 

“Seems like it would be wrong to not buy the dress after that little move you pulled.” Giggling as you begin the process of undoing the back zipper. 

“Knew that would help sway your decision.” He says with an impish grin and wink. 

*

Your reservation has come and gone. 30 minutes to be exact. Misery and frustration fill your veins as you stir the tiny straw in the watered-down concoction. The cocktail-soaked cherry, normally your inaugural sprinkling of how well the drink was mixed, now lays overlooked and forgotten at the bottom of the glass.

The bartender, who checks in with you like clockwork every 10 minutes or so to see if you needed a refill albeit your obvious lack of consumption from the original drink he made, has shown zero annoyance over the fact that you have taken up space in not one, but two chairs at his bustling bar. Your small clutch placed in front of the empty seat reserved for your husband who was supposed to meet you here an hour ago.

*

Dave and you had made your way back to the hotel after purchasing the dress, giving yourselves plenty of time to get ready for the evening Dave had planned out.

It was hard to keep your hands off each other. a magnetic effervescence had you contemplating whether to call off the reservation all together despite Dave’s ecstatic adamancy to make it to the reservation on time. Both of you managed to work against the intense pull, only sharing shy glances and brushing of limbs standing side by side in front of the bathroom mirror while getting ready.

Dave didn’t shy away from flattering you as he helped zip you in, causing you to fight against tears that threatened to ruin the dramatic makeup that paired perfectly with your dress.

I love you. You are so beautiful. How did I get so lucky? I can’t wait to get you out of this dress later.

Dave’s hand molds to yours, a corner of his mouth lifted as you eagerly drag him from your hotel room. Taking advantage of the privacy the small offshoot hallway provides from the main corridor of the floor, he draws you back to him and without hesitation he kisses you with a fiery tenderness. 

“Alright. We need to go.” He says, breathless and not all that convincing. 

“Do we though? We could just swipe the key, make our way back inside, order room service— you can get me out of this dress. See what I may or may not be wearing underneath.” You murmur against his smile, your tongue sensually gliding over the underside of his upper lip causing him to release a heavy sigh, as if he really wants to do exactly just that. 

“You drive a hard bargain, Sweetheart. And as enticing as all of that sounds— amuse me and go along with what I have planned. The sooner we go, the sooner we can get back here and I can slowly undress you.” He counters, leaving you little room to dispute his well thought out plan for the evening. 

“Alright, Mr. York. We'll play by your rules.” You bat your eyelashes at him. “Dinner. Then straight back here—“

A soft buzzing cuts you off. Dave’s body tenses against yours, releasing you from his hold to retrieve his phone from his black slacks. 

“I need to take this— it’s work.” His demeanor completely shifting from his usual sweet carefree self to closed off and mysterious. 

“Okay. Call them later then. They can leave you a message.” You reach for his hand to continue to make your way down to the restaurant. He pulls away, promptly taking a few steps back, his focus still on the number flashing on his phone screen. 

You’re not sure what hurts more. The fact that Dave is putting work first once again or how he so quickly recoiled when you reached for him. 

“I can’t. I need to take it.” He says, finally looking at you with pleading eyes, and you hate how much you so willingly give into his need to brush off the plans he was only moments ago so eager to get to. 

“Dave— Fine.” Releasing a heavy sigh into the narrow hallway, tightening your grip on the small purse that holds your phone, lip gloss and key card, doing your best to mask the resentment and defeat simmering just below the surface. 

“I’ll be quick. Go grab us a seat at the bar and I’ll meet you there when I’m finished.” He doesn’t give you an opportunity to get another word in, turning to let himself back into the room. 

The bottom of your dress floats in the air, kicking out with each step you take, making your way to the main hall of the floor in the direction of the elevator. Further from Dave. Closer to being alone yet again. Suppressing your swirling emotions for the time being.  

Dave’s hushed voice echoes down the walls. Never actually making back into the room before answering the call. Out in the open. Zero care that his wife is still within earshot. 

“Hey, Ashley… Yeah, she just left. I told her to just wait for me at the bar.” 

You stop dead in your tracks. The swish of your dress is now still at your feet, hanging in its normal wearing state. Your blood runs cold as your brain rapidly tries to digest what you just heard. 

Your heart clings to how easily Dave had been so present and affectionate since this morning. That sinking feeling of your suspicions being revealed. I knew this whole day was too good to be true. 

Everything feels like it’s narrowing. The hallway. Your vision. Your airway. Smaller and smaller. 

Something compels you to keep moving. Further from Dave. Closer to being alone at the bar, away from this man who you no longer find recognizable at this moment. 

*

“Excuse me. Can I get a Scotch, neat, side of water please?” Dave’s whereabouts are no longer unknown to you, leaning an elbow onto the bar as he orders himself a drink, his other hand resting on the back of the chair that has kept you comfortable while you wait. 

“Sorry, that took longer than expected.” Dave apologizes, sealing it with a kiss to your cheek. 

You hum a lackluster response. Gnawing at your bottom lip as you focus on the dilapidated napkin you’ve been rolling and unraveling, folding and unfolding for the umpteenth time. 

“You okay?” Dave asks, his hand moves to rest on your back but now it’s your turn to recoil from his touch, leaning forward before he’s able to make contact. 

“Yeah— I’m great.” You say flatly, only briefly looking at him to deliver your annoyed smile, then back to the crinkled napkin that’s now serving as an absorbent to pooling condensation. 

“Here you are sir.” The bartender interrupts, placing the single malt and ice water on the bar, Dave nods his thanks. 

You don’t have it in you to pry or question his tardiness. So you continue to sit in silence, watching Dave out of your peripheral properly dilute his drink so it’s suitable for sipping. 

“You’re not wearing your ring?” He points out to your bare ring finger then takes a light sip of the diluted scotch. 

The fingers of your left hand pause, fanning out so you can inspect the observation yourself. The usually adorned finger is stripped, lacking your wedding band and engagement ring.  

“Oh— I must have forgotten to put it back on after we went to the pool…” You hadn’t realized how naked it felt all day, the fingers of your right hand soothing over the indent skin, recalling when you had tossed the jewelry haphazardly into your bag yesterday. 

“You don’t think these strangers will get the wrong idea?” You sense an attempt at humor in his voice, only he has failed to read the room. His government skills not sensing you have zero interest in Dave’s untimely decision to be a humorist. “A beautiful woman, alone at a bar, without her wedding rings— Don’t want—“

“Excuse me— can you put my drink on his tab? He’ll be taking care of it, along with your generous tip.” You alert the passing bartender. You swivel your barstool just enough to reach around Dave’s solid form to grab your purse, then swivel in the opposite direction to stand. You tuck your purse under your arm, before delivering the irritation that has finally begun to boil over. “I think the only stranger confused about our marriage is you, Dave.” 

“Wait— Where are you going?” His hand gently clasped around your upper arm, halting your departure. 

You glance down at where his hand holds you, his thumb actively moving in soft circles over your skin, trying his best to distract and diffuse the air between you. Unfortunately, too little too late. 

“I’ve been sitting here waiting for you, Dave— for a fucking hour. I’m going back to the room.” You pull your arm from his grip and leave without another word. 

Dave somehow manages to catch the same elevator, but you don’t bother acknowledging his presence as he stands on the opposite side of the small metal cabin. The other riding passengers don’t suspect you two even know each other or the emanant rift that is unfolding between you, just two lone hotel guests sharing a lift to their designated floor. 

2 stops allow for the other guests to get on to their respective floors, leaving only you and Dave left to continue the ride to the final stop. 

The striking silence is met with electric chords spilling from the small speakers in the elevator. The familiar tune feels like an old friend you’ve been reacquainted with after months apart. Those first few lines wrap around you, embracing you fully— I’ve missed you so. The chorus drawing your gaze to where your husband stands slouched against the mirrored wall, looking equally as somber as you feel, his eyes already drawn to you in the same manner. 

A smile tugs at your lips, a fleeting moment of remembrance to that night so many years ago. That night where Dave was more than just a stranger in a bar. He was your future. Your home. Dave without a doubt was the best thing to happen to you. 

The memory of meeting Dave is interrupted by a soft ding and the doors slowly unveiling your intended destination. 

You stalk towards the room with a graceful backbone, a beautiful facade to how you truly feel inside, keeping yourself together with each poised stride. Dave takes his position two steps behind, vigilantly in tune with your body language. 

There’s a sense of relief that overcomes you the second the door closes and the lock clicks. No longer needing to keep a composed demeanor to prying eyes. No longer allowing the hurt to fester and torment your heart in a stealthily manner. 

They flow furiously once they start. Tears streaming down your face. Silent sobs cracking in your throat. 

You move about busily, grabbing and tossing, too lost in your own blurry thoughts to even notice Dave standing there watching you. 

“What are you doing?” Dave asks, perplexed by the way you’re flinging item after item into your suitcase that lays open on the bed. 

“You’re a smart man, Dave. I’m sure you can figure that out.” Grabbing a drawer’s entire contents and dropping it messily into your bag. 

“I get that you’re packing. Why are you packing is my concern.” He takes a timid step closer towards the streamline process of you moving about. 

“I’m going home. I’ll catch a ride to the airport. Book a new flight when I get there. I can have Jacey pick me up when I land.” A plan you had thoroughly developed before Dave had arrived at the bar. 

“Wait— you’re going home? Why? What’s going on?” He steps directly into your path, hindering your progress. 

“I don’t know anymore, Dave. I thought this was what we needed. Some time away together. Away from work. Away from our normal lives. Just us reconnecting. But it seems like this whole thing was just wasted effort.” You try to wipe the tears, but they just continue to fall. 

“Baby, you’re not making any sense right now.” He knows he should allow you space, but the urge to pull you into him is stronger. 

“It’s been months. Months of you working long hours. Months of missed dinners and late nights at the office. Months of being alone at night wondering if you’re okay and when you’ll be home. Months of worrying that something is happening between us and trying to figure out how to fix it.” Each convulsive gasp for air you struggle for fans across Dave’s neck. His arms tightening around you, every word slicing through his chest. 

“Fuck—“ He murmurs, his cheek pressed into the side of your head, your tearful confession not anything he expected to hear tonight. 

“If you didn’t want to c-come with me— I would have u-understood.” Your shoulders jostle in Dave’s arms, your own arms hanging at your side, still holding a few loose garments in your fists. 

“What? No! Baby, I wanted to come. I want to be here— with you.” Dave pulls back, enough so you can see the sureness in his eyes. 

“What about her? Wouldn’t you rather be here with— h-her?” Your voice cracks at the thought of Dave with someone who isn’t you. 

“Her? What are you talking about?” 

“Ashley— She’s the important phone calls you’ve been taking. The work that can’t wait. She’s why you’ve been so distant with me for months.” It feels like glass the minute it leaves your mouth, shattering across your tongue, nearly choking on the tiny little shards. 

“Honey, you think I’m having an affair?” A nod is all your weary state can give. An affair— it’s the only thing that makes sense to you right now. 

“I heard you talking to her several times since we got here, Dave. The last time being when you told me you had to take an important call and you would meet me at the bar before our dinner reservation.” 

You’re not sure what you expect him to do now that he’s been caught. Confess to his actions. Tell you everything from the beginning. Get on his knees and beg for forgiveness. It was a mistake, it will never happen again. 

What you don’t expect is to see a single tear fall down his handsome face. To see a look of rich tenderness in his eyes. Warmth in his touch as he wipes away the wet worriment painted over your face. 

“Baby— Fuck, I’m so sorry. To say that this trip so far has been stressful would be an understatement. Nothing I had planned for this trip has gone right— even after months and months of preparation. And you’re right, they weren’t work phone calls— not all of them at least. I’m so sorry for making you feel like I didn’t want to be here— I do. I want to tell you everything, but I think it’s best if I show you first.” 

“Show me what?” You ask him. 

“Come with me so you can see for yourself. And if you still want to go home afterwards, we’ll leave tonight.” Dave’s head tilts, his eyes searching yours hoping to relieve any reservations you still might be internally feeling. 

“I look like a blubbering mess right now.” You use what you now realize are a pair of socks to wipe any streaks of makeup smeared on your face. 

“No you don’t. I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He says, his lips molding over yours are a sobering reflection of his love for you. 

Not much else is said on the trek back down to the lobby, allowing Dave to take you to wherever this mysterious place is. 

There’s a nervousness about him, his jitters, while subtle, are loud and obvious. Holding his sweaty palm against yours. His other hand actively fidgeting in his pocket. Head tilt back, then forward, stretching his neck from side to side. 

You lean into his shoulder, tucking your free hand under his arm, hoping to ground him a bit. It helps, you feel him relax instantly into your touch. His lips pressing to the side of your head, Thank you. 

“Dave, where are we going?” You ask as you walk in an unfamiliar area of the hotel. 

“Almost there.” He says, his fingers squeezing in small bursts against your hand. 

It’s a long hallway covered in an elaborate wallpaper with rich details of floral patterns and bold hues. It's dimly lit due to the fact that there’s zero windows, the only light is given by the mid century style sconce fixtures lining the walls. Potted plants strategically placed around sculptures and empty velvet chairs. 

You’re met with two large wooden doors as you approach the end of the hall, but it’s the woman standing in front of them that has your attention. She’s beautiful, actually she’s stunning. Her smile is so warm and inviting, beaming at you as you and Dave walk closer to where she stands. It’s as if she’s been expecting you, waiting diligently for your arrival. 

“Good evening Mr. and Mrs. York. My name is Ashley.” 

#Dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #pedro pascal #pedrostories #wildemaven writes

[loveephia]

:¨ ·.· ¨: atsumu miya's valentine special.

`· . ꔫ sypnosis: in which you wanted to confess to atsumu, but as the school's beloved vice president, you've been too busy helping out with the limited valentine's day events. because of how often you were pulled away from atsumu, he decides to entertain his fangirls to try and make you jealous

content: (🦷) tooth-rotting fluff, hurt with comfort, osamu is in two clubs (volleyball and culinary), kita is mentioned, reader has glasses, you cry because of atsumu, but don't worry, he calms you down toward the end.

⚠ warning/s: atsumu being atsumu none.

my HQ masterlist. (valentine's edition)

"hello, ms. vice president. yer lookin' prettier than usual today. did ya do somethin' with your hair? you smell like a meadow." atsumu teased you non-stop. you were one (if not, the only) girl he'd stop by to bother during school hours. you don't even know if he truly means his teasing or if he's just messing with you.

whatever it is, it worked because you silently crushed on the faux blond.

"cut it out, miya. i'm trying to sign a few papers of allowances for the upcoming valentine's event." you stated sternly, making sure to emphasize the miya. you knew how much he disliked being called that, especially from you. "still on the last name basis?! i have a twin brother who's also named miya, y'know! how'll you call us if we're both present?" atsumu whined.

you thought for a moment, "i'll call you 'the-more-annoying-miya.'"

"no way, call me 'the-hotter-miya' instead! it's got a better ring to it." atsumu winked

"you and osamu have the same face." you factually deadpanned. "wait—! yer callin' 'samu by his first name but not me?!" atsumu said at a loud volume, taking no notice of the rest of your statement.

"whatever.. i have to go now." you said, slipping away from atsumu to head to the afternoon student council meetings.

valentine's is coming, meaning a lot of booths, a lot of food, and potentially, a lot of heartbreak. you can't even imagine the headache atsumu will be by then.

sure you had a crush on him, but he could be a bit of an annoyance sometimes.

time skip.

the meeting came to an end, and you huffed. you skim over your clipboard to see the busy schedule ahead of you.

1. help the botany club sell roses.

maybe one of those roses have a thorn magical enough to prick your finger and put you into a deep sleep until valentines is over; kinda like sleeping beauty with a few details changed.

2. deliver the anonymous love letters.

at this point, all the enveloped confessions should just go straight to the miyas. those two always end up getting the most every year anyway.

3. give each and every schoolmate a pouch of specially made chocolates from the culinary club.

you only like this one because you were told that you get to keep the leftovers.

"hey, ms. vice president!" atsumu greets you with the familiar nickname he specially made. you look up to see the setter, and your eyes widen. "miya.. it's late in the afternoon. what are you still doing in school? i don't think you guys even have volleyball practice today." you said.

"yeah, i know, but i wanted t'walk you home! i didn't know that the meeting would last up to two hours, though." atsumu said, "still, it was time worth waitin'." he smirked at you.

disregarding the flirty comment, your heart swelled at the fact that he was thoughtful enough to wait and walk you home. you smiled softly, "thank you for being so considerate. just let me get my bag, and we can get going."

atsumu was expecting you to roll your eyes or even sigh restlessly, but to his surprise, you didn't.

"okay." he replied quietly, watching you go jog to your own classroom. atsumu sighed longingly.

osamu, who unwillingly witnessed the scene before him, could only cringe. "why is he still at school?" one may ask. he couldn't go home because his older twin of three and a half minutes was entrusted with the keys to the house. atsumu also refused to let him go by himself due to stubbornness.

"i hate it here." osamu murmured.

time skip.

on the walk home with the twins, you all shared your day almost peacefully (not without the twins bickering every now and then, of course). you didn't even realize osamu was there earlier outside the meeting room..

the sun had set, and you were finally at the foot of your house. osamu was standing by your house's gate while atsumu was right next to you. "i'll see ya tomorrow, ms. vice president." he said, patting your head and messing up your hair.

you let it slide since it's the end of the day anyway. you lean close to kiss his cheek, "thanks, atsumu." you quickly expressed your gratitude before going inside your house, leaving atsumu to malfunction outside.

"did— did she just call me by my first name?!" he thought, puffs of smoke cartoonishly coming off the top of his head. his fingers came in contact with his blazing cheek, the cheek that you kissed.

finally going back home with osamu, atsumu couldn't think straight. he even fumbled with the keys to simply unlock their door. the younger twin who's too tired to deal with atsumu's behavior, takes the keys, and unlocks the door himself.

time skip.

valentine's day was here, and your feet were aching from the number of times you had to run up and down the stairs to help out with booths.

the duties of being inarizaki's virtuous vice president were ample. every year, it truly never gets easier. but you enjoy seeing the satisfied expression on your schoolmate's faces from your helpfulness, so you'll continue to run for a spot on the student council if it means—

"y/n!" atsumu calls out. you turn around to see the boy. just as you were about to come up to him to say hi, a female voice cuts you off. "y/n! the president is looking for you, he says it's urgent." your classmate said. you nod, excusing yourself from atsumu's sight to see what the matter is.

atsumu understands. you're a busy girl, so he lets it slide.

until the fourth time, that is.

"y/n, can you please help me carry these boxes of flowers to class 2-E?" the head of the botany club sweatdropped. you nod, helping him out.

"y/n, my adorable underclassmen, would you be a dear and send this to kita shinsuke from class 3-A?" the student council treasurer asks playfully, "i don't want him to know it's from me~" she whispers with red cheeks. you nod, running off to the third year's classroom.

"y/n, can you head to the kitchen with me? we made a new variety of chocolates, and we need your thoughts." osamu said, a sheet of sweat glistening on his forehead from the heat in the kitchen. you nod, "of course, osamu."

atsumu can't believe this.. his own brother?!

"y/n this, y/n that. i just wanna be with her on valentines!" atsumu grumbles, kicking a pebble on the ground, feeling like a defeated puppy.

"excuse me, atsumu?" a hesitant voice disrupts atsumu of his thoughts. "t- this is for you." she bravely hands him a letter. this is the seventg time today that he's received a confession. un-anonymously, that is.

"thanks." atsumu mumbles half-heartedly, though he knows he won't read it.

wait.

this just gave him a brilliant idea.

time skip.

you finished your duties. everything is going great; sales are booming for the botany club, all of the love letters have been delivered, and you even got a few leftover chocolates.

you're off to find atsumu, excited to see him.

only to see the one and only setter surrounded by plenty of fangirls.

"can i have a selfie, atsumu?" a girl asks. "sure, darlin'." atsumu replies. did he just call her by a pet name? and, more importantly, is he actually entertaining his fangirls? this is odd..

your heart starts to feel heavy, and before you know it, atsumu eyes land on you. just one look, and he's forgotten all about his fangirls. "y/n!" he exclaims.

atsumu is so happy to finally see you unoccupied.

then he sees your nose tint a shade of red and your eyes all glassy.

you run off in a weak attempt to hide your tears, and atsumu is quick to run after you. "no— wait, y/n!"

you keep running until you reach a more deserted spot in inarizaki high. you're not athletic. your legs were sure to give out soon, especially when the one chasing after you is a part of a volleyball club.

you try not to sob aloud, very hurt by atsumu's actions. you don't even turn to look at him, and he knows he messed up big time. you sniffle your nose, and atsumu pulls you in for a warm hug. you let him pat your back and hush you quietly.

"..m'sorry. i was actin' like a jerk all because i didn't get to talk to you the entire day." atsumu apologized, "i know my words aren't gonna cut it, but i want t'make it up to you because.." he reaches for both your hands. "i really, really like you."

your breathing is choppy, "d- do you mean that?" you look up at him. your glasses were foggy, and your red cheeks stained with tears. hair a bit disheveled from the run. atsumu smiles at you, "there's my pretty vice president." he says before pressing a kiss to your forehead, "i do." he confirms your earlier question.

you giggle at yourself for falling for a dumbass like atsumu. how silly. "i- i like you too." you stuttered quietly between your sobs.

© lowercase intended | loveephia

#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!! #hq x reader #hq x y/n #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x y/n #hq hcs #tooth rotting fluff #hq #atsumu miya x y/n #atsumu miya #atsumu miya x female reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya x you #atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #hq atsumu #atsumu x y/n #atsumu scenarios #atsumu drabble #valentines #osamu miya #shinsuke kita #kita shinsuke #hq osamu #haikyuu osamu #hq kita #haikyuu kita #haikyuu

[tigertale]

A/N: I didn't expect this to be so long— Well my bad

•F!Reader; Ruggie; Random Savanaclaw student

•〔　！ 〕Smut; First Time; Grammatical errors; Not proofread

"Awn, that's a lot!" Her eyes were shining at the sigh of the ropes of cum coating her hand, layers stacking upon layers. She pressed her fingers one last time around his cock before bringing them to her mouth. She licked them clean under the lustful gaze of the savanaclaw student. "Did you enjoy it?" He nodded vigorously to show her that yes, he definitely liked it.

"Hmm~ F'course I— Shit… 'T was so fucking good." She smiled at his answer and kissed the tip of his dick before taking some tissues and cleaning him up. He let out a few moans at the touches that peppered his skin and pressure she was adding onto him, ones that made her pride swell.

When she had finished, she got up, throwing the tissues in the bin before bending towards him. He jumped when her hands looked for support onto his shoulders, and melted when her lips pressed against his. His affection towards her only but doubled at the sight of the small smile that followed the small kiss she had given him.

She took the bag that was sitting by the foot of the door and threw it over one of her shoulders without much care. "Then I'll see you later, m'okay?" But when she took the handle, a sudden thud followed by what sounded like a dog whine was heard behind her.

By the look of it he had tripped and fallen face first onto the hard wooden floors, yet it didn't deter him and soon enough he was running to his drawer. He picked up a few bank notes that had been haphazardly thrown into his wallet and handed them to her. There was a small silence where he was bending forward and offering her some money as she was looking at him with a surprised face. Only his heavy stuttering breathing was heard. She cut the awkward blank –or at least it was for him, him who was getting eaten by anxiety with each passing seconds– with small giggles.

She patted his hair and he once again felt himself entering a state of euphoria when her fingers passed against his animal ears and slightly scratched behind them. "I had almost forgotten." Another set of laughter was taken out of her and he used this chance to peeked at her. "Thank you." She pressed a chaste kiss on his lips and disappeared behind the door once and for all as he combusted with all the blood rushing and heating his face up.

Once into the hallways, she took a more careful look at the money between her hands. She bit her lips as stars were appearing into her eyes. Even her legs threatened to collapse at the sheer happiness coursing through her body at the sigh of the pieces of paper before her.

She jumped as someone whistled next to her. "Wow wow wow! Did you raise the price of your service?" His warm breath tickled her skin as he let out his infamous laugh out, but she merely secured the money against her chest as she finally took in who was behind her.

"I did. A certain someone told me that 2 marks was too cheap." The boy was sent into another laughing fit at that. He DID say that. But he had never expected her to actually put her prices up, which actually made him curious about the new price she had set.

"So, how much is it now? By the look of it it's…" His keen eyes widened at the few banknotes he could make out in her hands before she pushed them deeper into her chest with a frown. "G-Ghh— Wha-at?! There are a-at least 35 bucks there!"

She huffed, clearly disliking the fact that he could actually make out the amount she had won just by having a glimpse of it. "50 actually. I didn't expect them to pay for it, but they were willing to, sooo…" Yeah, she didn't like putting the prices up. While it did allow her to win quite the amount by the end of the day, she felt like extorting them money. That she was cheating. 50 thaumarks for a handjob was too much, even for her. But they were willing to pay for it. And she repaid the Savanaclaw students by giving them a small discount during their heat since they were her regulars.

"And how many customers do you make in a day?" He followed her as she walked down the hallways and towards the exit. She waved at a group of beastmen that were passing by, they waved back with much more enthusiasm and some even whistled, giving her compliments in their own clumsy ways.

"3 during bad days. And an average of 20 on good and exam days." He coughed at that.

"So you make between 150 and 1000 marks in a single day?!" Being the only girl of an all boy school sure had its perks. Especially after she had become the school's little protégée.

"You're the one who told me not to sell my hand for 5 bucks." She took Ruggie's ear in-between her fingers and pulled on it before letting it go. He stood there, rubbing where she had pinched with a displeased look. When she was in front of the mirror, she turned to him.

"Oh by the way." He stopped dead in his tracks as he was walking back towards his dorm, curious about why she was suddenly calling him. "Come to Ramshackle later, dinner's on me!" Yet, before he was able to answer, she had already passed through the glass and had fully disappeared from his sigh.

Oh! Someone will be mad about this!

°°°°°°°°°

"Yosh, I'm here!" The hyena shouted as he entered the living room. Not long after, a cluster of crashes was heard before the girl welcomed him by the door of the kitchen. She shyly smiled with dust all-over her white apron.

"A-Ah already?" A timid finger tapped nervously at the side of her cheeks. He approached her, wanting to see the mess behind her but she pushed him back before he could get any closer. "Wait here! Erhh make yourself comfortable, I'll bring the food!"

He might as well do so since she was so inflexible. And he hardly saw himself disobeying something as simple as that. Especially since she was a girl. He sat on the rocking chair that was next to the coffee table and mindlessly rocked himself.

It brought him back to the rocking chair that had found itself at Sunset Savannah, and how curious it was that this piece of furniture was even here in the first place as it was not one native to these lands. It was standing by one of the tall patches of herbs right behind his neighbor. And whenever he was coming back from the many errands and odd jobs he was able to do at his small age, he would spend a few minutes having his own fun by balancing himself on the wooden chair. His feet barely hanging out of the chair as his arms were having a hard time grasping the handles on both sides.

After a while he had thought about offering it to his grandmother, and how surprised she had been to see her grandson pulling on a chair that was at least twice his size! While he did receive a lot of scolding, watching his grandmother taking a liking to the rocking chair and resting on it whenever she could made his small heart swell with an innocent pride. But the chair had disappeared one day. While it saddened him, his grandmother had made sure to reassure him that she didn't mind. And yet, after all these years, its memory was still deep in his mind.

"Finally!" He opened the eyes he had previously closed —when had he done so? It must have been when he had started reminiscing those old memories of his— and looked at the girl that was coming out of the kitchen.

He shot up at the sigh of her balancing multiple plates along her arms and threatening to fall two times in less than a second. He scolded her, claiming that she shouldn't do this with how clumsy she was, but she merely laughed back.

After putting all the plates down he shamelessly took the aluminium foil off with a watering mouth. It actually smelled good. And the dishes uncovered before him were just as exquisite. "I tried cooking something from back home. I don't know if it's actually good." When he saw her nervously playing with her fingers he dived into the food. Hopefully it would be savoury enough that he could give some compliments to cheer her up.

She watched with fearful eyes as he stopped moving after getting a full spoon into his mouth. It wasn't that bad right? And her eyes widened even more as he started coughing. She got up, ready to help him with his coughing fits, but he put a hand up.

Starry eyed stared at her with tears hanging on the edges. She slowly sat back down as he took a bite of every dish faster than she could comprehend and not before long he was going for another round. "It's—" He tried to speak with a mouthful of rice but almost ended up choking. "Actually good!"

"You've scared me for a moment there." She rolled her head back and let her body slide along the chair, visibly more relaxed by his compliment. He hummed back to let her know he had heard her while picking a bit of everything with his spoon and happily putting it in his plate.

She set herself back up and picked her own share of food, and once he had eventually slowed down they started a small conversation under the dim light of the living room.

Yet at one point, when a small silence had taken place between the two, he suddenly perked up. "Why did you invite me?"

She blinked a few times, surprised by the question, before smiling devilishly. "If it wasn't for you I wouldn't have become this rich." She heard him mumbling back "rich" with a deadpan tone that made her giggle. "Rich is a bit much but you get the idea."

He didn't agree, returning to his plate but not before giving her a disapproving shake of his head while swallowing his food. She huffed but unlike him, didn't go back to eating. Instead she pushed her face into her hand, staring at him with a fond look. And it's only after he had finished two pieces of meat did he see her staring.

He raised an eyebrow which made her smile widened. "Hey, if some of these days you find out that you don't have enough money to eat, come to me. We're partners now." It was his turn to stare. "But not too often or I'll throw you out." He hummed with closed eyes and the handle of his spoon hanging out of his mouth, a finger was also tapping against his chin as he was deep in thought.

He eventually opened his eyes with a determined look that prepared her for whatever nonsense he was about to tell her. "Is 5 times a week too often?" He pulled five fingers up which made her frown.

"Yes, 3 times max." She replied back by showing three fingers. "And don't try to deal yourself more, I'm as flexible as a rock." He cursed under his breath before going back into some internal reflexions. Yes, she was as flexible as a rock when it came to money, she could be as stingy as him when needed, and he knew not to push her too far. If he did, she might as well allow him to come only 2 times a week!

"So 3 times? That's not a lot."

"Don't worry, if you're reaaally (she stressed out the really with low tone) in need then you're allowed to come." He let out his signature laugh at the news. She wasn't that bad after all! "And by really, I mean when you're desperate enough to eat dandelions."

"Sooo, do I have my 3 gifted dinners this week?" She pondered about it. But it didn't take long for her to find her answer. From what she knew, he was far from struggling this week. Far from it, he had even had the time to find her new customers.

"No, you've eaten your first today." He deflated at this, but quickly shot back up with a newfound passion which was awfully out of character. She stared back at him when they locked eyes and he leaned forward with hands firmly grasping the front of his chair like a child.

"Hey, let me pay you back." What? What was he suddenly talking about, him who never tried to reciprocate her —or pretty much anyone actually— kind actions? "Grandma said to always repay those who have helped you. Especially women because you never know what they'll do if you don't." She cringed at the last sentence and pursed her lips.

"And why only women?"

"Have you not seen the women at Sunset Savannah? They're three times bigger than Jack. It's better to respect them than to face their wrath." She was tempted to laugh. She REALLY was when the simple thought of a body with thrice the amount of muscles Jack had crossed her mind, but was stopped before even trying to. "Hey I'm being serious here, listen."

His cheeks were slightly puffed and his eyes dropped which made an apologetic smile appear on her lips. "Sorry." She whispered at the sight of his serious expression, one that she was not used to see.

"That was actually one hell of a dinner, ya know? And I want to know whether or not you're okay with me repaying you back." He had moved his hands and stood above her as to cage her on her own chair and she was left to helplessly lose herself into his ice coloured pupils. "Sooo, your answer?"

"I— I…" The intensity with which he was watching every emotion that was crossing her face, trying and succeeding into catching the slightest twitch of her traits, made her body gradually hot. Was it nervousness or another and more unfamiliar feeling, she didn't know. "Just… Do- Do whatever you want."

She dropped her head to end his scrutinization, and ultimately failed to see the smirk pulling his lips upward. His fingers moved to her hips as he pushed his chair back with a lazy foot. Soon enough he was on his knees before her as he went back to watch her face. Now that he was under her, he had a good view of her face and darkened cheeks.

She perked up at the sight of him slowly opening her legs and pulling her skirt and apron up. He was doing it slowly, waiting for any kind of rejection, but when he had no answers he stopped all together which allowed her to calm herself. "W-what are you doing…"

"Trying to thank you for your kindness?" She turned away from him, still shy about the sharp turn the diner had suddenly taken. It prompted him to pinch the inside of her leg, albeit just enough to have her attention back on him, right under where her underwear cupped her folds. She whimpered at that and jumped, but it indeed brought her eyes back to him. "Look, if you don't like it I'll stop. No more talking about this, you can throw me out n' all, but I need you to tell me whether you're okay with this or not."

She flushed at these words as she timidly tried to utter an answer. She muttered her reply, but even Ruggie's keen ears were not able to catch it and he asked her to repeat with a soft voice. "I want you to continue." Her voice was still all too low for his liking, yet he perfectly heard her which made him grin.

His mouth approached her lower lips, kissing above the clothing that was hiding them from him as he kept her twitching leg open and still so they wouldn't crush him. They could do so later on when she would ride his face.

She hissed at the feeling of his hot breath against her lower parts and yet another tremor coursed through her body when he moved her panty to the side. Then, there was a small pause where she wanted to peek down at him and see why he had stopped, but screwed her eyes shut once again when his tongue finally touched her.

Her hands found themselves in his hair, not yet pulling on them, just wanting to find some kind of anchor for the feeling that was burning in her veins. He hummed as he felt the fingers increasingly tightening on his hand with each sweep of his pinkish appendage along her folds. The attention he brought to her erected bud made the pleasure shoot up to the point where she could hardly feel her lower body. Even her fingers, increasing their grip on his tresses, were all but becoming numb.

She desperately tried to keep all her body reactions away from him. From the quivering to the whimpers that were muffled by her tightly closed lips. Wouldn't it be awkward if she just show how much he was torturing her with his tongue? And everything was so new that she didn't know how to properly act. And if she were to make the wrong move, would he still want to continue? She could hardly imagine the rejection, let alone face it!

The tightening in her stomach, the one that was increasing and heating her body up with each lap of his tongue, impulsively made her push him away from her. He was so suddenly ripped away from her, her arms keeping him quite the length away from her cunt, that the only thing the two could do was breathing heavily as they were processing what had happened. He looked up, surprised, but the sight of her heavily breathing and head hunched over as she tried to hide herself made him awe. Oh. Oh!

He took the hands that were gripping his hair away from his head, gently crossing his finger with her own as he pushed his head against her legs. "Hey, have you ever had an orgasm?"

She squirmed, a high pitched noise leaving her throat before she straightened her back and looked to the side. For him to be so straightforward… How awkward. "Don't say things so shamelessly, it's embarrassing." She only heard a short growl before she felt his teeth biting the skin of her inner thigh. She once again squirmed and faced him, eyes fully open with surprise.

He was pouting like a child, cheeks puffed and angrily (but still oh so gentle with her) teething the skin in his mouth. "Oi, we should clear something before we continue." He put his hands on each leg before pushing them apart slowly as she was nervously trying to force them close.

"Is it your first time?"

She stopped at that and shamefully hid her face away from him. And the sigh she heard from him only but deepened the pit of anguish that was opening inside her. Was he mad? It's not like she had lied, but she led him to believe that she was experienced when it was far from the truth. What if he hated her? She couldn't possibly live with the idea that she pushed the only person she could associate with away. What if he—

"You should have told me earlier, I wouldn't have rushed in like that!" She still didn't look up but was shaken by the exasperated tone in his voice. "If I had known I would've at least taken you somewhere better!"

She felt his fingers slowly cupping her face and made her face him. His face was scrunched up, visibly lost and uneasy, something that she had rarely seen before. "Look, you did nothing wrong. It's my fault for not asking and implying that because you jerked a few guys off you were not a virgin and—"

"No! You don't have to be sorry!" She jumped in his arms, hugging him close to her as she buried herself against his neck. She mumbled something that he couldn't make out as he rubbed her back soothingly. "I– Are you not angry with me?"

"Nah, I'm the idiot here. I forgot common courtesy and didn't ask." He continued to pat her, and the simple fact that he was doing so made her lips unconsciously stretch against his skin. "I heard that some girls were scared during their first orgasm. I- uh, didn't expect it but it's understandable." He hissed as she pecked him, soon going onto open kisses on his neck. He answered by slowly easing his hands under her skirt which coaxed a heavy and lustful sigh from her

"I wouldn't say scary, but it's something I've never felt before." His suit vest, followed by his buttoned up shirt, were soon opened and thrown around his armpits as she roamed her hands along his chest.

"Hey, shouldn't we continue this in your room?" She merely bit his neck, still occupying herself with it, before pulling away. It was just enough for her to shake her head to side as to disagree before she jumped back on him.

He sighed, the feeling of her small canines pressing in his skins all too gratifying. He pushed her up, her legs instinctively crossing behind his back, and led her to the sofa that had since then been repaired, enough so that the springs didn't poke at whoever was seating on it. He made sure that she was gently set on it, before he joined her.

"Hey, we'll continue where we have left. Are you okay with that?" Just as flushed as before, she agreed and made sure to plant her hands in his hair now that he was still not all the way down.

Soon enough, his hot breath was tickling her again, and she was not displeased to see that his previous actions had still left her needy and the overwhelming sensation still heavily present. At this rate, he wouldn't need much to make her come.

And he was just as aware as she was. And to speed things up, a finger was slowly pushed inside her as he was treating her bud with the utmost attention. She was left whimpering and twitching, tears running down the side of her face one after another, at the assault of pleasure.

And the second finger must've been all too much as she tried once again and instinctively to push him away when the coil in her stomach was asking to be released. Albeit this time he stayed still, continuing to eat her out and playing with her. She could only feel his smirk before she came.

She was left dazed and confused as he was still eating her through her orgasm. He removed himself from her not long after, and her hands quickly caressed his face as he leaned above her with a content side smile. He took her and exchanged places with her, placing the twitching body above his.

"Eh, was it good?" His fingers removed the tears that were still free falling as she hiccuped. She closed her eyes and tiredly nodded along before setting her head against his warm chest. He laughed softly at the display, playing with the knot on the back of her apron. "You should wear this more often. You look like a housewife."

She groaned and punched his torso with what was left of her strength as he was sent into another laughing fit. "Does it turn you on?"

He crossed an arm behind his head and closed his eyes. "Nah you're the one that's making it hot." She was tempted to hit him back, his answer further embarrassed her. Too straightforward! Another groan left the back of her throat. But the poking she was feeling against between her legs brought her attention back to him.

"Hey, don't you want me to help you with your thing down there?" He exasperatedly sighed as he ruffled her hair.

"Don't think about that, we've got lot of dinners. And I've got many plans to perform before you even touch me." Like being crushed by her legs. He sure as fuck want to do that before she can suck him off or whatever.

She turned a bright red at his answer and pushed herself further into his chest. This boy would be the death of her before he would even realised it.

#twisted wonderland #twst #ruggie bucchi #twst ruggie #ruggie x reader #lemon #smut #twst smut #ruggie bucchi smut

[fountainpenguin]

"Always hear the same kind of story; break your nose and they'll just say 'Sorry...'" (x)

---

Pixels Imperfect series ~ Double Life - Boat Boys

“Canadian Idiot” - 23k words

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Paper Boats [Etho & Joel series]

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

I've been drawing preview images for some of my 'fics that didn't have them yet. Here's a pretty post for a personal favorite!

---

Summary: Etho is a fox hybrid who aggros on people who cause him damage. During Double Life, Joel and Etho are soulbound. And Joel causes Etho a lot of damage. The mob-strengthening full moon doesn’t help.

AKA - That one 'fic where Etho bites Joel a bunch of times and Joel stomachs it like the good little soulmate he is.

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

---

Canadian Idiot

"Where is Etho? Why hasn't he come home? I'm SO worried…"

🖤  💛  ❤️

Act 1. Scene 2. Introductions are behind them; the Hero's Journey has begun. They balance on the precipice hand in hand, except they're nowhere near hand in hand because Joel has done nothing wrong and Etho's about to bring him crashing down. With a label like Act 1, Scene 2 melting in your brain, you're practically encouraged to overstep; make mistakes. Isn't that a proper story outline? You start by introducing goals. Then faults. 'Tell me one thing your protagonist does wrong…'

It's Etho, not Joel, who does something wrong. Wrong and immoral and without consent, and he's shaking - he's shaking - as he slips his hand above the milk-white bed sheets. He slightly cranes his neck, lifting just a little from his pillow. He's already squirmed closer to Joel more than he'd admit to anyone outside the Boat. Joel's cradled against him, stomachs and knees and hips flush and ticklish and warm. Joel's hand rests atop the blankets. Atop Etho's chest, pretty much.

And Etho's itchy, pain swelling deep inside. His breath's all clogged in the back of his throat. A problem that Joel doesn't have, because Joel's some kind of insect hybrid and he breathes through the spiracles down his torso… which Etho can feel both on the outside of his legs (because Joel is shirtless under the blankets) and threaded through his own body (because they share every flickery touch, even in the way they breathe).

I wonder if Joel ever gets sick of feeling "my" breath in the back of his mouth. That's gotta be a weird feeling when he doesn't have lungs…

In Act 1, Scene 2, Etho initiates the Rising Action. He lays his own hand on the far side of Joel's. His eyes are glowing - the candles and furnaces are glowing too - and it's warm and rosy and golden brown down in the depths of The Relation. Etho's shaking as he nudges Joel's fingers higher up the blankets, from their random flop (is it random?) across Joel's chest and up to Etho's neck. Conflicting pixels bristle when they come into contact. They tense up, even while Joel stays sleepy and mild-mannered. Etho stares down at those gleaming pixels and watches them re-situate themselves, building up their little barrier so they stay firmly Joel's and his own pixels remain firmly Etho's.

There's unwavering trust in the way Joel lets himself sleep, curled against Etho's side. The pixels in their legs blended together long ago, making mermaids out of them. They don't even itch. They're perfectly melted inside each other, heels and toes overlapping as easily as the edges of their hitboxes do.

Etho can feel the easy flutter of mingled bits and pieces shifting between them, pixels bumping and evaluating their neighbors and occasionally switching back and forth. He's got bits that used to belong to Joel in his ankles, probably. The colors have probably already changed over. You wouldn't even be able to tell. It's nothing. It's normal. Everybody does this. They're sharing a bed. They're sharing hearts and health and pain; exchanging pixels during hitbox overlap isn't nearly as weird.

It's not like I'm anxious and 65 anymore. I've got a couple thousand years in me. I've shared my bed before. This isn't weird.

It's not like this in the singleplayer, though, where he sleeps alone.

And it's not like this on Hermitcraft. Where he sleeps alone.

And it wasn't like this in his wool castle on 3rd Life. Where he slept alone.

And it wasn't like this in Last Life. Bdubs slept on the far side of their shared room, his narcoleptic phantom soul knocking him out cold hours before Etho crept to bed. And slept alone.

Etho squirms, which blurs his foot with Joel's and sends a static ripple up his leg. He stops so it won't seize up in the pit behind his knee. His pixels need a minute to orient again, sluggish in their sleep just like the softly breathing Joel. The air is stuffy inside The Relation's lower room. Etho already pulled his mask off before bed; it lies (rumpled and unfolded) on the crafting table to his left. Though dry, the air is cool against his exposed skin. His tongue traces across the curve of each and every pointed tooth inside his mouth.

I have to.

The closest he'll come to voicing it. He tries to fold his hands away. He grips his own wrist, grinding it in the wrinkles of blankets tucked against his stomach. Candles flicker in the edges of his vision. He stares across the captains' quarters, rotating his hand back and forth, forcing it to press his stomach. To calm some kind of hunger that doesn't stem from there.

He does not personify the aggro instincts creeping up his spine. They don't envelop him in words. Offering words to the thought would mean caving in, admitting its strength and hold against him. Etho stares without blinking at the far wall and twists his wrist in that space between stomach and guts. Tight. Unyielding. Firm.

It's never been this bad on-server before…

It's twisted. It writhes in him, like a snake dropped down his pants, spiraled around his leg, and looped to slither up his spine and wrap around his throat. It's a full-body shiver that leaves him opening and closing his hands, palming his knees through the bed sheets. He has really pointy knees. Etho presses, rubbing his hands up and down and all around in circles, but it doesn't help.

He needs to. This. He needs- he just does. He can curl his legs and writhe and grimace all he wants to, but he can't hold it in forever… like Bdubs can't help but lunge when Etho's pushing at the boundary of long nights with no sleep.

Can't.

He sinks down in the pillows, exhaling, and tugs the white covers of the bed up to his chest again. It shifts Joel's arm. Etho can feel it through the blankets. He can feel the touch of soft, carefully crafted wool on the back of that hand as clearly as his own. Joel's expertise with wool leaves absolutely no question that he thrives on the Empires server, weaving banners on a loom. There's no itchiness to the blankets. They're so soft, they may as well be silk or cream.

This ship feels like a cake, lit by the candles on the wooden shelves. As the wind gusts against the outside of their base, it creaks the boards and Etho shivers, shifting one leg a little tighter between both of Joel's. Pillager grunts carry down the hill. He can hear their distant pacing. The constant loading of crossbow bolts. The way they mutter, bending heads.

Do pillagers ever snuggle with their friends late at night? Maybe not. They're just mobs; maybe they aren't programmed with a sleep schedule. He's never charged inside an outpost to find them startled and fumbling out of bed.

[Cnt'd on AO3 - Link at top]

#Boat Boys #EthosLab #Joel Smallishbeans #trafficblr #Double Life #traffic soulmates #traffic life smp #ridwriting #apparently art #I have more of these but they'll be spaced out #mcyt #Particularly excited for Friday <3 #Pixels Imperfect #Canadian Idiot #traffictober #clock duo #impulseSV #BdoubleO100 #fic announcement #trafficfic

[dualdeixis]

[Image description: A four-page digital comic in black and white featuring Kageyama Shigeo, set to the lyrics of “Gemini” by Cursive. There are full descriptions of all the pages under the cut. End image description.]

—the curtain falls

[Image description: The first page. The first panel is split into two halves: the left is black on white, showing the back of Shigeo’s head, with his hair floating and blood dripping down his neck. The right half is white on black, showing Shigeo's horrified face dripping with sweat. The text (in all caps) reads, “Crusted bloodstains down the nape of my neck / Concussed rhythms swelling in my bed.” Next, part of Shigeo’s torso is drawn, with text on it reading “Who has been controlling everything I do and say?” His arm extends into the next panel, where he is holding his torn bouquet over a background of cracked earth. The text reads “They sure as hell / Have made some foul mistakes.” The last panel shows glowing white eyes, and the text reads “Wait.”

The second page. Shigeo is drawn upside-down at the top of the page, with pieces of him peeling off like paper. He stares with dread at the bottom of the page, where the pieces of him plaster themselves onto an expressionless ???%. A white scribble is drawn in the middle of the trail of pieces. On either side of the page are panels showing Takane Tsubomi, her hair flowing as she leans on her hand with a neutral expression. The text interspersed throughout the page reads, “Something’s shifting in this symmetry / Something’s missing in my memory / Somebody’s building / A monster, it seems / And the parts look a lot / Like mine.”

The third page. The background consists of warped streams of black and white and concentric circles that invert the two colors, drawn to center on the head of Kageyama Ritsu, lying unconscious on the ground in a pool of blood. The word “Gemini” is written in each circle, repeating six times and getting bigger the closer it is to Ritsu.

The fourth page. ???% intertwines his fingers, his face cut off save for his small smile. The text reads, “Memory missing? / Symmetry shifting?” The border of the three panels below is drawn to resemble the symbol for Gemini. The left panel shows Shigeo disintegrating into pieces, with a dotted halo around where his head should be. The text reads, “The old sun has lumbered into a deep slumber.” The right panel shows ???% lifting up his head with closed eyes, fists brought to his chest in resolve. He has a halo like a crescent moon around his head. The text reads, “My moon is soon on the rise.” The middle panel has a white background, showing ???% holding the bouquet in both hands, his eyes as glowing white dots on his darkened face, with a flaming aura around his head. He casts a long shadow, in which is written “Gemini” in large lettering. End image description.]

#mob psycho 100 #kageyama shigeo #unknown percent #takane tsubomi #kageyama ritsu #drawings #not done spreading my i am gemini (2012) agenda and perhaps i never will be #// #blood #body horror #child harm #mp100 spoilers

[s1xthirty]

sold | umbrella!ben hargreeves x reader

summary : ben bought a book he already read and own after feeling a spark between the two of you.

A/N : this is based on this justin's tweet. please tell me what do you think of this one! it would really mean a lot to me if you do. pls excuse my bad grammar and writing, english isn't my first language. [GIF IS MINE]

Ben walked into the bookstore with his hand holding a cup of coffee along with a paper bag of croissants between his fingers. It's a miracle that the bag hasn't fallen out of his grasp yet, maybe those mornings with coffees and pastries from his favorite bakery downtown gave him a new useful skill.

He honestly wasn't planning on stopping by anywhere this morning, he needs to be present for a class today—he knows Dr. Jamison will absolutely be furious if he's late but he can't shake off the feeling of this newly opened bookshop that has been pulling him in ever since it opened last Friday.

It's not like he ran out of books to read or something, but it can't hurt to just explore and roam for a bit, can it? College has been stressing him out too, so might as well take some stress off. 

Ben found himself walking towards the horror section, his eyes roamed through the dark-coded covers and grabbed the one that stood out. The cover was a pair of collided shadows of two girls facing off each other, the background was like the color of an old paper that had been left in the sunlight. 

He flipped it to read the back of the book, but all he found was reviews of other authors. He sighed and went to put the novel back to its shelf but a voice from the other side of the room stopped him.

"The dead and the dark," said the voice behind him, "My favorite."

Ben turned around to find its owner and was met by your beautiful face. He spaced out for a while before shooting you a small smile. "What is it about?"

"Two girls went ghost-hunting to find their missing friends." you said, "Well—somewhere around that area, I could never remember the plot of a book that well." You chuckled.

Ben couldn't help but laugh along with the sound of your laughter. It leaves a nice and warm feeling in his chest and he never wants that feeling to go away. So he went on and asked, "Do you think you can give me any recommendations?"

"Sure!" you said, "What kind of genre do you like?"

"I love classics, but I don't mind reading any other genre."

You hummed, leading him to the fiction section and immediately found what you were looking for. You grabbed the book from the shelf and handed it to him, "I personally love this one."

Ben turned the book to read the synopsis as you explained the novel in your own way. He's read this before, but couldn't remember when. He turned it around to examine the cover and it finally clicked. He already bought this novel last month.

He wanted to cut you off and say that he already read it but the way you explained the plot of the novel with so much passion made that warm feeling in his chest sparks again. It was as if you're enchanting him with magic.

"I'm sold." he said with no hesitation before you can even finish. That earned a laugh and another smile from you that makes his heart swell in happiness.

Who cares if he already read the book and bought it again because something sparked between the two of you? It doesn't harm anyone—hell, he'd do it all over again if that means he'll hear your beautiful laughter again.

#ben hargreeves #ben hargreeves oneshot #ben hargreeves x reader #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy imagine #ben hargreeves angst #ben hargreeves fluff #justin h min #justin min

[sebastianswallows]

Dangerous and Delightful — Chapter 30 — The promise

— PAIRING: Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: Sebastian is a purveyor of forbidden artefacts, a dark arts researcher, and a curse-breaker for hire. Ominis, desperate to save him from himself, hires Reader in secret to persuade him, by any means necessary, to leave his illegal activities behind.

— WARNINGS: Lots of fluff

— WORDCOUNT: 1.7k

— A/N: This is it, my dears 💚 The final chapter. Thank you for sticking with it all this way. Hope you enjoy ✨

— TAGLIST: @bloofinntoona @sarcasticpluviophile @estrotica

Sebastian quickly rounded a corner and his shoes nearly slid on the cobbles. It had been quite a while since he had had to run — he’d gotten lazy. The night was barely lifted from the ground and a fresh light bathed everything about him, cut into a lacing of shadows by the thin tall buildings all around. The paper package in his arms burnt at his ribs, but he could not afford to put it down.

He nearly got lost down a side alley, and the panic rose that much higher when he noticed that nothing was familiar… But he’d just taken a wrong turn.

And soon, he could see it just up ahead, at the end of the street, on Via Dante Alighieri — home.

He stopped at the front door to catch his breath and wipe the sweat away, then brushed the flour off his jacket. Maybe rushing out to get fresh bread from the bakery on the other side of town wasn’t worth it. Then again, she smiled so brightly when he surprised her at breakfast with her favourite toast and marmalade… His sweet wife.

He tiptoed inside and found his way through the semi-dark to the kitchen. Immediately, he waved his wand to start warming up the milk and take the treys out, everything arranging in the proper order.

Her sleep schedule had gotten more unpredictable as she got further along, her growing waist getting in the way of all the creative poses she took when she usually slept. At least now she had an excuse to hog the blankets… But when Sebastian went upstairs, just as the sun was over the horizon and lighting up the house in golden hues, he found her sleeping still. He smiled, closed the bedroom door behind him, and set the tray down on the desk.

He took his jacket off and hung it on the armchair, and with gentle movements laid himself beside her. She was sleeping on her side, hugging one of the pillows while another was tucked between her legs. He rubbed a sympathetic hand up and down her back and leaned in closer, face burrowing in her braided hair.

“Mmmmmh,” she grumbled, shifting slightly.

“Good morning,” Sebastian whispered.

“Wan’sleep ore…”

“You want to sleep a little more?” he chuckled. “Alright. I’ll keep breakfast warm for you, darling.”

“Breakf’st?”

“Mhmm…”

She grumbled again and sighed, and with great reluctance turned over on her back. Her eyes were still closed but she threw an arm over her eyes anyway, keeping at bay the light coming through the tall coloured windows. Sebastian smiled as he brushed a finger down her neck, waking her slowly with gentle pettings. His hand soon trailed down to the rich swell of her stomach. He let it rest there and leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

“Hungry?” he asked quietly.

“Mhm…”

He grinned. “I’ll bring it over.”

She shifted then, raising herself on both arms while Sebastian tucked two pillows behind her.

The tray sat on the bed between them and they both picked at the food, hot milk steaming among plates of toast and ham and porridge.

“Oh the marmalade toast is so good,” she said, moaning as she savoured it in a slow chew.

Sebastian’s smile was almost brighter than the sun that morning.

As had become their habit, they went for a leisurely walk after. The house they lived in was old and cracked and chipped in places, but it had a palatial dignity about it that blended with their landscape of rocky hills and rolling waves and flowers, such a wilderness of flowers curling around every corner… The air was fresh and fragrant, and filled with the sound of the town coming to life and seagulls chanting overhead.

Sebastian held her hand as they walked from one side of their veranda to the other, thumb brushing over her knuckles.

“I had such strange dreams last night,” she said as she looked into the distance. Fishing boats were casting off to sea, rolling slowly further.

“What about?”

“I don’t remember now…”

“That’s a pity.”

“It felt familiar though…”

“Perhaps you dreamed of home.”

“How odd that would be,” she chuckled, her gaze turning toward him, capturing his eyes completely. “Which home do you think it was? I have a few to choose from now.”

Sebastian grinned nervously, and let go of her hand to wrap it around her lower back. Her words had frightened him a little, although she didn’t mean it.

“I would hope it is this home,” he said.“W-why? Do you miss England?”

She leaned her head down on his shoulder as they kept their slow walk forward. “Sometimes,” she said. “No, not just sometimes… I think I’ll always miss England.”

“Well, we—”

“But I am happy here, as well.”

Sebastian sighed, his heart trilling with relief. “We’ll go back someday,” he promised. “Sooner than you imagine, I’m sure.”

“I know,” she said with a light smile, her voice filling his chest with its soft notes, its closeness to his heart. “The Ministry just needs to… forget.”

Sebastian nodded. Times like these, he felt so guilty to have dragged her quite so far…

“And we’re quite lucky the Ministry here in Italy knows nothing of your bad behaviour,” she chuckled.

“Well, I’ve been on exemplary behaviour lately, haven’t I?”

“As far as I know…”

He gasped. “I absolutely have been!”

“Alright, alright,” she laughed. “I can only admit you’ve been less naughty than is typical of you.”

She teased him less and less about his spotted past as time went on, perhaps because he had placed himself in such a position that he had no means of breaking his word — to neither her, nor Ominis. Sebastian had sold all his dubious artefacts and bought their seaside home with the profits, and with her expecting their first child he was by her side most of the time. Ominis and his wife were due to visit in a few months too, and if anyone could read him like an open book it was his oldest friend.

Besides, there wasn’t much to do in the way of magical dealings on the small isle of Lipari, in the Aeolian Islands.

She hadn’t been quite charmed when she found out, believing it a bad joke on Sebastian’s side, but he insisted. And after they got there, she quickly grew to love the place.

It was warm, much warmer than England, and the volcanic earth was black, but the beaches were soft and the water sharp and bracing and like the gentlest bath when she slipped outside to dip her feet in. But in every other way, it was just like a home… A home like the one she left behind. The town was small, the people friendly, welcoming and amused by an English couple with their strange little habits and tastes. It was easy to ascribe their differences to them being foreigners, rather than witches.

“I want to walk by the sea,” she said.

“It is done,” said Sebastian, taking her hand again and kissing it before tucking it into his elbow.

Step in step they walked toward the foam and rising sun, passing by their neighbours with cheerful Buongiorno’s and wide waves. The women were picking up the laundry from the day before, the men came back from shopping at the market, and a swirling flock of children rushed past to gather seashells and build castles.

“I can see ours doing the same, you know,” she said in a smiling, dreamy voice.

“Hmm?”

“Running around, making friends, playing with the simplest things, and laughing…”

He stopped her then, just to tilt her head up and kiss her lips. She dared to blush at the surprise of it.

“Ours,” said Sebastian, holding her even closer. “I love the way that sounds…”

“Always so greedy,” she teased.

“Oh, very much so.”

“You’re lucky you married a very generous lady.”

“I am well aware, Madam.”

She reached up to pinch his cheeks, but it did little to dull the heat in his eyes. His face was much more rosy lately too, full of a livelier flush that made his freckles stand out all the more. She stayed like that for a moment, flush against him, in his arms, gazing up into those deep brown eyes that drank her in, and allowed herself to feel his sweetness all around her.

He tilted his head, cinnamon locks brushing over his forehead, and with a gentle finger, he followed the line of her throat from her ear down to her lace-covered chest. She knew he liked this dress on her, a fresh crystalline green with generous trimming that gave access to her skin whenever she needed to cool her blood a little.

“What is it?” she asked with a bubbling giggle.

“Nothing,” he said thoughtfully, that mysterious smile still curling his soft lips.

“Seb—”

She wanted to chastise him, to chase his thoughts all the way through, but he kissed her to distraction, warm hands cupping her head gently as he whispered love into her mouth. She smiled and sighed and kissed him back, arms wrapped around his neck to hold him to her. The buttons of his jacket pressed into her chest, and it made her body sing to know that just beyond a few layers of linen, it was him, and he was all hers.

“Mmmm walk now,” she mumbled as they parted. “Kisses later.”

“Promise?”

The waves caressed the rich black sands and pulled away, and the sounds of laughing children, distant songs, and circling dizzy birds in flight faded as they got lost within each other, whether talking or in silence, in their slow afternoon walk.

And when they returned between the cool and aged walls of their home, with sand on their boots and the sun’s warmth still in their hair, she kept her promise plenty-fold, and kissed and kissed and kissed Sebastian until he blushed and giggled, his cheeks filling up her hands. She had learned to give him all the love he wanted, and so finally gave herself permission to take her own share of love in return.

#Sebastian Sallow #hl #Sebastian Sallow imagine #Sebastian Sallow x reader #Sebastian Sallow x MC #Sebastian Sallow fanfiction #sswallow;made a thing #sswallow;fanfics #fanfic;danger and delight

[leviathism]

lucifer x gender neutral reader

On rare days, the R.A.D. newspaper felt sorry for you.

You had found this out when one time, on a random day out of the week, you had been bored out of your mind in class. So, you had slipped out into the hallway and picked up one of the papers up from the newspaper stands. You opened it while you ate a bag of chips and began to read.

Asmodeus had been caught with yet another mysterious man. That was normal. Mammon donated to charity? Probably fake. You had flipped it over and paused at a photo of you and Lucifer, shoulder to shoulder but with a perceivable gap between the two of you.

You looked to the title.

Human Exchange Student Forced into Life in the Devildom, Forced into a Loveless Relationship?

It was a long title. They should probably work on that.

Long story short, the newspaper club had decided that since you and Lucifer never initiated anything romantic in public, that the two of you hated each other. Secretly. While being in a relationship.

You ate another chip and flinched at the crunch being suspiciously loud. You looked at the bag and screamed like a little girl being scared by a rat. You had been eating Chips with Fried Demonic Scorpion Bits.

Being rushed to the Devildom hospital was embarrassing. Being allergic to Fried Demonic Scorpion Bits after screaming so loud Lord Diavolo himself had come to the scene was embarrassing. Being told by Barbatos that the scream was so high pitched he couldn’t tell it was you was so embarrassing. 

Being the star of the week’s Newspaper titled “Human Exchange Student eats Scorpion Bits to try and Escape Loveless Relationship” was horrifying, yet entertaining at the same time.

The picture had been Belphegor holding your tongue down so you didn’t suffocate to death. The irony.

Asmodeus had read it aloud to you when he had come to visit, feeling particularly guilty because he had given the snack to you to eat.

Mammon had snatched it out of his hand and rolled it up to smack him in the head with it. “Is this really the time for this?!”

“It’s always the time for drama, my dear brother.” Asmodeus pouted, rubbing at the side of his head.

Lucifer took the newspaper and unrolled it, reading over it again silently. He smirked and nodded. “I’ll have this framed above our bed.”

You rolled your eyes, reaching for your Scorpionless chips to eat. Beel had snuck them in for you.

“What a weird thing to be proud of,” Satan grumbled, standing up to leave. He triggered the rest of the brothers to do the same, each wishing you to get better soon to be discharged.

Lucifer tossed the paper in the trash, standing up to sit by your side now that his family was gone. “Did you know that you were allergic to scorpions?”

“I think everyone is back in the human world.” You thought for a moment. “Or something. Poisonous, venomous. I dunno, I never really encountered a lot of scorpions. I never ate them either. Found out when my tongue started swelling.”

He nodded, taking your hand to set it in his lap to stroke it with his pointer finger. You wanted to move to mold yourself into his skin but you were too tired and sore to even think about the tremendous journey of a few inches to his side.

He seemed to be able to tell you wanted close to him by how you were looking at him. He smiled and leaned in to kiss your forehead.

The next week at school, you took a peek at the newspaper racks.

Lucifer Pretends to Care for Human Exchange Student. You sighed. They’d never change.

But now the picture was cut out and framed in Lucifer’s study, wrinkled and in black and white, but still a perfect shot of Lucifer’s affection for you.

testing if the queue works :(

#obey me x gender neutral reader #obey me x reader #lucifer x reader #obey me x gn reader #obey me fluff

[storyofmychoices]

Happy Birthday, Olivia!

[Bryce Lahela x Olivia Hadley Masterlist]

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x Olivia Hadley (F!OC) Book: Open Heart Word Count: ~950 Rating/Warning: General; all the pure fluff with these two

Synopsis: Bryce has a special surprise for Olivia to celebrate her birthday (March 9).

This precious birthday art is by the amazing and talented ArtbyAinna!

Colorful decorations hung on the walls of the pediatric lounge. A large Happy Birthday sign covered the window. Multicolored balloons bobbed around the room, bright and cheerful cards dangling from the ends of their long, shiny gold ribbon. The room hummed with hushed excitement as little faces hid behind whatever they could find to be out of sight of the doorway. 

"I'll be right back!" 

🎈 💝 🎈💝 🎈💝 🎈

Bryce wrapped his arms around Olivia as he found her filling out charts at the nurses' station. "Got a minute?"

She shook her head lightly. "Really? Right now?"

"I'll make it quick!" He whispered into her ear, his breath tickling her sensitive skin. He pressed his lips to her neck, leaving a lingering kiss.

She shivered beneath his touch, her head clouding, thoughts of the file in front of her fading. Her face flushed, matching her copper hair. "Okay."

He grabbed her hand, pulling her forward before she could change her mind.

"Bryce," she giggled in reply as he practically dragged them at a sprint pace. "What's gotten into you?"

"You said quick." He shrugged with a wink in her direction, pressing onward.

Olivia's focus shifted back behind her as they passed by the supply closet they were familiar with (for reasons) without ever slowing. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see." His words dripped with mystery, his smile covering his entire place. 

They turned the corner heading to the end of the pediatric floor that overlooked the front of the hospital. 

"Bryce will you tell me what's going on," she demanded as he guided her forward. 

"Here we are!" Bryce made a quick turn into the pediatric wing's lounge.

Her confusion faded to wonder. "What is all this?" She marveled, her bright eyes glistening, her hand still in Bryce's as he turned back toward her.

A loud chorus of "Surprise" and "Happy Birthday" sang around her cutting off Bryce's reply as children with smiling faces popped out and others rushed into the room.

Olivia didn't know where to turn first. The once quiet scene quickly erupted into pleas for her to read the cards, each child hoping theirs would be the first. They ushered her forward, leaving Bryce to watch as the children doted over her, helping her to the couch and placing a paper crown on her head. Hugs and laughter filled the space as Olivia's heart swelled with adoration and appreciation from all the special attention. 

As the wave of children began to thin, a soft tug pulled at the end of her sleeve. Olivia looked down, finding one of her young patients, curling her finger back toward herself, requesting Olivia to move closer. 

"Happy Birthday," she cheered, throwing her arms around Olivia's neck. 

"Thank you, Maddy." She hugged the girl back.

"Can I tell you a secret," she whispered.

"Of course, you can." Olivia turned her head to the side.

Maddy whispered in her ear, "I think Dr. Bryce like likes you. Not regular like, but the really like likes!"

"You think so?" She feigned shock.

Maddy nodded fervently. "He's looking at you right now!"

Olivia glanced up, trying to temper her growing smile as she met Bryce's warm, adoring gaze. 

"Don't look!" Maddy quickly warned, throwing her little hands in front of Olivia's face. "But did you see his smile?"

"I did!"

"He smiled A LOT when he was telling us about the party. He helped us with our cards, too." 

Olivia couldn't help but steal another glance at Bryce, who was helping a little boy with his juice box. 

"Dr. Olivia?" 

"Yes, Maddy?"

"Do you like like Dr. Bryce back?" Her green eyes shimmered with promise. 

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"Yes! I'm real good at secrets. I never told anyone that my daddy took me for ice cream before dinner, twice! So, I'm a good secret keeper."

Olivia chuckled at the girl's innocence; she leaned closer. "I do like like Dr. Bryce."

"Eeee!" The little girl bounced up and down in place effortlessly as if propelled by an invisible trampoline. "I knew it! I knew it! I knew it!" 

"Shh," Olivia attempted (and failed) to quiet her. "It's our secret, remember!"

"Oh yeah! Well, do you think you and Dr. Bryce will hold hands now? That's what people who like like each other do!" She nodded in agreement with her own words, her feet still bouncing as she danced in place. "Do you think—"

"Why don't we let Dr. Olivia get back to her party?" Maddy's mom swooped in to save Olivia from any more questions from her inquisitive daughter. "Sorry!"

"She's sweet. You know I love our Maddy girl!"

"Bye," Maddy waved before pointing to Bryce. "Go now!"

Olivia giggled, making her way to Bryce.

"What was that about?" His brow rose in question.

"A certain curious little girl seems to think that you might—" Olivia tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and batted her lashes shyly. "Well, she thought you might like like me and that maybe if you did, we should hold hands. What do you think about that?"

He laced his hand with hers, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in reply. 

"So it's true?" She challenged with wide eyes, nudging him playfully with her shoulder.

"It is. I do like like you, Dr. Olivia."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Maddy bouncing again and tugging on her mom's arm while pointing at the two of them. Olivia smiled, brushing a kiss on Bryce's cheek. "I like like you, too, Dr. Bryce." 

A mix of cheers and ooo's surrounded them. Some patients covered their eyes and pulled their faces.

"Thank you for everything."

A/N: Today is Olivia's birthday so I wanted to write something special for her. I hope you enjoy this silly little story with my two favorite rays of sunshine. I know it's not perfectly polished but if I wanted to post on her birthday, I needed to finish up, so here we are.

Thank you for the support and for making it this far. I am truly grateful to each and every one of you. Thank you for supporting my sunshine OTP.

#bryce lahela #bryce lahela x mc #bryce lahela x oc #bryce oph #open heart #open heart 2 #playchoices #choices #choices game #olivia hadley #bryce x olivia #brylivia #somc #lovealexhunt #open heart 3 #oph bryce #fan fiction #fan art #open heart fan art #my commission #brylivia commission #march2023 #fanfiction

[iamvegorott]

Meeting A Magical Man Pt. 44

Part 1: Link Prev: Link Next: Link

“Again, with an audience and a larger one this time.” Dark stated flatly, seeing everyone arrive in the training room. “Anti, watch Chase. Wilford handle Mare, and JJ take care of Marvin. Madrick, come here.” He gave orders like it was second nature and beckoned Mad to him with a finger. Mad made a face, and he looked at Mare, anxiety, and fear thick in his eyes. Marvin knew that feeling of not wanting to do something but not having a choice because you know your life is at risk if you refuse. “Madrick. Now.” 

“It’s okay,” Mare whispered, and Mad nodded before walking over to Dark. 

“Do you have your contract?” Dark asked. 

“Yeah.” Mad reached into his back pocket and pulled out the folded contract. “Here.” 

“Hm.” Dark hummed when he took the paper, unfolding it and face hardening at what he saw. “What is this?”

“Adjustments to wording and crossing out of things beyond my morals,” Mad answered. 

“You changed my contract?” Dark gripped the paper and crinkled it in his hand. 

“That’s what you do with one as you work through negotiations.” Mad’s voice was clear that he saw nothing wrong with what he’d done. 

“That’s not how this works, Madrick.” Dark took a step forward, and Mad took one back. “You do not change anything. You have no say in what I put in my contracts.” There was a shift in the air as Dark’s anger started to swell. “You do what I say. You do not question it.” Mad’s back hit a wall, and he looked up at Dark as the other man used his height to his advantage and towered over him. “You are my apprentice.” 

“No,” Mad said softly, his face beginning to harden as if he caught Dark’s anger. “You are not my mentor. You can rot and-” 

Smack.

“Mad!” Mare tried to rush over after Dark slapped Mad across the face, but Wilford caught him, and JJ did the same to Marvin. Anti held an arm out, warning Chase not to even try. 

“I’ve dealt with stubbornness before. I’ve dealt with sass and insults. Your mouth is not the problem. You are a danger to yourself and everyone you could ever care about. I am your only chance at not dying or killing everyone around you. You ran from Actor. He’ll want you back, but only to kill you and prevent you from causing havoc.” Dark stated harshly. “I could save us all a lot of trouble and kill you myself.” 

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Mare raised a hand for a spell, but Wilford caught him again, twisting his arms and hands so he was trapped against him in a way that prevented him from being able to move his hands, preventing him from using magic. “Let me go! Let me go right now!” Mare demanded, trying to yank himself away and ignoring the pain that brought him. 

“Mare!” Mad tried to take off, but a hand on his throat stopped him. His eyes widened as he got pressed against the wall, that hand squeezing just hard enough to make it hard to breathe.

“You need to stop pushing your luck, Madrick.”

“Actor…was your…mentor.” Mad gasped, trying to get as much air as possible in his lungs to speak. “You’re just…like him.” He added his explanation before his hands went to Dark’s wrist, air now fully cut off. 

“Shut up, now,” Dark growled his warning. “I’ve allowed you too much grace. I’ve bent my own rules and regulations and allowed you more freedom than I should have. I should have kept you in here from the beginning.”  

“Dark! Stop it!” Marvin got out before he got kicked to the ground by JJ, quickly grabbing his hands and pinning them to his upper back as a knee pressed against the center of it. 

“Sorry.” JJ’s voice said in Marvin’s head.

“Dude! You’re hurting him!” Chase shouted and wished he could go over to help, but the grip Anti had on his shoulder told him if he moved, he’d get knocked down as well. “Wilford, tell him to stop!” He tried pleading with his old friend. “Wilford, please! You know this isn’t right!” 

“Anti. Send Chase out of here.” Dark ordered. 

“What? But-”

“Now.” 

“Fine.” Anti grabbed Chase’s arm, and in a blink, they were in the hallway. “Fucking, idiot!” He cursed and let Chase go. “He’s being so stupid!” 

“Is he going to kill Mad?” Chase looked at the door, hearing the shouts muffled behind it. 

“He better not. Or I’m kicking his ass.” Anti huffed. “He’s acting like a feral dog trapped in a corner, and I hate it when he does that!” He raised his voice despite knowing he wouldn’t be heard over the chaos inside the room. “Maybe Wilford will tell him to stop. He doesn’t like seeing others getting hurt. He hates seeing Dark like that more than I do. Man’s known him his whole life. He knows what happened to Marvin, but his job is to do what he’s told. To be the muscle…he’s supposed to be the softer voice, but Dark doesn’t always listen. He never listens, no matter how much it’s screamed at him if it’s a matter of his damned pride. His pride makes everything so hard.” Anti rubbed at his face as he rambled, speaking as if he forgot Chase was even there. 

Chase waited and watched as Anti seemed to sink into himself. His shoulders slumped as he scrubbed at his eyes, looking as if he was resisting the urge to cry. He sounded so hurt and tired. Like he wanted to scream more. Like he wanted to get back in there and stop Dark, help him from going too far. Chase couldn’t help but think of how Anti acted around Dark to be somewhat similar to how Marvin was…

Chase knew what he had to do.

What to do to stop all of this.

To save the others.

To get them all back home and away from all of this.

He kept his eyes on Anti’s back, making sure he wasn’t about to face him as he slowly reached a hand behind his own. Chase felt his heart start beating faster, stomach feeling heavier as he took the handle of the gun he had tucked into his jeans. 

The gun was a precaution he bought so many years ago. He bought it as a backup to protect his family.

And now he was using it to do so. 

“I’m sorry, Anti,” Chase said, and as Anti turned to him, he slammed the butt of the gun against his head, knocking him down. 

----------

Tags: @brokentimewatch @bookwormscififan @d-structive @rainymae523 @ashtonisvibing

#meeting a magical man #trickshot #veggie writes

[herrscherrofyatta]

Hi! May I ask you a Fu Hua x reader where they fail some very important mission and think they're a failure and they're comforted by Fu Hua (which is totally familiar with the notion)? Reader is an ex-Schicksal specialist that when knows of Fu Hua death leave and find her months later alive (as canon events).

Thanks a lot!

Comforts and Reunions

Fu Hua x Gn!Reader

Hello! Thank you for requesting Fu Hua content, it's very much needed honestly. Hope you enjoy!

Fu Hua walked in to your room to hear a glass shattering from in it and she quickly saw you hunched over your desk, clearly frustrated, some papers wrinkle under your hands as you crush them.

Did something go wrong in your meeting today? You seemed so excited for it as you worked hard on something entrusted to you by Otto himself as he saw something great potential in you.

You grit your teeth, remember how the meeting concluded upon seeing how your hard working mission went drown the drain.

You don't understand, you went through the trouble of getting the samples first hand despite not being a fighter, you had Hua to help you and the many tests you made, to be make sure everything went well. So why....why did everything go wrong when it was time to demonstrate.

'You have so much potential, Y/n. No doubt you're be with Dr. Tesla and Einstein in due time if you continue walking this path.'

You close your eyes upon remembering Otto's words of praise, not feeling how your hand was gripping some of the pieces of glasses, blood staining the papers that no longer held importance to you now.

"Y/n, are you alright?" You freeze, feeling Hua's hand on your shoulder, bringing you out of your thoughts as you let out a shaky breathe.

"..I'm fine." You muster up, lying through your teeth as you refuse to let her see the frustrated tears running down your face.

She stares at your back, taking a step back before sitting down on your bed as you step away from the table, refusing to face her.

"How did the meeting go?" She asks.

You pause and kneeled down to pick up the shattered glass with your bare hands, not caring if you cut yourself.

She gets up quickly making your stop and that's when she sees your tear strained face as you avoid her eyes.

She lifts her hand up to your face, caressing it softly as she tells you to go sit down while she brings the first aid kit.

No words are exchanged as she bandages up your hands, cleaning the wounds to make sure they didn't infect.

Afterwards, she puts it away before sitting beside you again and after a few moments, you speak words that made her frown.

"I'm a failure," you hair fall over your face as you look down, feeling defeated. "Months of research and a waste of your time for something that just went down the drain....I'm sorry." You mutter, tears swelling up in your eyes again, bags visible under your eyes as a sign that you dedicated yourself to this.

Hua rubs your back gently, "you're not a failure. You have missions where you'll fail and some you don't, Tesla and Einstein had their ups and downs to get where they're at. No one is perfect."

She says softly to as you lean your head on her shoulder, running her fingers through your hair as she comfort you.

"Get some proper rest for now," You close your eyes and doze off almost immediately at the sound of her voice.

—

You stand in front of a contain filled with liquid, eyes widen as you couldn't believe what you saw.

"Hua?" You mutter, your eyes examine her body and spot a bullet hole on her forehead. The blood had long stopped due to the healing pod she was in.

The door opens behind you as you quickly look behind to see Otto standing there, "Oh, do this is where you were at, I was looking for you." You shiver upon seeing him smile at you, fear evident in your eyes as you see him put a golden gun on a table.

"What did you do?" You whisper as you connected the dots.

He smiles at you, "hm? What do you mean?"

"What did you do to Hua?!" You yell at him, "you shot her, didn't you!"

You run at him, not caring of what he can as Hua was already dead, there not much to live for now. You take a hold of his collar, lifting him as you glare at him, tears in your eyes.

"She got in the way." He says it so calm that it makes your blood boil.

"And you killed her!?"

He takes a hold of your hand, catching you off guard as he pushes you away, hitting the pod that held Hua's body.

Groaning due to the impact, you wince as you see him looking at you.

"I expect you to behave as you normally do, do let this interfere with your natural talent. You don't want to a failure now, don't you?"

You freeze up at his words as you push yourself off the pod, watching his movements before rushing to where he left the gun, aiming at him.

He looks back at you and a loud bang is heard, his body falls to ground, blood spilling onto the floor as you quickly run to where the controls are to get Hua out of the pod. Your face turns into a confused one but quickly push the button to get her out of there.

You didn't care if your clothes got wet due to the substance she was just in as you reach out for her wrist, while you reach for the ribbon in your hair and you quickly tie it on her. Before closing the pod again. You knew even if you set it to the heal, there would be no use as the gun shot killed her instantly.

You turn to leave the room to pack your things before anyone discovered Otto's dead body but glance at Hua. Forcing yourself to say goodbye to her as you run away, tears rolling down your face as your chest is filled with agony.

(5 months later)

You finally arrived at Kolosten, a day later after leaving the city where you worked at. Theresa had sent some people for you, wanting your help with something important since Tesla and Einstein were looking for some extra hands.

A boarding the hyperion, you're met with some familiar faces as they catch you up on the events happening.

"Y/n, it's nice to see you again." You look up to see Theresa as you smile at her.

"It had been a while," everyone else walks away, leaving you two catch up, walking to a more suitable place to speak.

"It was hard trying to locate you after you left," she starts off, "Kiana told me you helped her when she was in the city, I can't thank you enough."

You remember running into the girl and fully knowing who she was since Otto had filled you in on the details of her situation.

"Without her information about you, we wouldn't have been able to find you. I'm glad you accepted my request despite everything Otto has done."

You frown, pulling the black coat closer as you remember what led you to leave and the familiar feeling of sadness comes over you again.

"I have a score to set with Otto so if it means I could help defeating him, I'm willing to help you with anything." You two smile at each other before she guides you two where to where two familiar faces where at.

"Y/n? Is that you?" Tesla looks surprised upon seeing your changed appearance. You nod your head at her words, smiling slightly at her. She lights up a bit, "it's been a while, how've you been?" She shakes your hand as Einstein looks up from what ever they were working on.

"Leaving was difficult for me...but it had to done, sorry for not saying anything."

The blue haired simply shook her head, "it's fine, I heard from Kiana that you helped around the city."

"That's right, had to put my skills into something that actually helped people rather than working under Otto."

The three of you soon after gathered around, discussing what they were working on before you arrived.

Theresa quietly left the room in search of Kiana.

—

"...Kiana should be around here." You mutter as you look around the streets you're roaming. You don't notice the figure approaching you from behind.

"Y/n? Is that you?"

You freeze and slowly look back to see Fu Hua there. "Hua?" You mutter as tears start to build up in your eyes the longer you stare at her.

It wasn't until she smiles the smile you grew to miss all theses months, "Hua!" you ran to her, wrapping your arms around her as she sob, your hands gripping her clothes, afraid she would disappear again.

"You're alive.....am I dreaming?" You cup the side of her face, tears rolling down your face as you look at her as she continues to smile gently at you.

Your bottom lips trembles, "I....I saw what Otto did to you all those months ago, I-I left you there, I thought you were dead."

You go back to hugging her tightly, your sobs refusing to stop as she caresses your head, listening to your cries as a single tear rolls down her face as she buries her face in your hair.

"I'm back, N/n."

She mutters.

a/n: I think I got too invested in this-

#honkai 3rd #honkai impact x reader #honkai impact #honkai x reader #fu hua honkai #fu hua #fu hua x reader #honkai fuhua

[pastrygeckos]

Felt soooo bad for Flan last night, she had managed to get the shed off of the most of her body after we helped with her face, but after an additional 24 hours and two saunas, we had to help out with her toes and such, plus we needed to have a look at her eye and flush it a bit. And on top of it all, she'd apparently bit herself in the tail during shedding, so when we came to get the skin off she started bleeding a little and I absolutely panicked thinking it was our fault (but upon flushing and disinfecting with reptile-safe wound cleaner, we could clearly see the little dotted marks from her tiny teeth) 😩 We're still not sure if we're getting anywhere with her eye, she definitely did get the new shed/cap off herself, but it's almost like it's actually her eyelid that's more affected than the eye now hhhh.

She's really splooting down onto the heat for naps recently (she likes her heat mat a little bit hotter than the others, 32-33°c instead of 31-32°, but the ambient temperature has been going down recently as the weather cools).

I'm adding a cut here, for long post reasons. More in-depth info about the current situation.

Basically, the next step if we're not able to work it out ourselves, would be to take her in to the vet to put her under to really get in there, but we're not very confident that she would actually survive that. So between digging into info, getting help and advice from an admin from Geckos Unlimited, observing her at home and attempting various treatments (we now know it's not an infection, or the antibiotic drops would've helped, and after seeing the vet apply dye, we know it's not a cut or an ulcer), we are also really desperate to leave her alone as much as possible. It's gotten more difficult for us to get a good look at her eye, because she's caught on, and now closes them whenever she sees us. Obviously yesterday we had to help her out, and flush her eye, so now we wait ~again~ and cross our fingers once more.

All in all, the things we've been doing, include:

Keeping her humid hide moist

Keeping a paper towel sauna with an opening in the tank that she can go in and out voluntarily

Keeping a small dish with moist cotton on the warm side to increase humidity (conveniently, she likes laying her face right on top of it)

Adding vitamin drops with Vitamin A and retinol in her water dish

Gut loading feeders with lots of vegetables and insect food formula

Giving her a full-on sauna every 3-4 days in an (aerated) feeder tub by putting wet paper towel into the tub, closing the lid, and placing it over the heat mat so it steams up with condensation (she goes in for 10-15 minutes)

Keeping a close look on her eye

Note any changes in her condition

Flushing her eye with saline as needed (in attempts to flush away foreign objects and/or eye goop)

If you have any other additional advice or anything (would something like a video of the eye help?), please let us know.

Took her to the vet, they saw the swelling but she wouldn't open her eye after having dye put into it, and it looked a bit 'sticky' so we did a course of antibiotic eye drops. When we came back home, we were able to see her eye properly while the dye was still there, and confirm there were no cuts or marks on it

Adding a rough rock to rub on, in addition to various cork bark

She's mad grumpy lately but I can't blame her!

#flanwatch2023 #i hate this #i want my little baby to be ok #eye stuff is so awful i know #i want her to get it over with so she can relax more again #🤞🤞🤞 #sick animal #sick pet #flan the gecko #leopard gecko #gecko #lizard #reptile #photo #reptiblr

[katacanons]

hii i love a good love letter event. may i have a nsfw letter from kid to an old lover who has left to pursue their own thing? and could it be addressed to gloria pls! thank you!!

Hi Ares!!! thanks for the request. this is the first time I've ever written Kid but I hope you enjoy it. I had a lot of fun writing this!  💜

Kid x fem! OC character

WARNING: Kid and Gloria, a bounty hunter, are former lovers. They haven't seen each other in a while but Kid's curiosity gets the best of him when he sees her in the newspaper. Kid is a little bitter (and a lot jealous), some pining within

Canonverse, Minors and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT⚠️

CW: NSFW. SMUT. Toxic relationship. Possessiveness. Marking. Unprotected sex. Degradation. humilation (?), name-calling, implied pet play, friends with benefits, open relationship, cursing, spanking, choking, so many other kinks, etc. Low-key stalking

Word count: 680

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

Fox,

What is this I’ve been hearing you’re an actress now? 

I was having a fine morning til I got the papers with your face right on the front page.

You may fool the World Government but I know those jewelry when I see them. I know because I made them

“Geneva: Aphrodite Reborn” Has a nice ring to it. Has bounty hunting finally bored you? You never did like commitment

But it sounds a little desperate even for you, don’t you think?

Huh. Way to make things interesting, Gloria

Do those guys you’re with know where those piercings came from? I wonder if they know that you think of me whenever they suck on them

Do they know how you cried like a baby when I pushed the metal through your plump skin?

How you cried and gagged when I pushed my cock deep in your warm, needy throat?

How you got goosebumps whenever I held your body in place at the workshop all naked?  

How you sweetly suggested to wear a metal collar so I can choke you with it with my powers?

How you moaned whenever I ate your little hole out, always so fucking wet and tight and delicious for me? Do you miss my taste, fox? You always seemed too eager to please when it was just the two of us

How you begged me to fill you up nice and swell with my cum, not caring if it’s in your mouth or cunt so long as it’s inside?

How you’d greet me every night by being on all fours at the bed, chest down, ass up with nothing but that fucking thong

That stupid fucking thong you left as the only goodbye the day you disappeared

You were always a tease. Is this one of your games, Gloria?

I wonder if those men know how at the end of every session you’d be too fucked out to clean yourself, my cum marking every inch of your body

How we’d fuck for hours on end we’d lose track of time?

How you’d laugh as you bounced off my cock, lewd sounds coming out of your mouth and pussy, chasing your high. Clawing at my chest while your hot cunt convulsed around me… Dammit

I still have the scars to prove it

How your little mouth would suck at my fingers so damn hard just so the whole crew wouldn’t hear you scream my name outta sheer pleasure? Which I told you was useless when everyone could hear the bed knocking against the wall anyway

Don’t tell me you don’t miss being filled up until I can see that bulge on your stomach as I fucked you raw and rough that your legs gave out? I had to carry you to the tub a dozen times

How I took such good care of you afterwards?

We may have fought all too often for my liking but even you’d be lying if you said our sex life wasn’t fucking fantastic

It’s no use trying to make me jealous, I already know how much you want to see me. Why else would you fucking pull off this stunt? 

Funny. You were always so cold at one point I even convinced myself you didn’t have a heart to begin with. But this is low even for you

By the looks of it, it seems like you forgot all our happy memories. Maybe I’ll forgive you if you can keep up with me

All I need is a day to track you down. Anyone who wants to get in my way can go to hell. I won’t believe anyone til I hear the truth from you. I just know you can’t lie to me, not when you’re too busy being too blissed out from pleasure underneath me. My good little “Aphrodite"

Let me be so kind to remind you again of our fun times. You can just thank me in person with your mouth

I wanna see if your perky little nipples still have those rings on ‘em

I’ll find you

Kid

#sweetthing♡ #loveletter♡ #eustass captain kid #eustass kid x reader #kid x reader #one piece kid #one piece eustass kid #one piece x reader #eustass kid smut #eustass captain kid smut #eustass captain kid x reader

[buck-yyyy]

holy shit holy shit holy SHIT i am having THOUGHTS about will's body

so i was reading this post (please do read it, it's really interesting!) about will's body and what it could possibly represent in season five, and it got me back to thinking about some stuff.

warning for in depth discussion of the decomposition process and dead bodies ahead!

so, like the OP of that post said, it's really weird that they were able to procure a copy of will's body when they'd supposedly never seen him before, and there's of course all the theories about will being a lab kid or him seeing brenner etc etc

but my question is- why the fuck does will's body look like that?

i've talked about this before, back in september, in this post, and though there's a few mistakes in that information, i'll try to summarize it briefly here- the state that the fake body is in doesn't match what it should look like.

will's body was supposedly in the water for three days, between november 6th and 9th. that's THREE DAYS for the body to begin to decompose. and yes, the process is slowed from the cooler temperatures of the water- but!

"The typical decomposition changes proceed more slowly in the water, primarily due to cooler temperatures and the anaerobic environment. However, once a body is removed from the water, [the decaying process] will likely be accelerated." (a warning that this link includes medical but graphic images of dead bodies! please proceed with EXTREME CAUTION! THESE IMAGES ARE INCREDIBLY DISTURBING!) essentially, even just from this fragment of information, we can assume that the lab would've had to have TWO copies of the body had they been looking for a realistic replica, because of the way that decomposition process speeds up as soon as it's removed. even within a day, large changes will take place, and the body can look completely different.

later in that research paper, the author talks about the position that drowned bodies are usually found in. "If the individual has drowned, typically the body will initially submerge and assume what has been called the “drowning position.” This is where the anterior aspect of the individual faces the bottom of the body of the water and the extremities and head hang downward toward the bottom while the individual's back is toward the surface". this phenomenon is notable here because it leaves visible marks- mud across the body where it scraped against the bottom, especially in shallow waters (which, quarries are often known for having uneven depths. it's likely that there would be a lot of shallow areas). additionally, the skin will have bruises and cuts, especially on hands, knees, foreheads, and feet, again from scraping against the water. we see not a single abrasion on will's body, the skin is completely smooth.

even underwater, the human body swells with the post-mortem production of gasses, which is often what brings drowned bodies to the surface to be found. the skin can look misshappen as the body swells heavily- and will was exactly the same size as he really is! no swelling!

alright, and you know how when you're in the shower too long, and your fingertips get all wrinkly and weird? yeah, that happens to dead bodies too, to an even more extreme effect because of the prolonged exposure to water. at a certain point, the skin will even begin to slough off, creating a peeling effect (though, i'm not sure how long that takes to occur. couldn't find a reference for that, so i'm not sure of it's relevance.) you'll see this wrinkling of the fingers and hands even after they've been removed from the body of water for an extended period of time- and guess who has smooth hands?

and, last but certainly not least, predators. as awful as it is, animals need to eat, and a dead body is an easy lunch. insects, birds, and marine animals will ALL feed on a dead body, leading to further cuts and abrasions to the skin. this is a very easy thing to spot, and it WILL happen- it takes no amount of time for it to begin. if anything, it'll happen sooner to the actual date of death than further along in the decomposition process. but will's skin is pristine! there's no bite marks, no insect bites, no chunks missing- it's goddamn perfectly intact.

we see will's "body" in the morgue twice- once when joyce and jonathan have to identify it, and once when hopper cuts it open, and it shows no sign of having been submerged for any period of time. instead, it looks like any old corpse that died above land. in my opinion, based off of my research, this body was not intended to imply a death by drowning.

we know that the lab paid off the people at the morgue + the state police, and that they did their best to prevent the hawkins police from accessing the body, but no matter what, the question remains: if the coverup plan was that will fell into the quarry and either died on impact or drowned, then WHY THE HELL DOES IT LOOK LIKE THAT, because it implies the body wasn't intended to be used for that purpose- so how were they originally planning on using it.

anyways i promise i'm sane please don't put me on a list

#aaaghfhjkdf will's body drives me fucking insane #stranger things #stranger things theory #will byers #tw death #tw drowning #tw dead body

[scriveyner]

gifts & curses 14

gifts & curses: 14/30 wc: 1469 rated: M

Masayoshi sat on the bare concrete floor and watched the dawn through the grimy windows. He couldn’t see the sun from this side of the building, but instead its reflection from the outside world. He hadn’t been able to go back to sleep, the revelation bringing a flood of emotions that threatened to drown him. Masayoshi touched his breastbone with his fingers, felt where the comfortable weight of the ring should lay, and felt ashamed that he could ever forget.

“You’re up early,” the vampire’s voice came from the corner of the room. Masayoshi tilted his head, smelled the food, and looked over to see him carrying a paper sack in one hand.

“I remember,” Masayoshi said, rising in a smooth motion. “I remember it all, and I’m leaving. I have to get in touch with Hidenori, he must be going out of his head with worry by now.”

Masayoshi was easily a head taller than the dark-haired vampire, but he still managed to look completely unimpressed by Masayoshi’s pronouncement. He shoved the bag of food at Masayoshi, who caught it against his chest. “Didn’t you hear me?” Masayoshi said. “I’m leaving.”

“Sit down, Hazama,” he said. “You’re not going anywhere yet, especially not like—”

The snarl cut him off—and he was fast, but Masayoshi was faster, his huge paw pinning the vampire to the concrete floor, pressing down on his chest with enough force to crack bone. “-that,” the vampire finished, wheezing the breath between clenched teeth, both of his hands on Masayoshi’s leg and somehow keeping him from caving in his entire rib cage, arms locked tight. Masayoshi’s muzzle was too close to his face, lips curled back in a snarl. “But thanks for proving my point.”

All at once, Masayoshi came back to himself. He nearly tripped over his feet scrambling backward, on two feet and human again already, staring at his hands wide-eyed and terrified. “I, I—I’m sorry,” he said, taking another step back. The vampire sat up and exhaled, rubbing his chest. “I don’t know what just happened…”

“And that’s why you can’t leave yet,” he said simply. “Because you don’t have that under control. You can’t be doing that to regular people who piss you off, you’ll kill them.”

Masayoshi stumbled over the bag of food and sat down hard. The adrenaline rush faded, the ghost of the anger he’d felt already gone like it hadn’t been. “What’s happening to me?”

“Nothing you won’t get a handle on.”

Masayoshi ran his shaking hands back into his hair. “What does that even mean?”

“It means that we’re not sure what’s happening to you, exactly, Hazama-kun,” a different, familiar voice said. Masayoshi raised his head and looked over to the corner that the vampire had emerged from—there must be a door there, flush with the wall, that he’d been unable to find previously—and the witchbreed steeped into the sunlight, her hair highlighted in orange.

“Akino-chan,” Masayoshi said and dropped his hands into his lap.

“Oh, he recognizes you,” the vampire said, mostly under his breath, but Masayoshi’s sharp ears caught it and he glanced over to him as he clambered to his feet.

“Maybe if you had taken the time to re-introduce yourself, Martin-kun,” Akino said sweetly, “then perhaps he might have come to his senses sooner.” She looked back to Masayoshi. “We have a lot to discuss.”

“No shit,” Masayoshi said, surprised by the swell of annoyance in his own tone. “But first, I want a phone. I need to talk to Hidenori.” Akino and Rian—the vampire’s name was Rian, he remembered now meeting him at the event and his annoyance spiked into irritation—glanced at each other, and Masayoshi wasn’t having it. “That wasn’t a request.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Rian said.

#

The door to the bedroom slid quietly open. The light in the hall was dim and unfamiliar—there was a hint of sunlight from the other direction and it caught small dust motes in the air. Keiko had never been here before, but a quick glance around told her the layout of the place; a big open space to the right, a small kitchen, an exit to the left—and the scent of visitors was old and faded. There had been others here, recently, but they were gone now.

Except for one strong, familiar scent originating from that open space. She could see the end of a couch from the doorway, but no movement.

Masanori lingered in the dark bedroom. He’d been quiet, even for him—and he didn’t speak when Keiko rattled off her plan in hushed tones—but now he stood in the center of the room holding a bag that had been left atop a change of clothes and staring at it silently. “Why are we leaving?” he asked, his voice whisper-quiet in the darkness. “We’re safe here.”

 “Because,” she hissed back, wishing that Masanori would get it, that they just needed to get away and that she had to do something and not just sit around and wait any longer. She would fall apart waiting for the adults to get it in gear, and the only thing she wanted to do was push forward and complete her objective: find their parents and ride off into the sunset together.

Whatever happened in their wake, well…that wasn’t her concern.

“What about them?” Masanori hadn’t lifted his eyes, talking to the bag in his hands and not to her, not directly. There was something in his voice that she didn’t quite understand, and Keiko let out a disgruntled sigh and stepped away from the door, lit now by the dim hallway light. “What about what happened to Hazama-san? Or Gotou-san, we can’t just leave him after he came to find us…”

“We have to follow this lead to the end, ‘nori,” Keiko said, her hands resting on his shoulders. She tilted her head close to his, bumping their foreheads together, and she felt a stab of confusion when he still didn’t raise his eyes. They had always been on the same page, always together—and there was something here now that she didn’t understand, something between them, silent and invisible. “Masanori?”

“What lead?” Masanori asked, mouth twisting. He took a deep breath and raised his head finally, staring at Keiko with determination. “I’m not leaving, ‘neechan. There’s no lead. There’s nothing to find.”

Keiko stared at her brother, taken aback. “What?”

“It’s not safe out there!” The hunters, the white wolves, the strange, crushing oppression of the city, so diametrically opposed to the forests that he loved. “The white wolf—”

“Hazama killed the white wolf!”

Keiko’s voice was louder than she intended, her words ringing into the silence, and Masanori flinched away from her, out from under her hands and backing away. “Masanori,” Keiko tried again, helplessly, not understanding her sibling’s hesitation. “We gotta do this, ‘nori, they’re never gonna find our parents, they’re not even trying, I guarantee you they’re not!”

Masanori flinched again, physically, and refused to look at her. He held the bag tight to his chest and in the turn of his head she could see the wolf, ears pressed back flat. Keiko hissed out a breath, confusion turning readily to anger. “Fine! Fine then, stay here, see if I care!”

Each word was like a slap, and now Masanori really was back into wolf form, spin pressed against the corner, ears back and head down. He wasn’t whimpering audibly, but she could see him shaking in the dim light. “I’ll just find mom and dad on my own!”

“You won’t,” Masanori said, human again, voice barely a whisper.

“I will,” she snarled, and slammed the door on the way out.

#

Gotou startled away, groggy and disoriented at the gunshot-loud bang of the apartment door. Sleep had been a struggle in coming, lying on a hard, unfamiliar couch and unable to turn his mind off; fighting the certainty that Masayoshi was dead and all he’d have left was a wedding ring and a broken phone, but exhaustion had finally pulled him into a dreamless slumber. He flailed into an upright position, squinting around the room—and the knowledge flooded in like the tide: the kids.

He was on his feet in an instant. The door to the bedroom was open, Masanori standing just inside, eyes wide and looking far younger than he was. “Masanori, where’s Keiko,” Gotou asked, and Masanori said nothing, looking past Gotou toward the entrance.

The front door to the safehouse apartment was sitting just ajar, having not latched after being slammed so hard against its frame. He opened it wide, staring up and down the deserted breezeway, before pushing his hand back through his hair and exhaling heavily.

Fuck.

<< Part 13 || Start || Part 15 >>

#samurai flamenco #gotoyoshi #masagoto #werewolf au 2022 #ongoing #multipart