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[penvisions]

stages of devotion {holiday hustle}

Pairing: Holiday Impaired! Joel Miller x Expert Holiday Baker! Reader

Summary: The holidays came fast this year, but with it comes a father and daughter pair you didn't ever expect to see again.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: holiday triggers, holiday stress, baking stress, food industry triggers, family issues, minor off screen family dynamics, super soft yearning, mutual pining, sexual tension, smut, p in v, creampie, joel's dirty talk deserves its own warning, lemme know if i missed any!

A/N: so its a few days after the holiday that i announced this on. so so sorry for the tease, y'all. finally made it to my "weekend" only to get sick :c trying to make the most of the days though (within reason). love y'all and hope you enjoy this!

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The holiday season sucks.

That’s about all you’re confident in as you twirl the piping bag in your hand for what feels like the thousandth time that morning. There’s an entire rack of pies beside you, tray after tray that needs to be garnished with cremieux and a little chocolate coin that has the first letter of your bakery branded on it in gold. Behind it are three more of the same pie. Behind that are four more of apple.

Apple and pumpkin. The only flavors you offered for the season. One hundred each, plenty enough to keep you afloat for the next month or so if you sell out. Especially if you sell out the display case as well.

Your bakery is small, just you and your friend Colbie. Something to be passed in the blink of an eye on the busy downtown street. But it was born of passion and creativity, a space you carved out in the big scary world all for yourself. You’re none the wiser of how your day will turn out as you continue to pipe the faintly black spotted vanilla over the remaining pies, moving onto fetching things out of the oven as timers begin to go off and garnish the ones already chilled from an earlier bake.

Just down the street, Joel and Sarah are strolling down the sidewalk from where they parked the car at the end of the block.

“Don’t see why the crew needs more food, baby girl.”

“Because we need to show our appreciation for them, dad. They’re working the morning of thanksgiving, for crying out loud.”

“This isn’t exactly a tax write off…”

“Dad!” The exasperated teenager nudges at his side with her shoulder, catching his ribs lightly. But he doesn’t stumble nor do his steps falter, he lets her win a lot of the time but this? He still loves how she tries to roughhouse with him only to realize that he’s always gonna have the upper hand unless he gives into her. Her pout and huff draws a laugh from deep in his chest.

“It’s true! I gotta pay for it all outta my account, not the business. We already picked up breakfast for everyone and half the men are gonna store it in their coolers for a later time.” He pivots her toward the doorway just past a large window display, squares of glass allowing for a glimpse inside a local bakery.

“Don’t you put the catering on the business card?”

“Well yeah, but their overtime for today is coming out of it too.”

“Maybe if we ask the owner, they can discount us or something?” Sarah is suddenly stopping just inside the threshold, watching with wide eyes as her father walks in behind her. The scent of fresh baked bread and flaky pastries welcomes them despite the empty lobby. “Is there a reason you’re so hesitant to use the company card? I thought the business was doing good?”

Joel heaves a heavy sigh, placing both his hands gently on her shoulders to hold her attention and give her all of his.

“Everything is fine, Sarah.” His brown eyes take in the way her own multifaceted ones gleam in the bright sunlight shining in the muted green space the lobby has been painted. Plants alive and well, live wood bar top against the window for people to sit at. “Money is my worry, but there ain’t nothing to worry about okay?”

“We can still ask after a discount, it doesn’t hurt, right?” Suddenly shy, her eyes break contact with his and turn down to her scuffed shoes. “I know that it’s new, but the therapy sessions aren’t exactly cheap or covered by the insurance.”

“Hey now, don’t go worrying about all that either.” Joel’s voice is so soft, floating through the air and sneaking into the kitchen through the siding of the swinging door. You pause in the rosette you were piping atop a cake, just little personal ones with autumnal flowers for the season. “I’m the dad, and that’s a dad thing, okay? You want to keep goin’ and that’s all that matters. Just want you to be okay, that’s all I ever want ‘cause I love you so damn much, okay?”

She nods once, still not bringing her eyes back up but she huffs out a giggle when he leans down and kisses her cheek, deliberately nuzzling the scruff on his cheek against her own.

“Besides, I don’t wanna bother them, baby girl, it’s such a small place.” With that settled they both turn back to the display cause and counter, just in time to see you approach through the window in the door.

“Joel?” There’s no hiding the smile that breaks out across your face as you push through the swinging door that leads separates the kitchen and public area. Even despite the inner turmoil you had endured after first meeting him. The will he won’t he of leaving your number for him…

“Camp lady! Dad, look, it’s her!” The excited teenager hops up and down on her long legs, arms hanging onto one of Joel’s and she jostles him. The slight melancholy of her previous words and worries forgotten with the aid of Joel’s soothing ones and your appearance. “You work here? That’s so cool!”

“Yes, Sarah, honey, I see her.” He rolls his eyes for you to see as she skips forward up to the counter. He looks good, if a little tired. His scruff is longer, body a little leaner than when you had seen him last…two months ago now. You had been so sure he would call or text, reach out in whatever way was easiest for him. And when he hadn’t…you had thrown yourself into work and prep for the holiday season. Reveling in the night you shared and taking it for what it was, not letting the lack of communication taint what had been an electric connection. His eyes are glued to you, ignoring the twirling and excitement of his daughter as she flits in front of the display case.

As you round the corner of the counter and display case, it’s obvious how busy you’ve been in the morning hours as stains darken the fabric. Reaching with a flour dusted hand, you go to shake the man’s hand but he surprises you and pulls you into a tight hug. The smell of his spicy cologne and wood shavings spurs butterflies to life in your belly and heat rise to your cheeks.

“It’s good to see ya, darlin’.” He whispers in your ear, voice all baritone gravel. He releases you just as Colbie enters back in through the front door. You see the way her eyes widen at the show of affection, she knows you better than anyone and casual touch is not something you’re a fan of. But you can tell that she immediately knows who Joel and his daughter are if the sparkle in her eye and the smirk she flashes at you says anything.

“I’m so sorry, I thought I locked the door behind me. Want me to keep it unlocked, we’ve got about fifteen minutes until we’re open.”

“Leaving it open will be fine, do you mind-“ The timer pinned to your apron tie goes off and a second later the one for the oven blares from the kitchen.

“Got it!” And she’s rushing behind the counter to slip back through the sliding door.

Joel looks like he’s about to apologize for barging in, Sarah leading him in the early hour. Coffee thermos left on the counter in the rush and his brain is working overtime without it. The pickup order she had placed with a breakfast place too busy for him to grab something there. You wave him off with a soft smile, not minding the intrusion one bit.

“My dad would not shut up about you on the way home, especially since we still have that air mattress you leant us! Thank you again so much for that, I didn’t want my dad to have to sleep on the ground with his bad back.”

“Hey now, you’re a little too forward with the embarrassing details.” Joel’s bashful words are bathed in an even tone, trying to parent his daughter but still treat her like the independent person that she is.

“So what can I do for you?” You try to fight the slight awkwardness of randomly happening across them as customers in your shop and you swear you see Joel duck his head as he roughs a hand across the back of his neck. Your causal tone and polite smile dousing the hope that had flared in his own chest when you walked out from the kitchen. “I’ve got plenty of pastries, the pies aren’t quite done yet but if you need one or two, I can add the finishing touches real quick?”

“Dad, we should get them pie! Like one each, you think? There’s five on the crew and then the secretaries too, they should get one since they’ll be waiting for us in the office. We can put the bonus checks on top with some pretty stickers! Oooh, dad we gotta stop at the art store now!”

“Sarah, honey, take a breath.” Joel claps hand over her shoulder and she beams up at him. “We only got half an hour to get to the office.”

“Oh, that’s okay! We can still do the pie each thing, right?”

“Whatever you wanna do,” He presses a kiss to the top of her head, her kinky curls flattening as he does so and earns him a grumbled ‘spent so much time on it this morning, old man’.

“So that was seven pies then?” You ask, trying to keep up with the both of them, they’ve got such an easy-going way that they communicate. Their bond obvious and their love pure as you had witnessed back at that campsite, he wants for her to have everything he can give her. It’s admirable, a good man, a good parent.

“Uh, make it ten, please.” Joel steps up to the counter, taking out his wallet from a back pocket. “Half pumpkin, half apple. So folks can pick whichever one they want.”

“Ten, got it. It’s gonna take me a few minutes to finish up, do you want a coffee while you wait?” And you swear his gaze hardens as he looks up to see the price displayed on the screen, card ready to press against the pad after you finished punching in his order on your own side of the register. The same way they had just before he had kissed you, angled toward you in front of that fire, the determination set his face in such an endearing way.

“Would be wonderful, darlin’. Just a black drip, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Hey, just so you know, ‘m sorry I didn’t call.” Joel shuffles on his feet, watching as Sarah starts up the truck and begins to dance to the loud beats he can make out through the cracked window. You had walked out with the pair to help load the bags into the extended cab of the gleaming gray truck. “I wanted to, but-“

“Life is hectic sometimes, it’s okay. I’m not gonna say I wasn’t disappointed, but I do understand.” You know he’s got a lot more going on in his life, with a child he’s raising on his own. The bakery keeps you busy, hours not quite the same as everyone. You never want to feel like you’re holding expectations for a life that just doesn’t fit into your schedule sometimes. And that included Joel, his own busy schedule not allowing for personal indulgences either. It’s hard not to feel like it’s a cruel twist of fate, that you two met only to realize the puzzle pieces of your life don’t quite match up.

“The paper, I had it. Put it in my pocket but my brother snatched the flannel instead of his own at the work site and washed the damn thing.”

“Little brother?” You tilt your head to the side, all too familiar with the chaos of sheer unpredictability one could bring.

“Yep, meddling, clueless little brother.” He’s fascinating, every little detail you learn about him draws you in closer, a pull toward the man you’ve only gotten glimpses of as of yet.

“Mine is pretty clueless too, god love him.”

“But- uh…oddly enough,” A large hand rubs at the back of his neck, the muscles of his arm straining against his flannel sleeve and catching your eye. “Mine is having a small dinner tonight, just us two, Sarah and his wife. Their twins. I know you got work today and don’t really know me at all, but I was wondering if-“

“Apple or pumpkin?” Lips pulling into a wide smile, you swear your heart is about to beat out of your chest, thudding wildly the second you realized where he was going with his explanation of his own holiday plans.

“Huh?”

“Do you want me to bring an apple or pumpkin pie?” You look up at him through your lashes, heat blooming in your chest at the insinuation he wanted you there, at the invitation you hadn’t been extended in years. Everyone always wanted the good you baked, the bread, the skills you had for the kitchen. But they never particularly wanted you around for the holidays. The family disappointment, for not being married, for not having kids, for not finishing school, for being too different.

“Darlin’ you don’t have to bring anything, just want you to come and be my date.”

And he couldn’t have said anything more perfect as you feel your throat constrict and tears well up in your eyes.

“Hey now, I mean it.” He’s shifting, hands reaching for you and you feel a little sorry for the ‘oof’ he lets out when you crash into his open arms. “Wanna get to know you, but only if you want that too. If we can carve out some time for each other.”

“Of course, Joel. That would…that would make me happy.”

“’m droppin’ Sarah off now, gotta head to the site for a few hours but I can pick you up here once I’m done. That sound okay to you?” He looks so hopefully, so happy that he can ask you in person, can ask to see you again now that he’s found you and it melts your heart. You’re sure the smile you give him is just as dopey at the one he’s beaming down at you.

“Yes, that sounds perfect. Here.” You pull away from him just enough to reach into your back pocket and brandish a business card at him. The thick cardstock is embossed in gold lettering, your name and number displayed on it proudly. “This is a little more permanent than a flimsy piece of paper.”

He pulls one of his own business cards out from his wallet as he securely puts yours away.

You continue to feel the warmth of his fingers passing it to you even hours later as you hold piping bags filled with cooled frosting, as you add frills and garnishes to pastries set in the cooler after leaving the oven a nice golden brown. And even as you feel your face heat up at the confrontation Colbie sneaks in throughout the day about your ‘gentleman caller’.

Around noon, Joel’s truck parks out front of the bakery. He’s showered, it looks like it as you see the shine to dark curls. He’s taken a shaver to his scruff as well, it’s not as long as it had been this morning.

“Please tell me you’re closed tomorrow.” Joel taps the hours displayed on the door as he steps through it, the gold lettering telling him that you were in fact not. But open at seven am sharp. Looking up from where you’re closing down the register, you hold up one finger up to indicate you need a moment.

As you continue, you can sense his gaze as it takes in the space you poured your blood, sweat and tears into. Devoted hours to manifesting and making it a reality. The case is completely empty, parchment paper adorned with errant crumbs all that he sees inside through the shiny glass.

When you step out from behind the counter, bag and keys in hand, you clock the second Joel realizes you’ve taken a moment to change as well. No longer in your dirty apron or black athleisure, but in a skirt that flows to about midthigh, tights underneath and a thin sweater. Your hair is down too, now, no longer pulled back into low pigtails and covered with a beanie for safety reasons around the kitchen.

“Darlin’, you look-“ He swallows, tongue watering as he takes in the sight of you all dolled up for him, for a date with him. “You look amazin’.”

“Just some spare clothes I had in my office. Didn’t wanna roll up to your brother’s house covered in flour and chocolate.” He’s shushing you as he ambles up, pressing his lips to your forehead as he cradles your face.

“He wouldn’t have cared and neither would I. Today is about family, no matter their shape or mess, got it? Miller households are safe places, you hear me?”

The drive over to his brother’s is short, the two of them in the same neighborhood but different blocks something that tickles you to know end. Watchful big brother, independent little brother who didn’t want to stray too far. It’s endearing, so different from you own family. Parents live upstate, brother is still in university, opting to live in the dorms instead of with you. Younger sister god knows where now, she pops up every year with a crazy tale of where she ended up for most of the time she had disappeared.

His brother doesn’t seem surprised in the least when Joel shows up on his doorstep with you at his side, his greeting a wide smile and bright eyes. His wife, Maria is just as easy going, just as welcoming. Praising you for bringing dessert and that she had totally blanked on it for after the meal in the hectic planning of the day.

The atmosphere is cozy, holiday cheer abundant despite the temperate Texas weather that plagues the state year round. Sarah is particularly excited to be helping out this year, the first she’s old enough to. A set of twins half her age run around with shrieking laughter as Joel and Tommy chase them around and keep them busy while you help out in the kitchen as well, not wanting to just show up and sit around waiting for everything to be done.

It's so different from your usual meal alone, normally just leftovers from the day before on a tray as you settle in bed and binge watch something once the bakery closes up.

It warms your heart and makes you feel full in a way that being with your family never has. From the easy going conversation with Maria, the light teasing and focus of following instructions from Sarah, stolen glances with Joel, the wide brimming smile of his brother as he realizes that the scene is a little more complete with you there now.

“Tell me I can kiss you, please.” Joe’s lips brush the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver at the vibrations that caress the sensitive skin. He’s been angling closer all afternoon, the couch cushions flattening and sloping. Pooling you closer to where his thick thighs rest, to the intoxicating warmth of his body and the heady smell of his spiced cologne. The movie credits are playing softly on the screen, everyone well fed and just now recovering to tend to things such as packing up leftovers and beginning to organize what was left.

The second you two were alone, Joel had used the arm he had slung up on the back of the couch around your shoulders to tug you in close. Tucking you into him, he used his other hand to pivot your legs into his lap. He’s kneading the skin there, over your tights. Thick fingers daring to trace higher and higher as he pulls back to look into your eyes.

“You’re so goddamn pretty, baby, can’t believe my streak of bad luck.” And at the flash of guilt in the depths of warm brown eyes, you surge forward and kiss him with a ferocity that startles him. The small ‘humph!’ and the tightening of his hand around your thigh curls desire low in your middle as his tongue eagerly meets yours as you part your lips.

“Bad luck, good luck. Doesn’t matter.” You manage between deep kisses, hands threading through the thick locks of chocolate curls atop his head. “We’re here now, I’m here with you.”

“Good.” He’s swallowing the moan that bubbles up from how he presses into you, how he pulls you flush with him.

“Joel! We got a house full of impressionable kids and you’re just makin’ out on the couch with the baker?”

The deep rumble of his chuckle does nothing but make your stomach jolt as heat lances through your core. The sound hitting deep and making you bury your face in the man’s neck as he parts only his lips from yours.

“Gotta embarrass me always, huh?” He’s holding you tight still, hands gripping and knuckles straining with the effort it’s taking to stop his ministrations.

“Just keep it in your pants, we’ve got everything packed up for y’all to take home. Sarah’s tucked into the spare room, helping out this year really took it outta her.”

“That where she snuck off to?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. We can watch her for the night. She don’t go back to school until next week right? Just come get ‘er tomorrow. And you,” Tommy aims twin finger guns at you. “Are welcome back anytime, Maria really appreciated the help in the kitchen but mostly I think she just loved having another woman around to chat with. Seriously, she’s gonna offer to come by the bakery and grab lunch one day soon.”

With that, Tommy saunters back into the kitchen with a snicker of his own and some words you can’t quite make out to the woman in question.

“Well, what do ya think?” Joel moves to whisper in your ear again. “Wanna come back to mine? Or I could take you home? Whichever you want, sweetheart.”

The sudden image of you and Joel tangled up on top of your bed has you kissing him full on the mouth one last time.

“Take me home and then take me to bed.”

Giddy anticipation fills the cab of his truck, the engine ticking as he shuts it off and just sits back for a moment. His eyes find yours and you can’t help the giggle that bursts from your chest, hands tangled and fingers twisting around each other in your lap. His hand reaches and takes one of your own, engulfing it with the sheer size difference. His beautiful hands that craft houses and woodwork, his beautiful hands that raised his amazing, rambunctious but sweet daughter, his beautiful hands that held his young nephew and niece with such care. His beautiful hands that you’ve felt explore your body twice now, the urge for him to do so again so strong it makes you feel dizzy.

“I can leave if you’re nervous, darlin’. No pressure, no hard feelings.” Joel Miller, the man that he is, knew just what to say to ease your worries.

“No, no. I just…”

“Thank you, for today.” You whisper, emotions getting the better of you. “I really thought that…this year I’d be alone again. My family only ever asks after desserts, always schedules the meal late and too far away for me to make the drive. I…I really liked spending time with you and your family today, they made me feel so welcome and included. It- it was really nice, Joel.”

The trembling of your lower lip is embarrassing but you can’t fight it off as you bare your heart to the man beside you.

“Hey now, it’s okay. I got ya,” He’s shuffling closer, the console pushed up to allow him to slide across the bench seat. “They loved you, ‘m sure they wouldn’t mind seein’ you more.”

And it’s easy, the way he soothes the turmoil in your mind, begins to help heal the trauma that bubbles up this time of year.

It’s easy how he kisses you and makes you feel like the most important person in the world.

It’s easy how he let’s you guide him into your home with clasped hands and a shy smile.

It’s easy the next morning when you wake up beside him, his naked body like a furnace under the sheets as it wraps around your own. The hours posted on your bakery door correct except for the day that follows any holiday. His breath little puffs against the back of your neck as you both share a pillow, while your exhalation becomes needy as you feel an ache between your legs. Little whimpers thrown into the air with no regard to how desperate they sound.

Heat sparks through you as you recall the desire in his hooded eyes the night before as you straddled him, taking your time with lowering yourself onto his hard cock, already dribbling when he had shucked his pants off for you to see all of him for the first time. The sight of him sprawled across your bed, head thrown on the pillows and bronze skin gleaming in the low lights strung up over your bed had all but turned you possessive. The memories were too much, kindling desire and pleasure in you in such a way that should be a warning in itself that you were fucked.

You were gone on him and you could only hope he felt the same way.

Soon enough, the shifting of your thighs to relieve pleasure that tingles there rouses him.

“Woke up needy, huh darlin’?” His voice is deep velvet, the early morning blessing him with such a soothing baritone that it almost has you rolling your eyes at it caresses over your skin much like his exploring fingers.

“Mhm, can still feel you. Right here-“ And his hand flattens against the soft give of your stomach where you guided it, just below your belly button.

“Fuck, that’s so hot, you have no idea.” He’s crowding you, body shifting to press your chest to the bed, his legs tangling with yours as he kneels behind you. He hinges your hips, bringing them up to rub the length of his cock between your glistening folds. “So full a me still, holding it like such a good girl for me.”

The whine of his name from your lips has him pushing in, slowly and carefully until his hips meet the back of your thighs. Turning it into a low moan that raises the hairs on the back of his neck. Your panting is all he can hear, the clench of your walls all he can feel as your back arches and you press back into him.

“Right here, huh?” His hand is still on your belly, and it presses now, pulling a yelp from you as the pressure in your core intensifies. Your cunt gushes around him, earning you a hiss as he grinds himself against you to make a squelching sound.

“Please please please tell me we’re going to do this again.” You move on him, pulling forward a bit, knees spreading and hands gripping tight to the sheets underneath you. Joel’s answering groan is more than enough but his voice delivers your fate in such an easy way.

“Oh darlin’, we’re gonna be doin’ this every day for the rest of our lives.” And with that he moves to grip your hips so tight you’re sure there will be reddened imprints of his fingers, pulling out in a slow drag before he slams back in and sets a brutal pace.

And maybe the holidays aren’t so bad, after all.

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[librababe99]

Moments Between Time: Part One

CW: angst, hurt, dystopian, Mutant!Reader, mental anguish, existential despair, suggestive emotional and physical intimacy

Word Count: 2436

A/N: Hey loves! So I' m back with the first part of this new series featuring DOFP! Logan---Definitely one of my favorite x-men films that I went to see in theaters a few years back. I really hope y'all enjoy it--As always comments and feedback are highly appreciated! - Libra * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

(Part Two)

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨

The world had become a graveyard of memories, littered with the remnants of a civilization that once thrived. The skies, once a brilliant blue, were now a perpetually overcast gray, the sun a distant and pale shadow of its former self. Buildings stood as crumbling sentinels, their facades scorched and broken by years of unrelenting warfare. The air was thick with ash and the scent of burning, a constant reminder of the lives that had been lost and the battles yet to be fought.

The war had waged for years, perhaps decades—time had lost its meaning in the endless cycle of violence and survival. The Sentinels, monstrous machines designed to hunt and exterminate mutants, had decimated the population. Humanity, too, had been nearly eradicated in the crossfire, caught between the relentless advance of the Sentinels and the desperate resistance of the mutants. Those who remained were either in hiding or dead. The world was a barren wasteland, devoid of hope and teetering on the edge of oblivion.

You stood on the precipice of what was once a thriving city, now reduced to ruins. The wind howled through the skeletal remains of skyscrapers, carrying with it the echoes of a world that no longer existed. Your heart was heavy with the weight of all you had seen, all you had lost. But you were still standing, still fighting. You had no other choice.

Your powers had been both a blessing and a curse in this war. The ability to manipulate time was a formidable weapon, allowing you to slow it, speed it up, or even rewind it in brief bursts. But every use took a toll, draining your energy, leaving you weaker with each passing day. It was a power that came with a price—a price you had paid over and over again, watching friends and allies fall only to rewind their deaths, knowing that it would only delay the inevitable.

And yet, despite everything, you had survived. You were one of the last remaining members of the X-Men, a shadow of the team that had once stood as a beacon of hope in a world that feared and hated them. But hope was a luxury none of you could afford anymore. Survival was all that mattered, and even that seemed like a losing battle.

Beside you, Logan Howlett—Wolverine—surveyed the desolate landscape with a grim expression. His once fierce eyes were hardened by the years of combat, yet there was a depth of sorrow in them that matched your own. His presence was a constant, a rock in the storm that raged around you both. You had fought together through countless battles, each one more desperate than the last, and had watched the world crumble piece by piece.

Logan’s wounds healed quickly, his regenerative abilities keeping him alive when others would have perished. But even he was not immune to the emotional toll of this endless war. The loss of friends, of family, of a future worth fighting for—it all weighed heavily on him, carving deep lines into his face, turning his hair to gray.

For years, you and Logan had been comrades in arms, partners on the battlefield. But there was more between you than just the bond forged in blood and fire. There was something unspoken, a connection that ran deeper than either of you dared to acknowledge. It was a thread that had woven itself through the fabric of your shared experiences, pulling you closer even as the world around you fell apart.

The quiet moments between skirmishes had become precious, stolen time where the chaos of the world seemed to fade, if only for a brief while. It was in those moments that you would catch Logan’s gaze, his eyes searching yours as if seeking solace in the only place it could be found. There were times when your hands would brush, a fleeting touch that sent a spark through your entire being, a reminder that you were still alive, still capable of feeling something other than pain and despair.

But there was no room for love in a world like this. No room for the vulnerability that came with it. To love was to risk losing everything, and neither of you could afford that. So, you kept your feelings buried deep, hidden beneath layers of resolve and determination. There were more pressing matters at hand—survival, resistance, the slim chance of victory.

As the days passed and the future grew increasingly bleak, a plan began to take shape among the remaining X-Men. It was a desperate, last-ditch effort to change the course of history, to prevent the events that had led to this catastrophic timeline. The idea was to send someone back in time, to a point before the Sentinels were created, before the war had begun. It was a long shot, but it was the only chance you had left.

The choice of who to send was obvious. Logan was the only one who could survive the journey. His healing factor would protect him from the physical strain, and his mind was strong enough to endure the temporal displacement. But even with his abilities, the mission was fraught with danger. If it failed, if something went wrong, there would be no coming back.

Your role in the plan was just as crucial. Your powers would be used to anchor Logan’s consciousness in the past, to guide him and keep him connected to the present. It was a task that required immense concentration and would drain you of almost all your energy. You knew the risks, knew that there was a very real possibility that you wouldn’t survive the attempt. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was giving Logan a chance to succeed, to change the future, to save the world.

The night before the mission, you found yourself unable to sleep. The weight of what was to come pressed down on you, a heavy burden that you carried alone. You had always been strong, resilient, but the thought of what lay ahead filled you with a sense of dread that you couldn’t shake.

You sat alone in the darkness, the cold air seeping into your bones, your thoughts a tangled mess of fear and determination. The reality of the situation was sinking in—this could be the last night you ever spent in this world. The last night you would see Logan, hear his voice, feel his presence beside you.

The sound of footsteps drew you from your thoughts, and you looked up to see Logan approaching. His face was set in a somber expression, the lines of worry etched deep into his features. He said nothing as he sat down beside you, the silence between you heavy with the weight of all that was left unsaid.

For a long while, neither of you spoke. There was nothing that needed to be said, no words that could capture the magnitude of what was about to happen. But the silence wasn’t empty—it was filled with the unspoken emotions that had been building between you for years. The tension that had simmered beneath the surface, always there but never acknowledged, was now impossible to ignore.

Finally, it was Logan who broke the silence. His voice was rough, low, like gravel underfoot. “Tomorrow’s gonna be hell,” he muttered, his eyes fixed on the horizon where the first light of dawn was just beginning to break.

You nodded, your throat tight with emotion. “Yeah. It is.”

He turned to look at you then, his gaze intense, searching. “You ready for this?”

You met his eyes, seeing the concern there, the fear that he was trying so hard to hide. You managed a small, sad smile. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Logan’s hand reached out, hesitating for just a moment before he rested it on yours. The warmth of his touch was a stark contrast to the cold that surrounded you, a lifeline in the darkness. You looked down at your joined hands, your heart pounding in your chest.

“This could be it,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “If things go wrong… I just… I don’t want you to—”

You shook your head, cutting him off before he could finish. “Don’t,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “Don’t say it. We can’t afford to think like that.”

But even as you said the words, you knew it was too late. The reality of the situation hung between you like a shadow, impossible to ignore. Logan squeezed your hand, the pressure grounding you, pulling you back from the edge of despair.

“You’re strong,” he said, his voice steady, reassuring. “Stronger than anyone I’ve ever known. You’ll get through this. You have to.”

The intensity of his gaze, the way he looked at you as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered, took your breath away. For a moment, you felt like the world had stopped, that there was nothing but the two of you in that cold, desolate night.

Without thinking, you reached up and cupped his face in your hand, your thumb brushing lightly over the rough stubble on his cheek. “And you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “You have to come back. You have to make it right.”

Logan’s eyes softened, the hardness in them giving way to something deeper, more vulnerable. “I’ll do whatever it takes,” he vowed, his voice fierce, filled with a determination that sent a shiver down your spine. “I swear, I’ll make it right.”

The moment hung between you, heavy and charged, the tension that had been building for years finally coming to a head. It was as if all the barriers you had both put up, all the walls you had built around your hearts, were crumbling in the face of what was to come.

Before you could second-guess yourself, before the fear could take hold, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. The kiss was fierce, desperate, a collision of pent-up emotions that neither of you could contain any longer. Logan responded immediately, his hand coming up to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as if he could merge your bodies, your souls, into one.

There was no room for hesitation, no time for doubt. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more intense, as if you were both trying to pour everything you felt into this one moment. It was a kiss born of desperation, of the fear that this might be your last chance to feel something real, something good, before the darkness swallowed you whole.

Logan’s other hand slid to your waist, pulling you into his lap as he kissed you with a fervor that left you breathless. You could feel the raw power in him, the barely-contained rage and pain that he carried with him every day, and in that moment, you wanted nothing more than to take it all away, to make him feel something other than the constant ache of loss and regret.

The world around you seemed to fade into nothingness, leaving only the two of you, wrapped up in each other, clinging to this one moment of passion and vulnerability. It was as if time itself had stopped, holding you in a suspended reality where nothing else mattered.

But time, as always, was cruel. The kiss slowed, the intensity gradually ebbing away, leaving behind a bittersweet longing that settled deep in your chest. You pulled back slightly, your forehead resting against his, your breaths mingling in the cold air.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of all the things you couldn’t bring yourself to say.

He opened his eyes, and the raw emotion you saw there nearly brought you to your knees. There was so much in his gaze—love, fear, desperation, hope. It was almost too much to bear.

“Whatever happens tomorrow,” you said, your voice barely audible, “I need you to know… I—”

But before you could finish, Logan captured your lips again, silencing you with a kiss that was somehow even more tender, more meaningful than the last. It was a kiss that spoke of promises unmade, of words left unsaid, of a future that might never come.

When he finally pulled back, his hand still cradling your face, his expression was one of fierce determination. “You don’t have to say it,” he said, his voice rough but steady. “I know. I’ve always known.”

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, nodding as you leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth of his hand on your skin. The dawn was fast approaching, the light slowly creeping over the horizon, casting long shadows over the ruined city.

The reality of what was to come settled over you both like a dark cloud, but in this moment, with Logan’s arms around you, you felt a sense of peace that had eluded you for so long. You knew that this could be the last time you ever saw him, the last time you felt his touch, his kiss. But you also knew that if anyone could change the future, it was Logan.

As the first rays of sunlight pierced the gloom, you pulled back, reluctantly breaking the embrace. Logan’s eyes searched yours, and you could see the same mixture of hope and fear reflected in them.

“It’s time,” you said, your voice steady despite the turmoil in your heart.

Logan nodded, his expression hardening as he prepared himself for what lay ahead. But before he could step away, you reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly.

“Promise me,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of the words. “Promise me you’ll come back.”

Logan’s eyes softened, and for a moment, the hardness in his expression melted away, replaced by something tender, something achingly vulnerable. He squeezed your hand in return, his grip strong and reassuring.

“I promise,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. “I’ll come back. I’ll find you.”

With one last lingering look, Logan turned and walked away, his figure disappearing into the shadows as he prepared to embark on the most dangerous mission of his life.

And as you watched him go, your heart heavy with a mixture of fear and hope, you whispered a silent prayer to whatever gods might still be listening, begging them to bring him back to you.

Because in this world of darkness and despair, Logan was your only light, your only hope.

And you weren’t ready to let that go.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨

Taglist: @hughverine @itzyahgirllkita1 @nonamevenus

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[fuctacles]

<<😺😺😺😺 | 😺😺😺😺😺😺>>

if i didn't respond to your comment it's bc desktop tumblr didn't let me, I still love and appreciate y'all

Maybe tomorrow he'd bring his book here, and keep the cats company while he reads. Would they like it if he read it out loud?

Oh lord, the crazy cat lady energy must be rubbing off on him already.

The cats certainly are. He looks down at his black attire now speckled with cat hair, and sighs. He should have asked Steph where the lint roller was before she left. With great effort, he stands up from the comfy couch, vowing to himself to only do a cursory search with no unnecessary peeking. 

The entrance seems like an obvious start since people like to de-hair themselves before leaving the house. The dresser next to the door is cluttered with typical things - sunglasses, hand lotion, chapstick, some loose change, and jewelry. No roller in sight. So he goes to the kitchen instead, because kitchen is where everything goes. The cats are watching him curiously from their chosen perches around the house.

"Stop it. This is all your fault."

He finally finds what he's looking for on a windowsill next to a dead fly. He starts cleaning his clothes there, next to the fridge, and its colorful display catches his attention. 

There's an Ewok magnet that looks handmade, holding up a birthday card, and a few holiday photos, capturing smiling people in swimming costumes. Some of them look older, like the photo of a kid in a wizard robe, or a pair of bloodied-up teenagers in sailor costumes, which must be a very obscure reference because Eddie hasn't seen it at any costume party before. 

The caption under the photo reads BFF but someone added a circle of smaller F's all around the photo, turning them into a frame. Which, if Eddie's connecting the dots correctly, would imply that it's Robin and Steph. The quality isn't the best, but at first glance, he's assumed it must be a family member, maybe a brother, but he remembers her saying she's an only child. 

He tracks the other photos, but most of them are new, of the Steph he already knows. There might be more around the apartment, though. 

But he's already rolled his shirt and he'll be back tomorrow morning anyway, so he quickly works on his pants' legs, gives the cats a wave, and leaves. 

While walking back, he's apparently so lost in his thoughts, he gets startled by his own uncle.

"The cats still alive?"

"Do you want?! Me?! To die?!" Eddie screeches, eyes wide and a hand on his heart, the other holding him upright against the wall. "Why the fuck are you sitting there in the dark?!"

Wayne looks pointedly at the lamp next to him, then to his nephew. Aside from his reading nook in the corner though, the living room has no other light sources right now, but Eddie just throws his hands in defeat, deciding not to argue. Especially not when his uncle finally folded and was reading Blade Runner. 

"Must have been thinking some guilty thoughts, huh?" 

"Excuse me?" Eddie takes a step back from his course towards the kitchen. His uncle was flipping a page in his book, clearly not reading but not looking up from it either. 

"To get scared like that. Did you do something bad, son?" He finally looks up, and Eddie doesn't like it. He looks exactly like his friends just before teasing him about something. "Saw something you shouldn't have?"

Eddie folds his arms and sticks his nose up, hoping the evening darkness hides his warming cheeks. 

"I don't know what kind of panty raiding you do up there, but I'm not a pervert."

"Panty riding, huh?" Wayne raises his eyebrows in interest. "That what you boys do in college these days?"

"Do you want a sandwich? Some tea maybe?" Eddie has already turned his back to him and is switching the light on in the kitchen. "And the cats are fine, thanks for asking!"

"Yes and yes. Thank you!" 

Eddie prepares them sandwiches and teas and grabs his own book so they can read in silence waiting for the evening news. It's nice to have this, a break from busy and loud college life, just sharing silence and love for books with his uncle. 

That is, of course, until Wayne looks at his watch and puts the book down to exchange it for a remote. Eddie likes to keep his nose in the book until the news become too distracting or he catches something interesting being reported on. His uncle has other plans for him this time. 

"You know it's alright to like her, right?"

Eddie lowers his book, slightly incredulous that Wayne is still talking about it. He looks at him with wide eyes.

"You really want me to fuck your neighbor, huh?"

Finally, his uncle gets a taste of his own medicine, almost choking on the tea that he unfortunately decided to sip on at that moment. Eddie: one, Wayne: zero.

But later, the score evened out again, as all Eddie could think of while trying to sleep were the pictures on the fridge, and plowing his uncle's neighbor into her mattress until she screamed. 

The next morning, with not enough sleep under his belt, Eddie skips two sets at a time, because he totally absolutely royally forgot about the fucking plant. 

He fumbles with the keys, can hear the inquisitive meows on the other side of the door, and once he's in he takes a beeline to the kitchen, ignoring the little creatures following him like they have been starving on the streets and he was a fresh batch of tuna factory waste.

The plant looks normal, the same as it did 24 hours ago, and he waters it as per instructions while trying not to even brush its leaves because he truly believes his touch might kill it. His track record with plants indicates so. Only then does he turn to the meowing bunch at his feet. 

"Hello, little demons. Time to feast."

The cats are fed, their mouths making unpleasant wet noises against the equally wet food, and Eddie has a moment to take a curious walk around the place, in search of more photos.

He finds a wedding photo, with Steph in a pink dress and stunning make up dancing with a man with curly hair. There's one from a barbecue, where Steph is being hugged by a tall man with a mustache. She's wearing jean shorts and a sweater in this one, and somehow, looks a bit off. It looks older than the wedding one. 

But a true treasure chest is the huge frame he finds above a small bookcase.

It's a collage titled 'The fucking journey' that seems to be a collection of Polaroids from a multitude of workplaces, with the same two people present. Year after year, one job after another, until they got where they are today. 

It starts with a 1983 and the sailor costumes he's already seen. They are less bruised and more tired in this one. Knowing where to start, Eddie's eyes track from one photo to another, observing Stephanie's features, her wardrobe, and her hair change until she becomes the woman she is today. 

There was no boy in that photo on the fridge. It's always been her. Growing into herself. 

Is this what his uncle was talking about? Well, not talking, but being annoyingly vague about it, like he wasn't sure what he was talking about himself. 

Fear not, Uncle Wayne. Eddie's going to pick up every pamphlet and every zine he can put his hands on, to educate them both about who their neighbor is, how to navigate the topic and respect her the way she deserves.

ko-fi

[sordidmusings]

Cuddle Ficlets - Straw Hats and the Three Unwise Men

A/N: Companion piece to my cuddle headcanons for these characters! While I was writing the headcanons, images of these scenes popped in my head so I decided to actually write them out for y'all

Includes! Zoro, Sanji, Nami, Luffy, Usopp, Mihawk, Buggy, and Shanks

Word Count: ~4.8k total, 500+ each

Warnings: gn!reader, brief suggestive allusions, opla lean but anime also in mind, sickeningly sweet, each of them is painfully soft for you and very in love, thought too long and hard on the pet names 🤡

I hope these make you smile ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊˚

Zoro

Nami and Usopp giggled at you, making obnoxious kissy faces, while you rolled your eyes and continued petting Zoro’s hair. You couldn’t keep the smile off of your face though. The thought of how quickly they would rush to hide their mocking gestures if the swordsman on your lap simply rolled over added another level of amusement for you. The weight of Zoro’s head was comfortable on your thigh and the way he’d nestled his forehead and nose into your stomach had your heart fluttering. Your other hand was rubbing into his delt and bicep and he’d long since become puddy for you. You looked down on him lovingly and moved the hand in his hair down to scratch at the base of his skull. He let out a happy groan that you’re sure he wouldn’t want the others to keep for more teasing ammunition.

“C’mon hun, let’s get to bed,” you prompted softly. The sun had finished setting anyway. Not that he’d watched it for a second, too busy soaking up your attention. Zoro turns his head slightly to squint up at you. You’d never get tired of the bleary look he gives you when you rouse him from his rest. How such a handsome face could remind you so much of an over-tired toddler you’ll never know.

After staring for a few long seconds to make sure you were really going to make him move, Zoro got himself up with a sigh. He was nice enough to turn to you and give you his hands to help you stand even though both of you knew you didn’t need it. He just needed the excuse to keep touching you. All the way to the room, you held his hand in his favorite way; a palm at his wrist and fingers curling down to rest their tips in the creases of his own palm. It was born from the shy beginnings of touching each other, where everything was bursting with the adrenaline of “will they let me?” and relief at the physically spoken “yes” in return. He found that it let him reminisce at those moments while appreciating the familiarity you two have now.

The process of preparing for bed was swift. The way you both danced around each other looked rehearsed - a guiding hand here, brushing fingers there, mindless kisses everywhere in between. Zoro got into the hammock first, making sure to leave you room at his side. He had long since switched out his old hammock for a four-pointed one to give you both plenty of space. You always end up pressed together anyway.

It was an uncommon occasion when he was the one clinging to you in your bed, but you didn’t mind. You knew he needed the contact in the way he would fidget and stare at you until he decided that you’d given him enough of yourself to sate him that night. This night, that meant that you were snuggled into his side with your head on his chest, listening to his calming heartbeat and steady breathing. You’d caged one of his legs with yours, one stretched long beside it and the other resting over his thigh. He was comfortably spread out on his back, the arm behind you mostly lying limp, but from time to time it would come alive to hug you closer or rub along your back. Both of you inhaled long and full and sunk in deeply to the bedding and each other as you exhaled the day out.

Zoro placed one final kiss to your hairline with a lovingly mumbled “Night, pest.” 

Ah, you love this man and his allergy to conventional sentimentality.

“Goodnight, my sweet love.” 

Of course, there’s an exception for when it’s coming from you.

Sanji

Sanji pretended not to notice how you’d get in his way in the kitchen just so that he would come up behind you in a hug and teeter-totter you back out from behind the counter. The gleeful laughter it got him every time was more than worth the extra task management. He’d go toe to toe with Luffy over a lunch so late it becomes dinner if that meant more time with you. Unluckily for Luffy’s impatient appetite, you knew this too. After leading you away once more, Sanji rubbed a cheek into the back of your shoulder before dragging his chin across it to whisper sweet words in your ear. 

“You’re sweeter than anything I could ever make; one more sample to help me get the taste right,” he breathed out before turning you and kissing you. Though there was no lack of passion, this kiss wasn’t meant to lead to anything; Sanji simply wanted to enjoy feeling you. Also, there were too many active flames in the kitchen for that level of distraction.

“You’re so kind keeping me company but you know I’m weak to a beautiful face,” he says softly. “Yours most of all.”

As if to prove his point, Sanji begins peppering your whole face in kisses. No one knows how to worship like this man; his lips were adoring and punctuated by nudges of his forehead against yours, eskimo kisses to your nose and cheeks and lips, and shuddering breaths warming the air you shared. He was cradling you, one hand guiding and supporting your head and one hand teasing your lower back while it held you flush together. One more searing kiss is placed on your lips before he is pulling away, trailing his hands last to touch you as long as possible.

You kept yourself busy distracting him, sometimes with questions and observations and sometimes with hugs and kisses. You knew Sanji’s palette was more refined than yours, but you also knew he meant it when he would feed you a bite of the food he was cooking because he wanted your opinion. It never failed to melt your heart; all he ever wanted was to include you and value you.

That’s why you always paid him back once you two were alone with the one thing he ever asked for: you. There were various ways he would indulge in you but tonight he just wanted to hold you and hoped that he could get you to understand how much he loves you with his endless compliments. You hoped that the adoration with which you looked at him and the tenderness with which you held him got him to understand that you always knew. It was an exchange you both would never cease, enjoying it too much and never feeling that anything was enough to express the expanse or depth of your adoration.

Sanji helped you drift off to sleep with soothing caresses to the thigh thrown over his waist and the senseless trails of his finders on your back. He cherished the weight of your head on his chest and continued to plant the occasional kiss on top of your head well after he knew you were already asleep. Like all his touches, they were for him as much as they were for you. He kept whispering sweet praises and promises to you, hoping they would reach you in your dreams.

“I am yours, my one and only love. Wherever you will go, I will follow.”

Nami

Your day was filled, as it usually was, with Nami at your side. It started with you untangling from each other to leave the bed once there were no more reasonable excuses to stay together for just a few more minutes. Getting ready was filled with gentle bumps and languid leans against one another, still too sleepy for anything truly playful. Breakfast was eaten elbow to elbow but not thigh to thigh; she had instead hooked her leg over yours and kept it there. The whole time you felt the residual motions of her gently swinging foot massaging into the top of your thigh. It still astounded you how someone so tough could also be so adorable.

The activities of the day were always made co-operative. Sometimes that word got pushed to the bounds of its meaning (sitting back to back while studying something, tinkering with something sat at her feet while she watched the log pose, making sure to be in the same room for chores) and sometimes it was right at home (discussing plans and headings, combining efforts for anything requiring great strength, creating a two person assembly line for repetitive tasks). Either way, it made the mundane comfortable, the difficult surmountable, and the wondrous meaningful.

When night fell and all the day’s needs were met, you and Nami settled yourselves on the deck to enjoy the evening. Your legs were spread and she sat curled sideways between them, peeking out at the emerging stars from her place under your chin. You had brought out a cushion and blanket so neither the hard wood nor the ocean breeze would chase you in early. You placed yourselves against the center tangerine planter, drawn by the smell of leaves and bark and dirt. The fresh smell of the tangerine tree always made you feel close to her and it made her feel close to home.

“I’ll never get tired of this,” you began. Nami turned and nosed at your neck to urge you to continue. The barely-there touch radiated goosebumps across your skin. “Holding you, having quiet time with you. You’re so amazing and I get to be the one to share this stuff with you.” You felt a shy smile spread against your skin and your chest flooded with swirling warmth. “Seriously, Nami, you’re so strong and intelligent and beautiful and kind and you deserve the world you’re going to chart.” That smile pressed a tender kiss into you. The shakiness of her breath on your neck afterward let you know how much the words meant to her.

“I love you,” Nami mumbled, still somehow timid about saying it to you. She was unpracticed in baring her feelings, but she still tried for you. You rubbed your chin over her head once, appreciating her feather-soft hair, before settling to rest your cheek back against her. Your palm found the back of her hand and you coaxed your fingers between hers. Her thumb brushes your pinky. You bring that hand to your face and kiss the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist.

“I love you too, dear heart.” You used to feel silly giving her such an old fashioned sentimental name, but the way she would choke up or hold tighter any time you said it let you know to never stop saying it, even when she received the title as easily as she swept through the seas.

Luffy

The D in Monkey D Luffy now stands for Dependent because he only ever functioned with you at this point. Not in the way that he’d become a sobbing needy mess if you weren’t around, but in the way that something felt Wrong if you weren’t touching him or at least within reach (thankfully his reach is longer than anyone else’s). Everything else would be left on standby while the ever impulsive man would find you to fix it without even thinking about what he was doing. That behavior had tipped you off to his soft spot for you, but the way your plate was the only one he left untouched by his stealing hands made it inarguable.

His impulsive nature also led him to hold (read: “manhandle”) you however was easiest or however Luffy felt like at the time. At first you felt a bit out of your element being at his whims and finding yourself in strange or intimate positions in front of others, but you eventually stopped caring. Sometimes it was even amusing to see the exasperated and perturbed looks you’d get from the crew if one of you was hooked around the other in a particularly creative way. One of your favorites is when he’d swing and carry you around upside down with his arms holding tight around your waist and your legs bouncing above them. It made you feel like a kid again and it was fun to jokingly threaten the others with your kicking legs at eye level. Luffy loved being able to just grab and play with you in a way that was 98% innocent (the other 2% was enjoying the view he got).

You were spending the end of the day as you usually did; sitting together on the figurehead of the Going Merry, watching the dark waves and sky. Luffy had his arms snug around you and his legs spread to frame yours. The warmth of his body felt heavenly pressed against you, contrasting perfectly with the crisp ocean breeze on your face. You held his precious hat in your hands, keeping it safe so he was free to snuggle his face into you. His hands would knead at your sides or move to squeeze yours lovingly. His swinging feet had his legs shifting consistently next to yours, only interrupted by his occasional need to give you a full body squeeze because his affection was too great to hold back anymore. He was only ever still when he was sleeping and even then he’d still manage to toss and turn whenever the whim struck him.

You turned enough to look back and see his smile, which only grew when you planted a big kiss on his cheek. His movements slowed when you trailed the tip of your nose along his cheek and kissed the corner of his mouth. You were pulling out a languid Luffy that only you got to enjoy.  

“Come on, sunshine, let’s go to bed.”

Luffy nodded in agreement then leaned his forehead into your temple. “Only if you’ll be there too,” he bargained brightly.

“I’ll think about it,” you teased, as if you could even remember the last night you spent without him wrapped around you.

Usopp

Flustered Usopp never fails to unlock your cute aggression. That’s why you’ve taken the liberty of snuggling up to him when the crew all gathered on the deck to unwind with drinks (sans Luffy who was getting a mustache from his usual milk). You’ve been together for awhile, the crew has known you’ve been together for awhile, the crew knew even longer than that that both of you were fools for each other, and yet Usopp still gets all shy. You’ve checked in with him to make sure it wasn’t an anxious feeling, to which he responded that “the brave Captain Usopp never feels anxious”. At your deadpan look, he eventually answered much more sincerely, saying that it was more of an overwhelmed feeling. A good overwhelmed.

So you didn’t worry when you squished into his side, arms snug around his waist to make absolutely sure that there’s not a single millimeter keeping you apart. It didn’t make you pause when having your legs thrown across his lap caused him to chuckle nervously and talk through stutters. You didn’t back off when his voice cracked from the feeling of your lips pressing just below his collarbone. It was cute that it still affected him so much with the feeling of your lips muffled through his shirt.

As the night wore on and the bottles emptied, Usopp got bolder and you got sleepier. It was the perfect combination really; by the time you became boneless he was no longer afraid to pull you into his lap and indulge the both of you in affection. His skittering touches turned into sweeping caresses across your back, gentle scratching at your scalp, and soothing massages on your legs. Usopp took his time to enjoy touching you and you soaked everything in, letting it lull you further into hazy relaxation.

The transfer from deck to bedroom was a blur of leaning bodies, pulling hands, and stumbling feet. Giggles played out as well, of course; the free kind that cared not for volume control, acceptable timbre, or suppressing snorts. This whirlwind of sound and motion continued all the way until you collapsed against the bed. Thankfully the two of you had the wherewithal to fling your shoes and most of your clothes off before you fell into the mess of plush blankets and pillows. 

“How do you want me,” you asked in your most ridiculous parody of a sexy purr.

Usopp laughed and then took his time sashaying over to you, swaying more than necessary due to the influence of fruity drinks. He crawled on top of you on his hands and knees and leaned in close to you, faking a pass at your lips to then make his way to your ear. You awaited something teasing or sensual.

“Little spoon!” he said cheerfully and plopped into his side next to you.

You smiled cheerfully at his playful toying with the mood. You quickly turned and shimmied yourself backwards to lay flush to his chest. Usopp greeted you with a crushing, cute-aggression fueled hug. The way your heart pounded with joy made you thankful he was holding you tight, lest it jump right out of your chest. You returned the pressure for a moment with your own arms around his, before you both relaxed into the embrace.

“I need bedtime stories, please,” you said. You knew he’d be more than happy to give you what you wanted.

There was a kiss to the back of your head. “Of course, snuggle bug.”

You drifted off in your favorite way; wrapped in Usopp’s arms and half-listening to the fantastical tales his sleepy voice wove for you.

Mihawk

Laying with Mihawk was a treat for the senses. All of his strong muscles became soft pillows for you to lay on and he radiated steady warmth like blankets fresh from the drier. You don’t know how he managed it, but he always smelled so good like an expensive blend of scented oils you’d only find on the back shelves of worldly markets. The weight of his hands and arms on you was soothing and made you feel protected. When his hands weren’t holding you to him, they were lightly massaging into you, working out all your stresses from the day. When he’d brush his cheek and jaw across your temple, his facial hair would tickle you teasingly or have your skin tingle pleasantly.

It made it all the more difficult when you needed to get up. Right now you wanted up because you had gotten into his hold immediately upon entering your shared room, which meant you had no time to change. At this point you had become settled enough to yearn for comfier clothes to sleep in. You moved your hands from grasping his thick shoulder and tracing shapes on his pec to plant them into the bed and lift yourself up. You pushed but couldn’t make it even a millimeter away. In fact, you’ve caused reverse progress; Mihawk's arms were now cinched around your waist, pressing you even closer. You arched your back to raise your head and shoulders. He was already staring at you. Though his whole face was relaxed, the way he stared unblinking felt accusatory.

“I have to change,” you explain, though you do move your hand to draw on his chest again. You can't help it - it’s right there. Mihawk continued to stare deeply into your eyes with those yellow irises that always had you feeling naked and vulnerable. Good thing he was always there to keep you safe through those feelings (and maybe exploit that thrill when the mood struck him). When he decided enough time had passed for you to understand what you did wrong, he smoothed one hand up to rest between your shoulder blades and pushed you back down into his chest, making you let out a little “oof!”. He kept the pressure there until he felt you fully relax against him and shift slightly to meld completely into his hold. He turned a kiss to your temple in praise for your acquiescence.

“Just a while more, little lamb,” he murmured. The way that his hands moved over you, exploring and caressing like you were precious and divine, made it easy to relent. The way his core had minutely tensed below you let you know he was dreading your parting, anxious about losing your touch.

You placed an obliging kiss against his chest and he could relax again. “Anything you want, my love.”

He guided your head up so that he could give you a kiss in return. “So good for me,” he praised against your lips.

“I’ll be anything as long as it’s for you,” you promised, staring earnestly into his eyes. You watched as his pupils dilated further, eating away at that piercing yellow.

Mihawk dove forward to give you a quick, but fierce, kiss. After pulling back, he pressed your foreheads together so your noses brushed and your breaths mingled, wishing for it to somehow bind your souls directly together, never to part.

Buggy

You knew Buggy was going to practically smother you while cuddling tonight from the moment he shot his hand out to you upon your entrance and dragged you to meet him on his throne. As with most nights on the Big Top, there was drinking and merriment so you had to use all your skills to duck and weave through the literal circus and make it to him unruffled. Buggy had started with you sitting sideways across his lap but quickly decided that wasn’t close enough. You were turned so that you could wrap both arms and legs around him, while his arms pulled you firmly into him. You laughed because he continued fussing like that still wasn’t close enough.

You knew just how to placate him long enough to let you eat and drink before he stole you off to bed to be his personal teddy bear. You kissed his jawline with a whispered “you have such a sharp jaw, it’s so sexy” and he stopped his grumbling. You rubbed out the tension in his shoulders and he stopped fidgeting. You nuzzled into the side of his head and his grip became less desperate. You nosed at the sensitive skin behind his ear and he forgot that there was even anything to forget. Only then were you safe to lean back and have your dinner, paying for the distance with kisses to his hand, wrist, and cheek between bites of your meal. 

When you were done, Buggy threw you over his shoulder to carry you to the Captain’s quarters. It was his favorite way to remind everyone (and reassure himself) that you had chosen him and you were his. The moment you were behind a closed door, you took advantage of your position and gave him a firm slap to the ass. Instead of scolding you, he responded with a slightly harder slap to your own ass, getting you to let out a barking laugh. He may have also left his hand there afterwards to, you know, help hold you more stably.

Once in bed, you ended up exactly as expected - absolutely enveloped in Buggy. He had opted to have you lay on your back with him on your chest and his arms back to gripping you tight. His head was buried in the crook of your neck, where he tried to keep his nose in the sheets and off of you. You would shove him right back into the comfier position each time. Even with his face shoved into you, you managed to hear him complain, “You’re supposed to hold me back.” What a needy baby; your arms were already around him and your legs were spread so he could lay in between them. 

You lifted your legs up to hook around his waist, clasped your arms in a ring around his chest, and squeezed with all your might. A sharp “hnnnghk” rushed out of him with all the air in his lungs and you laughed loud and long, losing the strength of your grip under the force of your joy. You’re lucky that’s Buggy’s favorite sound because he was getting ready to bite into your shoulder for freedom and vengeance. When you settled back down, you did what he was actually seeking and pressed him into you with a firm warm hand on the center of his back and the back of his head. Both legs slid down, one to hook your calf around his and the other to press into the length of his. You felt his chest expand as he inhaled as far as his lungs would allow and contract as he exhaled all the tension from his body.

“Rest, love,” you gently encouraged. You placed a kiss on his temple. “I’m not going anywhere, even when you sleep.”

Buggy placed answering kisses to the skin at the base of your neck.

“Thank you, showstopper.”

Shanks

This night was playing out as many had before; you sat on the floor in front of Shanks between his spread legs, sharing jokes and memories over drinks with the rest of the crew. You had each of your arms hooked behind his calves, hanging loosely from a grip on each knee. You’d indulge Shanks with sporadic kisses to the sensitive skin inside his knee and thigh. He’d repay you by playing with your hair or rubbing at your shoulders, just the way he knows you like. 

You two were sharing a large bottle of dark rum. You’d ask for it by craning your head back with a pout or tugging insistently at his clothes and he’d tease you by placing it to rest on top of your head or establishing eye contact and taking a long drink. For the past few tugs at his empty sleeve to get his attention and hopefully some rum, you only earned him deliberately missing the point to give you a kiss instead. This time he gave you an upside down kiss when you looked back and you whined into his mouth. He didn’t linger long and you tried your hardest to look upset with him. More laughs burst out around you at your poor attempt.

“What is this? You don’t want my kisses anymore,” Shanks questioned dramatically, his hand coming to his chest like he’s wounded. The effect would’ve been stronger if that hand wasn’t still holding the jug of rum. “You curse me; I can never survive without your love.”

“Then you better start paying for it with that booze,” you warned through an insuppressible grin. His chest shook with his laugh and he finally swung the bottle your way.

Over the course of the night, you made your way into his lap, allowing your tipsy self the perfect opportunity to be all over him. The crew was used to it anyway, and the two of you always scampered off before anything exceeded PG-13, so no one gave it a second thought. Currently, you were leaned into his chest with his arm wrapped around your back. Your left arm cradled what was left of the rum in your lap and your right arm was reached out to where you were diligently massaging his left shoulder and upper arm. You had worked him until he was boneless and you were positive he’d be purring if he could. Neither of you registered the jokes about the sickeningly sweet display or how tightly wrapped Shanks was around your finger. Eventually, Shanks gained the strength of will to loll his head forward and rest it against yours.

“Ready to move to bed, darling?” he asked. The gentle way he began rocking you made it difficult to answer.

“Too far,” you mumbled.

“Grab on,” he sighed, scooching you both forward in his seat. The jug was moved to the floor and you spun to face Shanks, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. You let out a happy hum at the close contact. While standing up, he groaned much louder than necessary for a man who could probably lift a ship. His hand happily gripped your ass to support you the whole way to his bed. He tried to lean over it so you could detach yourself safely but you just held him tighter. Never able to tell you no, he crawled into the bed with you instead of pulling you off of himself.

There wasn’t much rearranging once you both made it onto the bed - just enough to haphazardly cover up with a blanket and make sure Shanks wasn’t crushing you to death. You felt your mind begin to float away but you couldn’t end the night without saying, “I love you, my dear captain.”

You just barely caught his eternal response before you fully slipped under.

“I love you too, my north star.”

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Legend's Birthday

Pairing: Legend x Reader

Warning(s): Smut, duh.

Notes: It was Legend's birthday a bit ago, so y'all know what that means! Set in the modern world where Legend is a museum-curator-slash-retired-adventurer. Inspired by the beautiful and amazing @h4wari. Hope you enjoy, big sis!!!

Masterlist

If there was one thing you learned from living with Legend, it was how to be sneaky.

He was a lot sharper than most people gave him credit for, and it was as attractive as it was frustrating, considering the predicament you had subjected yourself to over the last week, seeing how snow and seasonal depression weren't the only things heralded by the month of November.

It was Legend's birthday today, and you had pulled out all the stops to keep him from discovering your little scheme to celebrate his special day.

It's not a big deal, you remembered him saying after you nearly had a meltdown last November after realizing you had been missing his birthday for the past few years of your relationship. I'm always busy when they happen, so why bother?

Why bother? Because you loved him, damnit!

So, naturally, you set a private calendar notice a week before the event to prepare. There were many conventional ways to celebrate birthdays–eating cake, giving presents, going out for a nice dinner, letting the birthday person pick the movie of the night–but neither you or Legend were particularly conventional, which led you to a fine invention known as the Internet.

The search results had been appropriately varied, ranging from Reddit's suggestions of diving hand-in-hand off the Golden Gate Bridge (exhilarating, but you wanted to be alive afterward) to booking a last-minute year-long cruise across the world, which, while you were sure he might appreciate, was neither within your long-term interests or price range.

So, really, the bunny costume you haphazardly ordered from a random shady website was a mix of both worlds, and you couldn't be blamed for the impromptu trip you made to the grocery store in search of baby carrots once your dear boyfriend traipsed to work, bidding you farewell with a grumpily-affectionate kiss that made your heart flutter and your brain cackle at the surprise he was about to receive in a few hours.

The costume arrived two hours after Legend departed. You giddily slipped on the ensemble: a swimsuit-esque bodysuit made out of maroon leather that shone in the dim light of your shared bedroom, followed by some black cuff links, a small choker that did nothing of the sort, and a headband with pink-tipped bunny ears shooting from the black band, a bendable wire running through the middle of each one to allow for easy customization.

After adjusting the ears to your liking, one bent and the other sticking straight up like a fat little antenna, you strode to the closet and found the real prize: the fluffiest bunny tail butt plug the internet had to offer, which was saying something. You grabbed the plug and a small bottle of lube, squirting a bit on the tip and fiddling for the small hole in the back of your leotard, positioning the plug where it needed to be before slowly working it in. The sensation of being stretched was strange, but not in a bad way, and you gave your ass a few experimental shakes, shrugging when all you felt was a gentle tug as the fabric of your bodysuit shifted.

Feeling ready to tackle the rest of your day, you walked (hobbled) down to the kitchen, retrieving the baby carrots and putting them in a small bowl before moving to your next project: the cake currency cooling in the refrigerator. You had baked and frosted it prior to getting dressed, so there was only one thing left to do before your boyfriend came home in approximately thirty minutes.

You opened the refrigerated and pulled the cake from the top shelf, setting it on the counter as you retrieved the prepared piping bags–pink and red, of course–approaching the dessert with a determined expression.

This was it. Your magnum opus, if you do say so yourself. You would be the first to admit that your baking skills weren't exactly stellar, nor were you particularly good at decorating, but damnit, if you weren't going to do your hardest to make this the best birthday cake he had seen in his life.

You could hear your heartbeat in your ears as you brought the piping bag down to the frosted canvas before you, just begging to be defiled in the best of ways. With nigh-unbreakable concentration, you carefully penned the words 'happy birthday' onto the top half of the cake in smooth red icing. A smile broke across your face as you scanned the writing, realizing, with a healthy dose of relief, that it was legible and there were no grievous spelling errors that would send him into a conniption.

"Fuck yeah," you muttered, hastily adjusting the slightly-slipping headband before grabbing the pink icing, spelling out his name in curvy pastel letters that took up the rest of the cake. It wasn't a masterpiece, by any means, but it was beautiful in a DIY kind of way, and that was good enough for you.

Your phone buzzed from the counter and you practically shot over, reading the message on the screen with wide eyes.

It was Legend.

And he was heading home.

Now.

"Shit, shit," you cursed under your breath, hurrying to (gently) shove the piping bags and cake back into the refrigerator before darting upstairs to retrieve the other present you had gotten him–a collection of leather-bound notebooks for him to catalogue his observations during work–before sprinting back down to set the neatly-wrapped box on the kitchen counter, making sure the house was spotless before practically throwing yourself on the living room couch with the bowl of carrots, heart pounding as you crunched on one of the small sticks.

This was it... and you were simultaneously terrified and excited to see his reaction.

There was quiet click and the front door swung open.

Legend loved his job as the Head Curator at Hylia University.

After many, many years of grueling adventuring for whatever company paid him, it was a nice change of pace to be able to sit down and catalogue some fancy rocks, all the while sipping his home-brewed coffee and scoffing with other veterans about the interns.

Which was what he was doing right now, except he wasn't sitting or sipping or scoffing. The red-haired intern cowered as he pinched his temples, letting out a sigh dry enough to drain the ocean.

"What is this, Nicole?" he asked, voice deceptively calm as the other interns shifted nervously around him, their eyes rippling around the area like a patch of particularly turbulent waves. "And don't tell me it's a rock."

"I won't," she squeaked, and Legend had the distinct urge to shake her by the shoulders.

"It's a ruby," he said flatly, watching as her soul withered under his gaze. Good. His eyes fixed to the certain display she had attempted to place the ruby, which now sat in her tumbling hands, in. "And where did you just put it?"

Silence.

Then.

"The igneous rock display...?" Her tone was edged with terror, and he had the feeling that she would have pissed herself had he not been her boss.

"Nicole," his arms crossed over his chest as he sent her a look. "Why in Hylia would you put it there?"

"It's a rock," she all but whimpered, and Legend had to physically bite his tongue to force himself to listen to the rest of her insane logic. "And I think the mineral composition is similar to the ones from this–"

He held up a hand, putting a stop to the madness taking place. The other interns shifted like a flock of restless geese, waiting for his next move with bated, shuddering breath. Weirdos. "I don't know what's worse," he began. "That you think a metamorphic rock belongs in the igneous display or that you didn't think to place it in the gemstone display, with the other gemstones" Legend gestured to the display at the end of the room with a 'are you serious?' expression. "Did the sign just float away or do I need to enlarge the font for you?"

Her bottom lip trembled, eyes crinkling a bit at the corners, and he sighed. "Do not cry," Legend warned, tone leaving no room for argument. "Just go put it in the gemstone display."

"But sir–" another intern pipped up, and Legend silenced him with a thick glare.

"What, Dillon?" he growled, a headache already brewing at the promise of more fuckery. "What could you possibly have to add?"

"We can't put it in that display," Dillon said, tone edging with the same apprehension that Nicole's had possessed earlier. He ran a hand through his brown hair, looking like he was internally praying to whatever deity existed for protection against their ornery boss. "It's broken."

Legend's eye twitched. "Broken? How?"

"By you, sir," another intern said weakly, looking like they would rather die than be here. "During the burglary attempt last week."

Ah, he had almost forgotten about that. Legend may not have been the young, spry adventurer he once was, but it didn't mean he didn't still have it, as he had shown last week by punching a would-be burglar into the gemstone display case, securing their hands together with a length of measuring tape as the interns watched, practically on their knees in awe. You had laughed like a maniac when he shared that particular experience over a meal at the mom and pop restaurant in town, and the memory would have brought a smile to his face had he not been with the current company.

"And why isn't it fixed?" he rubbed his temples in an attempt to alleviate the brewing headache. "Who's in charge of glass maintenance?"

"Maurice is," Dillon coughed into his fist, and Legend felt his expression sour further.

Maurice, an ancient custodian who had been working here since before he had been born, but Legend more commonly thought of the other man as the current bane of his existence. The old fart was perpetually late, never cleaned the exhibits properly, and, for some bizarre reason, really enjoyed the smell of pipe cleaner. Probably more than a sane person should have, Legend had come to realize when he caught the man sniffing from the bottle in between halfhearted scrubs of said pipes, only to threaten to douse him in alcohol in a manner that had Legend backing out of the room with his middle fingers raised protectively.

"Of course he is," Legend grumbled. "Well, someone get the horn and summon him or, I don't know, just leave the ruby in the igneous display."

"But you said–"

"Not another word, Nicole," the blonde silenced her with a raise of his hand. "Now, I'm going to get some coffee, and I expect that ruby to be with the gemstones when I get back. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir," Nicole nodded, clutching the stone a bit tighter as her eyes flashed with determination. "Shall I label it?"

"Don't push your luck, Nicole," he turned and strode down the hall toward the cafeteria, pushing some hair from his face, grimacing slightly when a deridingly pink strand stood out against his skin. He was never one for that color, but after a terrible Halloween accident involving temporary hair dye and setting conditioner, he found it was just one of the things he would have to live with, especially when you assured him that pink was most definitely his color, much to his (amused) chagrin.

The line for coffee wasn't horrendously long, leaving him with a few short minutes to contemplate the day before receiving a cup of his favorite brew: black as his soul with a hidden sprinkle of sugar. While he typically preferred your coffee to the store-bought alternatives, he had already finished the thermos you sent him off with, leaving him high and dry amidst the madness of the day.

With a huff, Legend started to his office, offhandedly checking his watch. 5:02 pm, which meant only twenty-eight minutes separated him from you.

Legend allowed himself to smile as he pushed into the office, collapsing in the first seating arrangement he saw, a plush chair typically reserved to comfort the unfortunate souls that found themselves in his lair. You were always the highlight of his day, and not even redheaded interns putting rubies in igneous rock displays could dampen his excitement, especially when his calendar dinged and the realization that it was his birthday hit harder than any insane custodian.

Birthdays had always been a bit of a sore spot for him, which only increased when he began dating you. He didn't need anything special, it was just another day, and yet you had seemed genuinely distressed when it was revealed that you had inadvertently missed his birthday for the past three years, swearing up and down to make this year the best one he had ever had. Legend highly doubted that, mostly because he had kept a careful eye on your shared bank account for any... suspicious purchases, which there were none, and you seemed to have all but forgotten about it. Good. He was just fine without being fawned over for forcing his mother to undergo hours of excruciating agony to bring him into his world.

Still, there was a small part of him that hoped you remembered, if only to hear your sweet voice wishing him a 'happy birthday', but he was more than content to simply live his life like it was any other day.

Legend checked his watch again.

5:09 pm.

...Fuck it.

The chair creaked as he abruptly stood up, grabbing his coat from the wall and striding out of the office like he owned the place, not bothering to send any warning to the interns over their newfangled 'Groupme' app because, damnit, it was his birthday and he didn't need to take their bullshit until tomorrow.

Besides, he had a house to get home to.

You nearly dropped the bowl when the door began to swing open, a millisecond away from choking on the carrot in your mouth as Legend's form filled the doorway.

He was home.

Early.

You had spent so much time preparing your outfit and the cake and the presents that you had completely forgotten to prepare your heart along with them

"Hi," you squeaked, feeling very much like the rabbit you were dressed as he took in the sigh of you, perched on the couch with a bowl of carrots in your lap and an apprehensive expression on your face. '"..You're home early."

"Yeah," said your boyfriend eloquently, eyes glued to your form. A red blush bloomed over his cheeks, which were already a bit pink from the cold. "You–"

"Are you hungry?" You asked at the same time, hesitantly bringing another carrot to your red-painted lips, biting it in half with a small crunch. His gaze snapped to your mouth, and you could have sworn you saw him gulp. "There's... there's cake in the kitchen."

He glanced over, but not for long, eyes returning to your body. You had always loved the color of his eyes, so intensely blue that you swore they looked purple with the right lighting. When he remained silent, you drew in a breath.

"Happy birthday," you felt a bit embarrassed from the way his eyebrows shot up in disbelief at the phrase. "I know I missed it the last few years, but I promise I'll do better, so, um, happy birthday. Again."

Legend blinked a few times, and it was in that moment that you noticed just how white his knuckles had gotten around the handle of his briefcase. "Is that...?"

You nodded, placing the bowl on the end table as you waited for his true reaction.

"You're wearing a..." he hesitated, and you tried to sit a bit straighter under his gaze, which wasn't unusual, but it felt a lot more poignant in this moment. "...bunny costume."

"Yes," you said, feeling a bit ashamed.

"For me?"

"Who else?" you forced a small smile, ears flopping as you nodded on instinct. "I'm sorry if it's weird–"

"It's not," he interjected, setting his briefcase down and locking the door with one hand. "Not weird, I mean."

You bit your lip, praying to Hylia that he would do something. "...Can I get you anything?"

"You," Legend said, and you nearly jumped when he shucked off his coat and strode over, coming to a stop just inches in front of you. a callused hand grasped your chin, encouraging you to meet his gaze. His smile was both gentle and feral, and you shivered a bit at the desire rolling in his irises.

"Me?"

"Yes," was his response before he bent down and kissed you, tongue lapping at the seam of your lips to deepen the action, mouth moving against yours in a way that made you want to melt into him. He tasted faintly of store-bought coffee and you were tempted to tease him for cheating on you, but it was neither the place nor the time, especially when his free hand grabbed your hip, a bit chilly against your warmed skin. You wrapped your hands around his biceps, pulling him closer and sighing into his mouth.

Legend drew away first, breathing deepening as he stared into your eyes. His expression was soft, and still a bit shocked, like he couldn't quite believe was he was seeing. That's okay, you'd make him believe it.

"You're amazing," he broke the silence, leaning forward to kiss the crown of your head, mere inches away from the bunny headband.

"I'm not," you joked, earning a look.

"You are," this time, he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, which you had neglected to paint in the likeness of an actual rabbit. Oh well, next time. "How long have you been planning this?"

"Since last year," you admitted far too quickly, expression turning a bit sheepish. Your fingers dug gently into the muscles of his forearm. "I wanted to make up for... you know."

"You didn't have to," he mused, hand tracing a line from your hip to the tail, stroking gently over the puffed ball. It was round and soft, quivering slightly when he thumbed at it. "Not that I'm complaining, of course."

"But I wanted to–!" you countered, only to interrupt yourself with a gasp when he gave the tail an experimental tug.

"Hmm," he hummed, tone a bit distracted. His other hand moved to the front of the bodysuit, knuckles running over the pleated leather. "Why a bunny, though?"

You recovered enough to send him a soft grin. "You like bunnies."

"I like you," Legend corrected with an answering smile, and it was hard not to laugh at the cheesiness of the statement.

"Same difference," you chuckled, sitting up a bit straighter when a hand ghosted over your breast, though it quickly swung up to cup your cheek as he pulled you into another dizzying kiss. You sighed into his mouth and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down to your level.

Time seemed to meld together as you connected, mouths moving to an invisible beat. You ran your tongue against his own, drawing a shiver from the man. It didn't take a genius to notice the straining bulge in his shorts, and you were determined to make this the best birthday ever. "Link," you whispered against his lips, earning a curious look. "Is that a carrot in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

"Carrot," he responded immediately, and you snorted in response, breaking the kiss to shoot him a saucy grin.

"Oo, does that mean it's up to eat?"

This time, it was Legend's turn to snort. "You're ridiculous."

"And you're about to get lucky," you laughed, moving your hands down to undo the buttons of this shirt, which was promptly thrown over his shoulder once it was off, revealing miles and miles of warm, slightly-tanned skin for your perusal. His cheeks still held the lightest pink tinge, and you discovered that the flush hadn't stopped there, extending down the smooth plane of his neck to stain the tops of his shoulders. A smattering of thin, silvery scars crisscrossed his abdomen, a testament to his adventures in the great unknown. "You're beautiful, you know that?"

Legend flushed a bit darker

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled, but you knew that he secretly loved the praise. You loved it, too.

"No, really," you stroked a hand from his pectoral to his obliques, relishing in the shiver the action earned you. "I could look at you all day."

He looked ready to reply, but your fingers drifted to the waistband of his shorts, unbuckling his belt with practiced ease, the item soon joining his shirt on the floor. "Is this okay?" you asked softly, pointer finger toying with the shiny metal button holding it all together.

"More than," Legend said without missing a beat, face tinted a brilliant red that made you want to kiss him breathless. You didn't hesitate, popping the button and sliding the zipper down in quick succession. With a smile that was far more devious that you wanted to admit, you slid your hand under the fabric and wrapped it around the hot, straining length of his cock, giving the sensitive flesh a gentle squeeze as a breath shuddered from his chest. "Fuck, (Y/n)–"

"Shh," you soothed, your unoccupied hand coming up to cup his right hipbone. "Sit down for me?"

Legend nodded wordlessly, allowing you to guide him to plop down on the couch, legs spread and cock tenting the already wet fabric of his underwear. You sank down between his thighs, movement hindered only by the tail still lodged deep inside you, and quickly freed his dick, pulling his boxers just under his balls.

You didn't give him much time to prepare, licking a long, hot stripe up the underside of his cock, cleverly flicking the quivering tip with the flat of your tongue. Legend's fingers immediately sunk into the couch cushions, abs visibly tightening as he groaned to the ceiling. The sound sent a rush of liquid heat spiraling through your bones, igniting every nerve in your body, and you grinned, feeling more confident that you had in days. "I love you," you murmured against his length, planting a sloppy kiss to the side of it, and Legend sucked in a sharp breath, watching you with half-lidded eyes and a blush bright enough to put the sun to shame.

"I love you too," he whispered back, and you rewarded him with a slow lick to the flushed head of his dick, eagerly lapping at the salty pre burbling from the fat tip. A hand found its place on the top of your head, gently toying with the rabbit ears attached to your head. "Hah– (Y/n)–"

You said his name in response, breath ghosting deliciously over the wet skin of his length before you moved to take him in your mouth, starting with the flushed head. Legend's remaining hand gripped the cushion harder as he fought for control, but it was for naught when your tongue swirled over the quivering flesh, drawing a series of groans from his pink, parted lips. You preened at the noise, relaxing your throat to fit a bit more of him into your mouth, beginning to suck when you were satisfied.

"Ah–!" Legend practically cried when the suction registered. He called your name once more, tone pitching as your cheeks hollowed more and more, tongue idly flicking the underside of his head. "Shit, you're s-so good at this–"

Your response was to suck harder, relishing in the way his hips inadvertently bucked, forcing a good few inches of him into your mouth. Legend groaned, attempting to curb the motion, if the obvious strain in his abdomen and thighs meant anything, but you didn't mind. He was always so worried about pushing boundaries or hurting you, which was sweet, but you weren't made of glass. "Mm, fuck, sorry–" he panted, but you merely took him deeper, huffing softly to let him know it was okay.

Legend trembled like a leaf by the time you began to move, bobbing your head in a familiar rhythm, one hand intertwining with his--the contact a sort of whispered intimacy that never failed to make your heart mush and your knees weak--while the other stroked the base of his length, creating a pseudo-block just in case he did subconsciously decide to harpoon your throat again. "Oh, Hylia," he gasped, fingers digging so hard into the couch that you feared it would rip. "'M not gonna last–"

The warning had the opposite effect, with you sucking even harder around his trembling, leaking length, thumb stretching down to caress his balls with a featherlight touch. His moans pitched in volume and tone, until he was nearly keening under your hands, babbling something unintelligible as you worked him over, popping off his cock every so often to lave licks and kisses over the shuddering flesh, making sure to pay extra attention to the flushed head, which quivered oh-so-deliciously beneath the arched flat of your tongue. It was a far cry from the gruff, ornery persona he employed to face the rest of the world, and seeing him crumble under your attentions was the best feeling in Hyrule, especially when his hips jerked softly, nudging the head of his cock deeper into your waiting mouth.

"Shit, (Y/n)," he hissed, gazing down at you with a lovestruck expression that made your core throb. His chest heaved and you didn't fail to notice the way his dick seemed to stiffen against your tongue, balls drawing up slightly under your thumb. He was close, and you knew it. "Please, love, c-can I–?"

As if he even had to ask. You responded by drawing up, the head of his cock just barely within the confines of your lips, and sinking back down, taking him to the hilt. Legend let out a shout, lips falling open as his orgasm hit him like a meteor. His hands flew to your head, gently tangling in your hair and pulling slightly when the first spurt of cum flooded your mouth, then the second, and the third. Your boyfriend trembled as you brought him down with slow, easy suckles around the head, happily drinking down his release. It tasted salty, but not enough to be gross, with the faintest hint of sweetness that you just knew was attributed to the pineapple juice he'd taken a liking to a year back.

"Fu-fuck," Legend's chest heaved as he watched you swallow his seed, looking very much like a man who had just seen the Goddess herself.

You licked your lips, feeling a bit shy under his gaze. "How was it?" the words spilled from your mouth before you could stop them, but you truly did want to know. You always wanted to make him feel good.

"It was amazing," Legend responded, voice deliciously breathy as he bent to plant a kiss on your forehead, one hand coming down to tenderly wipe a bit of cum from your cheek. "Thank you."

"No, thank you," you countered with a soft grin, and he rolled his eyes, patting the spot beside him. You happily stood up, idly stretching your sore joints before plopping down next to him, hands folded in your lap. They didn't stay that way for long, because he was suddenly pulling you into a deep kiss, uncaring of the taste on your tongue. "Mmph, Link–"

Legend's hands found your hips, kneading the soft flesh as your mouths melded together, unhurried and slow, just how you liked it. One hand crept up to cup your left breast, and you mewled when his mouth moved to ghost along the column of your neck. "You're incredible," he breathed into your flesh, leaving swathes of gooseflesh in his wake. "I mean it."

"I love you," you whispered through clenched teeth, because it was the only thing you could say. Because it was the only thing you would say. "Happy birthday, Link."

"You too, (Y/n)."

And he was kissing you again, hands roaming your back in search of the hidden zipper. Once located, he slowly tugged it down, dragging the calloused tips of his fingers down the curve of your spine as he went, eliciting shiver after shiver from your poor body. Your arms wrapped around his upper back, fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his head, gently tugging at the blonde strands to coax a rumbled groan from his chest.

Legend's head dipped to the crook of your neck and shoulder, sucking a deep bruise into the soft skin. You gasped softly when he delivered a playful nip to the affected flesh, the prick of his teeth sending shockwaves down to your very soaked core, which only grew more wet when several fingers bushed against the tail lodged inside you, toying with the furry addition. "Oh!"

"Is this alright?" he asked against your shoulder, and your heart swelled at the genuine concern in his tone.

"Mhm," you confirmed, shivering anew when the touches grew more serious, until he pulled it from you entirely with a lewd squelch. You hissed a breath through your teeth when a finger circled the rim of your ass, dipping in easily due to the lube. "Ah, Link–"

"It's okay," he hummed softly, moving up to kiss the shell of your ear, tongue darting out to lick the tip. "Tell me if it's too much."

Unlikely, but if he insisted. You had played around with that hole a few times before, though Legend was always sure to confirm that you were okay with it and not trying to mindlessly please him. While you didn't quite understand the concept, you were happy that he was checking, even if it got a bit silly, at times. A low groan left you when he added a second finger, slowly scissoring them against your walls. "Oh, Goddesses–"

Legend's lips found yours as his fingers worked, only replacing them with the plug when you began to shift your hips, grinding your wet core against his knee, a thin layer of slick coating the exposed skin. You whimpered at the action, and downright moaned when your swollen nub of a clit inadventatly grazed his knee bone. Fuck, that felt good. "Please, I need–!"

"I know," he soothed, gently dragging the bodysuit down to pool at your hips, revealing your skin to his half-lidded gaze. His head dipped down to mouth hickeys on the tops of your breasts, while your fingers returned to his hair, weaving into the soft blonde strands. "I got you."

"Y-Yeah?" You panted, feeling unfairly warm despite the chill of the outside weather. Legend nodded, laving his tongue over your right breast before delivering a tender bite. When you yelped, he pressed a soft kiss to the affected area. "Ah!"

When he was satisfied, Legend pressed more kisses to your chest, moving lower and lower with each passing second. Your grip on his hair tightened, drawing a soft hiss from the man, and you quickly loosened, murmuring apologies. He kissed your belly in response, hands trailing down your supple sides, passing over your ribs and eventually settling atop your hips, right where the fabric of the bodysuit was bunched. "Can I...?"

"Please," you breathed, core tightening with anticipation, and he didn't hesitate to yank the damp fabric down your legs, throwing it to the wayside before settling back between your legs. You scooted so that your back was flush against the armrest of the couch, thighs spread wide.

"You're gorgeous," he said as soon as you were situated, leaning down to press the gentlest of kisses to your clit, eliciting a soft gasp. You waited for the next action, which would either be a long, flat lick up the length of your cunt or a trail of bites down your thigh, but neither came. In fact, he seemed a bit nervous. "Actually, could we...?"

Your face flushed when he laid on his back, hands raised expectantly. This was new, but you found yourself liking it. "Are you sure?" you asked, not wanting to crush him, especially with so much of your weight on his head and neck.

"Mhm," he confirmed, a bit shifty-eyed, yet still sincere. It wasn't often that he proposed new ideas in the bedroom, and you about to discourage his attempts, so you hesitantly scooted forward so that your hips were parallel with his face, hovering a few inches in the air while your hands planting themselves on his chest for stability.

Legend's breath ghosted over your core and you shuddered. "How do you–?"

"Just sit," he encouraged, hands applying gentle pressure to your thighs in an attempt to coax you down. "Like a chair."

You felt your brows furrow. Was that even safe, having that much pressure on those areas? Goddesses, you did not want to explain to the paramedics why he had broken his neck or skull if this went wrong. "But won't that–?"

"It's safe, don't worry," he interjected softly, tongue darting out to skim the barest edges of your folds, drawing a garbled moan from your chest. "Trust me, okay?"

"I am trusting you," you huffed, though you relented quickly when he tugged at your thighs, tone almost pleading.

"Please? Don't I get one birthday wish?"

You snorted, still hovering. "You're going to use your birthday wish to get me to sit on your face?"

"Yes," there was no hesitation from your boyfriend, and you found yourself laughing, all traces of nerves melting away as the sound rang through the house.

"Fine, fine," you relented. "But if it hurts or you need air, you tell me, okay?"

"Yes, dear," said Legend in a tone that made you want to (gently) smack him. The bastard was teasing you, but your irritation soon melted away when he leaned up, sealing his mouth around your pussy, and used the suction to drag you down a few inches. You went with a hissed breath, aided by the hands kneading into the flesh of your thighs, coaxing you to settle atop his face. "There you go," he mumbled, sending shockwaves through your folds. "Good?"

You didn't trust yourself to speak, so you nodded with an affirming noise, fingers digging slightly into his chest as you fought to stay upright in the face of the onslaught of pleasure. A low groan rumbled from your boyfriend's chest, his tongue sliding against your core like it belonged there. You bit your lip, eyeing his erection, which stood tall and proud, a bit of pre leaking onto the semi-defined muscles of his abdomen, and desire won out. You wrapped a shaky hand around the hard length, earning a muffled moan against your sex and a gentle bite to the crease of your inner thigh and hip, a warning that had your toes practically curling.

Legend's tongue slicked up and down, alternating between long, slow strokes to short, deft flicks that made your core burn with arousal. Your hips rocked–slowly, at first–as you ground yourself against his face, your nails imprinting thin white streaks across his skin. He didn't seem to mind, if the soft groans and appreciative sucks to your clit were any indication. Your voice rose, ringing through the room, and a hand detached from your thigh to cup one of your breasts, thumb flicking over your nipple until it grew hard enough to cut glass.

You responded by gripping his cock harder, beginning to pump the slick appendage in an attempt to give back what you were getting. It was his birthday, damnit!

His mouth moved to latch onto your nub once more, and your hips faltered. "Oh, fuck," you moaned unabashedly, back arching as molten heat swept through your core, igniting every nerve in your body. It was simultaneously too much and not enough. Your core clenched around nothing, and you would have felt embarrassed had his tongue not chosen that exact moment to dip between your folds, softly circling your entrance before worming inside, dragging deliciously against your inner walls. Your moans rose in pitch as your hands scrabbled at his chest, looking for something–anything–to ground yourself with.

Legend hummed, fondling your breast with purpose, intent on feeling you cum from his mouth alone. Sweat beaded on your brow when his tongue grazed that spongey spot within you, sending shockwaves up your spine, ricocheting against every little corner of your body. Your heart pounded like a drum in your heaving chest, just as a coil began to form in your belly. "Link," you whined, wishing you could grab his hair to pull him closer, but you settled with stroking him as best you could in your addled state. "Please, baby, 'm close–"

"I know," his voice, gruff from effort, vibrated deliciously against your center. The hand on your breast moved down to rub your achy clit, while the one on your thigh caught your own hand, holding it in a tender embrace. "Cum for me, love."

You did just that, wailing your release to the ceiling as it crashed down on you like a rogue waves, zings of pleasure swirling up your spine as your lower body threatened to buckle. Your thighs trembled impressively as your boyfriend worked you through it, lapping at your oversensitive folds until you were sure you were going to lose your mind. "Ah, Link, fuck, it's t-too much–!"

His mouth immediately popped off, though not before delivering one last lave to your poor clit. You hissed at the sensation, body practically folding in half as you collapsed onto his chest. "Oh my Hylia," you breathed when your lungs finally began cooperating again. "That was..."

"Delicious," Legend said, and you could just hear the smirk in his tone.

"Shut up," you groaned, regaining a bit of your lost composure. You rose, shifting your hips so that you were sitting on his abdomen, facing him. Legend sat up on his elbows, ears perked with interest, and his cock pressed hotly against the curve of your ass. "Do you want to keep going?"

At your question, he sat up fully, arms wrapping around your back and pulling you close. "What do you think?" Legend asked softly, head dipping to suck at one of the marks on your neck. You hummed, one hand weaving through his hair and tugging, encouraging him to meet your lips in a sweet kiss.

When you broke apart, panting softly, you grinned: "I love you."

Your boyfriend's eyes glimmered with adoration, and his grip tightened, inadvertently pushing your hips back against his straining dick. Whatever he was going to say was drowned out by a low, needy moan, and you were fairly sure you could have cum untouched from the sound alone. "Please," he said in a tone that sounded suspiciously close to begging. "I want to feel you."

"How do you want it?"

Legend's face flushed, and you had to physically force yourself not to chuckle. It had taken a good few years to get him fully comfortable with expressing his desires in the bedroom, and, by Hylia, were you glad his only reservations now seemed to be a misplaced sense of embarrassment. For the Goddess' sake, you had dressed in a rabbit costume for his birthday, so you doubted anything he wanted would shock you. Still, you were happy to wait patiently, hands moving to his shoulders to knead the tense muscles.

"On top," he finally blurted, blush illuminating his cheeks. "Please."

"As you wish, Sir Bunny," you grinned, plating a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. Just because you were the one dressed up didn't mean that you couldn't have a bit of fun.

Your boyfriend didn't have time to laugh before you grabbed his length, giving it a few good pumps before angling the head against your dripping entrance and sinking down. The slide was easy, aided by the copious fluids, and the stretch was something that had your thighs trembling harshly, which only made the friction that much sweeter. A hand gripped your hip, softly guiding the process, but you hardly needed it, moaning long and loud when your hips met with a filthy squelch. "Ah– Link!"

Legend's breath shuddered against the shell of your ear. He nipped the cartilage, earning a soft gasp, before his hand entangled in your own hair, pulling you in for a deep kiss. You opened your month on instinct, allowing his tongue to explore to his heart's content. He was a former adventurer, after all. "Fuck," he breathed, fingers sinking into the flesh of your hip. "You feel so good. 'M not gonna last much longer."

"Me neither," you panted back, your previous activities leaving you more high-strung than a power line. You broke apart, whimpering when he sucked more marks down the column of your neck, occasionally scraping his teeth against tender, trembling skin. Your hips rose on their own accord, only stopping when the head of his dick was just barely within the warmth of your walls. Legend whined lowly, and you sank back down, practically mewling at the stretch.

You continued to move, finding a breakneck pace that had your thighs burning from exertion, though you rather liked it, a sense of urgency broiling in your gut as your boyfriend moaned beneath you, too far gone to bother muffling his noises. His thumb slipped between your legs to help you along, the rough pad stimulating your overstimulated clit until you could hardly think, hips moving up and down as if they had a mind of their own. "F-Fuck," your name fell from Legend's kiss-swollen lips, the look in his half-lidded eyes so full of need that you could have died happy. "Can I– inside?"

"Yes," you responded without missing a beat, a bit surprised by how hot the idea sounded. The thought of him painting your walls white drove you wild. Your hands dragged down his back as you slammed yourself down on him, the head of his cock jamming that one spot within you. "Link, I need you!"

Legend yanked you in for a kiss, and your orgasm hit like a freight train, with your vision actually whiting out for a second as waves of pleasure wracked through your poor, oversensitive body, threatening to tear you apart at the seams. You were dimly aware of the chocked sob escaping your throat, followed by scalding warmth as Legend's cum filled you, thick and slick. The hand in your hair tightened, keeping you in place to meet the slight roll of his hips, prolonging your pleasure until there was nothing left.

After what felt like an eternity, you parted, panting like you had run a marathon. You met his gaze through your lashes, forcing yourself to breathe as the fog of arousal began to recede, leaving you boneless and satisfied. Legend's face was flushed a deep red, the color swooping down to paint his shoulders and chest. He was so beautiful, even while flushed, sweaty, and covered in fluids, still half-hard inside you.

"Wow." You breathed.

"Yeah."

Legend smiled weakly, and you took the opportunity to cup his cheeks, thumbs rubbing soft circles over his flesh. Your lips met, and it was as perfect as you wanted. When you parted, there was a new, more coherent expression on his face: nervousness.

You blinked, concern etched across your face. "Honey, are you--?"

"Marry me," he blurted, and the world stopped. Your mouth actually fell open, jaw slack as you processed his words. You had always assumed he was fine with dating–it wasn't like you needed a piece of paper and fancy ceremony to prove you loved each other–but yet...

"Oh my goddesses," you breathed, and his face fell a bit.

"I'm sorry," he said in a tone that made you wanna to throw up. "I should have waited– you can pretend I never–"

Your heart actually withered and you struggled to correct the situation. "NO. No. Um. Yes! Yes, I'll marry you!"

"You will?" the light returned to his eyes and every nerve in your body rejoiced when his hold tightened around you, betraying his bolstering excitement. Blue eyes glimmered. "You mean it?"

"Mhm," you nodded, injecting as much sincerity as you could in your response. "Let's get married, Link."

He kissed you, and it was everything you could have asked for; not needy or hungry, but soft, tender, a joining as old as time itself.

It was everything.

He was everything.

"I love you," Legend spoke when you broke apart, holding you to his chest like he was scared of letting go. "So much. Thank you."

You locked gazes with him and smiled. "I love you too."

You may not have been the best with remembering birthdays, but now, you had the rest of your life to make it up to him.

As you can see, I'm taking my ES/Bio major very seriously in these fics.

The ending is a bit rushed, but I'll come back and edit it tonight <33

[yo-ri-su-ki]

Frozen lakes and ashes in the wind

Vergil Sparda x dying reader

An: I saw that y'all were getting too happy. Here's an angst story of Vergil..😼 but it's just a tiny drabble, it won't do much besides it gets soft at the end :P

The air was sharp with the scent of blood and ozone. Ash drifted lazily in the air like snow, settling on the jagged stones beneath Vergil’s boots. He stood motionless, Yamato still in hand, bathed in flickering crimson light from the portal you’d just sealed with the last of your strength.

He hadn’t expected you to take the hit meant for him. You weren't supposed to be this reckless, this… selfless.

You lay crumpled against a broken column, half-buried in rubble and your own blood. Your breaths were shallow and spaced too far apart. He was at your side in a blink.

“Foolish,” he muttered, kneeling. His tone was cold, but his hands were trembling.

You smiled faintly, blood on your lips. “S-Still... worth it. You’re still standing, aren’t you?”

Vergil didn’t respond. His fingers hovered just above your wound, helpless. Yamato could cut through the veil of dimensions, but it couldn’t stitch torn flesh or keep the warmth from fading out of you.

He had fought gods. Conquered demons. But he couldn’t stop your life from slipping away beneath his hands.

“I told you... I could handle it,” you whispered. “Didn’t expect that second one to come from the left though…”

“Silence,” he ordered, but his voice cracked like fractured ice. “You will not waste your strength talking.”

“I might not get another chance to say anything.”

His breath hitched. You reached for him, and though it was weak, he took your hand with a grip that bordered on desperation.

“I’m not afraid,” you said softly. “I knew what I was getting into. I wanted to fight beside you, Vergil. Always.”

Vergil closed his eyes. “You should not have followed me.”

“Then who would’ve stopped you from dying cold and alone?” you teased faintly.

His jaw clenched. “I don’t need—”

“Yes, you do.” Your voice was quieter now. “Even someone like you... deserves to be loved.”

Silence fell. The wind shifted, carrying the scent of scorched earth and crushed flowers.

Vergil looked down at you, his gaze a storm of unsaid things. “I never asked for your love.”

“I know,” you whispered, eyes fluttering shut. “But you have it anyway.”

A pause. Then, barely above a whisper:

“You will not die here.”

His voice was raw now, stripped of pride. He pulled you into his arms, his coat wrapping around your broken frame like a shield. A low hum built in the air, Yamato pulsing with power as he slashed open a portal with trembling hands.

“Stay with me,” he murmured, over and over, as he stepped into the void with you in his arms.l

Later…

You woke in a quiet room, wrapped in blankets, the scent of incense and cold steel in the air. Weak but alive.

Vergil sat at your bedside, eyes closed, sword across his lap like a prayer. He hadn’t left.

Your fingers brushed his hand.

“You stayed.”

He looked up. And for the first time, Vergil Sparda smiled, just a flicker of it, almost broken.

“I did.”

Made by @yo-ri-su-ki, do not copy or translate my work! Reposts and likes appreciated!!

An: so uh.. GUYS REQUEST SOMETHING PLEASE IM RUNNING OUT OF IDEAS

[confused-pyramid]

I'll Be Yours In A Landslide | s7 interlude

pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader

summary: Hotch and his childhood best friend working together at the BAU: a slow burn across the seasons.

word count: 2.6k

warnings: SMUT, oral (fem!receiving), p in v, angst

a/n: IMPORTANT UPDATE: Sorry for the wait guys, I've been super busy with graduating soon and other life updates, so I haven't had any time to write:( I really wanted to give some sort of a tie-up for this series at least for the time being, so I wrote a little interlude for y'all. I am hoping to come back at some point, but for now, I'm putting an indefinite hold on this series. I really appreciate all the comments and messages I've gotten from people, and I hope to talk to you all soon:) Title is from State Lines by Novo Amor

series masterlist

"How could you?"

You push past him, shoving your way into his apartment the moment he opens the door. You were fuming your entire drive over, but now that he's standing in front of you, your mind is a battlefield of warring emotions: I hate you, I love you, I missed you.

"You knew the whole time that she was alive," you gasp, already feeling out of breath, "and you kept it from us. From me."

"I'm sorry." It seems to be the only thing he can say these days. He has said it so many times, he's lost count, but it doesn't make this better. He knows he hurt you, even if he didn't have a choice. "Please just sit down and we can talk."

"No," you shoot back, shaking him off as he tries to step closer. "I'm not gonna calm down right now. I've been keeping this in for months, Aaron. I was there for everyone and no one was there for me."

His brow screws together and you know you're hitting exactly the right spots to make him feel worse, but you can't help it.

"I wanted to tell you," he says, his voice almost frantic as you pace back and forth across his living room. "You have no idea how badly I wanted to tell you all of it, but I couldn't."

"You should've tried harder," you yell, knowing how unfair that is even as you're saying it. His face falls and he turns his palms towards you, like he's about to surrender, but that isn't what you want. You want the fight. It's what you've been waiting for for months.

You open your mouth to yell at him again, but then his eyes find yours, and he looks at you in that way he used to...like it's the first time he's seeing you all over again, and suddenly you're walking toward him. His eyes widen as you crash into him, and before he can understand what's happening, your lips are on his.

It takes him way too long to realize what's happening, but his hands move faster than his brain. They latch onto your waist, tugging you closer, pressing your chest to his, as you gasp into his mouth. When his brain finally catches up, he swears he can see fireworks as you grasp onto him, your lips so soft over his. He's been drowning for months, years, wanting you, waiting for you, pushing you away, and now you're here and he can finally breathe.

"I'm sorry," he whispers against your lips, trying to emphasize how grateful he is to have you back, but you just bring your hands up between you and tear off his open button down before chucking it to the ground.

"Shut up," you mutter, a pang of hurt cutting through even as you try to sound angry. "Just kiss me."

He doesn't make you ask twice. His lips come back to yours as he walks you back towards the couch, your knees buckling when they hit the seat.

Aaron sinks down and pulls you on top of him as you grab at every part of him, your fingers tugging at his collar and your teeth brushing over his bottom lip. The kiss is harsh and he gasps as your nails drag over his skin, but he doesn't care. You're here.

He's falling, succumbing to the overwhelming desire rising up within him, but before he can let go, he pulls back momentarily. "You're sure? I don't want you to regre-"

"I want you," you whisper, the last word turning to a sob against your will. "I'm so mad at you, but I love you and I want you, so please don't stop."

His eyes squint with shame and for a moment you almost feel guilty for how harsh you are being, but then the desire returns and he pulls you down on top of him. Your hands come up to tangle in his hair, and the roughness of his beard feels unfamiliar, yet exciting. When his mouth moves down your jaw, the scratch of his beard against your skin ignites a fire within you.

You claw at his back, trying to pull his tee shirt over his head, and he reaches down, helping you wrest it off and onto the floor. The movement sends your hips back over his groin and he lets out a low groan as he tears your button-down open.

When your top falls to the floor as well, you both pause, finally realizing the gravity of what you're doing. Your eyes drag down his chest, over the thick scars lining his abdomen and collarbone, and soon your fingers are following along, tracing a path of fire over the roughest and most beautiful parts of him. 

You gasp as his fingers ghost over the scar on your waist, where your bullet wound used to be, and before the tears in your eyes can fall, your lips are back on his. 

There's more urgency in your movements this time as you try to relish the feeling of his mouth over your pulse, your hips rolling over him. 

"Bedroom," you whisper as heat spreads between your legs, emanating from the grip of his hands on your thighs. "Now."

He doesn't waste a second as he wraps his arms around your body and stands up, lifting you along with him as he makes his way down the hall. His lips don't leave yours even as he pushes the door open with his back, and he only breaks away to toss you onto the bed. You hit the covers with a gasp, and you see his pupils darken with lust as he climbs over you, his pants already tightening. 

You can hardly believe he's back in your life again, and even as anger and hurt cloud your vision, he's here in front of you, and you need him as close as humanly possible.

"I want you too," he says suddenly, his eyes finding yours in a moment of earnestness. "So much...for so long."

Your throat thickens with tears again, and you can't decide whether you want to blink them away or let them fall, but then he quickly tugs your jeans and panties off in one go and every thought leaves your brain. 

He looks animalistic as he peppers kisses up your legs, his mouth warm and wet as he stops just before your core for an extra second to rile you up.

"Aaron," you groan, threading your fingers into his hair and tugging him forward. You won't beg, not right now, but he gets the idea.

He practically grins at your desperation, drawing it out a bit longer by sucking bruises into your thighs, before he finally goes where you are willing him to. Your head falls back with a gasp as he plunges his tongue down, licking a trail up your slit that has you writhing beneath him.

He presses his hands into your thighs, spreading them apart as your hips jut off the bed. His tongue feels like heaven as he works you open along with his fingers, getting you close within a matter of minutes. 

"Aaron, please-" you gasp out, your words cutting off as he hooks his finger up, his movements precise in a way that both surprises and exhilarates you. You're not even sure what you're asking him for, you just need more of him. 

It's like he can hear your thoughts, because his fingers start moving faster, and when your grip on his hair tightens, he lets out a low hum that vibrates up your core.

You are barely aware of what your legs are doing, but when he grabs your ankle and lifts your leg over his shoulder, your head flies back and you're moaning his name so loudly, you're afraid the neighbors will come knocking.

"Yes," you gasp, your fingers pulling at his hair harder you mean to.

He laves over your clit, alternating between sucking and licking, until you come apart under his tongue, your mouth falling open with a loud cry. 

You taste incredible, and he's so hard that his jeans have become uncomfortably tight, but even as you cry out his name, it's not enough. He wants to see you come apart under him.

Gripping your hips, he yanks you down so that you're lying directly beneath his body, eliciting a soft moan from you. Your eyes are wide with bliss as you look up at him, your eyelashes fluttering softly, and he has to grip the sheets beside your head to keep his pants from tightening any further.

His knee presses down on the bed between your thighs as he lifts you up and deftly unclasps your bra, before gently dropping it to the floor. When he returns his gaze back to you, his breath stutters as he takes in the sight before him.

"Beautiful," he whispers, almost as an afterthought. "You're so beautiful." 

He has always known it, but something about seeing you in his bed, like this, feels unbelievable. Like he somehow did everything exactly right. Except you didn't, his brain reminds him. You did everything wrong, and still got this lucky.

Maybe it is luck. But whatever it is that brought him here, he isn't going to waste another second thinking about it.

You help him tug his pants off, and when he chucks his boxers off right after, his cock springs free, hard and ready without you even touching him. Your mouth floods with saliva as his knee presses forward between your legs, and you reach down to take him in your hands, but he pushes you back with a small shake of his head.

He wants to feel you more than anything else in the world right now, but he's already so riled up, he's afraid to let you touch him until he's inside of you. He reaches over to the nightstand and grabs a foil packet to cover himself, before he lowers himself down.

"Ready?" he asks, his voice gruff even to his own ears.

You nod, your legs spreading as he lines himself up, and his breath gets stuck in his throat when he slowly pushes in. Your mouth falls open as he fills you up, taking his time to push forward until he's fully seated inside of you.

He's big enough that you need a few moments to adjust, but once he starts moving, a string of moans falls from your lips. He leans forward to press a kiss to your jaw, then your lips, and when he pulls back, his pupils are so dark you can barely make out the color of his eyes.

"You're perfect," he whispers against your skin as he presses his mouth to your neck, his hips slowly rocking into you. "You're everything."

After growing accustomed to his size, the stretch feels amazing, and you try to respond, but your head just falls back onto the pillow as waves of pleasure roll over you. You remember your dream from while he was gone, the hazy sequence that had you waking up in a heated fervor, and you can't help but think about how much better he is in real life. How you waited for so many years, and even when it hurt like hell, it was all still worth it.

He starts to thrust faster, and you hike your knees up, trying to change the angle to get him even deeper inside of you. When he hits the right spot, you let out a high gasp and your walls involuntarily squeeze around him.

"Fuck," he mutters through gritted teeth as his rhythm falters slightly. "You can't do that." He dips down to press his lips to yours for a sharp kiss. "I'm already close."

"Me too," you cry, realizing it as it flies out of your mouth. "I'm so close."

Your words seem to flip a switch in his brain. You watch as his eyes darken and his rhythm picks back up, like he only has one goal and he won't stop until he gets it. 

You're starting to squeeze around him again, and he fists the comforter next to you as he thrusts faster, his other hand coming down between the two of you. It doesn't take him more than a few seconds to find your clit, and when his thumb flicks over it once, then twice, your breath stutters and your walls close around him so suddenly that he nearly finds his release as well.

You look magical as you fall apart below him, and he keeps moving inside of you, working you through it as he commits the image to memory. You let out a soft sigh as you come down from your high, but it only takes a few more thrusts for him to near the edge.

"Where do you want me?" he asks, his voice a low hum as you run your fingers through his hair, your nails scratching over his scalp.

You gasp quietly. "Come inside me. Please." 

He groans, picking up his pace again, and wraps his arms around you in an effort to bring you even closer. You press your lips to his as he releases, swallowing his gasps while he slowly comes down.

He pulls out slowly, taking care not to hurt you when you're sensitive, before heading into the bathroom. He returns after a minute with a small towel that he uses to carefully clean both of you up with. 

After tossing it away, he climbs back into the bed and tugs you close to him, your back pressing into his front like a pair of puzzle pieces. The day is starting to catch up with you, and you feel tiredness pull at your eyes as his chest rises and falls evenly behind you.

"I'm in love with you," he says suddenly, his voice hurried like he surprised even himself. "I'm sorry if it isn't the right time or if that isn't what you wanted from this, but-"

"Aaron," you cut him off, turning over so that you can reach up and thread your fingers through his hair. "I'm in love with you too. Of course I am."

He lets out a breath, and you can almost hear the relief in his sigh as he wraps an arm around you and tucks you into his side. Unsurprisingly, he's a furnace wrapped up beside you, but you can't bring yourself to move, especially with how much comfort his mere presence brings you.

You lay there for a while, taking this uninterrupted time to re-memorize his face as his breath evens out. You could never forget anything about him, but he's been gone for so long that you expect there are hundreds of new facets to him that you'll get to learn.

His eyes have been closed long enough that you assume he is asleep, but then his breath stutters and you look up at him as he squeezes you closer in his arms.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice sending reverberations through his chest. "I know you know I couldn't tell you everything, but I should have let you in more-"

"I don't want to talk about this right now." Your voice is strong, and he must hear the finality in your tone, because he immediately quiets down. "I know you're sorry...and we'll talk about this more in the morning. But right now, I just want to be here with you. I just got you back."

He's quiet for a moment, but you feel his chin dip down in a nod. "Morning then. Good night."

His arms tighten around you and you snuggle next to him, every part of you interweaving in an effort to get closer than you already are. 

That night, you have the best sleep you've had in years.

TAGLIST:@citrusiove, @yiiiikesmish, @mdanon027, @alice-w0rld, @beata1108, @bakugocanstompme, @raely-study, @himboelover, @hermionegalathynius, @rousethemouse, @calif0rniadreamin, @tolerateit13, @delusional-13s-blog, @madesavage05, @littlemisskavities, @love13tter, @domithebomi, @guacam011y, @averyhotchner, @silver-studios, @whosmys, @mimi-sanisanidiot, @chronicallybubbly, @shilphy87, @threespacemonkeys, @zaddyhotch, @slytherin-min99, @endofthexline, @thattookaturnforthenerdy

[jangmi-latte]

you just know how much of an impact lilia had on malleus when — the time he still doesn't know about lilia's contribution to his life — he would run away/secretly escape from the castle and visit lilia from time to time in his little cottage in the forest. he doesn't like it back home and prefers to stay in a very homely and small cottage where it's full of life. heck he probably still appreciates lilia's cooking since lilia cooks out of LOVE, not just to keep him alive. despite it being deadly

it's how much he looks up to lilia when it was also him that introduced ice cream to malleus, when he had his tantrums, when he didn't know how to control his magic, how they'd play fight all the time (even until now). he even was willing to assist lilia when it comes to looking after little silver. it was lilia that gave him the confidence and strength and he KNOWS that but it must've been so painful knowing the full truth.

damn it he even listens and cowers to lilia if lilia's mad/scolding him because NO ONE DOES back in his home so how would he learn?? malleus doesn't even like being acknowledged as a prince. that's why he's so admirable/attached towards the mc because they're clueless about his real nature and the mc sees mal for himself. which is what lilia does because heaven forbid lilia doesn't care about mal's title 🥹 he's putting that draconia ass to his place just like he does to his mom. and may i remind you, most of the royal duties were forced on mal leaving him no room to make mistakes and just be...a young fae (ie. during his birthday he needs to do royal stuff as 'acknowledgement' since his birthday is a national holiday in his country). meanwhile, lilia just lets him play and do whatever he wants until he needed to interfere.

if you see malleus and leona's bickering, lilia can actually sense that mal's enjoying it and he fully supports that ideal because again and again he knows malleus needs it as part of growing up. damn it i hate the royal household of briar valley. when leona commented that malleus is so lucky to have everything and be acknowledged, best believe that malleus doesn't even like it. while he's being acknowledged, he's not evolving as a fae. he's just forced into a space where he's not himself. and leona's being ignored by his own senate but gives him to freedom to be and do what he wants. lilia is giving him THAT kind of freedom. a father. the rightful father figure that he NEEDS.

do you see the juxtaposition? do you see how important lilia is now to malleus' life? because damn well the senate of briar valley's deadass eyes don't. like come on y'all dead just STAY DEAD FFS‼️‼️🗣️🗣️

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Astarion Very Happy Ending, Part 2

Hey y'all, so I did a part two of this because I love happy, insanely, fluffy romantic endings. So I'm going hard here. There will be one more part!

Also, don't judge my Gale x Shadowheart bs here 💀💀 Long story short, first playthrough that was abanadoned, I picked her orgin and did get sweeped up by the mage man. It has not left my brain since.

Also, this has a time skip! A pretty long one too (10 years)

~

Astarion had been having… thoughts lately. Ideas that he couldn’t quite shake. Nothing bad, no. There really wasn’t much to complain about in his life, not anymore. Not when he could walk in the sun freely, unburdened by parasites and his own vampiric nature. The two of you were free to explore the world with no shackles, not including your religious zealotry. And ironically enough, his own. 

Astarion would never have guessed that he’d ever become a Selune convert. Well… even now convert may have been to strong of a word. Yes, he was immensely appreciative for the whole sun immunity blessing and he did have a newfound respect for the work of her worshippers. But Astarion wasn’t exactly looking for a deity, or anyone, to be subservient to. Not again. No, he’d much rather watch his love do the dirty work for his savior than fully commit himself. Besides, just because he wasn’t devoted to Selune didn’t mean he wasn’t devoted to you. Which might as well have been the same thing. 

Astarion loved you, adored you really, but gods could you be nonsensical at times. He was so happy the two of you had met because someone had to keep this idiotic fanatic alive. Someone to remind you that no darling, not everyone is redeemable. Please put the goblin down.

But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy being your protector. It was the least that he could do considering everything you’d done for him. And he just… liked having a valid excuse to accompany you everywhere. Astarion had never imagined himself to be such a clingy lover, but here he was. The two of you had been attached at the hip for nearly a decade now, with no end in sight. You had built a life together, had friends together, adventures and celebrations that filled his days with endless excitement and amusements.

That is one thing Astarion had to give Selune and her worshippers, they didn’t exactly lead boring lives. Though he supposed half of that had to with just how involved the opposition was. The two of you had slaughtered enough acolytes of Shar over the years for him to know just how covert they really could be. But it wasn’t just bloodsport that made things interesting, though it certainly did help. The exploring for ancient artifacts definitely helped to fill the time, as well as the constant search to find a cure for the rest of his unholy symptoms. 

As great as being in the sun was, Astarion wasn’t quite satisfied with that being the end. It was almost certainly impossible to find a full on cure to being a vampire spawn but… that wasn’t stopping either of you from looking for it. It was morbid, but Astarion wanted his life to have an ending. A natural one like what he hoped for you, not one where he was doomed to immortality and bloodlust until the end of time. 

Thank the gods that he had managed to fall in love with an elf. It at least gave him centuries instead of decades to figure out a solution to an eternal problem. Which brought him back to his current problem. Because the two of you had many, many years ahead. And as far as Astarion was aware you both planned on spending them with each other. Which implied… certain things.

Astarion had never been someone to fantasize about marriage. He had no reason to, not when he had been too busy barely surviving. Even when things became serious between the two of you it hadn’t been on his mind. He was much more concerned with keeping you at all instead of keeping you forever. 

But that had changed recently. Maybe it was because he had seen you officiate countless weddings over the years; young couples always clamoring at a chance to get a newlywed Selune blessing. Or maybe it was how others took note of the lack of a ring on his finger, taking it as an opportunity for unwanted flirtation. But either way, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Obsessing about it really, as he was want to do when it came to you.

He just… didn’t exactly know how to broach the subject. What was the reason? A silly little ceremony and a ring had no bearing on the depth of your relationship. He knew that. The two of you were bound to each other by choice, a love that felt as though it got stronger every day. But… it would be nice to have you in such a way. For the world to be aware of the seriousness of what you had together, shown simply through a pair of rings. And the thought of calling you his wife was quite enticing. 

He wasn’t quite sure why he was so hesitant to bring it up to you. Well… there was the slight delusional thought in his head that reminding you of forever could possible wake you up into realizing just how much better you could do than him. It wasn’t true, he was aware. But gods, your relationship had lasted a damn decade. When was he going to start feeling secure about all of this? 

It didn’t help when Gale of all people beat him to the punch. He and Shadowheart had developed quite the bond since your tadpole days. And your excitement over the announcement was adorable. Adorable enough for him to wonder just how you would react to it happening to you.

But he shoved his worries to the back of his mind, too busy being dragged all the way to Waterdeep for the week-long nuptials. You were highly involved in the wedding, which wasn’t exactly a shock. Shadowheart had stayed your best, most appreciated friend throughout the years, the two of you eternally tied through your shared goddess alone. You wrote to each other constantly and this was far from the first time you had dragged him across the realm for a visit. 

But this was probably the best time. He had to give the people of Waterdeep this, they knew how to celebrate. He wasn’t one to complain over a week filled of music, dance, and drink. The ceremony had been nice as well. Heart-warming even to watch Shadowheart walk down the aisle, smiling in a way she never could when she was devoted to Shar. With Gale sniveling at the other end and you officiating of course. 

The jealousy had been an unexpected touch. He couldn’t help but wonder what you would look like in her place. Dressed in white and silver, walking towards him with eternity in mind. 

It certainly wasn’t helping his dilemma, he could tell you that much. He was still thinking about it when they made it to the reception. It was impossible to bury thoughts of marriage when you were at a wedding. Would you want a large celebration like this? Or something more small and intimate? Hells, the two of you and a cleric in the middle of the woods would suffice to him. 

“To think, Astarion Ancunín at my wedding in the sunlight,” Gale laughed as he plopped down in the seat next to him, effectively putting an end to his internal fretting, “Who would have ever imagined?”

“Certainly not me,” Astarion scoffed with the slightest hint of a smile, “But I suppose things change.”

“I suppose they do,” Gale agreed, his eyes scanning the dancefloor for his new bride. There she was, dancing and giggling with you in the middle of ballroom,  “I just never expected it to be for the better.”

“It is a wonder that we’re all still alive,” Astarion agreed, smiling to himself when Shadowheart dipped you as you laughed hysterically, nearly falling over herself in the process, “Let alone being able to find love. Who would have thought the worshiper of the goddess of the dark would end up here.”

“Turns out she was hiding quite the personality behind the Shar mask,” Gale laughed, “Though I suppose we have Tav to thank for that. It was a real fight on who would have her as their best woman. A fight we both obviously lost. Though officiating seemed a good compromise.”

“She certainly has the experience,” Astarion sighed, “But I have a feeling this one will be her favorite. She’s happy for you two. We both are.”

“I’m happy for you too you know,” Gale added with a small smile, “I always thought the two of you would work out. I even made a killing in the pool we had going on for it.”

Astarion stared at him, brow raised, “You had a pool?”

“Oh absolutely,” Gale confirmed, completely shameless as he listed out the rules, “It got quite competitive after awhile. First, it was all about if you’d ever realize your feelings for her. Then when you went and did that we were betting on how long you’d both last before you left. And then when that didn’t happen, well. Let’s just say I got a few platinums richer.”

Astarion rolled his eyes at the news, barely even surprised, “I feel as though I’ve earned a cut of that.”

“Unfortunately it’s now our honeymoon fund. But I’ll owe you one.”

That was another aspect of this whole debacle that Astarion hadn’t even thought about. But gods, did it sound nice. Whole weeks dedicated strictly to the two of you. No religious duties or adventures to worry about, just… them. 

The joy of the thought must have shown on his face, because the next thing he knew Gale was looking him up and down, a small smirk on his lips, “What’cha thinking about over there?”

“That this wine is mediocre at best,” Astarion lied, avoid Gale’s eyes, “Tell me you at least got a good deal on it?”

But Gale wasn’t taking the bait. He was still watching him like a hawk. That was the problem with getting closer to people, and having, gods friends. 

You had to deal with the discomfort of being read like a book, “Does our little Astarion want to be wed?”

Astarion flinched at the accuracy, taking the time to shoot him a glare as he avoided the question, “I am nearly three centuries older than you.”

“Perhaps, but we both know two of them don’t count,” Gale said, barely missing a beat, “So tell me, do you already have a ring picked out?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I can help you pick one you know, there are many fantastic jewelers in Waterdeep. I believe she has the same ring size as Shadowheart, we can bring her along.”

Astarion rolled his eyes, ignoring the small blush creeping up his neck, “I want you to know that if this wasn’t your wedding day I would have slapped you by now. Consider my reluctance as your wedding present.”

“How generous of you,” Gale chuckled. But then he started to speak quieter, his voice taking on a more gentle and serious tone, “She would say yes you know. You’ve had her wrapped around your finger since the day you held that dagger to her throat.”

That was an exaggeration, but Astarion would be lying if he said the mention didn’t make him preen the slightest bit, “You forget that I did have competition.”

“Oh, barely,” Gale laughed, “You don’t get to reminisce of what could have been when you won. Gods, no one had any chance against you. And trust me, we tried.”

Astarion blinked at him, more than a little surprised, “You did?”

“Of course we did. We all did. What do you think Shadow and I bonded over? But the pining stopped eventually. Then it became…something more. Something deeper. She’s… a magnificent woman, my little shadow. Who has gone through too much…” Gale trailed off, his eyes still following his bride as he softly smiled,  “Suffice to say, neither of us are pining anymore. And I’m sure Shadow would love nothing more than to help plan her dearest friend’s nuptials.”

“Who ever said that you two would be involved?” Astarion scoffed, just to be an ass, “For all you know we’ll elope in Neverwinter.”

But Astarion’s grip backfired, if the smile on Gale’s face meant anything, “So that means you are going to propose?”

Oh for fucks sake. Astarion glared at him for the accuracy, at a loss for words. Besides it… it was true. Of course he was going to ask, where else would this fanatic line of thinking end? He just hadn’t expected Gale of all people to be the one to force him to admit it. 

“I-yes,” Astarion sighed, finally giving in, “Are you happy now? Yes, I’m going to.”

“Extremely,” Gale grinned, “Because you just won me another three hundred gold.”

[justwhisperingfantasies]

Anything

a continuation of Always

Characters: - Reader - Dean - Sam - Layla - Mrs. Rourke - Roy - Sue Ann- Mention of John and Joshua

Warnings: Fluff, Language, Implied Smut, Hurt Dean, Cannon Violence, Supernatural Spoilers,

A/N: So, I am really nervous about this one. Faith is in my top 3 favorite episodes of the whole series. This one is a wee bit longer. Sorry. I hope you enjoy it.

Hope y'all enjoy it.

Please don't copy my work

Like, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated

If you would like to be added to my tag list click here

Your leg muscles throbbed from the pressure you were applying to the gas pedal. Yet your car still seemed to crawl along the road. Damnit I’m not gonna make it.

You looked up to the stars. “I never asked you for anything. I hunt monsters. I save people. He saves people. He’s a good fucking person. You can’t let him die. You hear me? Please don’t let him die.”

“Sam.” you said as you flipped open your phone and held it to your ear. “What’s going on? Is he?”

“No. He’s alive. We just got to the hospital. They just took him. How far away are you?”

“Maybe 20 minutes. 10 if I run some red lights.”

“[Y/n] we don’t need you getting hurt too.” He tried to hide it with a cough but you the sniffle “please be careful. “

“Always.” Your automatic response sent a sharp pain through your chest.

You leaned your back against the door to his room, staring at the calming painting hanging in the hallway, trying to find the courage to face what was on the other side.

“You love me.” He chuckled as you let out a hefty sigh.  He raised his head and rested his chin on your chest. You cracked your eyes open a bit, catching a glimpse of his bright green eyes. “You know I love you too, right?"

“I know.”

He gazed at you, a look of bewilderment crossing his face. “You know?!”

“Dean you tell me all the time, how I’m your best friend, you’re always telling me to be careful, you worry about me. I know you love me.”

He chuckled. “No sweetheart, I’m in love with you.”

You remember how your heart skipped at that moment. He slowly made his way up your body, his lips drawing closer to yours. You placed a hand on his chest, stopping him right before he got to his destination. ““If we cross this line, there’s no going back, Dean.”

He closed the gap between your lips and firmly placed his on yours. Your hand sliding upward, wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer. The fire ran through your veins as he stroked his tongue against yours. His kisses grew needy, hungry like he couldn’t get enough of you.

Heavy pants filled the room as the desire intensified between you. Your fingers grazed the bottom of his shirt, lifting it gently to his chest, he broke the kiss and swiftly removed it. A smile on his lips as you admired the definition of his shoulder muscles. “Like what you see?”

“Eh, they’re alright.”

“That drool on your chin says otherwise” He murmured softly, lowering his head to place gentle kisses along your neck.

“[y/n]!” Sam’s voice pulled you out of your memory. You turned and headed in his direction.   

“Hey Sam. Have you heard anything?”

“No, I just got done talking to the cops and paying for his treatments.” You rolled your eyes. “They are just doing their jobs.” Sam glanced over your shoulder. “Hey Doc.” You pivoted and stood next to Sam. The doctor shifted his gaze to you then back to Sam. “His fiancée.” You gave a nod, going along with his lie.

“How is he?” your voice cracked.

“He's resting.” The doctor replied

“And?” Sam asked.

“The electrocution triggered a heart attack. Pretty massive, I'm afraid. His heart...it's damaged.” You felt a wave of emotion as tears started to gather in your eyes.

“How damaged?” you managed to keep you voice normal

“We've done all we can. We can try and keep him comfortable at this point. But I'd give him a couple weeks, at most, maybe a month.”

“No, no. There's, there's... gotta be something you can do, some kind of treatment.” Sam argued.

“We can't work miracles. I really am sorry.”

The reality hits you. “He’s not going to make it…”  You blinked, letting the tears flow freely down your cheeks.

“There’s my girl.” Dean said as you walked in, Sam following behind you.  His strained voice weighed heavily on your heart. Your eyes brimming with tears as they met his gaze. He appeared so frail and unwell. You had Dean in rough shape before, this was something entirely different. You and Sam stopped at the foot of his bed.

“We talked to your doctor.” Sam told him.

“Ok, So where are we doing the fight for the Impala?” Dean gestured to you and Sam. “Whoever gets it, better take care of it or I’ll haunt them.”

You scoffed. “That’s not funny.”

“Oh, come on, it's a little funny.”

“Dean.” Sam whimpered.

“Look, we all know how dangerous this gig can be. I drew the short straw. That's it, end of story.”

“Don't talk like that, alright? We still have options.” Sam asserted.

“What options? Yeah, burial or cremation. And I know it's not easy. But I'm gonna die. And you can't stop it.”

“Watch me.” Sam stormed out.

You sighed and rubbed your forehead, he reached out his arm, inviting you to lie down beside him. You walked over and sat in the chair beside his bed. He raised his eyebrows, grabbing your hand he pulled. “Get your ass over here.” You laid beside him. resting your head on his shoulder too scared to lay it on his chest.

“Tell me if I hurt you.”

He kissed your forehead. “You ain’t gonna hurt me baby.”

You walked up to Sam’s motel door and knocked. He opened the door slowly. “Hey, I thought you’d stay at the hospital.” He stepped back, opening the door all the way.

“Yea I got kicked out.” you said as you walked over and started looking at the papers Sam had laid all over the bed. “Did you call John?”

“I did. I got his voicemail. Big surprise.”

You sighed. “Find anything yet?”

“Actually.” There was another knock on the door. You looked at each other in confusion

Sam walked over to the door and opened it. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Checked myself out.” Dean said stepping into the room and leaning against the dresser. “I’m not gonna die in a hospital that kicks out my fiancée.” He gave you a weak grin. You shook your head. Sam helped him sit in the armchair.

“So, I was just about to tell [y/n] I called everyone in dad’s journal.”

“For what?”

“For a way to help you. One of his friends, Joshua, called me back. Told me about a specialist in Nebraska.”

“You’re not gonna let me die in peace, are you?”

“You’re not gonna die period. We are going.” You said sternly

Sam drives the Impala drives up a bumpy gravel path, to a sprawling white circus tent pitched in the middle of a field. Dean looks over to a sign that reads The Church of Roy LeGrange. “You guys are fucking liars!”  You and Sam jump out of the house and hurry to help Dean. “This ain’t no damn doctor.”

“Technically I said specialist.” Sam grabbed Dean’s arms “Let me help you”

“I got it.” Dean said batting away his arm “A freaking faith healer, really guys?”  He grabbed your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Can’t believe you brought me here to see some guy who heals people out of a tent.”

“Reverend LeGrange is a great man.” An elderly women yelled at Dean as she passed.

“Yeah, that’s nice.”

“Baby, this guy is supposed to be the real deal, can you please just shut up and give it a chance.” You gave him your best puppy dog eyes.

He gave you a small smirk. “Alright, for you.” The three of you continued walking to the tent.

“Dean, how can you be a skeptic? With the things we see every day?” Sam asked him as you continued walking toward the tent.

“Exactly. We see them, we know there real.”

“But if you know evil’s out there, how can you not believe good’s out there, too?” You asked.

“Because I’ve seen what evil does to good people.” He remarked. “And you guys can stop ganging up on me now.”

“Maybe God works in mysterious ways.” A young blonde said overhearing the conversation

“Maybe he does. I’m Dean, this is [y/n]” he said raising your hands. You smiled at her. “This is Sam.” He said pointing at Sam with his other hand.

“Layla. So, if you’re not a believer, then why are you.  here?”

“Well, apparently they believe enough for me.”

“Come on, Layla. It’s about to start.” An older women walked up and putting her arm around Layla

The three of you walked into the tent. Dean walked over to the last row and started to sit. “Dean please. There’s 3 up front. Come on.” He sighed and followed you.

“Each morning, my wife, Sue Ann,” Roy began his service.  “Reads me the news. Never seems good, does it?” he says as he steps up to the little podium. The room fills with echoes of no as the crowd agrees with him “Seems like there’s always someone committing some immoral, unspeakable act.” Roy continues with his service “But, I say to you, God is watching.” You hear a mixture of Yes, he is, and amen, as they crowd agrees with him again. “God rewards the good, and He punishes the corrupt.”  The agreements get louder, as almost everyone says amen or hallelujah, Roy continues “It is the Lord who does the healing here friends. The Lord who guides me in choosing who to heal by helping me see into people’s hearts.”

“Yeah, and into their wallets.” Dean whispers

“Shh” You whispered back.

“You think so, young man?” Roy asked

Silence falls over the tent.

Your jaw clenched in frustration. Dean cleared his throat. “Uh Sorry.” He said in a shaky voice.

“No, no. Don’t be. Just watch what you say around a blind man, we’ve got real sharp ears.” Almost everyone laughed. “What’s your name, son?”

“Um, Dean.” The nervousness lingered in his voice.

“Dean.” Roy nods with a grin on his face.  “I want, I would you to come up here with me.”

The crowd was cheering. You hear the older woman with Layla whisper to her “seriously?!”

Sue Ann moves to center stage, gestures for Dean to come up while smiling.

“No, it’s ok.” Dean told them

“What are you doing?!” Sam asked him

“You’ve come here to be healed, haven’t cha?” Roy asked

 “Well, yeah,” the crowd starts the cheer. Dean stats on his seat and waited for the noise to settle. “Um. maybe you should just pick someone else.”

“Seriously Dean?” You sneered, annoyed.

“Oh, no. I didn’t pick you, Dean, the Lord did.” Roy declared.

“Please,” you begged “You told me you would give it a chance.”

He took a deep breath. “For you” he stood up and everyone started cheering.

Sue Ann walks Dean over to Roy. You see their mouths moving. “Pray with me friends.” Roy instructs as he raised one hand and puts the other one on Dean’s shoulder. All the hands in the audience raise, except yours, Sam's and the lady with Layla.

Roy moves his hand from Dean’s shoulder to the side of his head. “Alright now. Alright now.”  You and Sam jump up to your feet as Dean falls to his knees, Roy keeps his hand in place. “Alright now” Roy says again.

“Dean!” You and Sam yell as Dean collapses to the stage floor, you both run to him.

 The crowd is clapping excitedly.

Sam’s fingers grasp the front of Dean’s hoodie shaking him furiously. Finally, Dean’s eyes burst open as he gasps.

“Say Something!” Sam demands.

Dean blinking like his vision is still hazy as he gazes upward. Above him stands Roy, arms extended outward, palms facing up, a broad smile lighting up his face. Dean stares behind Roy, a look of disbelief etched on his face.

You lay on your back, your heart pounding and breaths coming in rapid bursts, gazing into Dean's eyes as his face hovered above yours.

"Wow," you breathed out, astonished.

He raised his eyebrows with a smile. “Told you I was ok.”

“I don’t know, I might be more convincing.” He laughed and rolled on his back beside you, He wrapped his arm around you, drawing you closer to him. you laid your head on his chest. “So, what was it like?”

“Mind blowing.”

“Really?”

“Well yeah babe. Our sex has always been great.” He chuckled as you let out a hefty sigh.

“You know what I meant Winchester.”

 “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

 You lifted your head and turned to look at him. His face was hard. “What’s wrong?” he shook his head. “Dean.” You pleaded.

“I don’t know. It was weird.” He sighed. “I felt cold. Something just felt off, felt wrong. When I think about it, I just get a bad feeling. Like there’s something more to it.” he looked up to the ceiling. “And the doctor mentioned something about a 27-year-old athlete that died of a heart attack.” He lipped his lips. “I’ve been trying, but I can’t sway myself into believe it was just a coincidence.”

You planted a swift kiss on his lips. “Alright, Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“To explain this all to Sam, and then we can go check it out.”

“So how long you been together?” Roy asked as he sat down in the armchair across from the couch you and Dean were sitting on, in the LeGranges' living room.

“I’ve known her most of my life.” Dean looked at you , taking your hand in his. “Our dads worked together. There were many nights we got stuck babysitting my little brother together. Guess it all started there.”

“Well, the two of you make a stunning couple”

You smiled, “Thanks.”

“So how are you feeling Dean?” Roy asked.

“I feel great. Just trying to, you know, make sense of what happened.” Dean denoted.

“A miracle is what happened, but miracles come so often around Roy.” Sue Ann said as she handed you both a glass of tea. You both nodded thanks.  

“When did they start? The miracles.” Dean inquired.

“Woke up one morning, stone blind. Doctors figured out I had cancer. Told me I had maybe a month.” He explained fidgeting. “So, uh we prayed for a miracle. I was weak, but I told Sue Ann, to just keep right on praying. I went into a coma. Doctors said I wouldn't wake up, but I did. And the cancer was gone.” Roy took off his sunglasses revealing his glassy white eyes. “If it wasn't for these eyes, no one would believe I'd ever had it.”

“And you could heal people?” you asked.

“I discovered it afterward, yes. God has blessed me in many ways.”

“And his flock just swelled overnight. And this is just the beginning.” Sue Ann added with a proud smile on her face.

“Mind if I ask you one last question?” Dean asked looking down

“Of course not.”

Dean licked his lips, a hint of uncertainty in his voice as he asked, “Why me? Out of all the sick people, why save me?” You gently squeezed his hand, offering him a sense of reassurance.

“Well, like I said before, the Lord guides me.” Roy took a drink of his tea. “I looked into your heart, and you just stood out from all the rest.”

“What did you see in my heart?”

“A young man with an important purpose. A job to do. And it isn't finished.”

As Sue Ann Ushers you out the door, Layla and her mother are waiting to go in.

“I’m sorry Layla the reverend is resting right now. He won’t be seeing anyone else today.” Sue Ann says with sympathy

“Sue Ann, please. This is our sixth time; he's got to see us.” Layla’s mother pleads.

“Hey, I’m gonna go start the car.” You whisper to Dean excusing yourself from the awkward situation. With a nod he squeezes your hand then releases it.

“She really said that to you?” You asked as you entered the motel.

“Yea, I'm kinda glad you went to the car. Couldn’t have you throwing punches on a reverend's porch.” He laughed as he threw his keys on the table.

“Well, it sounds like you two had an interesting day.” Sam said looking up from his laptop.

“Very. What'd you find out?” Dean asked Taking off his jacket and hanging it on a chair.

“Dean. I'm sorry.” Sam whimpered barely above a whisper.

“Sorry about what?”

“Marshall Hall died at 4:17.”

“Let me guess” you said grabbing a bottle of water. “The exact time Dean was healed.” You sighed as Sam nodded.

 “So, I put together a list of everyone Roy's healed, six people over the past year, and I cross-checked them with the local obits.” Sam handed Dean a stack of paper.  “Every time someone was healed, someone else died. And each time, the victim died of the same symptom LeGrange was healing at the time.” sense of sorrow in his voice.

“Wait, wait, wait. So, Marshall Hall died to save me?”

“Dean, the guy probably would've died anyway. And someone else would've been healed.” Sam tried to comfort him.

“You guys never should've brought me here.”

“Dean, we were just trying to save you.” You chimed in.

“But now some guy is fucking dead now because of me.” Dean exclaimed with frustration.

“We didn't know, Dean.” Sam rubbed his temples.  “The thing I don't understand is how is Roy doing it? How's he trading a life for a life?”

“Oh, he's not doing it. Something else is doing it for him.” Dean declared.

“What do you mean?” Sam questioned.

“The old man I saw on stage.” Dean said. Your eyebrows furrowed. He didn’t tell you that part. “I didn't wanna believe it, but deep down I knew.”

“You don’t think it’s a.”

“Yes, I do” Dean cut you off as he glanced at you.

“What are you guys talking about?” Sam asked

“There's only one thing that can give and take life like that.” Sam looked at Dean, still confused.

” It’s a reaper.” You murmured. Dean nodded,

“You really think it's THE Grim Reaper?” Sam asked typing on his laptop.

“No Sam, not THE reaper, A reaper.” You told him.

“There's reaper law in pretty much every culture on earth, it's possible that there's more than one of them.” Dean said looking through lore pages. “The question is how is Roy controlling the damn thing?”

“That cross.” Sam

“What?” Dean

“There was this cross, I knew looked familiar.” Sam looks through some papers and holds a card up, “This.”

“A Tarot?” Dean asked, taking the card from Sam, he looked at it then showed it to you.  

“It makes sense. A tarot dates to the early Christian era right, when some priests were still dabbling in magic.” You noted. Dean tilted his head with a pondering expression.

“And a few of them veered into the dark stuff. Necromancy and how to push death away, how to cause it?” Sam added

“So, Roy's using black magic to bind the reaper?” Dean

“If so. He’s riding the whirlwind. It's like putting a dog leash on a great white.” Sam

“Ok then we stop Roy.” Dean announced as he got up and put his coffee mug in the sink. Leaning on the counter behind you.

“How?” Sam asked

“You know how.”

“Dean, we can't kill him.” You proclaim, turning around to face him.

“Babe, he’s playing God, deciding who lives and who dies. That's a monster in my book.”

“No. We do that we're no better than he is.” Sam

“Ok, we can’t kill Roy, we can't kill death. Any other bright ideas?” Dean said with a bit of sass.

“We gotta figure out how he’s doing it and how to break it.” Sam stated.

The Impala jolts along the rough, gravel-strewn road again. Dean did his best to dodge the potholes, passing a sign that says service today.

“If Roy's using a spell, there might be a spell book.” Sam said as you guys got out of the car.

“See if you can find it.” He looked at his watch, “You gotta hurry though, the service starts in fifteen minutes. We’ll try to stall” Dean takes your hand, and you head for the tent while Sam heads toward the house.

You and dean mosey up and down the aisles on opposite sides of the tent. You hear a cell phone ring and look up to see Dean putting his to his ear. He talks for a few seconds and then holds the flyer that the protestor in the parking lot gave him and mouths the words He’s next. He points at you then the opening on the tent. He them mouths be careful; you nod mouthing back always and go search for the man.

You go out to the parking lot, bobbing and weaving through cars, finding Sam. You throw your hands up in frustration. “Keep looking [y/n]” Sam yells, you continue in the direction you were going.

“HELP.” You turn searching for where the voice was coming from. “HELP ME PLEASE! HELP ME!” you figure out the direction and start running. You pass a bus to see Sam and the man running like they are being chased, you look toward the tent as you hear the commotion. You see Roy and his followers exiting the tent. You look back to Sam and the man still running frantically.

“Yea?” Dean answered his phone.

“Dean. It didn’t work the reaper is still after him.” the man falls to his knees. “I saw Roy. He’s not doing it; it must be someone else”

“Its Sue Ann”

 You see Sam helping the man up and he doesn’t look frightened anymore. You sigh in relief. “I think he’s ok.”  Then you hear Sue Ann yelling help through the phone.

“So, Roy really believes.” Sam asked sitting on his motel bed.

“I don't think he has any idea what his wife's doing.” Dean said between the beds.

“Well, I found this.” Sam said handing a book to Dean. “Hidden in their library. It's ancient. Written by a priest who went dark side. There's a binding spell in here for trapping a reaper.”

“Must be a hell of a spell.” You said sitting on the other bed.

“Yeah. You gotta build a black altar with seriously dark stuff. Bones, human blood. To cross a line like that, a preacher’s wife. Black magic. Murder. Evil”

“Desperate. Her husband was dying,” Dean looked to you “she would have done anything to save the person she loves.” His gaze locked onto yours as he spoke, and his words made your heart flutter. A smirk on his face as you exhaled sharply, trying to compose yourself.

 “Yeah, but Roy's alive, so why is she still using the spell?”

“To force the reaper to kill people she thinks are immoral.” Sam informed. “We gotta break that spell.”

Dean rifled through the pages on the table. Finding the picture of the cross he said. “You know Sue Ann had a Coptic cross like this. As soon as she dropped it, the guy was ok.”

“So, you think we gotta find the cross or destroy the alter?” Sam asked

“Maybe both?” you suggested

“Whatever we do we better do it soon, he's healing Layla tonight.” Dean said

“That's Layla's car. She's already here.” Sam says as Dean pulls the impala in the drive.

Dean nods with a grim expression “You know she's gonna die in a couple of months.”

“You said it yourself Dean, you can't play God.” Sam says with compassion

Dean looks to you. You press your lips in a hard line. “He’s right Dean, I’m sorry.”

The three of you approach the tent and peek inside. Roy is speaking to a small group, including Layla and her mother.

“Gather round, please everyone” Roy says.

“Where's Sue Ann?” Dean asked.

“House.” Sam guessed.

“You guys go find Sue Ann; I'll catch up.” Dean says pushing you and Sam into the shadows. As two cops walk down the stairs, Dean yells. “Hey!” they look at him. “You gonna put that fear of god in me?” He takes off running and they chase after him.

As soon as they're gone you and Sam run up the stairs and check around the house. It’s completely dark. “Look” Sam whispers, pointing at the light emerging from the cracks of the outside basement entrance. “I’ll go check it out. You see if you can get in the house.” You nod. Sam moves toward the basement entrance, opens the doors and slips inside.

As you search the house you hear the cellar door slam. You look out the window to see Sue Ann locking the doors. Sam banging on them trying to get out. You make your way quickly to the cellar doors, but Sue Ann is nowhere to be found. “Sam?” You whispered. pulled the pipe out of the door handles and swung them open. “Sammy!”

He emerged from the shadows. “Bout time.”

You and Sam ran over to the tent. You see Sue Ann holding up the cross while reciting something. You and Sam start to run in her direction. “Sam, destroy the cross, I’ll find Dean.” He nods as he continues to run toward her.

As you weave through the parked cars you hear a loud wail in the distance. You froze in place. “Dean?!” you yelled at the top of your lungs, getting no response you began to search again.  You hear another wail. You turn around to see Dean on his knees in the driveway. “Dean.” Speak softly with trepidation. Your legs jolt to life. Pushing into the ground as hard as you can, you finally make it to him. He’s gasping for air with glazed over eyes. You tackle him, pushing him onto his back. You rise to your knees facing the same direction Dean was seconds ago.  “Not him. Take me instead.” Nothing happens. Dean is still unable to breathe. “Come on you son of a bitch. Not him!” You shouted in anger. With one big last gasp dean’s breathing returns to normal. Anticipation hits you like a joke of lightning as you wait for the reaper to appear, but he doesn’t.

“[y/n]”

“Sam did it he destroyed the cross.” You say helping Dean to his feet.

“You guys, ok?” Sam asked as you approached the Impala.

“Hell of a week.” Dean said, shaking his head.

“We should get going.” You said as you opened the back door.

Dean’s pov

He couldn’t take his eyes off her, sitting on the trunk of his car, in that leather jacket, hair blowing in the wind. She was gorgeous inside and out. Crazy thing was she loved him, him of all people. She loved him enough to give her life just to save him.  He opened the door and threw his duffle on the back floorboard.

“Whatcha starin’ at Winchester?”

“Just the prettiest girl in the world.”

“Kiss ass.” She said with a smile.

He laughed softly as he moved between her legs, wrapping her waist with his arms. “Listen,” he said, resting his forehead against hers. “I never want you to think about trading your life.”

“Dean.” She cut him off. “Save your breathe. I don’t care how mad you get, how loud you yell, or how many days you stay pissed off at me. I would do anything to save your life.”

💜 Tag List 💜

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[wherez-my-coffee]

Evil Sonic if he was actually an evil SONIC, and not a insecure sigma male on a joker mentality wearing sonic's green re-colored face (but a shitty mini comic. Please reblog this, I want people to see it):

Small character note under the cut ←(it was small when I wrote this):

People really don't understand how much heavy lifting eggman did and still does to make sonic who he is today (and I cannot blame 'em for it, sega doesn't want to dive into Sonic's past, so why should you bother? I do appreciate how Sega doesn't give sonic himself a official defined past, because that would be missing the point of Sonic's whole character of always looking forward without letting the past drag you down, but also because people really cannot figure out a backstory that actually makes sense for sonic that would cultivate the hedgehog he is now, but one thing you need to understand, is that Sonic 1 is not Sonic's first encounter with eggman, they've been at it for way longer than that, and that's VERY IMPORTANT to Sonic's character) if eggman wasn't the man he is, sonic would become the worst kind of thrill seeker ever, not having eggman be there to enact his evil plans every couple of months would make Sonic's boredom start eating his mind away, but not in a "he would go insane and become a mindless creature" kind of insanity, but a type of insanity that you would not notice until you meet him and deal with his shenanigans, an evil SONIC would NOT NEED to take over the world, he literally can already do whatever he pleases and no one would be able to stop him, he basically already owned the world the moment he was born, an evil SONIC would do everything in his power to not feel boredom, which would lead to him causing problems by either manipulating others to become threats for him to defeat and fight off, or if he ever runs out of world ending threats to find and make them attack his world and himself, he would become that menace himself, fighting against GUN, but never ending them, sonic doesn't kill if you're useful to him in someway, if you stop him from feeling boredom, he will keep you alive no matter what, it doesn't matter if you're bad to the world or not, if you are fun to keep around he will avoid ending you because that's who he is as a hedgehog, a thrill seeker trying to keep his boredom at bay at all costs, so he would stop attacking GUN and let them recover after attacking them, so he can go again and again and again, non-stop. But I need y'all to understand that if eggman were to die off in the main timeline for whatever reason, sonic would NOT become evil, it's already far too late for sonic to have a change in mentality towards the world now, he has friends to care for and a world he loves more than ANYTHING, he would not throw away all of that just because he is bored, he can always wait for the next world ending threat to come after him, eggman gave Sonic a patience of iron, and a unbreakable willpower, that's why Sonic is who he is now.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk. If you read all the way through.

[dreamties]

Polyam! Ghostface Comforting GN! Reader About Their SA

A/N- yeah. hiii. it's billy !! im back. again. plz read with caution- there is no mention of the assault itself (it is alluded to many times; there are no intimate details), still. you know yourself best. stay safe lovelies <33

I tried keeping the assaulters identity neutral- but let me know if i messed up and used he/him pronouns at all and i'll edit the post :3

Billy is unable to understand the full scope of your traumas, however, he understands that it runs deep, that if your anything like he is that you feel it in your bones and the ache of your body.

Trauma is so personal and crushing. He wants nothing more than to take that away from you, endlessly lift your spirits, he wants to make you feel whole again. Loves you too much to see you like this.

He can't do that. As much as he and Stu can do, they can't erase what has already happened. He will be there as much as he can, for whatever you need. He has always been devoted to his loves- it increases tenfold when you open up about your assault.

Stu automatically wants to kill the perpetrator, takes Billy aside to tell him all his gruesome thoughts- until Billy stops him. Tells him, roughly, to shut up. You don’t know what you're talking about, man. Our little love needs to make that choice on their own.

Billy talks about it with Stu beforehand obvi. Billy wants to wait for you to ask them about killing your assaulter, while Stu would go to you and ask straight up if you want to be the one to kill them (if you want them dead. He won't understand if you desire to keep them alive tee bee aich, but he'll honor your choice).

Stu just like. He doesn't get it. He doesn't handle it well at first. He's far too brash and laughing- well. Not laughing, he knows enough to realize that would have been a bad move. Though he seems to not know enough as he's all jokes still.

Both boys are so emotionally stunted- Stu has only had to comfort girlfriends before (which, he was admittedly not the best at. He stole apologies and one liners from movies) and the brief vulnerable moments that Billy allows himself to show. C'mon, give him a pass, okay? He's trying :(

Stu's comforts are all hugs and cuddles and gifts- depending how you react to those things, maybe he won't have to branch out too hard. Either way you'll need more than one source or level of comfort- Stu WILL learn new things for you, though.

He has a hard time if you don't want physical touch! He gets all whiny about it and it pisses you off, you have to give him a stern talking to that it's NOT about him and he has no right to act like that. Psssh whatever . . .

(he's really sorry though. He promises)

He buys you so many things, as if that will ever make what happened okay. He hopes you appreciate it though. He'll get all sorts of comfort items, food and stuffies and stuff that he KNOWS you love. He'll buy it in bulk if he has to lol

For learning things, it's hard on all of you, but he and Billy will try their darndest to be emotionally available (just for you, babe!!). Billy is good at listening, Stu needs to get better with it.

Billy just listens to what you have to say, and I think on really emotional nights he opens up about his own trauma. He opens his wounds so you know he genuinely cares and is committed to you. Regardless of anything and everything. Billy will make himself a permanent fixture in your life, always.

(again really not that Stu wouldn't but it's so different y'all)

ALSO NIGHTMARES OHMYGOD

If you have nightmares they'll stay up with you until you're ready to fall asleep (or at least try).

They make it an all-nighter and pretend they were always planning for movie night. If you want to watch something that's not horror? Yeah, that's okay!

Most of Stu's VHS collection is horror lol

Though he does have some buddy comedies and cheesy romcoms. He owns one or two mysteries cause Billy likes them.

Anyways !!! Have your pick darlin' <333 They won't judge or complain

Admittedly they aren't great with panic attacks. Billy gets anxious- what if he makes it WORSE? He'd hate himself for it. Stu is surprisingly good at grounding you though :D

All in all- it's an adjustment for everyone. They're gonna be there for you forever though, okay? Good luck getting rid of them <3

[librababe99]

Ashes of Desire

CW: emotional manipulation, violence, danger, angst...

Summary: On a humid New Orleans night, you’re drawn to the dangerously magnetic Remy LeBeau, despite every warning. His red eyes and easy charm pull you into a whirlwind of stolen kisses and whispered secrets. Word Count: 1548

AN: Last post for the night y'all and I swear I'll leave your timelines alone😂❤️ I feel like I've been writing a lot of angst? But I honestly love it LOL---I hope you enjoy and as always comments/feedback are appreciated! - Libra * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨

The humid New Orleans night clung to you like a second skin, the air heavy with the scent of rain and the whispers of secrets lurking in every shadowed corner. Bourbon Street was alive, pulsing with the vibrant energy of the city—jazz music spilling from open doors, laughter mingling with the clinking of glasses, the occasional shout cutting through the noise. But none of it reached your ears. Your focus was singular, unwavering, fixed on the figure leaning casually against the brick wall just beyond the reach of the neon lights.

Remy LeBeau.

He was every bit the enigma you’d always known him to be—cool, composed, with an air of danger that clung to him like the night itself. His red eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, a predatory gleam that set your nerves on edge and made your pulse quicken. You knew better. You knew the stories, the warnings whispered by those who had crossed paths with the infamous Gambit and lived to tell the tale. He was a thief, a rogue, a man with more blood on his hands than you cared to think about. But there was something about him, something dark and magnetic that drew you in like a moth to a flame, even when you knew you were going to get burned.

He pushed off the wall with a lazy grace, his smirk deepening as he sauntered toward you, each step deliberate, measured. The slick cobblestones beneath his boots barely made a sound. The narrow alleyway you had cornered him in felt suddenly too small, too intimate, the walls pressing in on you as the space between you dwindled.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he drawled, his voice thick with that unmistakable Cajun accent that sent shivers down your spine. His gaze flickered over you, a mix of amusement and something darker, something that made your heart race in a way that had nothing to do with fear. His eyes were unreadable, a storm behind a veil of indifference, and yet, you couldn’t look away.

“I could say the same about you,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, trying to ignore the way his presence seemed to fill the alleyway, crowding out everything else. You had come here tonight with a purpose, but now that you were face-to-face with him, you weren’t sure what that purpose was anymore.

He chuckled, a low, dangerous sound that curled around your insides like smoke. “Always de stubborn one, ain’t ya, chère?” he said, closing the distance between you in two strides. He reached out, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face, and the contact sent a shock through your system. Your skin tingled where he touched you, a stark contrast to the cold fear creeping up your spine.

“Chère, you keep playin’ dis game, but you don’t even know the rules,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, the words a warning and a promise all at once.

Your breath hitched as his hand lingered on your cheek, the warmth of his skin making you acutely aware of just how close he was. You wanted to pull away, to put some distance between you, but your body betrayed you, leaning into his touch instead, craving the warmth and the danger that came with it.

“I know enough,” you whispered, though the words felt hollow, even to your own ears. What were you doing? What did you hope to achieve? This man was danger personified, a storm wrapped in charm and lies, and yet, here you were, drawn to him like an addict to their poison.

His eyes darkened, a flicker of something you couldn’t quite place passing through them—something that made your chest tighten painfully. “Maybe,” he said softly, almost as if he were talking to himself. “But sometimes, knowin’ ain’t enough to save you.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and ominous, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of regret in his eyes, a vulnerability so fleeting you almost doubted you’d seen it at all. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the familiar mask of nonchalance that he wore like armor.

“You think I’m gonna save you, chère?” he teased, leaning in closer, his breath hot against your ear, sending another shiver down your spine. “’Cause I ain’t no hero. Never been, never will be.”

“I don’t need saving,” you snapped, finding your voice again, even as your heart hammered in your chest. “Especially not from you.”

The smirk that curled his lips was sharp, dangerous, and it made something inside you twist painfully. “Dat’s where you’re wrong, ma belle. I’m the one you should be runnin’ from.”

But you couldn’t run. Not now. Not after you’d come this far, not after everything that had led you to this moment. And that’s how you found yourself tangled up in his arms, lips crashing together in a kiss that was more desperation than passion, a collision of need and fear and something else you couldn’t name. It was a mistake. You knew that. But in that moment, with the world spinning around you and the taste of him on your tongue, it was the only thing that felt real.

He kissed you like he was drowning, like you were the last breath of air he’d ever have, and you let him. You let him because for once, you wanted to be the one who made him feel something, anything. Even if it was just for a moment.

But it wasn’t just a moment.

It was a series of stolen kisses, whispered words in the dark, and nights spent in each other’s arms, pretending that this—whatever it was—could be something more. You told yourself it was just a fling, just a game, but deep down, you knew it was a lie.

You were falling for him. And it was going to destroy you.

Because Remy LeBeau was not a man who could be saved. He was a storm, wild and unpredictable, and you were caught in the eye of it, helpless to do anything but watch as everything you knew was torn apart.

He warned you. He told you to stay away. But you didn’t listen. You thought you could handle it, handle him, but now you were drowning in the mess you’d made, and there was no one to pull you out.

And Remy? He was still there, still holding you close, but you could see the cracks in his façade, the way he looked at you like he was waiting for the inevitable. He wasn’t going to save you. He was going to drag you down with him, and there was nothing either of you could do to stop it.

“Remy,” you whispered one night, your voice barely audible over the sound of rain pattering against the window. The city outside was alive, but in that quiet room, it felt like you were the only two people in the world. “What are we doing?”

He didn’t answer right away, just held you tighter, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin, as if he could memorize the feel of you beneath his touch. “Survivin’, chère,” he said finally, his voice rough and tired. “We’re just survivin’.”

But you both knew it was more than that. You weren’t surviving—you were burning. And sooner or later, there would be nothing left but ashes.

But even as that truth hung heavy between you, you couldn’t let go. You couldn’t walk away. Because as much as it hurt, as much as it tore you apart, you needed him. And that was the most dangerous thing of all.

So you stayed. You stayed even though you knew it was killing you, even though you knew that every kiss, every touch, was another step closer to the edge.

The nights grew longer, the days more unbearable as the weight of your choices pressed down on you. Remy was a constant presence, always there in the shadows of your mind, a reminder of everything you were trying to escape and everything you couldn’t bear to lose. The more time you spent with him, the more you felt the edges of your sanity fray, the more you felt yourself slipping further into the abyss.

You began to notice the small things, the things that only someone who was hopelessly entangled would see—the way his laughter never quite reached his eyes, the way his hands would tremble just slightly when he thought you weren’t looking. The way he would watch you when he thought you were asleep, his expression soft and almost…broken.

But those moments of vulnerability were fleeting, gone as soon as they appeared, replaced by the mask you had come to know so well. He was still Remy LeBeau, the charming, dangerous thief who could steal your breath with a smile and break your heart with a whisper. He was still the storm you had foolishly decided to weather, even as it tore your world apart.

And when the end came—because it would come, you knew that now—it would be on his terms, not yours.

Because Remy LeBeau was a thief, and he had stolen more than just your heart.

He had stolen your soul.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨

Taglist: @venssu

[respectthepetty]

How does it feel to stay winning Petty? Also who would've guessed that baby Barcode would be the one of the BOC boys to collect kisses from all the homies!?

Anon, I appreciate you sending this because, right now, I feel like an elite status female rapper. Like CL from 2NE1 rapped in their 2011 hit, "I am the best", Be On Cloud owns me, and y'all can't tell me shit about this show.

I know I have some Wild Ass Theories and I'm always clownin' in these BL streets, but I love when my theories actually hit their target like . . .

When I knew Teacher Chadok was in a relationship with Teacher Dika since the first episode of The Eclipse.

When I knew Kanghan's house was going to be robbed and his dad would be shot since the third episode of Dangerous Romance, even though I thought Saifah would do it.

When I knew Pat was working with Joke to win over Zo since the first episode of Hidden Agenda.

I love making Wild Ass Theories no matter how crazy they are, like my belief that the twins' dad is involved in this whole murder and sex work plot in Playboyy. No matter what happened in this past episode, I still believe it and am eagerly awaiting the upcoming chaos to see how hard I clowned.

Which is why I LOVE Dead Friend Forever.

I want the record to state that no matter what happens after episode seven, that at this exact moment in time, I love this show. It makes me happy to be alive at the same time this is airing, and I'm not joking. I want to remember that at one point, this show was everything to me, and even if it goes down hill, it had all my attention in the first seven episodes. I want to appreciate it right now because regardless of what happens, it did everything right in the first half.

With the way some shows keep losing their footing in the end, sometimes we forget how good they were in the beginning, and the emo in me doesn't want to forget this feeling. Some of my favorite movies are Scream, Heathers, and Jawbreaker so this show has been giving me the explicitly queer version of kill your frenemies since the very first episode, and I love it.

My internal alarm went off the second Tee got upset that Phi was speaking to White in episode one, then the dark hand touched him making him enemy #1. I didn't like the way he told White he needed to obey him, and I feel like the dark hand wasn't too pleased with it either. It was a vibe.

And now Non has a hurt hand in the past from falling off the bike . . .

Then, Jin was the main character of the previous film, so he was either the killer or the biggest baddie.

But Phi was just so sus, that I clocked him as a killer.

Which meant Phi and Jin were the killers, but Tan has no backstory and people with no history are intentionally hiding it, so they can kill everyone and peace out.

So in my mind, Tan and Phi were regulated to the killers, Tee was the second to last to die, which I'm hoping it's by his boyfriend White who he thinks disobeys him, and the rest of the squad would die as needed. Which left Jin to be the baddie.

All of my theories could blow up at any second because we don't know if Jin actually sent that video or if his computer fizzled out before it finished uploading, so he could still be a killer avenging Non instead of a baddie who wronged Non (but he took the video and that is messed up regardless of what he planned to do with it).

But either way, I'm hoping it comes down to Phi and Jin in that forest because the show started with them.

And I don't think Jin realizes who Phi is to Non since Jin never got a good look at Phi's face in the past.

The Twitter folks spotted that Phi's dad was the police chief from the letters the boys got calling them in for interrogation in episode six.

And now the knife from episode two is showing up in the past in Non's backpack.

Up until this point, I feel the show has laid out a solid story with a good cast, and I think Be On Cloud relied on their KinnPorsche casting to throw people off in this show because who expected Us to be doomed in the first episode? That was like Drew Barrymore dying at the beginning of Scream.

People have felt off about JJ's character, but the show wouldn't really have JJ do anything bad to sweet Barcode, right?

And Barcode and Ta being paired together was a pipe dream for the Macau x Porchay shippers, so it could never happen here!

Especially because Ta and Copper won The Hidden Character, which meant they were going to be the main pair of this show, right?

WRONG!

Barcode is gonna be involved in some fucked up shit, and according to those MDL comments, people are realizing they messed up making any assumptions before this show started based on what the actors previously did.

I truly feel like BOC looked at its lineup and said "Baby Barcode was babygirled so hard for the past two years that the audience won't even think his character is capable of such things"

and I love that for us.

BOC gave these youngsters (19-23 in age) a script from Dr. Sammon and the Pit Babe writers and said "go HAM, bitches"

And the audience stays winning.

This isn't about my Wild Ass Theories coming true. This is an appreciation post for what this show has given to me up until this point - a good mystery.

Every week I have more questions and none of them feel like they will go unanswered. Is Non dead? Did Jin actually upload the video? Is Tan a killer? Why did Phi hook up with Jin? Will White finally snap, crackle, and pop like a bag of Rice Krispies treats for the mere fact that he simply wanted a nice weekend getaway with his boyfriend and now has to deal with all this bullshit?

But most importantly, when did Phi realize he was going to kill all of them after making them run around scared for their lives?

Because by time the show makes it back to the present day, I'm sure we're all going to want to watch these kids suffer in the worst ways possible.

Manipulate, Murder, Mayhem

[fletchingbrilliant]

🌙some wildly cheap commissions!🌙

🙃 for some even wilder reasons 🙃

hey y'all. long post thingie but it's got cute pictures so please check it out

TRANSCRIPT OF POST

hey frens got something kinda somber to talk about. most of you are very aware of the existence of my beautiful fiance and co-creator of basically everything i do. zae and i are getting handfasted (marriage for pagans) in october, and have been living together for about 10 years. in 2021, zae got really fucking sick, and after a few false starts, was diagnosed with a rare for of vasculitis called granulomatosis with polyangiitis, GPA for short. it’s an autoimmune disease that causes inflammation in blood vessels and other tissues, ultimately stopping blood from getting to the parts of the body that need it, affecting many areas, but primarily the respiratory system. while the cause isn’t known, it usually presents in people in their 50’s or 60’s, but complications from a third bout of covid-19 appears to have made it emerge way earlier for our boy. at least, that’s what we think. his case is extremely aggressive, advancing faster than anyone could have expected. in zae’s case, it actually attacked his kidneys first, and then went after his lungs, causing both to threaten shutting down for good. he was extremely anemic and needed a ton of transfusions, narrowly avoiding dialysis, and we spent weeks in the hospital keeping him alive. he was placed on two different kinds of chemotherapy to combat the disorder. he lost his hair, went through even more fatigue and pain on top of what the disease had already put him through, and had to accept a plethora of changes to his life that will last forever. a lot of you out there have harrowing experiences of your own when it comes to chronic and potentially terminal conditions, too, I’m certain. “it’s not fun” is an understatement. though there were a couple of really fucking close calls, zae’s GPA went into remission. his hair grew back fuller and more luscious than it had ever been before. (i later learned these are affectionately referred to as “chemo curls.”) remission for gpa is usually expected to last at least 5 years, potentially up to 20, before any symptoms resurface. but zae’s case was particularly aggressive, so of course he’s not so lucky. he’s relapsing now. his symptoms have been slowly returning, and it’s been decided that he’s going back on chemo. it’s no surprise that this shit is expensive, even with insurance. we’re still paying off the care he received last time because ‘murca. being disabled myself, work has been… let’s call it inconsistent, yeah? yeah, that’s a nice and comfortable thing to call it. no one’s doing well financially these days, so we of course have to get creative. long story short(er), i’m doing a commission special! for the next MONTH, i am offering fast commissions at crazy-low prices to try and help us create a cushion to keep us afloat and relatively comfortable while we begin the chemo process again. there’s several options for a variety of budgets, because i really hate the idea of seeking something for nothing, and i absolutely abhor having to reach out in this way. it makes me feel vulnerable and icky and… i’m sure you all understand that, too. i can’t thank you all enough just for following me, and engaging with mine and zae’s work. it may sound trite, but that really makes a difference to us, especially when we’re dealing with something so painful. so if you can’t or don’t want to partake of the sale, please know that you are still a huge help to us, and we seriously appreciate each and every one of you. like, so fucking much. thanks y’all love, fletch

END TRANSCRIPT

Commission Options:

Flash Sketches: $5USD/character

Comics: $5USD/panel - flat color

Comics: $10USD/panel - shaded color

Screenshot Redraws - $15USD/character (complex bgs, add $20)

all of this is posted with @zaebeecee's knowledge and blessing

please DM me if you're interested in something, and thank you again

more Hungry Games, fic fanart, and Persona stuff coming soon too