#really wish there were more options besides 1 week and 1 day

[hazelfoureyes]

⟢Alastor x Cupid FemReader Tasked with making a demon believe in true love or you can’t return to heaven, things immediately go off the rails when you hurt yourself and Alastor catches one of your most troubling arrows; Mania

˚₊ · »-♡→ Week 1 and Week 2 ˚₊ · »-♡→Week 3 and Week 4 smut💦 ˚₊ · »-♡→Week 5, Week 6, Week 7, and Epilogue smut💦

Alastor demands you tell him what you’d consider a nice date, which makes a surprisingly lovely time in the library. Dancing leads to… not dancing and a minor rearranging of your guts. And finally, you try to shame Alastor out of Mania and Alastor finds himself having to explain, well, Alastor.

「warnings/promises: Smut, guts➡️rearranged, kinda dub➡️con cuz Alastor still doesn’t listen, but funnily enough neither do you?, lots of interrupting each other, Luci’s hat, you’re down so fucking bad lmao」

🎶 minors DNI 🎵

Angel was live blogging everything you said when you recounted what happened to you after returning to the hotel.

“Wait there’s a character limit, I gotta make a new post.” He was wiping actual tears from his eyes, “Fuck this is funny.”

“Hmmph,” Alastor offered a small noise from his end of the sofa. Neither of you had mentioned or even referenced the sex. There was a strange feeling between you that it didn’t happen so it didn’t need a discussion. But also that it had absolutely happened, as Alastor’s hands found renewed vigor in their search for you when in public and private and your body seemed to respond in kind. You’d still occasionally move his hand off of you, but there was a pulse of electricity every time. When his hand would come to rest on your upper thigh while seated beside each other in the common areas, you let it linger. What harm was it? Heaven wasn’t fucking watching.

Everything aside, the sex had done nothing to dispel his interest. Perhaps you’d only made it worse, for both of you. 

By midweek you found the sling useless, happily tossing it aside and beginning gentle stretches. That was more progress than you'd made in your main task. 

Every morning you woke up beside Alastor, every day you had him in your orbit, every night you fell asleep feet from him.

Had Mania not taken him he would be a prime candidate for showing the virtue of true love. He was already fucking there, a captive audience. But that wasn’t how it worked. Cupid-induced manic love could never be true. Nothing you created was true, really. But atleast with Eros or Agape you could still have added the notion of  true love to the mix. His heart would still be receptive and open to the idea. The way he was now, you could proselytize until you were blue in the face and he’d still think manic love was true love. 

An unintended consequence of living with Alastor was discovering you both had quite a bit in common, as much as that information irked you. He enjoyed horror movies such as ‘Dracula’, you enjoyed horror movies as well, just newer ones. Ones in color. He could cook quite well, something you enjoyed to do. And his taste in music was actually lovely. You had assumed he listened to screams on a 7 hour loop.

Actually, upon closer inspection, Alastor was nothing like you had initially assumed. While he had shown you he was capable of terrifying feats of strength and power, he was also remarkably gentle. Every time you descended the stairs his hand was barely felt as it hovered at your elbow ready to save you. 

Early in the week you fell asleep watching the group play a board game, somehow redemption related, and awoke with his coat laid over your body. When you thanked him, he just smiled and continued enjoying watching Niffty hide the play money.

You were finding yourself more and more wishing the arrow had never fallen. If you’d just met him as you fell, perhaps you would be staring into that portal home. There were definitely worse options around. Even his imposing height had begun to…not bother you, perhaps was the best way to say it.

Or his large hands. There was a safety in the way they rested on your back. Speaking of…

Your throat ran dry when he leaned into you, one of those hands sliding across your thigh,  and asked against your ear, “Ready to go?”

He had to have seen you licking your lips to unstick your teeth. With a nod, he stood and offered a hand to you. 

You both were already out of the elevator and walking to your room when he slowed, coming to stop just in front of you. 

His room, fucking hell. 

“You know, I was thinking,” he wasn’t looking as he spoke to you, which was odd given how often he stared at you. “If you’re going to be here with me from now on-“

You opened your mouth to argue but he put his hand up, “I’d like to know the things you enjoy doing with your romantic interests.” His smile was almost pure, you could tell he was genuinely asking.

“Well I don’t have any so, why would you care?”

“No things you enjoy?”

“No romantic interests.”

His head lolled to the side, “Sometimes I think you say things just to bother me.”

You did.

“I do.”

You thought if you kept being rude maybe you could keep him at an arm’s length. Not get too attached. You’d been kind to people you didn’t like before and eventually you started to like them. This was that. But opposite.

He stared down at you, taking a step closer. You took one back. That smile shifted from pure to sinister, his eyes half lidded. You could almost see the thoughts playing on his face.

“Alastor-,” your back hit the elevator doors. The pounding of your heart when he brought his face to yours drowned out the sounds of the button being pressed. When the doors opened you fell backward with a yelp, but a strong arm caught you by the waist.

“You have twelve floors.” His hand hit the first floor button, “You can share with me your idea of a quality date. Or I can show everyone,” that clawed hand came to your neck, sliding down the evidence of your pounding heart, “how pretty you scream.”

As soon as the doors closed you were pressed against the elevator wall, right leg pulled up and around his waist. “You wouldn’t dare.” You had meant it to sound strong but instead it was half whispered with a shaky voice.

He popped a button off your blouse, “Maybe!” Warm mouth now on your neck, his tongue ran over your pulse, “I wonder if everyone is still in the lobby.”

Over his shoulder you watched the numbers counting down. The hand that cut off the button slid down to your bottoms, slipping under the waistband.

On the 3rd floor the elevator stopped. When the doors opened a demon you didn’t recognize was standing there, eyes wide and mouth open. He didn’t make a move to enter, Alastor looking over his shoulder and sharing what you could only assume was a death glare. The flickering lights were a giveaway to his anger.

His fingers dipped down and cupped your sex, hot palm pressing into your folds. 

The doors closed again and you watched the second floor light up. A finger bent and pressed into you.

A nibble at your ear, “You know I’ll win, regardless.”

He was right. Which was the smaller defeat? Humiliation or just telling the bastard your idea of a nice time?

“Books. Drinks.” You squeaked, the first floor lamp now aglow. His hand pulled away just as the doors opened. 

Expecting him to gloat you were surprised he just hit the 10th floor button. The library. 

He opened the door for you. The library’s main area had two reading chairs bookending a long antique sofa. You took the chair furthest from the door, hearing the door lock.

With a snap, the entire bar with Husk included seemed to fall three inches out of thin air.

“Oh for fucks sake.” Husk looked around, already annoyed, “You coulda just fucking asked for drinks to bring with you. You know cups are portable, right?”

It was nice, actually. Husk poured, you both read. There was an unnecessary fireplace crackling behind you. Cozy. And it got cozier and warmer the more you drank. Your shields softened as the glasses emptied. 

Your book was good, but as you felt the alcohol hit you were reminded of the last time you’d gotten a little past tipsy. Sneakily, but not at all, your eyes wandered over to Alastor.

His legs were crossed, but you could remember looking down and seeing them spread open beneath you. Open. Did many people see him like you had? Had his talk about a disinterest in sex actually been a trick to intrigue you? It hadn’t worked, you genuinely didn’t care what his preferences were. If anything it made you less likely to make a pass.

Your eyes wandered down his slender neck to his wide shoulders. Less than a week ago your arms were resting there. Further down, you remembered that soft bit of fur at the base of his cock, a small trail from his belly button. 

Husk watched your face turn pink, “You good?” Your head whipped around, looking confused. “You’re getting red.”

Oh. I was just thinking about my pussy drowning in Alastor’s cum.

No, obviously not!

Alastor’s eyes left his book and found yours. They were so red; his eyes, not your cheeks. No one in heaven had such wicked an appearance. When you didn’t reply, busy staring back at Alastor, Husk groaned, “Aah fuck.”

“What are you reading?” You asked, clearly able to see the book title from where you sat. 

Alastor held it up, “Oliver Twist.”

“Never read it.”

You had read it.

Setting your book down, you tried to walk as straight as a line as you could to him. You took the book from his hands and sat down on his lap, back against his chest, before picking it up again. “What page are we on?”

“You can leave, Husker.” Alastor didn’t even look at Husk when he said it, eyes still on your face.

When the door closed and Alastor could lock it with a snap, he uncrossed his legs. “Would you like to start over dear? From the beginning.”

Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“Can we?” You leaned your head onto his shoulder. When had he become so comfortable…?

“We can.” The book was set aside, his left hand pulling your chin up, “I think we skipped a few chapters before.”

You opened your mouth, “I don’t like kissing.” 

“You will.” 

The front part of your brain dissolved, you were sure of it. Your decision making abilities were entirely eradicated as his lips pressed into yours. Fuck, maybe even your basic motor skills had been fried, his tongue swiping across your mouth before you just—opened. Your hips ground down into his lap, and you felt his smile widen against your lips.

“Stop smiling. I just like warm bodies.” You reached for the book and opened it to the first page, “and you’re so fucking warm.”

He began to read, but between the rumble of his chest, his voice in your ear, and the heat of his body, you fell asleep.

No matter. Alastor just hummed. With a summoning of his shadow you both sank into your shared bed, where he continued reading with you against his chest.

You dreamt about home. About red eyes and warmth.

Was it so bad, being in hell? Sure you had a fucking deer demon as guard dog but it seemed his mania was … not so terrible. Honestly he seemed relatively normal now. He would wander off for significant lengths of time, even leaving in the mornings while you were still lazing about. A kiss to your hand was the indicator he would be popping off somewhere.

Alastor still wouldn’t let Lucifer alone with you, but otherwise everything was okay. You’d even come to enjoy certain aspects of his possessiveness. That ever present hand, for example. Even when it wasn’t on you, you could still almost feel it. It had become second nature now.

The week was actually peaceful. Your pain was entirely gone, you could move about freely. Despite that Alastor still would press up behind you and offer to help dress you. An offer you declined, but every time he asked you paused longer and longer before saying no.

Alastor was happy to find you in the library toward the end of the week, you having wandered off when he was called away. He summoned a confused but pissed off Husk again, who was midway through making someone else’s drink. He set it aside, pouring Alastor his whiskey. You decided against drinking, you knew you always made poor decisions. Like sleeping. 

Delighted by the impressive collection you found a non-fiction and settled into the same large chair.

“Reading is a virtue.” He said to himself yet out-loud, taking a seat and setting the radio on from across the room. Etta James. ‘Somethings got a hold of me.’

“A little past your time, isn’t it?” You smiled, you liked songs about love. Not because of who you were, you just liked the idea of someone so enamored they have to make art.

He laughed, “Nosey little bird, have you been asking about me?”

Well shit. You had forgotten to play dumb. The past couple weeks you had casually inquired about Alastor from the other staff members. A modest collection of facts to help you better understand the man. A quick recovery. “Know your enemy!” 

He cackled, “Sun Tzu! What does Cupid need ‘The Art of War’ for?!”

What, did he expect you to only read romance novels and Roman mythos? “You can’t make a shadow without light. In fact,” you put the book down, “The Greeks thought Cupid was a child of War and Beauty.”

Okay well, Greek mythos is a little different than their Roman counterpart’s. So. There.

Alastor watched you leaning over the arm of the chair, no sign of pain as you did so. Your injury must have mended well. “Do you have parents?” He asked, genuinely wondering how your kind were created. 

“No, we're just… made. And then sent off on assignments.”

“You must be terribly busy, just one person for all of earth.” If Alastor could pull some limbs and find out more from anyone but you, he would, but unfortunately no one but Vaggie would know anything about you and he had a feeling her time in heaven was never spent thinking about love. 

“Oh, actually not so much! When I’m with humans I can travel around without worrying about the concept of time at all. But it takes a toll.” Or so you were told. There were never two Cupids at one time so you couldn’t really ask your predecessors. Alastor’s brows rose, unsure how exactly a Cupid could be taxed if they didn’t feel pain and couldn’t be hurt. “Every trip to Earth weakens us. Until our bodies just, I guess, give out.” A smile crept across your face, unsure what expression you were supposed to be making.

“Is it just Earth? Or,” he lowered the radio volume with just a glance, “Every time you leave heaven?” It would take a great effort to not notice the weight suddenly blanketing the library. Silence was heavy with what he was really asking you. Would remaining here kill you?

It was a great question. Wow he’s really good at this. It almost seemed like he gave a shit. No one had ever asked you about your creation, about your work. It was nice. Even from him. Maybe especially from him.

You had never been to hell, so you couldn’t be sure, but, “I think it’s a human-world time-thing. But I guess we’ll find out!” Another misplaced smile before you awkwardly leaned back and picked up the book.

While you hadn’t noticed the slip up you had made, Alastor had. “I suppose we will.” 

You would find out, because you wouldn’t be returning to heaven. He was glad you, even if unconsciously, understood that. And perhaps you could live forever if you never returned to earth.

When the song ended, you offered one of your own. 

Alastor was pleasantly surprised to hear you request Nat King Cole’s ‘It’s almost like being in love’.

Standing, he offered you his hand for a dance. “Ugh I hate this cheesy shit.” You said it but stood anyway, putting your hands in his.

Alastor laughed, swaying side to side, “Not a fan of romance? Has Cupid never been in love?”

Those were two seperate things. How could you explain? “Drug dealers number one rule. Never get high off your own supply. That would be—.”

Lonely. Pathetic.

“A bad idea.” His cheek rested on your head. It was a shockingly tender act. “Can you understand? Why would I want something I made. What’s special about that?” 

“And what of true love? It isn’t made by you, yes?” Asked into your hair.

“Yeah but when will I ever find the time to make a connection worthwhile. Winners and Angels are gluttons for choice, I am obviously built for a fun time not a long time.” Which you were…fine with. Yeah. I mean, what choice did you have? “And I don’t want to force it…so…” you trailed off. The rest didn’t matter.

He nodded, suppressing another laugh.  “I see. Well, allow me to give you something you inspired, how about that? Not made. Would you say no, my muse?”

Inspired? Like a song? “Ha, what have I inspired in you, heathen.”

Alastor stopped dancing, his hand pulling your face up for a kiss which took you by surprise.

“Seriousl-,” Husk mercifully disappeared in a flash of neon green.

You couldn’t remember exactly how it happened, much like many of the moments you surrendered to Alastor. It was so fast and he was so strong, his hands large and confident in how they moved you. Before you knew it you were bent over the sofa’s arm getting fucked so hard your leg was shaking and your stomach nauseous.

This was much better than songs or art or whatever you inspired in others. You were gasping with every breath, the action somehow heightening the sensations. The little huffs and groans your body was pulling from him had your heart racing.

His cock was smashing your womb into your guts, the entire organ suddenly feeling like a new pleasure spot. Every jolt to your cervix made a novel kind of bliss pool in your stomach. 

You cried, head empty as he completely left your heat before bottoming out again, “Stop, Alastor. Stop.” A strained moan, hands gripping the wooden sofa arm, “stop, stop, fuuuuck.”

He was pulling out too far and too fast, hitting back too hard and too deep. Your cunt felt swollen around him, your entrance so soft and wet he didn’t need precision to sink back in.

“Does it hurt?” He said quickly on the down beat of his thrust.

“Nngh no.”

“Theeen, no.”

Alastor pulled you up by your chin, back bending as he titled your mouth to his. Despite your mouth hanging open with your tongue out as salacious as you’d ever been,  you told him, “I really don’t kiss during sex.” 

The look in his downcast eyes sent a shiver along your spine, a power there you couldn’t push against, “You do now, my dear.”

When in hell, you supposed. You didn’t even try to argue, accepting his tongue wrapping around yours and exploring your mouth while his dick churned up your insides. Full from top to bottom. Full of Alastor. Safe. Wanted. Needed. 

You pulled away when there was an overwhelming bone-deep sensation spilling through your hips and down your thighs. The muscles felt weak there, and you had an urge to runaway from it but Alastor held you still. 

A scream of ecstasy as both legs shook violently, you finally got your hands free orgasm but to your shock it didn’t stop. As it appeared to wane, it just started mounting again. By the third roll, Alastor came with a push so deep your chest fell over the arm of the sofa. If not for the hands bruising your hips, you would have fallen off entirely.

The ache in your stomach began immediately, you’d have thought someone had been punching you in the gut. Well, more literally than they had been. When you groaned and complained to Alastor about what he had done, he pulled you up by your waist.

You were drawn into him, back to his chest again with your body between those long legs. His hands came to your stomach. Alastor massaged deep circles into your abdomen. 

“Does that help?” His high voice lowered, husky and kind into your ear. You nodded, the pressure relieved the discomfort. 

You wondered if he was used to taller demons than your shorter heavenly form, or perhaps he wasn’t used to anyone at all. Maybe sinners had more room than you did. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. Believe it or not,” probably not, “I’m never trying to hurt you.”

Was it terrible you actually did believe him? Yes he was a serial killer, and considered one of the most cruel overlords in recent memory. But he was always gentle when his hands were on you. Flits of memories of him washing your feet came back to you. 

“I know perhaps,” his hands kept moving, your back already stuck to his with well earned sweat, “I have at times been easily incensed.”

You nodded quickly.

“But, It’s just,” you heard him swallow hard, “ah I absolutely hate this,” He whispered it to himself. “I’m just scared you’ll leave before I’ve managed to convince you how much happier I can make you here.”

It’s not that it was funny, necessarily, but the very idea hell could be happier than Heaven was laughable. It was Heaven. It was made to be happy.  It existed purely to please. 

The smile faded from your face. Well, for the winners. It was made to please the winners. It wasn’t made for you, but you still got much enjoyment. You had…sex. Great sex. Not held aloft in a radio tower great, but…You always came. Everyone did. Wasn’t that the point of it?

Wasn’t that the point?

What was the point?

 A warm and lonely bed is better than an empty one alone. So.

Well, your bed was always warm and never lonely in hell now that you’d been “moved”.

You had… Hobbies. You liked swimming. 

Okay well the hotel had a pool. And yes, if you weren’t running off to earth on command you’d have more energy for hobbies.

What were you thinking about this for again?

You gathered the scraps of your relevant thoughts, “Happiness isn’t being confined to a hotel, Alastor.”

“As soon as you show me you won’t leave me, I won’t care where you go. As long as you’re safe.” One of his hands left your stomach to stroke your cheek, “I’m just waiting for you to realize what I already know.”

If Alastor were to ease his grip on you, could you enjoy yourself? Well, more than you did. But it was more than that, you had to admit you hated the idea of losing, of just running away. “I don’t like giving up.” 

His laugh was quiet but it rocked you as his chest moved. “Darling they threw you to hell and told you you’re not allowed to leave unless you do homework. Giving up what? Being a servant to heaven?”

If he had said it a couple weeks prior, you would have left the room indignant. But now, settled against his hot skin and being so softly touched, it sounded like tough love.

“I don’t belong here though.” You were talking to yourself. So many excuses.

His arms wrapped around your chest to hug you into him, “You belong wherever I am.” His cheek pressed against yours, “I won’t let you go.”

A threat. A threat you leaned into and warmed yourself with. A threat a quiet part of you hoped he kept his word on.

You were getting too comfortable. Every morning you woke up to Alastor curled into your body, holding you tightly to him and you found yourself smiling before your consciousness clicked on. At some point in the last week he grabbed your chin and kissed you good night and suddenly every time he left your side you allowed a kiss to your cheek before he parted. What was worse was how you’d talk in bed about your recent reads and what happened the few hours you weren’t with each other. 

The thing that made you realize you were getting honestly too deep was when you went to go to bed early and actually took the elevator past your floor, walked all the way to his station and told him good night. You’d made it to his chair and were leaning down for your kiss when your face fell flat. 

He asked what was wrong but you shook your head. A poorly faked smile offered to him.

You sat in your bed. His bed. Your bed?

You sat in bed and wondered how to press forward. Two months, nearly, you’d been in hell. At this rate surely heaven had made a replacement. If you could make it back quickly you could still keep your place.

A decision was made, you’d never confronted Alastor head on. You had misunderstood his illusion of you. But maybe if you just forced it into his thick skull he’d been controlled and puppeted by an arrow, not his free will, he would abandon it to save his pride. 

Knees to your chest, why were you crying again? Did you want to go home?

No, you wanted to curl into his stupid fucking lap and listen to him hum his stupid old, forgotten songs. You wanted to dance while Husk groaned and rolled his eyes. You wanted to feel loved.

But you weren’t made to want things. And Alastor didn’t love you.

Okay, one more night to enjoy yourself before you pissed him off so much he kicked you out of his bed. Or took such a turn into obsession he never let you leave the room again, allowing you to shirk responsibility for not returning to heaven.

When you turned the handle there was resistance, the door pushing in. 

“Alastor? Done already?” He’d seemed busy earlier.

He closed the door and locked it. Oh. A blush. The sound of a locking door had come to mean certain things to you.

“You seemed bothered.” His thumb wiped where your tears had already dried, “What ever is the problem? Did someone upset you? Some neck I should wring?” You shook your head no. His other hand came to join in  holding your face, those goddamned red eyes melting you to nothing, “Some limbs I should snap?” He took a step toward you and you took two back, hands holding his wrists. Another no. “Or some cheeks I should kiss?”

Stop crying.

An eager nod. “Don’t cry, my love.” Soft lips catching your tears, thin fingers wiping them away. He kept walking forward and you kept walking back until your legs hit the bed. 

One more night, just in case. In case he forfeits the mania.

You kissed his neck, startling him. “Rare form. Did you need some more intimate attention, darling?” You tried to avoid initiating, never knowing what he wanted or when, never wanting to enjoy his touch too much. “I could indulge you.”

What you wanted was to be reduced so thoroughly to just a physical creature by way of pleasure that your mind disconnected from your brain. Fucked dumb, as people said. Alastor wouldn’t know what that meant but you were confident he’d enjoy sussing out the finer details of the meaning if it meant your full surrender.

You bit down on his neck, getting you pushed onto the bed in return. “I need overindulgence. I don’t wanna feel anything tonight but you.” You should practice your manners, for heaven's sake. “Please.”

There it was again. That look that turned your bones to jelly and your brain to cotton; that downcast half lidded stare as he towered over you that promised to devour you whole. His hand pulled at his bow tie and loosened his collar, knees on the bed as his legs spread you open at the thighs.

 “Good girl.”

No punishment or inspiration, just that mental numbness that turned off all your worries. We’re you making stupid faces? We’re your sounds embarrassing? Didn’t matter. You didn’t care. You clung to his body like you’d fall apart without his skin on yours. Because you would, in some fashion. 

Every gap between your bodies felt like room for doubt. So you filled them with flesh and sighs and moans. 

With his height difference you were smothered by him when in traditional heaven-approved missionary, but you liked lying on top. Your head only made it to his chest when your hips were positioned above his cock. You could go slack and let him move you on and off himself. You had been lying when you said you preferred to not move or make noise, but you’d learned he got harder and more feral when you let him manipulate your body any way he pleased. 

He smelled like sweat and leather, probably from the chairs in the lobby. No one sweats in heaven, this seemed like a mistake now. You’d have to be sure to not wash your clothes after you left hell, or else you’d forget his scent.

After finishing, he was surprised to find you still clinging to his torso, arms under his armpits and hooked onto his shoulders. He offered to pull out and let you lie down but you just held on tighter in response. He glanced around the room, soft light and softer music on the radio. Your quiver and bow rested against the armoire, practically dusty. He asked if you were alright, a hand coming to your back with large claws gently scratching.

“Yeah I will be.” you lifted your head, waiting.

Both of his eyebrows rose, unsure what you were waiting on.

Complete surrender. “Good night kiss.” You had to stretch to meet his lips before settling back into his chest, “okay bore me to sleep with your day, sinner.” He gladly did, you falling asleep yet again to the sound of his slow heartbeat and the rumble of his words.

You awoke nauseous, already knowing your day was going to fucking suck and it’d be your own fault. The idea of approaching Alastor and initiating the conversation felt impossible, your feet became stone when you thought of it.

The coward’s option. Wait for time alone and then pace the library until he came to find you.

After an hour or so he did, smile brightening as he entered. “Should I summon the bar?”

You shook your head no, struggling to speak. He sat in his chair, book still on the small side table.

Heart pounding, you considered doing this another day or week or maybe year but knew you’d already lost so much time. “Alastor, I need to talk to you about my task.”

He snapped the book shut, eyes not leaving his hands. “Oh?”

“I need to leave the hotel or at least need serious time alone with someone. I need to change someone’s heart on true love. I can’t go home—,” you were cut off, Alastor standing quickly.

“Home?”

“Alastor.” You stood your ground even as his spine stretched and antlers widened.

“Your home is wherever I am.” A pained smile now, something akin to hurt in his eyes that did damage to you too. “Ah. So last night— and people say I’m cruel.”

“I’m not supposed to be here!”

A snap, his anger and desperation eclipsing his pain, “Why don’t you ever listen-,”

Your turn to cut him off, “Because you’re under a spell! You act so fucking tough like you’re in control all the time. But you’re not! It’s just the effect of the arrow.”

He laughed, but you kept going, “Don’t act like you’re sooo strong you can fight the effects of my shot. You don’t fucking love me. Not really, not naturally. It was an accident. You’re just— it’s been made by me. I don’t want it. I want something real and true.”

“My feelings are true, just let me speak. I can make you understand if you’d just listen to me.” Pupils like pins, teeth somehow sharper.

“Alastor you can’t have true love. Nothing triggered by my arrows can ever be true.”

Another ring of laughter, “Tell me then how your true love is different than mine, Oh Wise Cupid.”

You huffed, “Don’t talk down to me, radio demon. True love means caring deeply for someone else that occupies your heart and mind-,” he opened his mouth, looking around the room for where you found the audacity but you snapped twice to get his attention back, “not just that! You put them first without fear because if they truly love you they would never take advantage of that. It’s trusting them with the most fragile parts of yourself. It's a best friend. Someone who makes you feel like a better version of you, makes you want to always be improving yourself.”

Alastor was still smug, staring at you from his unnervingly demonic height, “Lovely! Last question, expert, is true love ever one sided?”

You thought for a beat, “It can be.”

He hummed, body swiftly resuming his smaller but, again, still too tall scale, antlers remaining fierce as his sinister smile dropped to just a small upward turn of his lips. “I see. You’ve truly enlightened me. I believe you.” The sarcasm wasn’t lost on you.

You rolled your eyes and licked your lips to go off when a portal opened beside you.

Heaven was just beyond the shining circle.

You looked from Alastor to the circular doorway, taking small steps towards it. Your hand pressed through, confusion wiping your own smugness off your face.

Alastor began a mocking slow clap. “I’ve been convinced. Happy now? Task complete.”

“But- the love Mania causes…It clouds the mind, you can’t even process the idea of true love properly.” You searched the floor for some clarity.

His hands stopped, eyebrows meeting his bangs as a laugh that started typically but quickly morphed into maniacal filled the room. You just kept pushing your hand in and out of the portal. Alastor finally quieted, antlers fully drawn back into little prongs. He stared at you. A shiver as his smile reached his ears. That look again. You took a deep breath, ready to be eaten.

“Your little arrow didn’t pierce me, you glorious fool. It literally fell into my pocket. I was never under the effects of your magic. I said that many times.” He straightened out his suit jacket,  “Very plainly, might I add. You just never listened to me. So sure you knew better than I did.”

You sputtered, too many thoughts trying to express themselves, “Why did you act like that then?!”

“Because I wanted you. Something something first sight, as I recall the adage goes.” He crossed his arms and looked at his claws, “Perhaps my love happens to be manic by default. I am a murderous overlord, darling.”

All the energy left your body, shoulders relaxing. “Oh.” 

“So, here I am,” he opened his arms, “trusting you to not hurt me any further today. Does that fall into your narrow view of true love?”

A good question. You shifted your weight onto your other foot, looking back at heaven. You could see the shining gates.

He sighed and brought his arms down, “I can’t promise how long I’ll let you stand there and look at anything other than me.”

A warning.

A deep breath, another shift onto your other foot again as you shook the anxiety out of your hands before finally making eye contact with him, “Well, eldritch horror, prove it.”

You heard the door lock from across the room. 

You decided heaven could wait. It took about two days before they seemed to notice you hadn’t entered the portal, which closed on its own some time between Alastor pushing you onto the floor and you begging him for more. Luckily St. Peter wasn’t privy to your escapades.

It was a fact Sera was aware you had completed your task, because a knock came to the library door on that second day after you did so. Entering without waiting for a reply, which was brave, Lucifer and his hat popped into the room.

“Heeeey giiiirl. I got a message from heaven asking what’s the hold up, worried you were incapacitated.”

From your seat in Alastor’s lap you lowered your book, “How nice of them to suddenly care about my well-being.” You brought the book back up, “Little late.”

He nodded, “Uh huh, uh huh. Yeah I can understand that. Sooo,” his fingers tapped the door, “What should I reply with?”

Alastor turned the page and hummed a reply, “Finders Keepers.”

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀�� masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @asleeponelmstreet , @tremendoushearttaco , @mutifandomkid , @sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove  @saccharine-nectarine , @viannasthings , @looking1016 , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha , @astraechos , @reath-solia ,

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith , sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re

@asianfrustration13 @alittletiredcry @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp

@sugurubabe , @zzzykiek , @phamtasic

[sunshine-overload]

[BSTS] Sinju Golden Week 4* Card Story

guys, I think I went to heaven

Chapter 1 -outdoor stage wings, day-

sinju: Sorry for the wait, Saki-chan! Thanks for coming to watch our show.

saki: You were great! The show was a blast.

sinju: Yeah, those who saw our performance for the first time seemed to like it as well. It was a good show. 

So, where should we go now? I’m free for the rest of the day so let's go have some fun.

-amusement park, day-

sinju: Let's grab something to eat first.

saki: What do you feel like eating?

sinju: The churros caught my attention. I saw the stall banner before the show. Oh, it looks like they come in two different flavours. Cinnamon or salt.

Hmm, which flavour should I get? Cinnamon would be the more traditional option, right?

saki: Since it's lunchtime the salt flavour is hard to pass on though.

sinju: Right? Hmmmm. Oh, I know! How about we buy one flavour each and split them?

saki: Sounds good. That way we can enjoy both flavours!

-time pass-

sinju: Looks like I’ve got the salt flavoured one, so yours must be cinnamon. Here, you can try the salt one first. Say ahh.

saki: Oh, um…

sinju: Ah, sorry! I just thought it would be nicer to have the sweeter flavour after the salty one.

saki: T-thank you. Is it ok if I borrow the salt churros then?

sinju: Of course, here you go.

saki: …Mm, it's delicious! It kind of tastes like a savoury snack.

-sinju takes a bite-

sinju: It really does! I wonder if it would pair well with ketchup? It’s a flavour that makes you want to alternate it with the sweet one.

saki: Would you like to try the cinnamon flavour then?

sinju: Can I? Oh but, my hands are full at the moment, could you feed it to me?

saki: O-ok. Here you go.

-he smiles and takes a bite-

sinju: …Yep! It's delicious! You can't go wrong with cinnamon.

saki: Fufu, I’m glad to hear it. Sharing food like this is a little embarrassing though.

sinju: So it wasn't just me? To be honest my heart was racing just now. It really feels like we're on an actual date.

I’d like to spend more time together with you like this though. Just a day is fine, right? I hope you enjoy this date with me, Saki-chan.

-

Chapter 2 -amusement park, night-

sinju: Uwah, it's already gotten dark. I was having so much fun that I lost track of the time. It’s been so long since I last visited an amusement park.

saki: Same. I didn't notice the time either.

sinju: Last time I was here was for the summer hero show, so it's been around two years huh? We didn't get to hang out for the whole day back then. So thanks, I’ve had a seriously fun time with you today.

saki: Thank you as well. Today has felt like I stepped into a dream.

sinju: A dream… Say, Saki-chan, could it be that you're thinking the same thing as me?

saki: Hm?

sinju: I was thinking that I don’t want today to end. I wish we could just keep hanging out and having fun together. How about you?

saki: I was thinking the same, yes.

sinju: Fufu, I figured. Come this way, Saki-chan.

-he takes her hand-

saki: Huh? Ah… Your hand… Where are we going now?

sinju: You’ll find out when we get there.

sinju: Check out the ferris wheel! Isn't the way it lights up really pretty?

saki: Woah, you're right! It’s really romantic.

sinju: I wanted to ride the ferris wheel at night so that's why I left it until last. I want to see the nighttime scenery with you there beside me.

saki: Sinju-san…

sinju: I said it already, didn't I? We’re on a date. So I want you to enjoy every moment. The day isn't over just yet, so let's keep having fun at the amusement park together!

–end 

[miss-bunny-penny]

non comprehensive reasons why the star wars season of fortnite has been a disappointment

I'm going to front load with some stuff from the reddits that I generally agree with even if I don't really care as much

Lightsaber pickaxes. I SWEAR TO YOU I thought the Darth Jar Jar XP unlock slots were going to be for this. Fine, you want lightsaber pickaxes, earn some XP first. But no it was for freakin Darth Jar Jar who should have been a style but let's talk a bit more about him later. Either which way, this has historically been desired by the community and this season was kind of seen as the last chance. Guess that's over now. This is just egregious since Epic refuses to address why they refuse to do it.

Landspeeders and other SW ground vehicles. I'm with the community here, it's kinda just lazy to leave in cars instead of doing this.

The Battle Pass being mid. It IS mid. I think the picks for canon SW characters were solid, it's honestly let down by Wookie Team Leader. I don't even hate the skin, but Darth Jar Jar deserved that spot. He's goofy, put the Darth Jar Jar style in the Level 60 slot, we're good on both fronts. Instead we got a skin pretty much nobody wants besides CTL girlies (who have been eating this year). One thing I will say about this BP is that we had the key art for like a week and I still couldn't absorb that this was going to be the five BP skins. When I saw the final BP I was like "oh". So let that say something.

Now I'm going to rant about the things I personally dislike and feel pretty strongly about.

The loot pool is terrible and has never been meaningfully updated since Day 1 and at this point I'm losing hope. There's still no mobility outside of Shockwaves and vehicles, there were clear best weapons on Day 1 and using anything else is kind of pointless, lightsabers are underpowered, etc. Plus characters themselves aren't as mobile as last season since they had moves taken out arbitrarily (land roll)

Spaceships boring. There's only two and they do the same thing. They're boring to fight against, boring to use, boring to get killed by and boring to get kills with. No alt fire options, slow turn speeds, etc. Just boring to fly around, makes me wish you could listen to the radio. People might actually kill me for this but this is almost worse than Wrecked season. This is more-or-less another vehicle centric season but at least Wrecked had more than one weapon type on the vehicles. (I liked that season so maybe my opinion is to be discarded on this)

Item shop has been horrible. I can't fathom why the selection of SW characters has been so stingy the entire time. There should be a massive section of dozens of skins available anytime during the season. They want new players to come in and play thanks to Star Wars right? Why have the Clone Troopers still not come back yet? Why aren't skins like Obi-Wan available all season? I really don't get it at all.

Darth Jar Jar is just heinous. They really think this is hype? Pure arrogance. Jar Jar by himself should never be more than 1200 vbucks. Make him 800. Having him be 1500 WITHOUT the Darth Jar Jar stuff is a joke. Locking BUYING Darth Jar Jar behind leveling up 15-20 times is unbelievably arrogant. Who even cares? The only way this was hype is if Jar Jar was a Battle Pass skin. That's what he deserved to be here. 3000 vbucks minimum to have both versions of Jar Jar Binks is like, embarrassing.

Basically nothing to do. I hate the Alignment quests. They want you to do a lot only for 3k XP, don't meaningfully contribute to anything, and mostly seem to exist just to force the SW POIs to be hot drop spots. Kind of sad that they feel that they have to do something to incentivize players to go to the cool Star Wars places in the Star Wars season but whatever. The "Story Quests" are plainfully bland and there's barely any of it but they at least give some necessary XP.

Speaking of which, not enough done to the map. The four corners only and Shogun's Solitude basically unchanged just doesn't impress me much. Call me Shania Twain if you will. This one is really a lot more minor than my other complaints though.

Overall, I'm just really disappointed by this season even though I didn't really have any expectations going in, even though I'm a closeted Star Wars fangirl, I'm just baffled by the decisions made by the dev team here. Not having more SW stuff in the item shop all season feels like a complete fumble and Darth Jar Jar not being in the BP feels like pure greed to me.

[heromonty]

Merry Christmas (and Happy Holidays if you don’t celebrate Christmas) everybody 🎄

Coming on here to say I know I just came back from a little break but I’ll be going on another one - explanation of why under the read more. Wishing everyone a Happy New Years in advance as I don’t think I’ll be on much in the next few weeks or so.

We put our dog, Bailey, to sleep early this morning, at around 1:00-1:30 AM and I’m just not…feeling much of anything right now besides extreme sadness. It was all very sudden, he was feeling fine all day yesterday until about 6:30-7:00 PM where we started stumbling, having accidents in the house, throwing up, looking dazed - it got to the point where we couldn’t keep himself up on his legs. We’re 99% sure he had a stroke - we took him to the emergency hospital where we were given three options of what we could do. We went with the third option: humane euthanasia. We didn’t want him to be in pain anymore - he was diagnosed with congestive heart failure at the beginning of the year which we had been managing with medicine and we didn’t want to add more on top of that for him for whatever was happening neurologically.

We got to say goodbye to him and got to be in the room with him as the euthanasia was administered. I’m extremely thankful that he went quickly and there was no reaction. But the memory of him just ceasing all signs of life makes me feel physically ill.

I don’t really feel like doing much of anything - just trying to process what happened. I’m hoping it gets a bit easier within the next few weeks - at the very least, to the point where I don’t burst into tears whenever I think of him or see anything that reminds me of him. But I don’t know, we’ll see.

Rest in peace sweet angel ❤️

March 23, 2011 - December 25, 2023

[salty-dracon]

My toxic trait? I always tip 50% for my coffee. My average drink costs $6. But when the little kiosk asks me for a tip and has the $1, $2, and $3 options, I always pick the $3 option. That's 50%.

I support my local coffee shop workers, of course! I love them a lot! They work really hard while I sit at a desk all day and set up doctor's appointments for injured teenagers. That's why I always tip them as much as I can. Oh and also I have always wanted to see a barista's face when I tip them 50% at the end of their shift. I just think it would be funny. That's like 75% of it.

But when I told Lacey that, she told me that the baristas aren't allowed to see the tips they get from individual customers. They're usually pooled up at the end of the week and divided up based on hours on the clock. So it's unlikely that anything I did would have made any one barista happy- or freaked them out.

"Don't you worry about embarrassing them?" Lacey asked. We were sitting inside a coffee shop, and I had just tipped 50% for both of our coffees.

"No. I just want to see how they react." I shrug. "It's no skin off my back, and I have the money. Besides, it's good coffee, and the staff is really nice to me. They can consider it a really generous gift for being nice to me."

"You sound like a feudal lord. Maybe that's why Gilligan looks like a vaguely draconic pit bull."

Gilligan, my vaguely draconic pit bull, sits next to me and happily slurps up his puppy cup. Behind Lacey towers a seven foot tall man with huge wings, bone-white scales, and claws for hands. He has no iris or pupils, but I can tell he's looking at me with those moonstones in his eye sockets. He leans down over Lacey and cradles her head in his claws with the utmost of care. He growls.

"Philo," Lacey mutters, reaching up and touching her hand against his cheek as though he's her boyfriend, "use your words."

"She was staring," Philo growls.

"Aw, you're into me?" Lacey jokes, pressing her fingers into her cheek. "No, you'd never be into me."

"But you're so nice to me!" I say. "You bought flowers for my mom on her birthday. She was so happy, I thought she was going to cry!"

An older woman walks up to us, limping on a shiny black cane. Her face looks wizened, and the way her skin wrinkles around her eyes gives her a kind-looking appearance. "Excuse me," she says, "but may I sit with you fine young women? Everything else is just too crowded."

"Yeah, sure!" Lacey shifts so that the woman can sit down in the booth next to her. "We were just talking about tipping at coffee shops. Apparently, they like tipping 50%!" Lacey points at me.

"It's just a way to give back to the community," I retort. "Besides, this place has the best coffee ever."

"I agree. A good friend told me about this place, and said that I needed to check it out."

I notice something on the woman's shoulder. "Oh, there's a bug on your jacket!" I exclaim.

The bug wiggles and walks out from her shoulder. I realize, it's a butterfly. And not any old butterfly, either. Butterflies this bright green color didn't appear in cities, nor did they have tiny moose horns.

"Butterflies can have moose horns?" Lacey exclaims.

"I think it's just a demon," I whisper back. "I've never seen a butterfly demon before."

"Really?" the woman asks. Her drink of choice is a latte, which she sips. "I know that it takes time for a demon to change form according to the actions of its owners, but she's been stuck like this for a few decades now. I wish she weren't. Having a nice strong demon around would be quite helpful."

Philo knows that she's referring to him. He rolls his eyes.

"A few decades?" Lacey asks. She has worry and pity in her eyes.

"That's how it is," the woman says. "In the olden days, those who gifted us the demons did so to prevent us from senselessly killing many people by our own hands. If one got weaker the more blood they had spilled, there would come a vanishing point at which war itself would have to cease. Your big strong man-" -she motioned at Philo again- "would become a cute little dog-" -she pointed to Gilligan- "and finally, achieve the lowest form."

The butterfly nuzzled against her cheek. I'm reminded of Philo's protectiveness over Lacey.

"Then came along the modern ways. Who needed demons when guns and missiles could do the job? And so, warfare continues, even with the aid of little Yorkshires and hamsters." She closed her eyes. "They say that the real reason that demons change isn't because of the lives we end. It's because of guilt. If one were made to feel guilty over a crime they did not commit, their demon would shrink anyway."

"You mean like how my asshole college professor had a lion?" I asked. I begged him for an extension once because my mom had to go to the hospital. He refused.

"Something like that," the old woman tells me. "To feel guilt is the great equalizer."

"So, why do you feel guilty?" Lacey asks. "Is it really that bad?"

"Let me tell you a story," the woman says, her voice growing quiet. "There was once a little girl living in an orphanage. She had many friends in the orphanage. However, she had no food to eat, no good clothes to wear. She watched her friends be whipped into submission in the basement by a cruel headmistress, with even their demons screaming in pain from the bites her own demon inflicted. The child fell sick once a month, and often woke up covered in bug bites, which the orphanage never treated. The demons curled around her and her friends, hoping they would be safe, but always failing to protect them. And so, one day, the girl and her demon decided that they were going to run away."

She continues her story, with a stronger voice. "But the headmistress hired security guards to prevent the children from escaping. They patrolled and severely beat anyone who tried to escape. However, the little girl had an idea. There was one way to sneak past them, and that was if they were distracted.

"And so, she set the orphanage on fire. She started it in the kitchen, far away from where her friends slept, and waited for it to build up before the smoke was noticeable. Under cover of smoke and darkness, the girl escaped. Upon the back of a flying bird, she took to the skies and found a new life for herself.

"But one day, she went back to the orphanage, looking for records about it, and learned a horrifying truth. The orphanage's emergency exits were all blocked off- by ill-placed dumpsters and dangerous chemicals. The pillars of the building were weak and hollowing, and in the heat and flame, collapsed soon after the blaze began.

"She had killed the headmistress, yes, and all of the adults who neglected her. That she felt no guilt over. But how many others did she kill? How many others had died in the blaze? The answer, she learned, as she hunted for records, was everyone else."

"But that's not your fault," Lacey says, placing her hands over her heart. "It can't be. You wanted them all to escape, so how could you have known that all the emergency exits were blocked off?"

"Well, I didn't check," the woman says, finishing off the last of her latte. "Maybe if I had, I wouldn't have done something so reckless. Or, if I'd just stood the pain, maybe I could have found justice some other way, and lived an equally full life." She sighed. "Such is life. Such is guilt. And such is a heart shriveled into the form of a butterfly, from decades of loss."

Humans are born with demon counterparts to protect them.The more innocent and pure a person is the more mean fierce and terrifying their demon becomes.Today you met an 82 year old woman with the kindest sweetest demon you’ve ever met.

[karla-the-elemental-dreamer]

🧡 Terra Week 2025 - Day 4 Package 🧡

Would you rather game? Terra Edition.

---

Rules:

1. Would You Rather options for Terra are something other than what he’d normally exhibit for a question:

eg. no Red, orange, brown or gold in options; or chocolate or caramel; or mountain, etc.

2. As Terra is using the week to in addition bolster Cricket’s DG confidence, he’s going to give the answers on what he think best suits Terra.

3. What do you think? Do you agree with the choices or would you pick the opposite one? Why? Don’t worry; if an answer is too difficult or painful, you can pick both or neither as the viewer.

4. Feel free to draw Terra amongst these choices/options if you wish!

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

Question 1:

Green or Purple?

YC: “I don’t know… I’m having a hard time imagining purple on Terra. Maybe it clashes too much with his blue eyes or something? What kind of purple? I could see him in a dark green polo or some bright green board shorts”.

Question 2:

Strawberry or Vanilla?

YC: “Vanilla definitely. The visualization of Strawberry just doesn’t seem to fit Terra. If not masculine, vanilla can be seen as a neutral flavor, which could also equate to the non-bias ie. default trust that Terra holds for people”.

Question 3:

Beach or Desert?

YC: “On first thought, I’d say desert as that’s solely a land mass, and a larger one, and that’s basically what Terra’s name derives itself from. But after watching his history on Day 3, I have become aware that the desert is where his friends got killed or at least very badly injured, so I’d say that Terra must hate that place now. Therefore? Beach. I seem to remember Terra also had a positive event [Riku] happen on a beach”.

Question 4:

Aqua or Ven?

YC: “Wha!? Don’t make me choose between his friends! I don’t even know them properly. I mean knowing Terra, he’d choose them both! But if I had to play the game, I’d say Ven… It just seems like he and Aqua have too many confrontations from time to time to override any sort of calm in their relationship. Terra and Aqua are like polar opposites on the same team as it were”.

Question 5:

Pen or Pencil?

YC: “Seeing as though Terra felt like he’s made so many mistakes in his life? Definitely pencil because you can erase it and start over again. Like Pen is for someone really confident in themselves or that they know what they’re doing. Terra either lacked confidence in himself or in the events that were transpiring around him. I’m thinking, according to Karla’s essay, what if Terra navigated through BBS with a pencil and got to re-write a section of his story in the form of KH3 as it were?”.

Question 6:

Glass or Metal?

YC: “At first I would choose metal; but after reading Karla’s essay on Day 3, there are more reasons now as to why I would choose glass. Glass is easily more breakable, but it’s transparent meaning you can see through it. Terra got into all that trouble with people because he couldn’t see through them and they had a very sturdy and foreboding presence (ie. metal). Also Terra’s physical build reminds me more of metal, but in how much he cares for his friends and how big but vulnerable his heart is when he gets taken advantage of or hurt, it’s glass”.

Question 7:

Pizza or Pasta?

YC: “I don’t see Terra as one to eat too many carbs, but I could be wrong. It depends on what there’s more of in Japan and it’s probably like China; so pasta. Like it’s in noodle dishes and soups, whereas bread in Asia is not a big thing. Besides, for that guy’s likely appetite, you could also have noodles with a steak on top”.

Question 8:

Cats or Dogs?

YC: “Despite Terra’s delicate heart, he’s physically rough. Normally you’d think cats are delicate, but dogs tend to be more affectionate or attention seeking whereas they’re more lean and muscly in physical build, and can get quite rabid when attacking or playing with something. I could just see Terra with a dog as well, playing with it and all”.

Question 9:

Cold or Hot?

YC: “Just like me he trains a lot. When it’s too hot, you have to stop doing that or you could get too hot and even have heatstroke. Also due to Terra’s muscle mass, he’d likely get hot anyway even if he wasn’t doing anything too strenuous. Whereas in the cold, you can train all you want, and you can also put on as many layers as you like. I mean if he wanted to, he could also cuddle up to his friends in cold weather, otherwise you’d just make everyone hot”.

Question 10:

Kingdom Hearts 2 or Kingdom Hearts CoM?

YC: “What even are those games? Oh wait, there’s a description of them in Karla’s files (dreamer records). So these are both common games that Terra doesn’t have a significant appearance in. I don’t really know what he would do so much in KH2 except for that bit where he did try to maul Sora with his armor suit in the same place that he lost his friends, but that isn’t considered the main game. Whereas in KH CoM, I could see his spirit trying to guide Riku through all the decisions that he had to make in Castle Oblivion, even perhaps being somewhat more effective than Mickey in that state of affairs. Also, it could have been interesting if Terra had met Namine for the first time, vicariously through Riku’s encounter in KH-CoM. I mean come to think of it now, shouldn’t Terra have had the privilege to travel vicariously through Riku if Riku had received his powers and therefore a part of him? My brain is buzzing with ideas now”.

Bonus:

Get It Together or Move It?

YC: “Definitely Move It. Like Terra’s the one to hold a Wii-mote or a Switch-con and ‘show you how it’s done’. Also a great way to train; moving around rather than just pressing buttons… It’s like using a keyblade! Like imagine that your Wii-mote or Joy-con is actually a keyblade! Additionally in my opinion only, Terra doesn’t seem to have too much variety in his moves nor move-styles, so fits more a structured environment like Move It rather than the broad canvas and combinations of Get It Together. As an appendix to the book as it were, he’s welcome to make some sports microgames if he wants to! Or even some stuff based on Kingdom Hearts”.

[storytimewithnova]

Cry sad oihina

Chapter 1: Denial

🎵 Well I, I guess it's been a while Since I've seen the sunshine Since I have smiled🎵

Shoyo stared at the pictures of himself and Oikawa A couple of picturea in Particular caught his eyes it was this picture

under the meteor shower, his heart breaking a little more with each passing second. It had been months since Oikawa's death, and the pain was still fresh and raw. He couldn't comprehend the concept of smiling anymore. It felt like a distant memory, a foreign emotion that he had long forgotten. "What is it like to smile?" Shoyo whispered to himself, his voice barely audible. Tears welled up in his eyes as he traced his finger over Oikawa's face in the photograph. "This is one of my happiest days..." 🎵 And me, who's so well versed Is feeling so damn empty Is at a loss for words🎵

Shoyo's best friend, Hajime, could sense his despair. He gently placed a hand on Shoyo's shoulder, offering some comfort. "Shoyo," he said softly, "this is not what Tooru would want to see you like. Please try and find the strength to move on I still I still can’t find the words even the ones i wish i had said when you were here"

🎵 Forgot what it's like To just feel okay Praying for the day When there is no more rain🎵

Shoyo shook his head, his voice choked with grief. "I guess I really don't know how to be myself anymore, Hajime. Tooru, don't get me wrong. Haji is trying his best, but it's not the same. I'm not the same, and I don't think I ever will be." "Shoyo this is not what Tooru would want to see you like, please try and find the strength to move on"

Chapter 2: Anger

Days turned into weeks, and Shoyo's sorrow only grew deeper. Everywhere he looked, he saw reminders of Oikawa, a constant, painful reminder of what he had lost. Anger began to consume him, and he found himself lashing out at those around him.

🎵 And I I don't wanna do anything but cry Oh, and I I don't wanna do anything but cry🎵

"I just want to cry!" Shoyo shouted one evening, his voice filled with frustration. "I don't want to do anything but cry!" Hajime understood his pain, for he, too, was grieving. But he knew that they both needed to find a way to move forward. I Just want him back haji shoyo said I get that shoyo I do you think I am not upset as well he was my friend my childhood friemd I am trying to stay strong here

🎵 Well, I, I, hardly feel alive I'm going through the motions But I don't feel like trying The hole in my heart is growing bigger by the day Wish that I could crawl inside Hide away🎵

"Don't you dare, Oikawa Shoyo," Hajime said firmly, stepping closer to his broken friend. "Don't you dare blame yourself. This was not your fault. Tooru wouldn't want you to shoulder this burden."

Shoyo's shoulders slumped, and he collapsed onto the floor, tears streaming down his face. "Why do I feel guilty? Why do I feel like I should be blaming myself?"

Hajime knelt down beside him, enveloping Shoyo in a comforting embrace. "Oh, hell no," he whispered fiercely. "Don't you dare do that either. Tooru's death was a tragedy, but it was not your fault. We need to find a way to honor his memory and find happiness again."

Chapter 3: Bargaining

🎵 And I I don't wanna do anything but cry Oh, and I I don't wanna do anything but cry🎵

The days turned into weeks, and Shoyo's heartache began to morph into a different kind of pain. He found himself pleading with any higher power that might be listening, desperate to bring Oikawa back Hajime pleaded with him to yell scream punch a wall if it makes him feel better hell even punching him was an option

🎵 Oh, I'm so low I'm almost to the bottom Oh, nowhere to go Even my soul has left my body🎵

"I'm so low," Shoyo said, his voice filled with desperation. "I'm almost to the bottom. Nowhere to go... even my soul has left my body."

Chapter 4: Depression

🎵 Oh, and I I don't wanna do anything but cry Oh, and I I don't wanna do anything but cry🎵

As the reality of Oikawa's absence settled in, Shoyo found himself sinking deeper into a state of depression. He felt lost, as if a vital part of himself had been ripped away. Each day felt like a struggle, and the hole in his heart seemed to grow larger with each passing moment and Tears were running down his face

🎵 And I I don't wanna do anything but cry And I I don't wanna do anything but cry🎵

"I hardly feel alive," Shoyo admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm going through the motions, but I don't feel like trying anymore. The hole in my heart is growing bigger by the day. I wish I could crawl inside and hide away."

Hajime's heart ached for Shoyo, but he knew that he couldn't let his friend drown in this sadness forever. He stayed by Shoyo's side, offering support and understanding.

"I get it, Shoyo," Hajime said softly. "I understand the pain. He was my friend too, and his loss has affected me deeply. But we need to find a way to keep going. To find happiness even in the midst of this grief."

Chapter 5: Acceptance

Time began to heal some of the wounds, no matter how deep they were. Shoyo slowly started to accept the reality of Oikawa's loss. While the pain would never fully vanish, he knew he had to find a way to live again, to honor Oikawa's memory.

One night, as Shoyo sat alone in his room, his thoughts lingering on his precious husband, he felt a gust of wind brush against his skin. Startled, he looked up and saw a faint figure standing before him.

It was the ghost of Oikawa, his voice filled with love and longing. "Look after him for me, Iwa-chan," Oikawa said, his words almost a whisper. "Make him happy again, please. And my precious chibi-chan, I love you. See you soon."

Shoyo's heart swelled with a bittersweet mix of love and grief. He knew that he had to keep moving forward, not just for himself, but also for Oikawa's memory. And with Hajime by his side, he found the strength to smile again, even in moments of sadness.

As the years went by, Shoyo discovered that time truly does heal wounds, and life can bring unexpected moments of happiness. Oikawa would always remain in his heart, a guiding light in the darkness. And while the pain never completely disappeared, Shoyo learned to live, to laugh, and to love again.

Epilogue: Rediscovering Happiness

Shoyo stood on a hillside, a gentle breeze blowing through his hair. He looked up at the night sky, filled with twinkling stars, and felt a sense of peace wash over him. His smile, once lost, was slowly finding its way back to his face.

"I still miss you, Tooru," Shoyo whispered, his voice filled with both sadness and gratitude. "But I've learned that it's okay to be happy again. I'm learning to live the way you would have wanted me to."

And as Shoyo watched the meteor shower light up the night sky, he couldn't help but feel a warm presence beside him. Oikawa's love was still with him, guiding him through the darkest moments and helping him find joy in the simplest of things.

As the shooting stars streaked across the sky, Shoyo closed his eyes and made a wish. A wish for happiness, for healing, and for a future filled with love. And in that moment, he knew that no matter what obstacles may come his way, he would always carry a piece of Oikawa in his heart, his eternal source of strength and inspiration.

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

Title: demons are a girl’s best friend

Pairing: Incubus!Eddie Munson x Incubus!Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Chapters: 1/1

Read on AO3 | Join the tag list | Masterlist

Summary:

Since returning from the Upside Down, something dark exists in Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson. Something that is satisfied by only one thing - sex.

And they've set their sights on you.

Tags/warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), f/m/m threesome, p in v, masturbation, choking, pet names, dirty talk, degradation, praise kink, oral (m/f receiving), mild dub con for incubus magic ya know?, rough sex, dom/sub, demons still believe in aftercare. Let me know if anything is missing!

You can’t sleep. You’ve tossed, you’ve turned, you’ve flipped your pillow over chasing the cool side, but sleep just still won’t come and put you out of your exhausted misery.

It’s been a rough week. As a senior at Hawkins High School, you and the other one hundred-something students in your class are all feeling the impending weight of finals. You’re up later and later every night, hunched over your worn out desk as you write yet another essay, hoping that the words you’re coming up with are still making sense. Your eyes burn as you stare up at the ceiling, the one lone glow in the dark star that’s remained affixed to the paint glowing dimly.

With a groan, you turn over again. All your pent up energy is starting to fizzle beneath your skin, in your blood, and you feel flushed all over. You shift your legs, the friction of your pajamas against your sensitive core making you bite your lip. You slip your hand beneath the waistband, sliding your fingers through the slick that’s built up between your thighs. You whimper at the sensation, giving another swipe, and another.

Your brain starts to wander back to a scene in one of the naughty books you swiped from the thrift store you work at part time. In it, the heroine was rescued by two strapping young knights, whisked away into the forest, where they took care of her needs.

Her every need.

You picture it in your head - four hands gliding over your body, two sets of lips leaving imprints of heat across your skin. A tongue diving between your lips, tangling with yours, while another swirls over the soft skin of your tummy before traveling lower, lower, lower.

Your hand moves faster, your back arching slightly off the bed as your hips chase a rhythm that will bring you the release you desperately crave. In your mind, the scene has shifted and you’re naked, the blunt head of one cock sliding into your channel as another thrust into your mouth.

With a choked off moan, you tip over the edge, your orgasm spreading through your limbs and making them grow heavy. As you lay there in the afterglow, your eyes fluttering shut, your only thought is how desperately you wished that was real.

_____

Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson have not always been this way. Something about them, to the very core of their beings, had been changed when they last went to the Upside Down. Something dark existed in them, begging for release, and it was only satisfied by one thing.

Sex.

It didn’t matter who it was with, not really, though so far nothing compared to when they were together, satisfying the urge with the give and take of their own energy, feeding off each other. Occasionally, they’d branch out, bringing home women and men alike for a night of pleasure that kept them satiated for a few days. Hawkins, unfortunately, had a limited number of people to tempt and lure. They’d traveled as far out as Indianapolis a couple times, but financially, it wasn’t the most feasible option.

As it was, tonight, Eddie lounged in bed beside Steve, cigarette dangling between his lips, when he felt that familiar tug in his belly. A side effect of that darkness, Steve and Eddie were more in tune with the carnal desires of the town, the threads of lust that stretched from people’s minds and vibrated enticingly.

Eddie sits up, tilting his head back as he blows out a hazy cloud of smoke. Beside him, he feels Steve tense.

“You feel that, too?” He asks. “Shit, that’s good.”

Steve nods, plucking the cigarette from Eddie’s fingers and bringing it to his lips. Eddie watches with rapt attention, eyes trained to his lips.

“We gotta find that one,” Eddie says. “I don’t think we’ve felt one that strong before.”

“Not even those twins from Marion,” Steve agrees. He purses his lips, blowing the smoke into Eddie’s face with a cheeky grin.

“You’re a tease, Harrington,” Eddie growls, leaning forward and shoving him back into the mattress.

“What are you going to do about it, Munson?”

“I have some ideas.”

_____

It’s Friday afternoon, and you’re in the drama club room, painting one of the set pieces for the next production. You’re alone, having stayed back when the rest of the cast and crew decided to call it a day. You needed to get another coat of paint on this fake tree before the weekend so that you could start putting the leaves on it on Monday.

You’re so focused on the task that you don’t hear the door open, or the sound of footsteps punctuated by the clink of chains. It’s not until a hand is pressed to your shoulder do you realize you’re not alone.

With a surprise shriek, you turn, wielding your paintbrush like a weapon. Eddie Munson stands in front of you, hands held up in surrender, a smirk on his face.

“Woah, didn’t mean to startle you, sweetheart,” he says. The smirk spreads into a grin as you blink at him. You drop the arm wielding the paintbrush and press your free hand to your chest, over your pounding heart.

“Christ, Eddie! Give a girl some warning!”

“I did! I called in to ask if anyone was in here but no one answered!” He laughs, a hand running through his hair. “What are you doing here so late, anyways?”

“Wanted to finish painting so it could dry over the weekend,” you tell him. The conversation stalls at that, the two of you just staring at each other curiously.

Eddie Munson is an enigma. Even before that massive, unexplained earthquake Hawkins had about a month ago, he was always on the periphery of the social classes at Hawkins. When he was initially blamed for Chrissy Cunningham’s murder, but found not guilty, it turned him into a greater social pariah.

Apparently, inciting a massive witch hunt because the whole town believes you’re a homicidal satan worshiper doesn’t exactly help your reputation.

He still hangs out with the younger students in his Dungeons and Dragons Club, a couple of freshmen who worked tirelessly to clear his name with local law enforcement, providing him an alibi that cleared him of all charges. You even see him with Nancy Wheeler on occasion, which is a surprise given her popularity.

You’ve always found Eddie to be a nice guy. Severely misunderstood, a victim of the small town hive mindset. You’ve had a couple classes with him over the last two years, and while his work ethic left a lot to be desired, he wasn’t a bad guy.

And, if you’re being really honest with yourself, you’ve always found him kind of cute, with his wild curly hair and darker sense of style.

It’s when that thought passes through your mind that Eddie tilts his head, eyes darkening.

“You need a ride? I was gonna head out soon, I can drop you off somewhere?” He offers. “I just gotta swing by Family Video and pick my friend up from work first.”

You’re surprised by the offer. You didn’t think you were at offering-rides-level friendly. A ride from Eddie Munson does sound way better than walking around Hawkins near nightfall, though.

“Uh, sure. Thanks, Eddie, that’s sweet of you to offer.”

_____

There is nothing sweet about Eddie’s offer to drive you home.

He’d been searching for that thread of lust all day. Skipped half his classes to do so, slipping into random classrooms as he tapped into that otherworldly perception.

It wasn’t until he went to the drama classroom after school, intending to grab something from the cubby he keeps for Hellfire Club, that he felt that familiar tug.

And there you were, hunched over a plywood and paper maché monstrosity, painting the details of tree bark while being oblivious to your surroundings. Everyone else had already cleared out for the weekend and it was just the two of you in the room, no other distractions.

When you didn’t respond to him calling out, he’d pressed a hand to your shoulder.

And what an enlightening experience that was.

That brief contact was all it took to be flooded with images of you in what he assumes is your bed, hand between your legs as you writhe around on the sheets, chasing the euphoria your body has been building to.

When you turned, his hand breaking contact, he couldn’t help but smirk, excitement and hunger coursing through him in equal measure.

Then he got another surge of lust as you looked at him, pupils dilating in that delicious way he craves.

He can definitely work with this.

He offered you a ride home without another thought. It was a half baked plan on his part, but the longer he got to spend with you, the lower your inhibitions would go.

Add Steve to the equation, and he could speed this process up ten fold.

Eddie glances at you, seated in the front passenger seat with your hands folded in your lap, fingers twisting nervously. Every so often you shift in your seat, your thighs rubbing together, and Eddie has to bite back a groan.

“You gettin’ excited about graduation?” He asks casually. You jump slightly, like you weren’t expecting him to speak, but you recover quickly.

“I guess. Will be nice to see someplace besides Hawkins for a while.”

“I know what you mean. Soon as I finally have that diploma, I’m outta here.”

You giggle, and he knows what you’re about to say before the words even leave your mouth. “Is this the year the great Eddie Munson finally graduates?”

“Hey, now,” he says, pressing a hand to his chest in faux insult, “I’ll have you know that I was just waiting for the right year. ‘86, baby, am I right?”

Another giggle, and Eddie risks another glance at you. Christ, you’re pretty. You’re wearing one of those long skirts with little flowers on it, a black sweater, and a pair of black boots, and the whole outfit just does it for him. His fingers dig into the steering wheel as he fights the urge to dig them into your thigh when you smile at him.

“‘86, baby,” you repeat. He’s grinning as he pulls into a parking space in front of Family Video. He sees Steve’s head lift in his direction and throws him a wave.

“You know Steve, right?” Eddie asks, watching you closely for any reaction.

“Uh, yeah, who doesn’t know Steve Harrington?” You ask with a nervous giggle.

Eddie doesn’t even need his other sense to see what’s plain as day in that response and he mentally fist pumps in excitement. God bless Harrington for being one attractive son of a bitch.

Speak of the devil, Steve picks that moment to pull your door open, startling you. While surprised, Steve recovers quickly and slips right into the role of teen heart throb, leaning against your open door and giving you a smirk.

“Well, hello,” he says. “Wasn’t expecting a beautiful girl this afternoon but I am pleasantly surprised.”

Your cheeks turn pink with a pretty blush and Steve’s eyes find Eddie’s over your head. Eddie licks his lips, eyes going dark as he gives a single nod.

The sound of Eddie saying your name catches your attention, head turning to look at him. “She was hangin’ out late after drama club so I offered her a ride.”

“Always the gentleman, Munson,” Steve quips before shutting your door and climbing through the back of the van. “I’ll let stealing my seat slide this time, sweetheart,” he tells you with a wink that you catch in the rear view mirror.

Eddie pulls the car out of the parking spot, looking at you as he does. “Where to, m’lady?”

You open your mouth to reply when Steve inserts himself between the two of you, leaning his arms on the center console. “I have an idea, why don’t you join us at my house? We can watch a movie, smoke a little, if you’re into that kinda thing.”

“Oh, uh, sure?” You reply, a little uncertain. But when Steve gives you a million dollar smile, Eddie feels a trickle of your lust flow through him.

Thank fuck for Steve, Eddie thinks as he routes the three of you to Harrington’s house.

____

You don’t know what made you agree to hang out with Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington. You’ve never exchanged more than a handful of conversations with either of them, but like most girls your age in Hawkins, you’re not immune to Steve Harrington’s charm.

Then there’s Eddie, rougher around the edges than Steve, with his leather and chains. But like you noted earlier, he’s always been kind, despite what the small minds of Hawkins have thrown at him, and you find him cute in a mysterious kind of way.

You sneak a glance into the rear view mirror, your gaze immediately meeting Steve’s. You look away, embarrassed, but the man in question leans forward, lips close to your ear.

“So, how’s Hawkins High been treating you?” He asks, warm breath tickling your face and making you shiver. “You still doing yearbook with Nance?”

The questions are innocent, nothing more than small talk, but his proximity makes your blood heat.

“Yeah, still in yearbook. We’re waiting for the prints to come back,” you tell him. You turn your head to look at him and you see his eyes flick to your lips as you draw in a sharp breath, surprised at how close he is.

He leans back just enough to give you some breathing room. “You were always my favorite photographer. Always made sure to get me good side.”

Eddie scoffs, an arm shooting out to knock Steve’s shoulder, throwing him off balance until he lands back on his ass.

“Do not feed his ego, it’s big enough as it is,” he jokes, dodging Steve’s hand when he reaches forward to smack him. “Don’t assault the driver!”

Their bickering makes you laugh, some of the tension leaving you as you continue to watch them interact. They’re an odd pair, but as you watch them you’re struck by how their juxtaposition is exactly what makes them work.

Eddie pulls up to a familiar two story house in one of the nicer neighborhoods of Hawkins. You’ve been here for a couple famous Harrington parties, but the home seems daunting when there’s not one hundred other people milling around as a buffer.

Engine killed, Steve and Eddie hop out of the van. Eddie jogs around to the passenger door and pulls it open, gesturing for your exit with a wide arm and a slight bow.

The two of you trail after Steve into the house after he unlocks the door. Steve runs upstairs to his room, excusing himself to change out of his work clothes. As he disappears on the landing, Eddie takes you hand in his, tugging you forward.

“Come on, let’s pick out the movie before Steve can complain about me picking a horror movie,” he says.

Steve’s voice chimes in from upstairs, “It’s May! You don’t watch Halloween in May!”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but you’re too fixated on the feel of his hand in yours to react to Steve’s joke. You’ve read about feeling sparks before in some of those romance novels, and you think this may be what they’re talking about. Your skin tingles where it connects to his, your smooth palm in his rough one.

You’re so lost to your thoughts that you don’t even notice when he stops walking, causing you to crash right into his chest. An arm wraps around your waist to steady you.

“Woah, tiger. You okay?” He asks.

Your arms are pinned between your bodies, hands pressed to his chest, and when you look up into his eyes, your fingers reflexively curl into the fabric of his t-shirt. Your mouth goes dry as your eyes flick to his face, his eyes trailing down to your lips.

“Yeah…yeah, I’m okay,” you whisper.

You don’t know what’s happening. You don’t understand why Eddie is looking at you like this, like he wants to devour you. Your pulse beats wildly as his eyes meet yours, his brown eyes nearly black.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks quietly.

When you nod, you hear him murmur what sounds like thank god before his lips connect with yours.

It’s not a soft kiss, by any means. His lips press to yours with purpose, with demand, his tongue sliding against yours is when you let out a small whine. His hands frame your face, fingers curling into your hair.

“Couldn’t even pick a movie?” Steve asks. You pull back from Eddie, turning to look at Steve where he’s leaning against the door frame of the den, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Don’t stop on my account.”

“You heard the man,” Eddie says, leaning in to pick up where he left off.

“I…wait…I don’t-,” you stammer, looking between the two of them. “What’s going on?”

Eddie releases you, allowing you to step back and give you some much needed breathing room. Your mind is racing, struggling to give you all the reasons why you need to leave, but somehow you keep coming up with reasons to stay.

Steve steps up behind you, a hand trailing lightly from your shoulder and down your arm, making you shiver. “Nothings going on that you haven’t thought about before. Isn’t that right?”

You’re quiet as he leans in, pressing a kiss to your neck. Your eyes flutter shut, your skin on fire where his lips had been.

“I don’t…I’m not-,” you try to say, but Eddie makes a shushing sound, closing the distance between you once more, pressing you firmly between their bodies. Eddie’s hands join Steve’s, skimming your waist until his fingers toy with the band of your skirt.

“Pretty, isn’t she, Stevie?” Eddie asks. “And such a naughty thing, touching herself while thinking of taking two cocks.”

“H-how did you…,” you start, your words disappearing in a gasp as a hand reaches under your sweater, a palm roughly grasping your breast.

“You called out to us last night. Don’t you remember? As you played with that pretty little pussy?” Steve whispers into your ear, punctuating the statement with a nip of his teeth. “We’re at your service, sweetheart. Just say the word.”

You finally manage to pry your eyes open, heavy lidded though they are. Both of them are staring at you hungrily, eyes black as night. You feel like prey, like a rabbit in the woods that’s about to become dinner.

“Okay,” you whisper, even as your brain screams at you to run.

_____

Steve doesn’t know when he’s felt a greater victory than hearing you give in. That pull of lust, that energy in your very core, just begging to be released, consumed, ravaged.

Eddie is immediately on you, lips dancing with yours in a slick slide that makes Steve’s mouth water. His cock is painfully hard as he watches Eddie’s hands pull your sweater up and over your head, leaving you in your simple black bra.

Eddie drops to his knees, gently lifting one foot to tug your boot off, then the other. Steve busies himself with finding the zipper of your skirt and tugging it down, the fabric dropping away from you as Eddie stands.

“Kneel on the couch, lean your arms on the back cushions,” Eddie commands. Steve watches as you obey, limbs shaky as you do as he says. “Such a good girl.”

The praise makes you whimper, the sound music to Steve’s ears. He watches as Eddie steps up behind you, a hand pressing to your back to make you arch deeper, your ass tilting up gorgeously.

“You ever have someone lick your pussy, baby?” Eddie asks. Steve watches you shake your head, but he knows Eddie well enough to know that won’t suffice. “Words, princess. Use your words. We’ve barely gotten started, you can’t go all cock dumb on us yet.”

“N-no,” you manage to say.

“No, what?” Eddie asks, voice teasing as his hand slides down your back, over your ass, between your thighs.

Confused, you glance over your shoulder. While Eddie’s focus is on his hand between your legs, on the fingers digging into the meat of your inner thigh, Steve meets your gaze.

“Eddie has a particular taste. He likes to be in charge,” Steve explains. Your eyes widen. “You should call him ‘sir’, if you want him to keep going.”

“Oh…no, sir,” you whisper, cheeks flushing a pretty pink in your embarrassment. Eddie groans, the sound going straight to Steve’s dick where it presses painfully against the zipper of his jeans.

“Good girl,” Eddie says, fingers curling into the elastic of your panties and tugging them down your thighs until they sit at your knees.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he says as he presses a kiss to your low back. “I’m going to make you cum with my tongue, maybe my fingers, too, if I’m feeling generous. Then, you’re going to show me how well you can take Steve’s cock. Alright?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Oh, she’s a quick learner. I think that deserves a reward.” Eddie uses both hands to spread your cheeks, giving Steve an unobstructed view to your glistening pussy that makes him groan, a palm sliding over his dick to give him a fleeting moment of relief.

Eddie leans forward, licking a broad stripe from your clit to your quivering entrance, making you shout. With that encouragement, he turns you into his own personal feast, fingertips digging into your hips as he works to hold you still as he circles his tongue over your clit, down to your hole, and back again.

Steve strips himself of his sweater before tugging his jeans off. He rounds the couch, coming to stand before you.

Christ, what a picture you make. Your eyes are clenched shut, mouth dropped open as you moan, fingers digging into the couch cushion for purchase. You don’t even notice him standing in front of you until he laces his fingers through your hair, tugging sharply.

Your eyes pop open in surprise and Steve smiles at you. “That feel good, huh? Having your pussy licked by Eddie? He’s got a talented tongue, right?”

You nod, the movement limited by his hold on your hair. Steve glanced past your shoulder, locking eyes with Eddie as he sides two fingers into you, pumping roughly.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, muscles tightening.

“Are you going to cum?” Steve asks, releasing his hold on your hair to hold your chin. “Come on, sweetheart, give Eddie want he wants so I can fuck that tight little cunt.”

Your mouth drops with a shout, eyes rolling back as you obey. Steve groans at the surge of power that slides through him. Eddie stands as your body sags against the couch. He holds his fingers out to Steve, sliding them over his tongue.

“Come on, Stevie, don’t keep her waiting.”

_____

You think you might be dead. Or dreaming. Maybe some combination of the two.

The orgasm that Eddie pulls out of you is like nothing you’ve experienced before. The way it coursed through your whole body, lighting you up from head to toe, all your other fumblings under your covers at midnight paled in comparison.

You’re boneless against the couch cushions until two sets of hands start to maneuver your body on someone’s lap. You blink, staring dazedly down into Steve’s face.

His hands grip your waist, grinding you against his hard length, the sensation near painful on your sensitive clit. Steve’s face is familiar, yet not at all at the same time. Like something shifts beneath the surface of his smile, his eyes darker than you remember them being.

“Hey there,” he says gently. He brings one hand up to cup your cheek, pulling you closer to plant a surprisingly chaste kiss to your lips. “You good?”

You give a shaky nod, moving your hips over him again, without his guidance. He groans, head tipping back against the couch cushions as his eyes flutter shut. Movement to your right catches your attention, and you turn to see Eddie, now naked, slowly sliding his hand up and down his cock. He leans in closer, using his free hand to grip your chin and tug you to him, lips slamming against yours hungrily.

His tongue sweeps into your mouth to tangle with yours as Steve lifts you slightly, positioning himself at your entrance before urging you down onto him. You gasp into Eddie’s kiss, the stretch overwhelming in the best way possible. Eddie pulls back with a sharp smile.

“That feel good, princess?” He asks, voice gravelly.

“Yes, sir.”

“Why don’t you thank Steve for giving your greedy pussy his cock?” He turns your head back to Steve.

“T-thank you, Steve.”

“Good girl,” Eddie praises. “Now, I want you to make yourself cum.”

Tentatively, you begin to move your hips. Forward, back, forward, back, adjusting to the sensation, familiarizing yourself with the body beneath yours. Steve groans.

“I think you can do better than that,” Eddie teases. He moves off the couch, positioning himself behind you. His hands rest on top of Steve’s as he grips your hips, urging your movements on. His dick presses to your back and he groans into your ear every time he drags you against it.

Steve leans forward, one hand digging into Eddie’s wild hair to pull him into a kiss over your shoulder. You gasp, tightening around Steve as you watch them.

When they break apart, panting, Steve smiles at you. “She liked that, Eddie. Her pussy got so tight just now.”

“Yeah?” He smooths your hair away from your neck, peppering you with kisses and bites.

“Eddie, please,” you moan on a particularly rough bite that Steve punctuates with a sharp thrust of his hips.

“Please, what?”

“Wanna touch you.”

He laughs. “You are touchin’ me.”

“N-no,” you stutter. “More.”

His hand moves from your hip to your belly, trailing down until his fingers graze where you and Steve are connected. His calloused fingertips trace circles around your clit, featherlight and not nearly enough. You give a frustrated groan, grinding harder to chase the friction both men are providing you.

“Tell you what,” Eddie says, with a pointed swipe of his fingers directly where you crave them most. “Cum for Steve, and I’ll let you suck my cock. How’s that sound?”

All you can manage is a whine as Steve starts thrusting from below you, making you tip forward until you’re flush to his chest. Eddie keeps his hand wedged between your bodies, pressing to your swollen clit until the dual sensations cause you to tip over the edge with a shout, limbs shaking as you cling to Steve’s shoulders.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve groans as you flutter around him. Both of them slow their movements as you come down from your release, until finally they release you.

Steve lays you on your back, pushing your legs apart and settling between them, sliding his still hard cock through your folds. Eddie positions himself by your hand, a hand fisting his own length as he stares down at you.

“This is what you wanted, right, princess?” He asks.

“Y-yes, sir,” you say, eyes fixed on his hand. He’s gorgeous, lithe frame covered in tattoos and scars that you want to explore.

“Such a good little slut,” he praises, before tipping your chin back so that the crown of your head is on the cushion. “Now, open up.”

You do as you’re told, dropping your jaw open and moaning when he traces your lips with his tip.

“Aw, don’t tease her, Munson,” Steve admonishes, slowly slipping himself back inside your sensitive pussy.

“Can it, Harrington, I’m working here,” Eddie snaps, his words lacking any real heat. Despite his response, Eddie begins to slide his cock past your lips. He takes care not to push too far, pumping his hips in short thrusts that counter Steve’s deep ones.

“Christ, the mouth on you, sweetheart,” Eddie bites out.

“Her pussy’s even better,” Steve taunts as he slips a hand beneath your knee, pushing your leg up to your chest and opening you up to him further. The deeper angle makes you groan around Eddie, eyes shutting as you give yourself over to the sensation.

Eddie’s hand wraps gently around your throat, squeezing the sides tenderly. You can feel Steve lean forward, can hear the slick sound of their tongues meeting even among the noise of their bodies pounding against yours. Steve’s thrusts grow erratic, until he’s pressing deep, his own orgasm running through him like a freight train.

He pulls out and Eddie follows suit, leaving you feeling empty. You frown at them, until Steve pulls you up, urging you to turn around until you’re laying with your back against his chest, facing Eddie.

“Fuck,” Eddie growls, hand reaching out to trail his fingers through Steve’s release as it slips out of you. “You’re so gorgeous.”

You feel your cheeks heat from blushing and Steve’s chest rumbles beneath you with his laughter. “After all that, you’re going shy on us now?”

Eddie chuckles as he shuffles forward, sliding himself through the slick mess between your legs. Without warning, he slams into you, jerking you against Steve and making you cry out from how sensitive they’ve made you.

He withdraws slowly, slowly, until just the tip of him is barely inside you, and with a wicked smile he sets a punishing rhythm that has you crying out with every thrust. It’s not long before you’re cresting another wave of euphoria, this one almost painful as it crashes over you.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby, just like that,” Eddie says through gritted teeth as he picks up his pace. He leans closer, pressing his lips to yours. He bites at your lips, hard enough to make you yelp, as he thrusts deep, deeper, until he spills into you as well.

Eddie collapses onto you, pressing you uncomfortably into Steve. You weakly smack him on the arm.

“Eddie, off, you’re crushing me,” you whine. You feel him chuckle before he lifts off of you, sitting back on his heels and helping you sit up.

“Come on, let's get you to bed,” Steve says as he stands, sliding an arm around your back and another beneath your knees and lifting you from the couch as if you weigh nothing. “Eds, grab her some water?”

Eddie walks unabashedly towards the kitchen as Steve heads for the stairs. Your head rests on his chest as he carries you up the steps.

Once he’s in his room, he sets you gently on the bed. Eddie walks in, handing the glass to you as Steve disappears through a door to what you assume is a bathroom, if the sound of running water is anything to go by.

You chug the water in greedy gulps as Eddie watches you intently. He’s got his jeans on again, the fly unbuttoned over his boxers. Steve emerges from the bathroom in a pair of sweats, a washcloth in his hand that he uses to slowly clean you up with.

“I’d offer you something to wear, but I kinda like the idea of you naked in my bed,” he says with a wink.

“Are you feeling okay?” Eddie asks as he lays beside you, propped up on his side with his head in his hand.

“I’m way more than okay,” you tell him with a grin. “I’m not really sure where all this came from, but I’m definitely not complaining.”

Eddie smiles, reaching out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “You feeling tired?”

“Little bit. I swear, Eddie, I’m fine.” You stretch your arms above your head. Shyly, you look between them. “Should I…I can go?”

“Absolutely not,” Steve says without hesitation. He slips into bed beside you. “You’re staying.”

That gets no argument from you. You yawn, the desire to sleep growing stronger with every passing minute.

Eddie wraps an arm around your middle, settling in closely with his face pressed into your chest with a happy sigh. Steve curls up behind you, his arm looping over Eddie’s to touch you both.

“‘Night, guys,” you murmur, before drifting off in the comfort of their embrace.

_____

When your breathing slows and evens out, Eddie lifts his head to look at Steve over your sleeping form.

“Steve,” he whispers. He watches Steve’s head lift from the pillow as well.

“I feel like I’m floating,” Steve whispers back, voice giddy. Eddie nods his agreement.

“I haven’t felt this good since…ever, probably. Even before Vecna.”

“What do you say we keep this one?” Steve asks.

“I’d say you read my mind, Harrington,” Eddie replies.

He looks down at your sleeping form, and for the first time he thinks maybe being a demon isn’t so bad after all.

[genderqueerdykes]

One thing that makes me sad abt pride month is how it always seems there's not much to do- might be based just on where I live, but besides pride parades, which are rare, there's nothing else, and I can't go to pride parades for multiple reasons. I wish there were other options out there for folks who want to show their pride but can't go to parades

hey, i get that! in a lot of places, the only thing to really *do* during pride month is the parade or pride fest, which in some places is just one day. it'll depend on your area, how progressive it is, how close you are to larger queer neighborhoods/towns/cities, etc.

in some places, there is more to do- in my city there are events going on for a week straight that end with the parade, and then there are also businesses holding pride themed events all month long including ones held at social clubs, ice cream parlors, etc. in places with even larger queer populations, there's more to do, but obviously if you live in a smaller area, this will shrink and fluctuate

it can be hard to get out during pride month because it *is* june and in the northern hemisphere it can be brutally hot, i myself actually have to say inside for most of pride month because schizophrenia and a few other of my health problems make it so that i am very sensitive to heat and sunlight, making my ability to be outside for long stretches of time very strained

i agree that the entire month should have more going on, it will depend on your area and how much your community is able to get away with. i encourage people to try to see if they can reach out to local queer organizations and see if there are alternative pride events, or if they can be established in your area, because it is important to have more than just 1 or 2 days out of an entire month where you are able to gather with your community and feel proud

i totally understand, i'm a cripple who's sensitive to heat and the sun and the parade was hard on me this year. i almost got heatsick several times and had it not been for a good friend bringing water i'd have probably had to leave early. hopefully in time we'll see things expand from just the parade and have it be the ENTIRE month, and then who knows maybe the whole year ;) anyway, i hope you see more accessible events in your area, soon, i think those are very important to have as well

[thebluewritingbench]

if you’re still taking prompts, can you do happiness #1?

Before we launch into 6b next week, here's a small fantasy of a scene that I wish the cw would give us. Happiness #1 from this prompt list again.

“I’ve loved you since the day we met.”

“Alex calls it The Honesty Policy.”

Lena takes the mug of hot chocolate Kara offers, cradling it between her hands. “The Honesty Policy?” she asks, as Kara sits down on the couch beside her.

“I imagine Kelly probably fed it to her,” Kara says. “But she was helping me try to figure out how we could get ourselves… well, back to normal, after everything, and she was really insistent that this one was worth a try.”

“What is it?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. No more secrets,” Kara says, tapping her own collarbone, then fixing her gaze pointedly on Lena. “No more lying. We tell each other things. We’re honest. We trust each other with our secrets.”

Lena nods, looking down into her mug of hot chocolate. The dim lights of Kara’s loft glow orange across her cheekbones, and in the silence, the sounds of late-night passing cars rumble up from the street below. It’s the first time they’ve really spent time truly alone together since… well everything.

There’s still a lot of awkwardness between them; turns out secrets and betrayal and double-crossing—and the fact that forgiveness was barely hatching between them when Kara was banished to the phantom zone—will do that to a friendship. There was the initial hug, of course, after Kara was rescued, when Lena wrapped her arms around Kara and buried her face in Kara’s neck and held her so tightly that Kara was certain she’d never let go, her breath coming in ragged gasps and her whole body quivering. It was somewhat surreal, the warm shock of having Lena in her arms after so many months, her hair against Kara’s cheek, the muted scent of her shampoo. They’d sank to the floor, still holding each as the ship creaked around them, and stayed there for god knows how long in each other arms.

But since then, since that initial wordless embrace that felt as much like coming home as anything, they haven’t known what to say to each other. They work together easily enough, the animosity between Supergirl and Lena finally gone, but it’s more difficult when they’re just Kara and Lena. They’ve forgiven each other, Kara thinks. Or at least agreed to forgive each other, even if there’s still work to be done. But it’s weird. It’s not like they can snap straight back into how things were before.

Hence The Honesty Policy.

“Okay,” Lena says finally. “Yes. No more secrets. A clean start.”

A clean start. It’s what they need, after an entire friendship where one or the other of them has been hiding things. For the first time, everything between them will be out in the open. Nothing left to hide.

It’s oddly freeing.

Kara takes a sip of her hot chocolate. “So, where do we start?”

“Start?”

“I think we should have just an honest conversation. I don’t want this to be awkward anymore, I want to be able to talk to you like we used to. So, in the interest of honesty, tell me something you’ve never told me before. It doesn’t have to be big—” she adds hurriedly, when Lena’s eyes widen in alarm. “Something small. Something tiny you’ve never had reason to tell me.”

Lena nods slowly, thinking. “In the interest of honesty…” she starts. “In the interest of honesty, I… I really think that those bangs were a mistake.”

Kara makes a noise of offended disbelief in the back of her throat. “I—Rude!”

“You said to be honest!” Lena says, biting her lip like she’s holding back a laugh. “They’re growing out now, anyways. It looks much better.”

Kara gives her bangs a self-conscious pat. They’re still at a slightly awkward length, but they’re long enough to blend in semi-decently with the rest of her hair now. “If we’re being honest, then,” she says. “I think that blouse is really ugly.”

Lena looks down at herself. She sounds slightly hurt when she says, “What’s wrong with it?”

“Everything! It’s—the pattern! The sleeves! The collar! It looks like it’s made of cheap polyester.”

“It’s designer!” Lena pouts.

“Who designed it?”

“Well, I thought that blazer you wore last week was kind of hideous. I didn’t say anything at the time, but in the interest of honesty…”

Kara laughs, and Lena’s irritated expression melts away at her laughter, something in her eyes softening. It’s an expression Kara’s been seeing on her more often, in moments she catches Lena watching her when she thinks Kara isn’t paying attention.

She’s always paying attention to Lena.

“Maybe we should just agree to say that we both have questionable fashion taste sometimes and call it a day,” she says, downing the rest of her hot chocolate and placing the mug on the table.

Lena takes a dainty sip of her own still mostly filled mug. “Fine.”

There’s a long pause, and Kara taps her fingers on her pant leg and tries to think of a new conversation starter. She finally settles on. “In the interest of honesty… how are you holding up?”

Lena shrugs. “I’m okay, I suppose. I’m anxious about Lex—I know it’s only a matter of time before he’s back on our heels. Mostly, I’m just glad to have you back.” She looks over her mug at Kara. “I think that’s more a question I should be asking you, though.”

The look of intense concern in Lena’s eyes makes her feel hot, and Kara squirms slightly, pulling her collar away from her neck with a finger. She wants to say I’m fine, but honesty is the whole point of this exercise. “I’m… still not great. Being back there it… brought up a lot. Brought back a lot. I’m still having a really hard time with it all. It’s—it’s hard to talk about.”

“We don’t have to talk about it right now.”

“I want to talk about with you at some point. I just… don’t want it to ruin every conversation I have, you know? I want some things to be normal, still. I want to pretend things can be normal.”

“That makes sense,” Lena nods. She looks small when she says, “In the—in the interest of honesty, are you still mad?”

“At you?” Lena nods again, and Kara sighs, looking away. “It’s complicated, I guess. A little, maybe? I meant it when I said I forgave you, but there’s still part of me that’s a little angry. You did a lot of things that were… really bad, Lena.”

“I know.”

“Are you still mad at me?” Kara asks, and Lena’s shaking her head before she even finishes the question.

“No. No, I’m done being mad at you. I get it. I get why you hid your identity, and I wish you’d told me sooner, but I’m not angry anymore. I don’t have enough energy to be angry anymore. I’m happier if I don’t hate you.”

“Well, I’m glad for that.”

“I would have done anything to get you back, you know,” Lena says in a rush, words spilling out like she can’t stop them. “You say I did bad things before, but I would have watched the world burn if it meant I could have brought you back.” She looks down at her lap. “Who knows what I would have done if Alex hadn’t been there to stop me.”

“Lena.” Kara reaches over to take her hand. “You know I can’t possibly be mad at you for that.”

“No?”

“Of course not.”

“Okay,” Lena whispers. Kara watches her swirl around the dregs of her hot chocolate and takes a deep breath.

There’s still one more secret between them. One more secret that has the potential to ruin their friendship. Kara thinks they’re both aware of it, on some level. Aware of the way the weight of it shifts their every interaction. The others are aware of it too, have maybe known longer than Kara has. Alex certainly has. It was she who looked Kara in the eye when they were discussing this whole honestly policy and said, “You have to tell her this. You know you do.”

She can’t risk another secret in their relationship.

“Um, in the interest of honesty,” she starts, and finds she can’t quite meet Lena’s eyes. “I have to tell you—in all honesty, I would probably just keep it a secret, if I could, but I don’t think we should do secrets anymore, so I just need to tell you that I, um, have feelings for you.”

Lena straightens. “Feelings?” she says, her voice cautious.

Kara closes her eyes. Takes a breath. Steadies herself. Opens them again. “I’m in love with you,” she says. “Um, nothing has to change if you don’t want it to, but I need… I need you to know.”

“Oh,” breathes Lena. She opens her mouth, and it seem to take several moments for the words to catch up with her. “Well, in—in the interest of honesty, Kara, I’ve—I’ve been in love with you for years.” She gives a wry little half smile. “If we’re being honest.”

“What? You have?”

“Darling,” says Lena. “I’ve loved you since the day we met.”

“The day we met?”

“Why do you think it hurt me so badly when I found out who you were? Why do you think I was so deep in denial about it that I never figured it out myself? Do you really think you were that good at hiding it?”

“I mean, I thought—”

“The disguise. The hair. The glasses.” She puts down her mug, then reaches over and gently tugs the glasses from Kara’s face, folding the arms in and placing them on the table. She brushes a strand of hair behind Kara’s ear. “You mentioned Supergirl far too much as Kara and Kara far too much as Supergirl and one time you told me you flew to my office on a bus.”

“That’s—yeah, that’s fair, actually.”

“You’re in love with me? Honestly?” whispers Lena.

“I am. I really, truly am. Why do you think I refused to give up on you when everyone else was ready to?”

“I thought that just how you are. You don’t give up on anyone.”

“I try not to. But you, I could never bear to, even when it seemed like the only logical option to everyone else. Why do you think I waited so long to tell you in the first place? I was so scared to ruin things between us.”

“Why do you think I bought you an entire media empire?” Lena murmurs, and she’s so close, hand fisted in the collar of Kara’s shirt.

Kara giggles. “Why do you think I flew all over Europe to get you lunch?”

Lena laughs, and it’s such a relief to hear her laughter again, to let the conversation flow between them. There’s a bud of hope for the future that’s been sitting in Kara’s chest for years now, and under Lena’s adoring gaze, it starts to open.

“In all honesty,” Kara says, “I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

Lena slips a hand into her hair, runs her thumb over Kara’s cheekbone. “In all honesty?” She leans in, pressing their foreheads together. “I’d like that.”

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Save fae-ce

Part 2/3

Summary: Tim gets used to his future faerie family.

Pt 1

Hey, in all technicality, Tim kept his word.

He had said that he wouldn’t disappear like that. And he wasn’t intending on spending another two weeks passed out in the arms of a nameless faerie. He just wanted food. He had tried to eat something, if only for Bernard’s sake, and he could, but the food had settled strangely in his stomach and he’d been very tempted to throw it all up by the time he had cleared his plate. So, yeah, the faerie were right in that he would need to eat fae food for the rest of his life. Not starving to death was very important to him. And, honestly, he was pretty sure that if he waited another day he wouldn’t even have the energy to go to the clearing.

So, he crawled under the hole in the fence and made his way into the forest.

Once again, it didn’t take long to get where he wanted to go. He wasn’t sure whether the forest was responding to his wishes now that he was fair folk, or if one of his new powers as a fae was the ability to always know where he was going, but he supposed that it didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that his goal was achieved:

He found Orphan sitting on the swing, just barely swaying back and forth, apparently just wanting something to do while she waited. This time, she was wearing a mask over the bottom half of her face. It… didn’t do much to hide the thoughts playing plainly across her features. She was worried, the tiny furrowing of her brows made that more than obvious, though he couldn’t imagine why.

The moment her eyes landed on him, though, she relaxed.

“I forgot time works differently here,” the faerie said, and their voice was one he didn’t recognize. Deeper, ringing with something that wasn’t quite right. “Your world moves much faster than ours. You will have to eat more often to make up for it.”

Okay, he had definitely made the right decision in agreeing to take food from them. He was probably selling himself off to the fae accidentally, but he would have definitely starved if he hadn’t.

She motioned to a basket at her feet. He hadn’t noticed it before, but that was quite possibly because he wasn’t all that observant. “You should eat some, here, before you go. For energy.”

Tim hesitated, glancing up even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to gauge the time. He didn’t want Bernard to get suspicious, but he didn’t have that many options.

He was weirdly tired.

“Sure, we can have a picnic or whatever.”

Their eyes lit up and they clapped their hands twice. A red and white checkered blanket appeared on the grass, looking like a picturesque scene worthy of being on the cover of a book. The changeling took a seat, and Tim hesitated for just a moment. He wasn’t really sure why, the faerie had been nothing but kind to him since he’d accidentally thrust himself into their lives via a very unfortunate snack, but he still eyed her with a kind of wariness that should be reserved only for known criminals – and, even then, should be used sparingly, for people can change.

But then she, either unconcerned about or simply unaware of his distrust, opened up the flaps of the basket without a care in the world. And the smell wafted over to him.

He decided that, if she was going to go through the effort of bringing him food all the time, then he could at least place a tentative amount of trust in them.

Not smart, perhaps, but he was hungry, okay?

So, he took a seat next to them and started digging through the basket for things to eat. The selection was wide, enough so that he suspected that the basket had some kind of enchantment that allowed it to hold more things.

If he had magic now, he was totally going to make it his main priority to learn that spell specifically.

It wasn’t until he heard a strange laugh beside him that he thought to look up, a slice of buttered bread half hanging from his lips, to see Orphan holding a hand to her mouth as if attempting to hide her amusement. Which wasn’t necessary. They were wearing a mask.

A flush spreading over his cheeks, he sheepishly offered them the bundle of grapes he had been about to scarf down.

“Thank you,” she said politely.

He grimaced a little at the use of his own voice. It was… weird. He didn’t think he had a particularly unpleasant voice or anything, but it was strange. It didn’t sound like how he thought he sounded, and yet he registered that the voice they were using was his own, and this made him scrunch his nose in distaste.

He hesitated, glancing to the side. “So… you mimic the last voice you heard?”

She nodded, and some of the glee bled out of her expression. “You don’t like it.”

Tim opened his mouth to argue otherwise, but his voice died in his throat. He couldn’t lie. Damn it. He took another bite, giving himself time to chew on his thoughts while he also chewed on the bread. “I… think it’s strange,” he admitted after a while, lamely. But he was quick to tack on the words: “I’ll get used to it.”

She hesitated, before flashing a slightly unsure thumbs up.

He nodded back, unsure if there was anything else he could really do.

They pulled their mask down, and he watched as she popped a grape in her mouth. He half expected them to swallow it like a pill, or perhaps for her mouth to unhinge while they ate, but this wasn’t the case. It was… normal. She was normal.

Or, at least, made to seem like she was.

He wasn’t sure whether he was asking because he wanted to remind himself that they were not normal despite their appearances, or because he just wanted to know what to expect when he got to their realm, or some strange mix of the two, but he found himself asking before he could really stop himself:

“You’re a Changeling, right?”

They gave him a raised eyebrow, but nodded.

No going back now.

“How does that all… work? Like, what else is there?”

She blinked once, and then laughed.

“Well, there are these things called ‘True Fae’. These people are born fae. They’re pretty rare, since two faerie have to decide to create and take care of a child together. And it’s really draining, and takes a whole formal thing, and requires two True Fae to even make one, so no one ever bothers.”

Tim frowned.

“Don’t worry, though, no one cares,” she was quick to soothe him, and so accurate that he wondered if they could read minds. “It’s a formality thing. Only matters if you’re super important, and even then not really. Our family doesn’t have any True Fae outside of Dad and – I think – Grandpa.”

He nodded slowly, trying not to let his relief show.

“Changelings are born fae but also made. We’re… humans, but not.”

His eyebrows knit together. “How does that work?”

All he got was a shrug of their shoulders. “In between. We’re mostly faeries, I guess, but we’re also made to live with humans, so we have some human stuff, too. It’s weird.”

“I think all of this stuff is weird,” he blurted, only to cringe.

Thankfully, she only laughed and nodded her agreement.

“There are also Stolen Children, which is what you are, technically. Basically, it’s the humans we fae stumble across and decide to steal away.” Their eyebrows tugged upwards in the middle in a kind of pitying look. “Or the ones that eat our food on accident.”

He hummed his understanding, his eyes falling to the food that sat in his hand, looking oh-so-innocent.

She leaned back on one hand, the other waving vaguely as she explained, “Those are the three main types. There are a bunch of different powers and stuff like that. It’s all fake, though. No two fae are even close to each other.”

He hesitated.

“Tell me about it?”

They lit up.

And, by the time he had finished eating and they had finished explaining, he didn’t find the use of his voice quite as weird.

~

Bernard was bleeding.

It was a tiny cut on his hand, made while he was chopping vegetables for a stew Tim wouldn’t actually enjoy. It would be easy to bandage up again, and yet the blood spilling from the wound made his skin crawl.

Leaving, for a second, just to get something to tie around the cut, was more relieving than it should have been. It was like that moment after you come out of the water, breaching the surface and finally allowing air into your lungs again once more.

Which didn’t make sense. He had never been squeamish around blood before. He didn’t like it, mind you, he would much rather avoid the stuff. He would say that he could live without it, but he couldn’t, really… you get the point. Blood is gross, but he had never felt so tense around it before. Especially not for something as small as a simple flesh wound.

And he remembered that blood had iron in it.

He paused.

He gripped the strip of fabric more tightly in his hand.

Well, screw the fae magic and its dumb rules. His friend was hurt, however fractionally, and he was going to fix this.

He would just be careful about it. Because he wasn’t sure how he would explain away flinching away from blood as if it had burned him (which it would). But he was going to help Bernard.

And, if Bernard noticed that Tim went more carefully than he usually did as he tied the small bit of cloth around his finger, then he didn’t say a word. Just smiled and thanked him for helping.

~

“You forgot water,” Tim pointed out, flatly.

Robin’s face didn’t redden, but his wings fluffed up and that gave him away instantly. “I didn’t think of it! I was thinking about food, not drinks! Anyone could make that mistake!”

“Orphan didn’t,” he pointed out. Mostly just to be annoying. To be honest, Tim probably wouldn’t have thought of it either if Orphan hadn’t.

Maybe Tim should have been more wary of pissing off the faerie, but it was hard to be scared of someone that was pouting up a storm.

As if to prove his point, Robin groaned and flopped onto the ground in a heap. “Dad,” they complained to no one. “Come here, will you? The new kid needs water.”

There was no indication that this ‘Dad’ figure even heard, but Robin brightened up like he had gotten a response.

They hopped to their feet and pointed to the chessboard. “I don’t think Lil Wing will mind too too much, so, do you want to play a game while we wait?”

Tim wasn’t sure why this ‘Lil Wing’ person would care about an abandoned chess set, but he was quickly learning not to question anything.

He nodded.

And, so, they played a couple of rounds of chess. Tim had a strong suspicion that Robin was letting him win. Mostly because Robin was acting like he didn’t know how any of the pieces worked, constantly asking for refreshers on the rules, but had noticed instantly when Tim had accidentally moved his knight just one square too far forward.

But, hey, he liked winning.

Besides, though he would never admit it aloud, Robin was fun to hang around. He didn’t seem to take anything all that seriously, and that was a balm for the constantly anxious Tim’s jittery soul.

This was probably why, when a large man with even larger bat wings appeared in the faerie circle in the middle of the clearing, Tim had instantly moved to hide behind Robin.

Robin didn’t even hesitate to throw their wings out, wrapping one around him and tucking him into their side, completely shielding Tim from view.

“Dad,” he said and, despite the fact that he was currently ‘protecting’ him from the ‘threat’, he seemed perfectly happy to talk to his father. “Do you have the water?”

Tim peeked around some of the feathers to see.

The man nodded slightly, his eyes wide. Clearly, he was just as shocked as Tim was that Robin was doing this. Or, maybe, he was shocked about something Tim had done, though he couldn’t imagine why.

And then a soft smile came over his face. “Of course,” it said, and Tim recognized the voice despite the fact that he had never before met this faerie. Had heard the tone that rang with something just a little bit more than ‘normal’.

He had heard it on Orphan, every time they came to the clearing. The last person she talked to before coming to this world with food.

Going by that and the fact that Robin was calling for the faerie’s help with the water issue, it was safe to assume that this was the person who was getting the food for Tim, even if it was done through more familiar faces.

Something in him relaxed, if only slightly. The faerie could have easily poisoned him by now if he wished for Tim to come to any harm, Tim was probably safe.

Probably. He was going to remain in hiding, though, just in case. He pressed a little bit closer to Robin, and a chin came to rest atop his head.

“Here,” it said, setting a rather large jug of water on the ground. They sent Tim a tiny wave. “Enjoy.”

“Thanks, Dad!”

As quickly as it had appeared, the dim light of the clearing warped and the faerie was gone.

Leaving Tim clinging to Robin, his face flushed. He appreciated the protection quite a lot. Tim had had nothing to fear, Robin knew that, and it would have been all-too-easy to simply push Tim out and force him to learn this for himself, like a bird being flung out of a nest to learn to fly… but he hadn’t. He had simply tucked him into his side, because he was scared, and let him find out from the safety of his wings.

It was sweet. A little embarrassing for Tim, but sweet nonetheless.

Robin smiled and pulled back. A finger remained, loosely, curled in the fae’s shirt, and he didn’t want to let go quite yet. Robin was warm, and had been nice to him, and Tim was quite possibly still a little rattled by the sudden introduction of someone he hadn’t known in the slightest.

For a brief moment, Robin eyed the hand still touching him. Not wary or annoyed, simply curious. Slowly, his gaze trailed up to the horns on Tim’s head, not hidden by his beanie while he was in the safety of the clearing. Something like recognition sparkled in their eyes, and they made a quiet sound in the back of their throat that Tim couldn’t quite interpret.

It must have been a good sound, though, because Robin was quick to rest his arm over Tim’s shoulder, tugging him into his side.

“I can help you carry all this to the edge of the trees, if you want.”

Tim nodded wordlessly.

~

Tim and Bernard stumbled through the streets, their arms loaded with books, giggling and trying to trip each other as their feet scrabbled over the cobblestone beneath them. The town was having a festival today – though, perhaps, calling it a ‘festival’ was a bit of an overstatement. Some traveling merchants had decided to set up a couple of stalls in the town square.

Of course, this meant that Bernard needed new tales. More books on the fae.

And some books on werewolves, on vampires, on shifters, and dragons, and sprites and –.

Tim was going to fall, the books were heavy and he was running and if he slowed down at all the carefully constructed pile in his arms was going to come crashing down.

And then he tripped. He toppled over, the books already spilling out of his arms.

But he didn’t trip at all.

Instead, for just a second, he hovered. The air that should have been wooshing past him went unnervingly still, and gravity released its hold on him. He was able to fix his footing, even if his next steps were a bit rougher than usual. The books still went crashing over the stones, there was nothing he could do about that, but he didn’t fall.

It didn’t last much longer than a second. But it was still unmistakable what had happened. That… had been magic.

He had thought it would be something more… weighty. Flashy. Maybe it could be. Maybe it would be, once he had eaten enough fae food to fully change.

It was still enough to make him pause.

For a second.

Then Bernard whirled around, trying to look over, either to laugh at him or to pout over the bends and scuff marks that might decorate the pages now, only to trip himself. And he didn’t have any magic of his own, so he went up in a flurry of papers.

There is a long pause as the two boys stared at each other with wide eyes.

And then they both burst into fits of laughter.

Tim laughed so hard that he ended up falling to the ground beside his friend anyways. It wasn’t that funny, not really, but who cares? They were enjoying themselves, they were kids, and that was enough.

Eventually, they got back to their feet and gathered their things.

They sprinted back, not learning a single lesson from their earlier mistake.

Bernard faceplanted in a patch of grass. Tim wanted to capture the moment, keep it forever. He wanted nothing more than for every day to be like this, the two of them just having fun and enjoying each other’s company.

Also because the look on Bernard’s face when he realized he was going to fall had been hilarious.

~

“You don’t have to keep me, you know,” Tim said, his voice quiet, his eyes trained on the basket in his hands. “I know this is all really inconvenient for you guys – making you come here all the time to bring me food and stuff – and I think I could survive on my own once I figure out how to get in and out of the fae realm without help. I’ll be fine, you don’t have to do all this.”

B looked shell-shocked. Not unlike the first day that Tim had seen him. Tim had gotten better at dealing with the fae’s unsettling appearance (it was beautiful, in a strange way, but that didn’t stop it from being creepy, too), but it seemed like it was less used to him and his quirks.

There was a moment where the being hesitated.

And then a hand came to rest upon his shoulder, pressing until Tim looked them in the eyes.

“Just because I didn’t ‘choose’ you like I did the others, does not mean I am less happy about you being in my life. I will happily take you in, once all of us are ready.”

And he can’t lie, Tim knows that better than anyone. But he also knows just how easy it is to omit things.

“You want me?” Tim asked, trying to smother all of the hope threatening to bubble out of him.

The fae’s face softens. “Of course.”

Tim didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure he would have been able to get any words out, anyways.

So, he just nodded and brought his hands up to wipe at teary eyes.

It was nice to be wanted.

~

Bernard poked his head in through the window, and something in Tim made him almost physically recoil at the intrusion. It was normal, it was Bernard, but there was something about his friend entering the house without his permission, even marginally, that rattled something in the back of his brain.

He brushed it off, though. Because Bernard was smiling at him, his arms resting on the sill and his chin atop those, and he was always welcome.

“Hi,” Bernard said. His hair gleamed like gold in the sunlight.

“You look like you’re up to no good,” Tim commented mildly.

He ate an apple slice, trying not to cringe at how it tasted like ash in his mouth. The rest of the apple lay hidden in a cupboard, to be thrown into the woods to become compost sometime late that night but, for now, he had to make Bernard think that he was eating human food regularly.

“I’ve never been up to ‘no good’ in my life.”

“That sentence is wrong in so many ways, but especially grammatically.”

“I disagree.”

“You can’t just –.” Tim started, only to decide that he didn’t really want to finish it. This was fine. Maybe he was wrong, and even if he wasn’t this really wasn’t the hill he cared enough to die on. “Whatever. What are we doing today?”

“I was thinking we could go shopping,” Bernard said. “I think my pants are getting too short.”

And why would Tim ever deny him?

So, they went out looking for new clothes. The town got almost all of its clothes from a local tailor, who, surprise surprise, tailor-made everything for them. Bernard really didn’t need Tim to come, and Tim wasn’t all that interested in watching an old lady mess with a tape measure and rattle off numbers. But they went together regardless.

Tim browsed while he waited. Most of the things left out were samples, and he liked running his fingers over the rough textures (it wasn’t worth using actually good fabric just to show off styles), but his eyes were trained on the few things that were actually for sale. They were all things that could be a little large without much problem, like coats, cloaks, scarves, and hats.

He hummed as he looked over the coats. He’d been getting cold more often than usual, he had noticed, so it would probably be a good idea to grab one…

He pulled one out and nodded to himself. He could already tell, even without trying it on, that it was going to be big on him, but this was fine. He would grow into it. Probably.

That problem definitely solved, he continued on to the hat section. The beanie Orphan had given him was working just fine, but he should probably get something else. If his horns ever grew – which didn’t seem likely, considering they hadn’t since they had appeared, but he wasn’t sure he should bank on that – the beanie wouldn’t be able to hide their shape, and he’d be screwed.

And yet…

“Getting a new hat?” Bernard asked, his chin coming to rest on Tim’s shoulder.

“I was thinking about it,” Tim said quietly, picking up a hat, peering down at it thoughtfully. The one Orphan had given him looked less… real, with too perfect stitches in the fabric and not a single loose thread to be seen. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find out it had popped into existence simply because that was what Orphan had wanted. The one in his hands looked more cared for, as if someone had slaved over it for days, with little imperfections to match. He, objectively, liked the one he had picked up more… but he didn’t want to give up the hat he had been given. It was his. So, he twisted to shove the new hat atop his friend’s head, instead. “I think it’ll look better on you, though.”

Bernard laughed as the hat slipped a little, just slightly too large, and brought his hands up to push the brim up so he could see. He grinned at Tim, batting his eyelashes. “Well, everything looks better on me.”

“True,” Tim hummed.

Bernard’s face flushed a pretty shade of red. He dragged the hat back down to try and cover it, but Tim had already seen.

“I guess I might as well get a hat,” Bernard mumbled. “Since I’m here and all.”

Tim beamed.

~

Tim stared at the door to Bernard’s house. Bernard’s hands were full, carrying the food he wanted to cook that night. Tim had tried to hold it, but Bernard was selfless, a good friend, and so he hadn’t allowed Tim to carry any of it. Tim had tried saying that Bernard was the one to cook, so he should at least carry the ingredients, but Bernard had said that Tim never ate much of it, anyway.

He was… a lot more observant than Tim had ever given him credit for.

To be fair, though, Tim had never had anything to hide until now.

Which was why this was particularly difficult. Bernard would notice if Tim didn’t go striding through the door, it had never bothered him before this. But he couldn’t do that anymore.

He needed to either get verbal consent or get Bernard to hold the door open for him. Either would count. Unfortunately, Bernard’s hands were full and Tim’s were not, so he would be expected to 

He thought hard, his feet trudging their way forward, hoping to come to a solution

But what could he say? Bernard’s parents weren’t home, they should be at work until late into the night, so it wasn’t as if Tim could pass it off as him being polite – why would he worry about barging in on his friend’s parents when he knew they wouldn’t be there?

He was at the door.

Damn. He still didn’t have anything.

“Can I come in?” Tim asked, awkward and entirely too formal, his hand on the knob.

Bernard’s eyebrows knit together. “What?”

Tim fought for a winning smile. He wasn’t sure how convincing it was. “Your house? Can I go in?”

“What are you even talking about? Obviously?”

He still couldn’t turn the knob. He felt… sick at the very idea. It wasn’t like lying, where his tongue lay there in his mouth, heavy and useless. It was a revulsion to the idea of walking into someone else’s home uninvited. Technically, he could, but then what kind of person would he be? A terrible one, he thought.

“That’s a yes, then?”

Bernard looked at him for a moment more.

Before huffing a laugh.

“Yes, Tim, you’re always welcome.”

~

Tim had been half awake, shifting under his blankets, wondering whether he cared enough to get out of bed that day. He needed to do some studying before his parents got back in a couple of weeks, but he could procrastinate for a little longer.

All coherent thoughts left his mind when he felt something cold touch his leg.

He tumbled out of bed, thrashing in his blankets, trying to get away from the strange feeling.

But, when he threw off his blanket, he realized that it wasn’t going to be that simple.

Because this is when his eyes landed on a tail.

His tail.

It wasn’t particularly terrible. A deep red flecked with the occasional golden scale, smooth to the touch, not too large – it was a little bit thinner than his leg, and only reached just past his knees. He was, suddenly, vividly reminded of the pictures in that book about dragons Bernard had bought.

A drake.

He wasn’t quite sure whether he found it funny or not.

Maybe he’d find it funnier when he wasn’t freaking out over the fact that he had a TAIL of all things!

How was he supposed to hide this?

He ran a hand through his hair, and his fingers brushed against his horns. His fingertips scraped against the bone, and he grimaced at both the sound and the feeling. Imagine nails on a chalkboard, but you get to feel both scratches, and it's louder than it should be because it’s happening right next to your ears, and you might get some idea of how it felt.

Tim shook his head to himself, trying to ignore the chalk-y feeling under his nails, and instead started trying to hide his tail. He had an overlarge jacket, but he wasn’t confident that that was enough. Have you ever held your arm out for a while? It doesn’t weigh much, and you move your arms all the time so you think it won’t be uncomfortable, but it doesn’t take much longer than a minute before it starts straining your muscles. He would need something to support his tail…

He stole one of his father’s belts from his dusty cabinet, and tied his tail up. The band around his chest was uncomfortable, and kind of hard to breathe around, but he just needed to maintain his disguise until he was safely under the cover of the forest.

Which shouldn’t have been long, but life hated him, and when he went to where the gap in the fence usually was, he found it to be gone.

He had known that life hated him, but seriously? That thing had looked years old, if not centuries. But now that he really needed a way out, now, it was suddenly gone.

Nerves clawed at him as he knelt where the hole in the fence had once been. The wires had been bent sometime over the past half a week, warping it back into place.

He gave a quiet groan. How was he supposed to fix this? If the people that had fixed it came back and saw that the hole had been remade (though Tim had yet to come up with a plan for how to do that), they would get suspicious. Tim knew that the townsfolk had seen him sneaking out a few times before, but he had never paid it much mind, and they, in turn, had pretended not to notice. Tim didn’t believe in the fae, and his parents were explorers so it was only natural that he, too, took an interest in going beyond the fence. But it was also assumed that the reason Tim always went looking for the hole was ease, rather than necessity. If he opened it back up, they would wonder why he would use up all that effort to do it, when he could just climb the fence instead.

He gritted his teeth, glaring up at the fence that had offended him so. Gloves wouldn’t help him, he had a few burn scars littering his back and shoulders from times he had ducked under the gap too hastily. Iron was still iron, even through clothes.

Should he just power through it? Autumn was almost upon them, and no one would think twice about him wearing gloves from now on to hide burn scars. As for spring… he had a strong suspicion that he wouldn’t last that long in the village, anyways.

The ground crunched behind him, and he jolted, tugging his jacket tighter around himself.

He was only somewhat relieved to find a familiar face when he turned around.

“Tim, what’re you –?”

Bernard stopped still, his eyes landing on the fence. The wires were in place, but there were still noticeable dents where it had once curved inwards, allowing people to sneak in and out. His eyes narrowed, briefly, beneath his hat. He seemed to think for a moment.

And then he sighed and shook his head. “If… if you want to sneak out to see if your parents come home early, the people at the entrances will probably understand.”

And Tim hesitated.

He, desperately, wanted to ask whether Bernard knew.

He could ask – should ask. It was almost undeniable that his friend knew, but was that something they wanted to do? It was one thing to know something, another entirely to bring it out into the open. Because then you have to acknowledge it. Acknowledge that there is a change.

Tim would rather not. There had been too many changes lately.

Not least of all the tail he was currently hiding.

“Thanks,” he breathed.

Bernard nodded just slightly, smiling weakly. “I should get away from the fence.”

Tim nodded numbly.

This felt, terribly, like a goodbye.

Arms wrapped around him, and that combined with the belt binding his tail close made it hard to breathe. He hugged back, hiding his face in Bernard’s shoulder for just a moment.

“I’ll be back.”

It was a bad idea, coming back. There was no guarantee he would be able to escape again. But he needed to say goodbye to his parents one last time. He could last two weeks on the food he was given if he rationed it all properly. It was risky, but he needed this, at least.

“Yeah?” said Bernard, sounding like he didn’t quite believe him.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” he promised.

They split off soon after, and Tim brushed past the guards at the gate. Careful words spilled from his mouth, about how his parents would be coming home soon without mentions of a time frame, faking glee he didn’t feel – excitement wasn’t all that different from fear, anyways.

Clumsy feet stumbled gracelessly into the clearing. There’s someone already there, someone with pitch black, feathered wings, fluffing up in surprise at the sudden entrance. Tim could assume that this is the ‘Little Wing’ he had been hearing of, but he was not at all interested in introducing himself to him at the moment. Nor is he interested in peeking into the basket at the faerie’s feet. No, he was stressed, and so he yelled for the person who he thought would be the most helpful:

“Oracle!”

It doesn’t take much longer than a second before the faerie appears in a nearby tree, her eyebrows furrowed in obvious confusion and concern.

Tim doesn’t even give her the time to open her mouth. Instead, he tears off his jacket to show her the offending, extra limb.

She made a sucking sound through her teeth, wincing sympathetically. “Ah.”

He freed his tail, and it instantly fell to wrap around his leg. Honestly, it was kind of comfortable. Like a hug but for his leg. This did not change the fact that he was having a Bad Time because of it.

“What do I do?”

Oracle gave him a sympathetic look, but all that did was make Tim bristle.

“I’m not going yet. I can’t go without saying goodbye to my parents.”

She grimaced. “That’s really…”

“They need to know,” Tim said, shaking his head.

“If the village finds out, they won’t be kind to you,” Oracle said, reaching a hand out, clearly intending to rest it upon his shoulder.

He dodged it.

“They deserve to know.”

And it was true.

But it wasn’t, at the same time. Words hung on the tip of his tongue, unable to be spoken. Not because they were lies – he, a teenager who was in over his head, simply couldn’t quite articulate it beyond words that sounded much more bitter than they actually were: it was only fair.

His parents left often, but they always made sure to tell him before they went, they always had one good night beforehand, enjoying each other’s company over food. Tim always stayed behind, watching his parents disappear among the trees, ready for their next adventure. And he was happy for them, and he loved the trinkets and tales they would bring back for him. It was tradition, though he had never been on the other side. It felt wrong to not tell them, to not have that one day before he left.

Oracle looked like she wanted to argue further, but she was stopped, a hand coming to quite literally slice the tension between them.

The pair of reptilians jumped, wide eyes finding their way to the somewhat forgotten third member of their party.

Little Wing sighed, pushing a streak of white hair out of his eyes. “If… go home, and if things go wrong, you can call for me, okay? I’ll come to get you.”

Tim jolted, his eyes finding their way over. “Why?”

He got a mildly confused expression.

“Why’re you… helping me?” Tim said. Not quite wary, not really. Just unsure. “We haven’t even properly introduced ourselves or anything…”

He snickered. “Trust me, it’s not necessary. The others talk about you so much, I basically already know you.”

His face flushed. “Oh. Cool.”

There was a beat of hesitation.

He held his hand out to shake. “Jason Todd.”

Energy crackled between them, and Tim’s eyes flicked up to meet Jason’s, shock painting his face.

“It’s better for summoning. Calling code names works fine when we’re all around a Ring, but the town is too far away.”

Tim nodded slowly. Their hands were still clasped around each other.

His heart hammered in his chest.

“Tim Drake.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pt 3

All fae-n and games masterlist

[my-tin-can-mans]

Strange Hearts

Duke Leto x Reader Series

Part 1 - Encounter

Part 2

Strange Hearts Spotify Playlist

Summary: When an arranged marriage brings you to Caladan, you find that another man piques your interest

Disclaimer: I thought of this while fic and started writing under the impression Paul was in his early to mid-'20s like Timothy. So for the sake of this story he and the reader are both in their twenties. Sorry for any inaccuracies, I've only watched the movie and really only paid attention to Oscar lmao.

Warnings: A little bit of angst. Eventual smut in the later chapters.

___

“Look at you,” you heard from behind you causing you to turn, “all grown up.” The voice was deep and you immediately knew who it was. The Duke which you had not seen since you were a young girl. He and your father were close growing up, but when times get difficult there wasn’t free time for visiting worlds and other Dukes.

Now you were sure you would be seeing him quite a bit again, having been arranged to marry his son within the week. You’d been told by your father yesterday, and this morning you were shipped like a mail order bride to Caladan. The conversation did not go over well, to rekindle an alliance with your homeworld and Caladan a marriage was in order apparently, talking it out wasn’t an option, he has to marry you to a man you had never met, the heir to the house of Atreides.

You knew that eventually you would be set for an arranged marriage but for it to happen so quickly and to be practically ripped away from your homeworld without even getting to say goodbye hurt, and for that, you despised your father.

“Duke Leto,” you said turning around in the chair you were sitting in. Since you had gotten here earlier this morning it had been nothing but maids fussing over you and trying to prepare for the wedding, fittings, hair, and whatnot, you had yet to see the man you were supposed to marry. The day had died down but instead of returning to your chamber you had gotten lost and stumbled across a very large library which you very much decided to indulge in. “It's nice to see a familiar face.”

“I’m do apologize for the pace at which this is all taking place, but unfortunately your father insisted this alliance be made official as soon as possible.” Leto sighed, stepping closer to the chair in which you had been sitting in, well not really sitting anymore, more liked draped across. You didn’t even know how late it was now, your eyes burned from reading for so long.

“I understand my Duke, my father can be a very.. demanding man.” He breathed out a laugh, knowing you were right, your father was and had always been intense, to say the least. You assumed that’s why the two were no longer friends, why you now needed to marry his son to be able to set a truce and once again have an alliance.

“I hope at the very least your stay here so far hasn’t been too off-putting?” he offered to you, concern laced in his eyes. The Duke of House Atreides was a polar opposite to your father, how they ever managed to have a bond in the first place baffled you.

“It's been very busy, which I understand is necessary, but this,” you gestured around, “well I don’t think this could ever be off-putting.”

He smiled at you again, making his way to the chair you were currently draped across and sitting on the armrest beside your legs. “Now that you mention it, I feel like I remember just the top of your head more than anything else. Your face was always covered with a book.” He smirked at you.

“I enjoy reading, relaxes me, ya know and I need all of that I get right now.”

His frown dropped, replaced by a scowl. “Again I apologize for the circumstances. I do wish you could’ve come to Caladan and met my son under much different ones.”

“Oh well, I haven’t met your son yet actually.” You told him. Setting the book you had been reading on the end table behind your head.

He let out another chuckle, only this time it seemed a lot dryer. “This is all just,” he paused running his hand over his face and through his beard, “not what I intended to happen.” He sighed.

“It’s okay my duke, really I understand, I’ve practically been raised for this moment.”

He shook his head. The thought of someone being born and raised just for a strategic move didn’t sit well with him, while he understood there were certain duties to live up to, he knew he would never force his son into something he didn’t want to do, and it was unfair that he could tell you were having to do just exactly that.

A thought then came across his mind, “it’s almost midnight, what are you doing in here? From what I’ve been told by Jessica your day tomorrow will be just as busy.”

You sighed, “Well, to be honest, I never got a proper tour, and I got lost trying to find my chambers again.”

Amusement laced with sorrow filled his face, “well then, let me show you around and to your room.” he stood up, turning around to face you again and offering you his arm with a small smile on his face.

___

After a brief tour of the main parts of the castle, Leto brought you to a halt in front of a door. “This, Princess is your sleeping chambers until the wedding.” He told you gesturing towards the door.

He opened the door for you and led you inside, the room was large, gorgeous but bare, you could tell it was a guest sleeping quarters and it reminded you just how much of a stranger you were here, yet it was now your home. You turned a full 180 in the room, landing your eyes on the lavish bed in the middle of the room. Silk lavender-colored sheets a thick warm blanket and pillows littered the bed. “And I thought the library was the best thing I’d seen all day.” You chuckled.

“I remember when you were younger, you used to always wear that same dress and one day at lunch while I was visiting I asked you about it and you said it was your favorite color, and that it brought you joy so why wouldn’t you wear it.” he stepped further into the room scratching his beard while he avoided eye contact with you, “I knew your transition here was going to be difficult but I requested a lavender-colored bed for you so hopefully it made things a little more comforting, I'm sure this first night will be hard.”

He had requested this, it wasn’t just a pure accident. And he remembered that detail about you from years ago. He finally looked up into your eyes, his expression unreadable, but you gave one to him that you hoped showed your gratitude for his kindness.

No one had been this kind to you yet, and you took a step forward to him, drawn to him. No one had cared to think about you in this arrangement, you thought as you placed your hand on his bicep. He looked down at it, and when his eyes met yours again they had darkened, so much so that any other person most likely wouldn’t have realized, but you had been studying them.

You could feel his breath fan out across your forehead as he stared down at you, and when you inhaled you could also smell him, he was invading your senses, and almost like it was a natural occurrence, you both moved in close until your lips met.

You had kissed men before, small stolen kisses while you were unguarded at your own home, but this kiss felt different, when your lips met Leto’s everything exploded and your brain went fuzzy. It was tender but rough and his arm went to the back of your neck to deepen it only for a moment before pulling away.

Eyes closed he shook his head, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have done that.” He said and took a step back.

“It’s okay I wanted you to.” You reached out for him, “I liked it.” he flinched away, taking another step back.

“You are marrying my son in just a few days, that wasn’t right for both of us.”

“I’m marrying a man that I didn’t have a choice to, a man that I haven’t even met.” You furrowed your brows, you thought out of all people he understood that.

“Stop, don’t do that, I know this isn’t fair, none of it is, but neither of us has a choice, you know that.” He sighed, “Sweet girl, I’m sorry.”

You were embarrassed frankly. You knew kissing him was wrong, but he had been so sweet and you had been so scared and alone since the announcement and his presence set a warm peace within you and when you looked up at him you swore he gave you a similar look.

“No. No, it's fine I think I'm just tired.”

“Get some sleep.” He spoke his tone was hard now, the softness in his voice disappearing with one of a powerful duke, one that your father used when he spoke and gave orders. He nodded his head at you and swiftly made an exit through the doors he had led you into moments ago.

[dooppooo]

The prompt list is just🦋🦋, anyways i wished you'd do 1/4 and i for yuuji ittadori like a bit hawt/naughty yet vanilla... Idk if that makes sense but anyways that was my suggestion... Looking forward 🐥💖

mdni - nsfw content, characters are 18+, mentions of alcohol consumption, face siting, oral (f receiving)

Requests: Closed!

I want to write abt Yuji more, he's so damn sweet - makes my heart so full <3

-

You challenged him when you were drunk.

In your defense it was one stupid frat party and everyone was drunk - you didn't think he'd take you seriously!

"You can't even keep your hands off of me during group projects, I don't see you lasting a week." You said, five beers deep and slurring your words.

He brushed off your remark, "Psh - that's light work. I have more self control than you think."

He was wrong.

Because three days after that party, in your dorm room, Itadori was basically vibrating with 'self-control.'

"You okay?" You teased, legs crossed so your skirt would expose more of your soft thigh.

His pencil was crunching in his fist, eyes on his paper and leg bouncing, "Yep."

"You sure?" you inched closer to his clenched jaw, "Doesn't seem like it."

"Shut up."

"No need to be snippy. I'm only trying to help."

Sighing, he grumbled, "Y/n...I swear to God."

The final nail in the coffin was when you tucked your pencil behind your ear to draw a finger up his thigh and whisper, "What's got you so tense?"

A few silent moments passed. The pencil was slowly released from its white-knuckle grip, tense jaw was eased, and his knee had stopped bouncing. Truthfully you were fearful of him turning to you and unleashing Hell, but even if he did...it only gave you more of a reason to drive him over the edge and forget this stupid challenge.

But it seemed your teasing had already done the trick, because he had you tossed over his shoulder and flopped onto the bed in seconds.

Hovering over you, lips dusting your ear, he remarked, "You win."

With excitement, your wrapped your arms around his torso and tangled your fingers in his vibrant hair, inner thighs pressing against his hips. Those lips that once crossed your ear found your own after several days of neglectful absence, and dear God did you miss them. As lustfully as he fed you kisses, you ate them up, shuffling out of your clothes in the meanwhile.

You found yourself in another one of Yuji's whirlwinds as he settled his back onto the mattress and urged your hips closer to his face.

"Wh-what are you doing?" You wondered hesitantly, hands finding refuge on the headboard of your shitty dorm bed.

"Just trust me."

"Yuji-"

"Babe." He met your eyes through the curves of your body, almost consumed by his pupils, "Please. I've always wanted to do this."

Hell - you did too! Your friends raved about face sitting, saying how fun and empowering it was. Besides, Itadori's nose had a beautiful slope and point for you to truly ride his face. Though, you still had your doubts, so shuffling the rest of the way up and resting your folds onto his mouth from below was foreign.

But once his tongue darted out from his lips and began to explore your center, it was all familiar territory, and you settled into the feel. Good thing your hands had already made themselves welcome on the headboard, otherwise you'd be melting.

Yuji's hands held your outer-thighs, kneading and grasping at the plush muscle, sometimes pushing them together to further lose himself in you.

And when he did this you worried, "Yuji-I don't want to hurt you.."

He would pull away for a brief second and just enough to catch your worried gaze, "You're not."

"But-"

"If you don't ride my face, I'll really make sure I stick out a whole week."

You couldn't have that. The whole damn reason you were like this right now was because you were bursting at the seems for him to touch you, and it was only three days in! What other options did you have?

So you listened to him, inching yourself down until his tongue connected with you once again. Only this time instead of his palms on your thighs, they groped your ass, hard enough to make you gasp his name. You could feel him groaning triumphantly against you, only fueling the fire within your naval.

Then he pushed you forward, your clit sliding against his tongue and then the curve of his nose making your thighs tremble. It was only natural for you to glide yourself back, letting the full range of motion catch onto your sensitive bud again and leave you biting your lip, and just when you had settled down from the pleasure stimulating your system you were being guided forward again. Your friends were right.

A few more tentative roll of your hips left your feeling more confident and had you too consumed in the feel to worry about Itadori's end. Now you ground your heat down onto him without a second thought of him, the only goal in mind to reach your high and shake at the intensity of it. You weren'tentirely sure, but something along the lines of, "Yeah baby that's it," was muffled by your cunt.

You couldn't help yourself when you picked up the pace, really pressing yourself onto his tongue, lips, and nose, not caring how loud your moans were. All that mattered was that white explosion that snapped in your core and fried every nerve in your body rapidly approaching. Yuji supported you from below with more muffled praises that were lost between the commotion of your moans and your rocking waist.

You sucked in a breath and pressed your lips together, digging your nails into the headboard, getting weak as your orgasm slowly released itself. Then it hit you like a tsunami, taking over your whole body in an instant and leaving your hips staggering and your muscles weak. Itadori did what he could with his tongue and the pressure of his hands on your hips to intensify each second and milk you of your slick. It coated nearly his whole face, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

When you stopped humming and vibrating, some strength regained in your muscles and allowed you to maneuver off of him. The sight below was one you'd never forget: pink hair messy and loose strands plastered to his skin, nose, lips and chin slathered in your wetness, and the biggest damn smile you've ever seen on him - the little shit. With vigor he grabbed your ass again and shimmied down the sheets,

"Let's do that again."

[aarafox]

One Last Night

Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild

Pairing: Link/Zelda

Rating: Explicit

Words: 7,737

Chapters: 1/1

Summary: The evening before their doomed journey to Mt. Lanayru, Zelda summons Link to her room.

Notes: Happy Tears of the Kingdom release day!!! I posted this on Ao3 yesterday so I’m sharing the link here as well. Check it out if you’re interested! Excerpt below ❤️

~

It was 11:00 PM, and Zelda was wide awake. She lay on top of her red velvet blanket, hands folded on her stomach, staring at the roof of her canopy bed unable to close her eyes. That pressing feeling that something terrible was about to happen just wouldn’t leave her, and thus her body refused to sign to her brain that it was safe enough to fall asleep.

Tomorrow was her last chance… If she failed to awaken her sealing power in the ancient Spring of Wisdom, what options did she have left? It felt like there was something vital missing, something she should’ve seen already… She’d already prayed at the Spring of Courage and Spring of Power, but since nothing happened there, why would the third one be any different?

She sighed and sat up straight, rubbing her forehead. Everything was quiet around her; the other castle residents had all gone to sleep as well. Though, for some reason, she suspected that a certain appointed knight was still out and about, practicing his combat skills for whatever might lay ahead.

Link… The thought of him made her sigh. Not with a particularly positive or negative emotion—he just made her sigh. They’d definitely gotten closer over the past few weeks, with Zelda carefully confiding in him and prompting him to open up to her in return. She’d started to feel much more comfortable around him, and knew from his behavior that that was mutual. He was actually really caring and considerate, with the way he ignored his own feelings for the sake of her safety and that of the kingdom. Though she’d love to know him on an even deeper level; what he would be like if he wasn’t carrying the duties currently pressing down on him, if he hadn’t been the one chosen by the sword that seals the darkness, if he could live in freedom, which she desired to do more than anything. Perhaps they could’ve been friends, or…

She quickly shook her head, incredulous that her mind had had the audacity to swerve in that particular direction again. If there was one thing she refused to think about, it was about Link and her, tied in romance.

Of-of course it wasn’t that she disliked him! If anything, she liked him a great deal! But even mentally exploring this possibility made her feel like a hole was being carved in the bottom of her heart. Why that was, she didn’t know… Perhaps because being involved with Link that way felt like something she’d only be allowed to do in a different lifetime, in a world where she wasn’t the princess doomed to fail the kingdom, and he wasn’t her knight obligated to silence his own feelings for the sake of the mission.

Oh, to live with him in a quiet town and not care about all the horrible things that were likely to happen in the following month… Wouldn’t that just be the greatest thing?

She groaned softly and closed her eyes. Now she’d allowed her brain to wander to impossibilities after all… All Link-related. Perhaps it was that discomforting feeling telling her that everything was about to go awry, or perhaps it was because she didn’t have anything else to really focus on tonight—but suddenly she wished that he was beside her. She bet his presence would soothe her soul and calm her down, which was funny considering that seeing him used to bring about the exact opposite feeling in the past.

But if her hunch was correct, and he was still out and about… Her eyes trailed to her bedroom door, which she knew was being guarded on the outside by a different knight. It was Link’s duty to stay with her during the day, but he was allowed to at least go to bed at a decent time. There would be no harm in trying…right?

~

Read it here!

[folkloreguk]

🍒Cherry Ice Cream (2)🍒

A/N: Part two is here! There won't be another one after this. I just wanted to split it into two little scenarios with one being cute and the other not so cute lmao...I hope you enjoy - as always I appreciate feedback a lot!

taglist: @lovely-ateez

genre: smut, optional bias (m) x reader (f), lifeguard!au, pool sex, unprotected sex

words: 3.4 k

PART 1 (fluff, both parts can be read independently)

It was the middle of the summer holidays and you had never been happier. Sunny weather, swimming, lots of free time and as much ice cream as you wanted were only a few of the reasons for your luck. The main cause was the boy of your dreams. A few weeks ago, you had met. It had been the most chaotic, embarrassing day at the public swimming pool – or so you had initially thought. Turns out being a walking disaster could not only attract negative attention. When the otherworldly handsome and kind lifeguard had pulled your clumsy figure out of the water and even bought you ice cream to make you feel better, you had a feeling things were about to change. And you hadn’t been wrong. Maybe you were seeing things through rose-colored glasses and a mix of lovestruck hormones, but you suspected he might just really be this great.

Ever since your first ice cream date, the two of you had been inseparable. Looks were one thing – and you had made yourself aware that though he was a picture of perfection, he could still have turned out to not be your type at all. But the inside reflected on his outside. Every day you found out a new enrapturing detail about him. He was a never-ending book that you were utterly unwilling to put back down.

Your days were spent at the public swimming pool, watching your lifeguard boyfriend do his job and questioning if this was all some sort of hidden camera prank. During his break he came running straight to your spot under the trees and plopped down on your towel, ready to spend the most time with you until he had to go back. Although your streak of bad luck was over, he still took care of you and made sure you were okay in the heat. He reminded you to drink enough water and sent you a good morning text every day. When he had first asked you to help him put sunscreen on his shoulders, you had hesitated with cheeks hotter than the sunlight that day. Now it was a daily thing, and sometimes when his hands were on your back, rubbing in the lotion, you caught yourself wishing there weren’t a hundred families around you. But it was hard scoring alone time with him at the pool. Even later at night, right before closing time, there were always one or two diehard swimming fans there.

“I love watching my cute girlfriend swim,” he would keep telling you.

“You better make sure you’re paying attention to the rest of the visitors, too,” you would reply, but secretly love his flirty remarks. Perhaps he wasn’t even so far off. After your first encounter, it was apparent that maybe you were the one guest who didneed the closest monitoring. Even his co-workers knew of you. They had made it their life mission to remind him daily how whipped he was for you, but he never cared about their teasing.

At night, you rode your bikes home. Towards the candy cotton clouds on the horizon, through the small suburb, you rode side by side, still damp hair flowing in the wind. Outside your home he cupped your face then, the sun kissed skin of his hands still warm to the touch. Like he was the slowly setting sun himself, he kissed you goodnight. You were addicted to his lips. He made you fly, brought back all your fondest memories as if he himself was in them, and let you forget every worry you’ve ever had in the world.

One evening at the pool, you lay on your bathmat, headphones in your ears and your favorite summer playlist taking you to another world. Suddenly, two hands grabbed you by the shoulders. You jerked up in surprise.

“Oh my god, we could have hit our heads together!” you scolded your boyfriend, who was smiling at you like an innocent five-year old.

“Guess what. My boss just told me that I can close the place up tonight. You know what that means, right?” he said.

“Tell me more,” you smirked.

“Technically, we can stay here however long we want. And do whatever we want. As long as no one finds out,” he whispered the last part into your ear. Chills ran up your spine despite the heat in the air.

“Do whatever we want, huh?” you said. “I thought you were being a model employee?”

“I am,” he shrugged with his child-like smile. “And the model employee needs to go back to work now. I have a reputation to uphold. You’ll be waiting for me, right?”

“Of course,” you nodded, watching his figure as he jogged back to his seat by the pool. The next hours seemed to go by extra-slowly, to your dismay. After his announcement, you only found yourself staring in his direction more than on any other day. Truly, you could never get used to his handsomeness. You thought of his voice that made you melt like ice and his hands when he kissed you. Too often they remained in innocent, safe territory. Maybe that was about to change. It was a Friday, meaning the opening hours were longer than usual. By 10 pm however, even the last person had left. The public swimming pool was closed. Officially.

You had to admit, you could get used to having an enormous swimming pool all to yourself. Blissfully, you dived through the water, not having to worry about crashing into anybody’s legs or losing track of your surroundings. You had always felt as though swimming was a little like flying. Not that you knew what flying would be like. But if you had to make a guess, feeling weightless and small in a seemingly endless space probably came close. All your life, it had remained the same. Playing pretend in the water, acting like a mermaid scavenging for the most precious treasure of the seven seas – all your loveliest ideas lingered in your memory like it had been yesterday.

The pool had a shallow end, about the depth which allowed your head to reach above the surface, and progressively deepened towards the other end. You took a gulp of air and descended into the darkness. Taking long strokes, you dived towards the white light at the wall of the shallower pool end. With the brightness ahead of you, you failed to notice the shadow behind you.

As you were in the process of coming up from the water, a pair of arms suddenly wrapped around you. For the second time that day, you jolted in surprise and quickly gasped for air.

“You scared me out of my wits! Will you stop that!” you said, but you were already smiling. It was hard to carry grudges against the boy behind you. Not when he held your waist and rested his chin on your bare shoulder, grinning as if it was a crime to even suspect him of such things.

“Hi, there,” he said and pecked your cheek sweetly. “I missed you.”

“So did I,” you admitted. Only months ago, you had made fun of how lovestruck your friend had been. You weren’t one to speak now. His hands let go of you while you turned your body to face him. Then they were on you again, and although it was a small touch, your lack of clothes created a tension between you right away.

“Wanna race me?” he whispered into your ear, as if there was anyone around to listen in. Was he serious? Did he really think you wanted him to let go of you now? His voice on your neck rendered you wanting him so bad, you had to take a deep breath to compose yourself.

“I’ve been swimming all day,” you said. “Besides, didn’t you say we could do whatever we wanted? We can swim whenever we want, during opening hours.”

“Oh, sounds like you have better plans?” he asked. For a moment, he touched your forehead with his. If you bent forward slightly, you could have kissed him. His hungry eyes were on your lips when you had finished the thought.

“I was thinking you could kiss me, for starters?” you coaxed him. He chuckled.

“So you’ve been thinking about it too, the past few hours,” he realized. “You know, I was trying to be subtle about it.”

“Forget about being subtle,” you said. “Let’s just make out, please?”

“I’d like nothing better than that,” he smiled, and then your mouths touched. His gentle lips tasted faintly of chlorine and salt, a taste you had come to associate with him and magnificent things. You held his face in your hands tightly and pushed your body against him yearningly. Reacting, he sighed and deepened the kiss. His wandering hands found the small of your backside as you arched your back into his frame. You hummed quietly, hands burying in his wet hair and playing with it at the nape of his neck.

All your childhood you had been searching for your treasure under the water. Now you understood. He was right there in front of you. Little you would be proud you had found someone this precious and incomparable. And hot.

“Jump,” he said. You did as he suggested and wrapped your legs around his waist. The proximity of his body made your heart hammer against your ribcage with such feverishness, you worried it might jump through your chest. With the way he touched every curve of your body, you almost forgot how to kiss. Luckily, your instincts did the job for you as you sipped on his lips and sighed every so often. He caught your bottom lip between his teeth, and you felt his smirk when you moaned in surprise. Every inch of your skin burned with desire for him.

As he carried you over to the side of the pool, you pulled away shortly. You took the liberty to attack his neck with frenzied kisses. It felt just as you had imagined a thousand times. You couldn’t possibly recount all the instances when you had found yourself staring at his neck and shoulders in the past weeks. He was easily the biggest distraction you had ever known. But it wasn’t your fault his tanned skin was so inviting and his strong presence ever so alluring. Returning his teasing, you bit into his shoulder, kissing and sucking on it right after.

“Fuck, baby,” he said in a throaty tone. “You’re amazing.”

Softly, he rubbed his nose against yours before your lips locked again. The kiss was all but soft. Your tongues meddled as if you were starved people and you could barely keep your hands in one place. Not that you would want to. You wanted to glue his hands onto your body or better yet handcuff him to your wrists. What was the opposite of a restraining order called? You were about to invent a word for it. Never before had you been so intoxicated, so in ecstasy with another person.

He pulled aside the fabric of your top momentarily and cupped your breasts in his hands. You gasped and melted into his touch and the way he played with your nipples. He attacked your neck in kisses and you shut your eyes, enjoying the sensation of his lips.

“I really want you.” He had his hands on your ass and all you could think about was the growing bulge in his swimming shorts. Your hard nipples rubbed against his chest, the thin fabric of your swim top doing little to nothing to separate your bodies. How could somebody’s whole existence be so titillating? He pulled away, just far enough to speak but barely. “I’ve wanted you like this for a while. But I didn’t want to unsettle you by making you think I just want sex from you. Truth is, I don’t want you to be just some summer romance, Y/N. Every day I hope you’ll still be here when summer is over.”

“Why would you think I’m going anywhere?” you asked. “You’re the reason I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. I ask myself every day how I managed to end up with you in the first place.”

“That’s easy. First, threaten to demolish the turnstile with your stubbornness, second, offer your head to a bunch of kids with a water ball, third, square up against a bug in front of a hundred people, fourth- “

“Okay! Enough,” you said. “Don’t bring up my clumsiness. That’s just about the least sexy thing in the world.”

“Baby, I think there’s nothing not sexy about you,” he spoke. He kissed you deeply and all your embarrassing memories vanished at once. “So, you’re cool with this?”

His sudden change in tone caused your breath to hitch in your throat, as his hands lingered by your hips, just above your bikini bottom. You only nodded, the motion getting more eager as the words sunk in. He slid his fingers along the inside of your thigh, and you squirmed under his touch in desperation. Swiftly, he pushed aside the material above your center. His digits slid through your wetness, catching the nub between them, and rubbing ever so slowly. An overwhelmed gasp spilled over your lips, and you closed your eyelids.

“Fuck- ,“ you muttered under your breath. He teased your core, nearly sliding his finger into you, but then pulling away to find your nub to toy with.

“You look so beautiful,” he said. At his words, you looked at him through fluttering eyelids. He was one to talk about beauty. The luminescence from underwater sharpened his features, and his eyes had something magical, something enchanting about them. Like he could have you – or anyone – without saying a word. He reminded you of a merman, or rather a siren. Ready to drag you along with him, deep under the surface. And you were so willing to let it happen. For all you knew, you were long lost and under his spell anyway.

“Have you ever done it in public?” he asked. You were too distracted by his fingers on you at first, head hanging back in ecstasy, until you snapped out of it.

“No, but – fuck – I guess I can strike that one off my sex bucket list after tonight, can’t I?” you said.

“You have a sex bucket list? Interesting, tell me more about it,” he smirked. His eyes darkened and his tongue licked over his lips once. As if on command, his lazy ministrations on you quickened, rubbing your clit in small, circular motions until you were a moaning, stammering mess. You suspected he did so just to see your immediate reaction, and you gave him just what he wanted.

“Can we postpone the – the talking…on later?” you murmured, feeling like collapsing against his broad shoulders. “I’m kind of too busy to – to talk.”

“I can see that,” he teased you, kissing you gently. The delicacy of his lips only made your head spin more. “You’re so sweet, baby.”

“Don’t you want to get busy too?” you asked. You reached for his swimming trunks and wrapped your hand around his hard member through the material. “I don’t want to wait any longer.”

“Shit- me too.” His arousal echoed in his moans, and he sucked in a breath. There was a sense of power in knowing you could make him react so gravely by doing so little. You tugged on his trunks and pulled them down a little to reveal his full length. Palming him, you felt how painfully hard he must have been for a while now. He groaned and it was the best thing you had ever heard. Eagerly, you slid your bikini bottom off and watched for a moment as it sunk down into the depths of the pool. Your legs wrapped around his waist again as he aligned his cock with your core.

At this point you supposed you were both out of words. Hunger had taken over and you barely managed to form a sentence. He kissed you and you hummed and nodded, wanting him to know you were ready. Easily, he entered you and you whimpered at the way he stretched your velvet walls after all the wait. Your senses were overcome with everything around you. The warm water enveloping the both of you, the soft summer breeze caressing your faces, his hands on your hips as he guided your body into his thrusts and the sound of your breathless moans and sighs – it was pure bliss. Night had almost fallen, with the sky being a deep blue, almost black by now. It was a perfect setting for a perfect night with your favorite person.

You gazed into his dilated pupils and the coil in your stomach tightened in the most delicious way possible. Now you recounted a myriad of dreams you’d seen him in. Not always, but occasionally he showed up in your dirtiest of dreams, with his gorgeous, addictive smile and strong arms. But now he was right there, in front of you – inside of you – and you apprehended how weak your boldest imaginations had been. Your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders as you clenched around his cock. He moaned your name huskily and it only clouded your head further.

It was crazy how loving a person could magnify everything. Even with closed eyes, the mere idea of him fucking you, at night in a public pool, could beat every single other experience you’d ever had. You felt like you were blessed with the audience with a god. A god, who had manifested on earth only to scoop you up and show you the finest things in life. You definitely couldn’t think of a finer thing than his cock dragging through your walls, hitting your g-spot repeatedly, while he had you cased against the pool tiles. Moans and little whimpers fell from your lips, and you were glad there wasn’t a single soul close by who could have heard.

He was jaw-dropping. With the way he pounded into you hard, using the poolside wall as support on your back, you felt your head spin as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Your skin seemed to prickle wherever he touched you and you pushed your chest against his. Just a little closer, you told yourself, even though you were running out of space already. It was body against body while he whispered naughty things into your ears, telling you how incredible you felt, how lucky he had gotten with you and how sexy he found you.

“You’re the fucking best I’ve ever had, baby,” he said. His teeth grazed your neck as he kissed your sensitive skin messily. You could have counted every single drop of water hanging from the strands of his hair and adorning his face. Could have taken notice of every single eyelash and even the tiniest speckles of color in his irises. But you could barely command your eyes to stay open.

“So- close,” you said. In your ecstasy, you clawed at his back as another wave of pleasure went through your entire body.

“Together, hm?” he said, lips brushing over your cheek with every thrust. You hummed and nodded, as he picked up his thrusts to a toe-curling speed. With every touch of your sweet spot, you felt reality slip away a little further, and you were doing nothing to fight it. You invited the feeling in, resting your forehead against his, breaths coming out in short puffs. And then it overcame you. Your orgasm jolted through you like electricity, and you clung to him as if you might have sunken otherwise. It made your shared moans high pitched, and he followed you, pulling you into his arms like it was alone you who was keeping him afloat.

The splashing of the water softened as he drew out your highs for as long as possible with slower thrusts. Eventually, he halted completely. He cradled your face in his hands and when you finally opened your tired eyes, he was watching you with full adoration. His charming smile caused an eruption of butterflies in your stomach. This was only the beginning of your time together, yet you could barely fathom your fortune. And as it seemed, this time fate was on your side.