#thanks for the ask! if you wanted his green design please just let us know ^^

[yourfavesaysfag]

1x1x1x1 from Roblox says fag!

[terrifictomholland]

my art, my muse

So, quite some time ago I said on here I'd write for Tom and well - here it is! It's been a fun ride! As always I can't help but to thank @worldoftom for being the very best beta a girl could ask for! So thank you very very much darling!

word count: 6.9K

warnings: look this is nothing but absolute filth! its got a whole bunch of stuff lmao - but oral (female and male) dirty talk, spitting (ooops) slight dom-Tom, please please please, if you are under 18, don't read this I don't want to corrupt youngsters!

Without further ado, enjoy!

The doorbell rang when you opened the door, entering the tattoo shop that you spotted on a whim. The idea had been brewing in your head for some time now to get a piece done, but you hadn’t been quite sure as to what to get done. The smell of leather and disinfectant burrowing into your nostrils, somewhat of a comforting smell and the sound of a tattoo-gun in use. 

“Yo! Welco- holy shit!” a curly red-haired guy cut himself off seeing you from a seat behind a counter. Your head swiveled around looking behind you as to why this guy cursed the way he did. 

“Y’alright?” you mused seeing the slight red tint on his cheeks. “I’ll willingly put money in the shit-I–say jar in a second, but I just know you’re my brothers’ walking sex-on-legs dream come true right now.” He explained and a raucous laugh exploded out of you, your head thrown back from the unexpected comment. 

“Oh? Who’s this brother of yours then?” you asked cheekily and the red-haired guy grinned. “He’s gonna be doing your tattoo seeing as how his client just cancelled on him, so you’re in luck to torture him,” he schemed and you grinned even more. 

“How interesting, thank you for the information,” to which he bowed his head. “Always happy to put Tom in a hard position,” that innuendo didn’t go unnoticed by you as you laughed once again. 

“Anyway, what’s your name? and more importantly what are you getting done and where?” He asked wiggling his eyebrows. “Aren’t you a cheeky bugger? M’names Y/N. As for the tattoo, only for me and well, Tom to know and you too maybe, find out if you’re lucky,” you winked and his eyes glittered.

“Nice to meet ya, I’m Harry and I must say, Tom might just have met his match,” he held out his hand to which you took and shook. 

It was very fun and lighthearted talking to Harry while this infamous brother of his, Tom, finished doing some work on another client. While you waited, you and Harry made some idle chit-chat and you looked around in the shop.

It was surprisingly airy and neat, a light green with dark wood finishes. Tiny knick-knacks of things that seemed like they were personal to the brothers. Such as different but very cool mulled wine bottles, an array of different Marvel figurine bobble-heads - actually, a bunch of different Spider-Man bobble-heads for some reason. 

“Hazza? Why are there so many bobble-heads of Spider-man?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder. “Hmm, Tom’s obsession since he was little,” he shrugged and you nodded continuing on to look at some very professional looking photos of a guy tattooing a client. You presumed the artist was Tom, but you couldn’t see his face. Only his gloved hand holding a tattoo gun working on a very detailed rose piece. It was stunning, both the photograph and the design of the piece. 

“Who took this photo?” You couldn’t look away from the various photos that hung on the walls, all in the same kind of style, showcasing the talent of both the photographer and the tattoo artist. They worked brilliantly together and it really showed.

“Oh! I did, I’ve shot all of these photos in here actually,” you could hear the pride in his voice and you turned to him, giving him a wide smile, “these are incredible,” to which his cheeks turned an adorable red hue. 

“Thank you,” he said modestly, “but in all fairness, Tom’s a really good sport in letting me hover over him when he’s working, he makes my job fairly easy,” he told you earnestly and so far, from all that Harry had said about this Tom, he seemed to be a really good and stand-up guy. “That’s a really nice thing to say about your sibling. But, may I ask where this brother of yours is? Not that you’re not impeccable company,” you winked.

“This brother of his is right here,” a raspy voice said from behind and you saw Harry grin and throw you a wink as you turned around. 

Oh boy.

What Harry had seemed to forgot to mention was that Tom was sex-on-legs for you, because damn oh damn. 

Standing against the door-frame to a room in the back, was easily the hottest guy you’d ever laid eyes on. You felt him give you a once-over as you did the same. Time suspended for a moment as you drank all of his features in. 

Black fitted jeans, showing off what looked to be very strong and muscled thighs which you wouldn’t mind climbing all over. Your eyes wandered further up over to his chest and arms, he was wearing a white simple t-shirt that he made look a million bucks. A broad chest and neck which you wouldn’t be opposed as to sink your teeth in and really mark him up. 

An air of confidence about the way he held and carried himself, something slightly dangerous, but in the best and more enthralling way. He wasn’t afraid to show you who was boss, and for him? You’d abso-fucking-lutely let him. 

But the killer? For sure his arms, splattered with tattoos, at first seemingly random ones but the closer you looked, they weren’t random at all. They all told a story - the story of Tom. 

You couldn’t really take your eyes off of his arms. So defined and fucking hot, his biceps were stuff you wrote poems about. So well-sculpted, as though he was made of marble. Veins running all over his forearms that just pulled you in. 

Veiny arms and hands were your ultimate weakness and something told you that he knew he was hot-shit, by the way his eyes raked all over you. 

“You’re Tom?” you cleared your throat once and a smirk formed at the corner of his lips. “The one and only,” his voice was ever so slightly husky and raspy when he spoke to you and you shuddered in delight. 

All of a sudden, getting a tattoo today was the best goddamn decision you’d made in ages if it meant getting to spend the rest of your day in the company of Tom.

He had the perfect face, a jaw sharp enough to cut glass, dark brown eyes that could read you like a book and the most perfectly kissable lips. Which you wanted to do, very badly. 

“and you are?” he prodded and you snapped out of your own little world which was full of Tom, all over you and very sweaty. “Hmm? Oh! I’m Y/N,” you recovered giving him a slight smile. 

“Nice t’meet ya,” he pushed off the door frame to come closer to you, giving you his outstretched hand. 

Fuck, he smelled intoxicatingly good as well. As if he didn’t already have everything going for him. 

“You too,” you said taking his hand and shaking it confidently and he licked his lips when your hands met, briefly looking down on them. “Wanna head back?” You swore his voice deepened ever so slightly when he said that, or it was merely your imagination. He smirked once again and you knew he knew the effects he had on you. “Lead the way,” you said and you could hear Harry snickering behind you, having watched your exchange.

“Don’t forget to wrap it before you tap it!” He shouted and you couldn’t help but the mortified laugh as Tom flipped him off. 

“Well that’s professional,” you smirked taking a seat in the chair. “What can I say, if he can dish it out he can damn well take it too,” he shrugged nonchalantly taking a seat on his chair, facing to look at you. 

“So, what are you wanting done?” all of a sudden his voice changed and he was back to professional Tom which made you smile to yourself, “I’d like a mandala,” you said after a beat seeing him pull out an iPad, pulling up a programme in where he started to draw on it. 

“Yeah? That’s cool, anything specific you want in the mandala? A specific pattern or so?” he prodded having already started to work on a design for you. 

“Nah I’m good, putting my faith in you not to fuck me up,” you grinned cheekily and he snorted, “Thanks for the vote of confidence,”.

“Anytime,” you winked and he let out a small laugh. “What about this?” he turned the iPad after a moment and you were rendered speechless, he’d drawn up the most gorgeous mandala design you’d ever laid eyes on. “Yeah, yep it’s perfect,” you hummed not being able to take your eyes off it. He smiled proudly seeing the way you looked at it, feeling a burst of warmth inside of him. 

“Where do you want it?” 

“My thigh, please,” he nodded, eyes landing on your thigh, ever so slightly moving upwards which made your insides clench. “How big?” he asked, his eyes landing on yours and you flushed imagining something else entirely. “The piece?” he added when you were still far too in your own head and your cheeks heated even more now and he smirked - a devious look in his eyes. “Oh, um, I was thinking maybe half of my upper thigh? Would it be a good size?” watching the way he fiddled on the iPad for a moment before a stencil came from the machine by all of his equipment and he smiled at you, “I think it’ll be good, I’m just gonna place it on you and if you’re not happy with it we’ll change it because I won’t let you leave here unhappy okay?” his eyes shone with earnest and it made butterflies erupt inside of you. 

“Thank you,” you gave him a warm smile and he returned it before gloving up in a black latex glove and he put some lotion on the tip of his finger, rubbing it on your skin and placing the stencil there. 

You couldn’t help but to stare at him as he worked, eyebrows pinched together in concentration, lips pursed as he moved quickly and swiftly with precision, you felt utterly at ease in his more than capable hands. 

And oh, those hands. 

Albeit gloved up, those hands were something else entirely. From the glance you got before he put those gloves on, they were slender, long and veiny in all the right places. Not to mention how skillful they were, oozed a certain kind of confidence that could completely unravel you. 

“Have a look and say what you think of the placement, if anything feels wrong we’ll fix it,” he urged, and you stood up and walked over to the full-length mirror he had and you looked at it, both in the mirror and down on your thigh. 

“It’s so good, it’s the perfect place,” he grinned feeling happy with himself you could tell. “Thank you, that makes me happy to hear,” he grinned right back and you went back to his chair that he had wrapped in cling-film while you admired your soon-to-be tattoo. 

“I’m taking it you’ve done this before, but even if it’s been a while, just a quick reminder,” he started and to be frank, you didn’t hear much of what he said except all of the innuendos he’d managed to capture in that one single sentence. “If at any point, you start feeling woozy, or just really fatigued, tell me or tap my shoulder and I’ll stop okay? I’ve got juice and snacks so just tell me yeah? I really don’t fancy you fainting in my chair,” the seriousness in his eyes made you melt inside. 

“I promise I’ll let you know if anything is bothering me,” you reassured and he gave you a quick but warm smile, a small nod before he turned to filling up his little ink caps with black ink.

“Is it just gonna be black or do you want some colour?” he asked, taping up his tattoo gun.

“Nah black will be fine,” you got yourself comfortable as the buzz of the tattoo gun came alive. Soon enough you felt the familiar sting of the tiny needles against your skin and you shut your eyes at first. No matter how many tattoos you had, the first few strokes were always the roughest. 

“You okay?” he asked as if he could read your mind. “Yeah, yeah, just getting used to the pain again,” you told him honestly and he gave you a sympathetic smile. “Sorry to say it’s too late to change your mind now, if I stop now you’ll just end up with a dickish looking line,” he smirked to distract you from the pain and it worked, it made you laugh. 

“I’ll be fine, i’m a big girl,” you braved and his eyebrows raised slightly, “Oh yeah?” his voice laced with something more, something darker. 

“Intrigued now are we?” you teased and he gave you a cheeky grin as he kept working on your piece. The pain lessening with each stroke he did. 

“Maybe,” 

“Your brother said a curious thing when I first came in here today,” you started and he momentarily stopped and looked at you very cautiously. 

“What’d he say?” 

You smirked, “Oh just something that piqued my interest is all, how I’m apparently your sex-on-legs dream come true,” and he let out a husky laugh. In that moment you felt a rush of confidence go through you knowing that Harry was right. 

“Well, he can sleep with one eye open tonight then,” he muttered and you shook your head amused, “I’m not hearing a denial,” 

“Watch it, I’m the one with a gun,” he warned going back to your thigh starting it back up. “Yeah, apparently two,” you smirked smugly. He met your gaze for the briefest of seconds and that glance alone told you everything he didn’t say out loud. 

“The mouth on you,” he muttered as he kept going on the tattoo. You felt absolutely victorious. “What’re you gonna do about it?” 

“Have half a mind to just put you over my goddamn lap,” those words went straight to your core and you sucked in a breath and by the smirk on his face, he’d heard it. Your heart thudded in your ears at the thought of his strong hands coming down on your ass, your cunt leaking all over this thigh - right here in the tattoo chair. 

Oh god damn. 

“Oh? Did I press a button there?” now it was his turn to sound all smug and mighty when you tried to ever-so-slightly shift positions. He knew he did and you really fucking liked it, you pondered how far you could let it go. 

“So what if you did?” you played nonchalantly as though this didn’t effect you in the slightest when you both knew it very much did. 

A smirk widened on his face, “well then, we’re gonna have fun in this chair aren’t we?” and that sent heat pool in your core at the words and your previous thought that flooded your mind. 

“I guess we are,” you fired back with equal amount of heat. You didn’t think you’d ever wanted someone as badly as you did in that moment, in all of your life. The time left in the chair would be unbearable with him touching you and the ache you felt between your legs. 

That’s how it went for another hour and a half while he filled in the lines and started on doing the shading, the two of you walking along a precarious line of chatting and getting to know one another and coming up with the craziest foreplay you’d ever been apart of. 

All the while you felt a consistent heat in your core that simply never faded but you tried to move past. 

“So, I’ve got a question for you,” you hummed and he glanced at you while he filled up with some more ink. “Yeah?” 

“Do you like watching tv-series?” you began and a confused look crossed his face, “sure, who doesn’t?” 

“So here’s the real question, from all the shows you’ve watched - which show has the best first kiss?” he let out a small laugh.

“Sorry babe, but that’s not really what I focus on when I watch shows,” you pouted, “c’mon! Ask me the same question then!” you tutted to which he rolled his eyes, going back to the tattoo. You winced and he noticed and stopped immediately, “You okay?” 

“Yeah yeah, just quite sore from earlier when you went over that,” you told him honestly and he gave you a sympathetic smile, “Sorry babe, I’ll be more gentle,”. That however made you perk up, “who said I want gentle?” 

“You’re fucking incorrigible,” he groaned and you giggled, “ooh look at you and those big words,” you taunted and he just sighed, “anyway, who’s the best first kiss in a show?” 

“Nick and Jess from New Girl, don’t you fucking dare tell me otherwise - that’s right! I said what I said,” you stuck your chin out daring him to say anything else. He pondered your answer for a moment before nodding, “yeah okay, fair enough, can’t argue with that kiss - it’s a really epic first kiss,” and you smiled satisfied with his answer. 

“Good answer, I approve,” 

“What do you do for a living anyway?” he changed the subject and you smiled knowing he was doing his best to distract you from a very dull pain and you were eternally grateful for it. 

“Oh you know, I’m a pornstar,” you said off-handedly and the tattoo gun went quiet and he just stared at you, “Yo-what?” 

You smirked smugly at him, “nah I’m fucking with you, I’m a florist,” you said with a whole lot of enthusiasm in your eye and he let out a laugh, “Ah damn, what a shame I thought I’d seen you somewhere on Pornhub,” he winked and you let out a loud cackle. 

“That’s meee!” you followed along and he rolled his eyes good-naturedly at the banter. 

“How do you like it?” he asked after a while, “I love it, it’s all I’ve ever known - my grandmother started the business when she was a young girl and it was passed down to my mum and now I’m running the show,” you smiled proudly and he smiled in turn hearing you speak so passionately about your family business. 

“That makes a whole lot of sense that’s your job, you were made for making others happy,” 

“That’s one of the kindest things anyone has ever said to me,” you said shyly and he gave you a tender smile. “Well you deserve to hear it,” 

                              ****

“How many do you have?” you motioned towards his tattoo on his arm, a few of them splattered here and there. “Around twelve or fifteen I think, I’ve lost count,” he sheepishly admitted. “How do you lose count?” you asked with genuine curiosity. 

“Well, it’s quite easy to forget when you get them done absolutely sloshed,” he winced and you let out a laugh.

“Which one matters the most to you?”

“Oh, easily this one, my most recent one. My dog recently died so I’ve got her little paws with me forever,” he gave you the gentlest smile and showed you the paws he had on the inside of his left arm. “I’m sorry for your loss, but it’s a beautiful way to honour her,” you gave a gentle smile in return. 

                               *****

You let out a small gasp seeing the tattoo all done in the mirror, “Oh Tom, it’s absolutely gorgeous,” you whispered in awe, unable to take your eye off of the beautiful piece, moving closer to really take in all of the tiny and beautiful details in the tattoo in all of it’s glory. 

“Thank you,” he gave you a warm smile and you knew that he took pride in your reaction and was full of pride knowing that he had made you happy with the results. 

“You’ve been the most outstanding client,” his words were genuine but ever so slightly laced with something more sinister and it made your gut clench. His eyes wandering from your thigh, moving slightly higher and you swallowed thickly. Without word you moved back to the tattoo chair, perching yourself up on it. “Have I?” he followed suit, sitting on his chair in front of you. You looked down seeing his glove-free hands and you licked your lips having fantasized about them for all this time now that you’d been there. “Mostly,” he smirked and you swung out with your leg to playfully kick him. He snorted and took your leg with ease putting it over his thigh and all of a sudden your throat went dry. 

Your eyes following his every move as he poured some lotion on his hands and rubbed it onto your new tattoo. You exhaled shakily feeling his hands on your skin. Your skin tingling from where he touched you. 

“Are we alone?” you referred to Harry as Tom inched closer to you, his hands gliding further up your thigh and you couldn’t look away from his gaze. He had you completely locked in your place as his hands barely touched your inner thigh, your heart racing in anticipation.

“Yeah, Hazza left some time ago now, it’s just us.” That’s all that was needed for the sheer unadulterated lust to take over and take charge. 

Before you knew it, your eyes met in a wild and heated kiss. The hours you’d spent riling each other up were surely paying off now as his hand wound his way to your hair, pulling on it making you whimper into his mouth. 

He bit down on your lip making you part them and he slipped his tongue inside of your mouth with ease - you fully surrendered yourself to him as you climbed over into his lap, straddling his hips. “I’ve wanted you since the moment you walked inside these walls,” he pulled away briefly letting those words wash over you. His voice full of lust and want and it drove you crazy. 

“So why don’t you fucking take me?”  his eyes were burning with barely contained fire and you sucked in a breath knowing you were in for quite the ride. 

“Shut up,” he growled, making the tiniest smirk form on your face. “Make me,” his eyebrow raised in challenge but you knew he wasn’t one to back down - neither were you. 

“Maybe I should just have your mouth stuffed if all I’m gonna get is back-talk,” that no doubt, had the desired effect on you. Your mouth salivated at the thought of Tom using you for his pleasure any way he wanted. “Fucking please,” your voice coming out far breathier than you intended. 

His whole demeanour changed and a down-right filthy smirk spread across his face as he took your desperate state in. Your erratic breathing, your whole body feeling like it was on fire from sheer lust and want. 

“Get on your damn knees then, princess,” you bit your lip nodding as you dropped to your knees, coming face to face with his bulge and all you wanted to do was devour him. 

“Do you need an invitation?” he hummed watching you with interest as to see what you’d do next. Your hands making quick work on getting him out of his jeans. His cock was straining through his boxers and you licked your lips, it was all you could think about. But for a brief moment all you wanted to do was savour this moment, before you took off the last piece of clothing, leaving him completely naked. It was something so thrilling this part, you’d always felt that way. You glanced up at him through heavy-lidded eyes as you removed his boxers, his breathing laboured, flushed cheeks and his eyes never leaving you, keeping you locked in place and it was unbearable in the best way possible.

His fingers wrapping in your hair, nudging you forward towards his cock, all angry and red, tip covered in pre-cum that you used as glide to work your hand up and down his length. His cock hot and pulsating in your hand as you gave him a few tugs. A low moan falling from his lips, “fuck,” he breathed, urging your mouth towards him. 

“What should I do, sir?” you taunted, your hot breath falling on his cock, so close yet so far away. “Fucking suck,” he ordered giving no room to argue and you let out a moan when you engulfed his cock, feeling the weight of it on your tongue. 

You were giving Tom the performance of your life, but oh my, it was the most rewarding blowjob you’d ever given. He was so responsive to every little thing you did. “Fuck, oh,” he moaned running a hand through his own hair - you could tell a small part of him was holding back and you didn’t want that. 

“Stop holding back,” 

“Sure?” his voice was wrecked and you looked up at him, mouth full of his cock giving him a nod. 

 “God the sight of you, such a pretty cock-slut for me aren’t you?” He pushed your head further onto his cock and you whimpered, feeling your panties getting absolutely soaked by the second. He must’ve had an innate ability to sense all of your kinks, such as dirty talk was the way straight to your cunt. “You gonna take all of me? Be a gagging mess for me?” he kept going and you whined against him. 

“Please, fucking please,” was all you managed to say before Tom took over, fucking your mouth making the most obscene noises you’d ever heard. All of them going straight to your throbbing cunt. You closed your eyes, feeling his cock hit the back of your throat and you gagged quite a few times which only spurred him on. “Oh yes, the best fucking cockslut,” he grunted, his grip on your hair tightening. You preened at the praise feeling like the best girl for him.

Just when you thought he’d cum, he pulled you off of him and you looked at him confused with mascara running down your face, cheeks flushed and eyes glazed over. “oh babe, what a sight you are,” he grunted running a finger over your swollen lips. You grabbed his hand, pushing his finger in your mouth and his eyes darkened shoving another one in and your eyes fluttered shut. 

“You’re just begging to have your holes filled aren’t you?” he tsk-ed and you whined, nodding your head, feeling drunk on lust. He removed his fingers and you opened your eyes, watching him for what was next. Instead of answering you he slated his lips over you and it went straight to your head, letting yourself get lost in the kiss and you let him guide you. 

“I just bet that cunt of yours is drenched now huh?” he hummed against your lips, the air of confidence returning to him. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?” 

His large, warm hands pushed your skirt way up, letting it bunch by your waist and his fingers danced across your inner thighs making you squirm trying to get his fingers where you needed them most. 

“Don’t be impatient,” he tutted and you stilled at once, your breathing coming out laboured. “Sorry, so sorry sir,” you breathed letting out a moan feeling his lips on your neck, nibbling and biting on the sensitive skin there, causing tiny goosebumps all along your arms. 

“My oh my, what a filthy slut you are, I just bet you love letting me use you however I want huh? All this from sucking my cock?” he drawled and you shut your eyes in embarrassment when he felt your drenched panties. Hell, your juices ran down your legs - you were that turned on. “Yes sir, I’m such a slut,” your hips moving forward desperately needing his fingers inside of you. 

“You really are,” you bit your lip, batting your eyelashes at him, “what’re you gonna do about it?” 

His hands moved to your hips, gripping them tightly, “do I strike you as a person who will just..give you the answer to that?” he searched your eyes and you gulped. Your faces so close together you could practically touch his lips with yours, your breath falling onto each others. “Yes?” he tilted his head sideways and your stomach flipped. 

“No then?” he smirked, trapping you with his arms on each side of you. “No babe, we’re gonna have some fun now - so,” he hummed running his finger tips along your collar bone leaving you a shivering mess. “Why don’t you show me just how desperate you can get you filthy slut hmm? Beg for it,” he nearly growled and it had you in a puddle, your cunt clenching around nothing. 

“Please, please sir, please touch me,” the words just fell out of you, a desperate and almost incoherent mess by now. “Touch you where?” his fingers working on removing your top, and he drew in a breath seeing your tits, both of them pierced and hard as rocks.

“Say it,” he growled, flicking your nipple making you gasp. “My cunt sir, please touch my slutty cunt,” 

“Good girl,” he lowered his head, lips finding your neck and moving lower down to your tits taking one of the swollen buds in his mouth and you moaned, arching your back and pushing your tits in his face feeling him pull and tug on them with his teeth. His large hands cupping your free one, playing with it whilst the other continued to tug quite roughly with his teeth causing your body to jolt forward and goosebumps to run over your entire body. “Oh god,” but he was generous and switched, giving the other tit the same lavicious treatment and you were in heaven. 

Your head falling back and your legs spreading automatically and you felt him rip your panties from your body. “Fuck that’s hot,” you moaned running your fingers in his hair.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” he murmured, moving to your other nipple, lavishing it with the same amount of attention. You bucked your hips trying to get him to touch you, but he wasn’t biting. 

“Fucking please! Sir!” you begged almost to the point of tears, you’d never been this sexually frustrated and it drove you mad with Tom’s teasing and torture which was so delicious. “Don’t you get fucking bratty with me or I’ll shove these in your mouth,” he warned holding up your panties and your jaw went slack. “That’s what you want isn’t it you filthy whore? You want your own cunt juice all over yourself while I fuck you senseless,” your cheeks burned in embarrassment once again. His eyes were dancing with raw desire for you now, his eyes never leaving yours as he bunched your soaked panties into a ball, shoving it in your mouth and you moaned, nodding your head that this was okay. 

“I haven’t even touched you yet and look at you,” he hummed, his finger ghosting over your folds and you nearly collapsed, you were so ready for him, for whatever he would give. 

“Fuck,” he cursed at how easily his finger slid past your folds due to your slick and you swallowed letting the pleasure roll through you, against your panties feeling his thick and long finger disappear with little resistance, exploring your walls and your eyes rolled back, letting his finger expertly move in and out of you. 

“More,” you muffled out as tears formed in your eyes, needing so much more. “What a greedy little whore you are,” he smirked adding a second finger, finding a rhythm with ease and you cried out. He was building up his pace, paying close attention to every little reaction you made. He angled his fingers up and further in and your vision turned hazy when he found the spot. The one where your toes curled and you screamed out against your panties, your orgasm rocking into you from nowhere and he fucked you through it and then some, letting you ride your high for as long as possible. 

He carefully removed your panties from your mouth once you calmed down and collected yourself ever so slightly. He licked his fingers clean and you let out a weak moan at the sight, “That’s hot,” you hummed licking your own lip and he smirked. “You good?” he pressed a kiss to your temple and you nodded. 

“Best fucking orgasm of my life,” you concluded and he laughed. 

“You think we’re done so soon?” you lifted your head glancing at him, “We’re not?” 

“Fuck no princess, we’re barely getting started. I’m gonna fuck you into oblivion and then I’m gonna have a real good taste of that cunt of yours before I’m letting you leave here,” and that was a promise. 

It made your stomach drop and fill with anticipation, “So what’s next?” you were game for anything and everything. “Get in front of the mirror and spread your legs,” 

Well, fuck. 

You did as told, walking over to the mirror on shaky legs, your heart racing in anticipation for what was in store. 

Your skin prickled, feeling Tom come up behind you, his cologne mixed with sweat surrounding your senses in the best way. His solid chest pushsing against your back, his fingers gliding along your waist and hips up and down causing goosebumps all over. 

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” his voice low and husky and you closed your eyes at the sensation of having Tom’s lips over your neck, sucking rough marks on the delicate skin there.

“Feels so good,” you twisted your fingers in his hair and you let out a breathy moan when his hands snaked up to your tits and he cupped them. Rolling the hardened buds between his fingers causing your back to arch and you tried to rub your legs together to ease the ache between them ever so slightly to no avail. “Is this all it takes? Pathetic, is that why you had them pierced? To be used and tugged til’ you’re a crying mess?” his eyes were sparkling with mischief. 

“Please,” you whined craning your neck to look at him, only to see his burning eyes watching you. He was just as affected as you, you could feel it now too, his cock pressing into your lower back and you moaned softly. 

“Look at me,” he ordered and you obliged, he gave you a hard kiss and you eagerly kissed back as his hand snaked to your front, toying with your cunt, running his finger along your sopping wet folds and your knees buckled. 

He pulled away from the kiss, holding your chin with his free hand and you hissed when he circled your clit, your slick making the glide of his fingers so easy. You were just about to look away when he motioned for you to open your mouth to which you did and he did the hottest fucking thing you’d ever seen. 

He spat right into your mouth and you nearly came right then and there. He must’ve sensed it too because a wicked smirk formed. “Oh you like that huh, you filthy little thing?” just to prove his point, he did it again and you swallowed thickly, your vision hazy from lust. 

He pulled away for a moment and he rummaged through his clothes, returning with a hand on his cock, stroking it and you couldn’t keep your eyes off of his condom-clad cock, wathcing the way his wrist flicked at the tip.

“Such a pretty cock,” you bit your lip, watching as he walked up to you, his hand finding your front once more, easily slipping a finger inside and fucking you open simultaneously as he pushed you against the mirror, making sure that the two of you had the perfect view to watch what was going to happen next.

“Best put on the show of a life time huh slut?” he growled in your ear, slapping your clit and you cried out. The pain hurting so good and Tom lifted your leg up, making the slide into you easier and you both let out a ragged breath at the sensation of your walls clamping down around him. “Fuck, fuck oh Tom,” you gasped as he bottomed out and you had to take a few breaths to steady yourself. 

“The tightest cunt I’ve ever felt,” he grunted, nails digging into your hips that you were sure was going to leave a mark. You couldn’t form words any longer once Tom started fucking into you, his hips doing the lord’s work and all you could do was hang on and enjoy the ride. Which you very much did. 

You loved the way his cock felt inside of you, the way he was rolling his hips finding new bursts of pleasure inside of you that you didn’t even know existed. You screamed out when he angled his hips up, finding your g-spot and he started rutting into it over and over until you were a quivering mess, barely able to stand up. 

“Fuck that feels so good, sir,” Your breath coming out in short pants, tiny fireworks going off behind your eyelids as Tom figured out your body and what made you tick. 

He tsk-ed you, a free hand finding your clit, rubbing it in circles. “Come on, cum for me, let me feel you cum all over my cock. Show me what a good little whore you can be,” he growled and with those words, something inside of you snapped like a coil. 

A dam coming undone as your orgasm wrecked throughout you, screaming his name over and over as he fucked into you giving you what you so desperately wanted. 

“Such a fucking sight you are,” he moaned, his hips jerking as he came into the condom, his hips working their way inside of you. You watched in the mirror his facial expression as he came, eyes glassed over, cheeks flushed and jaw slacked. “Nothing like you,” you hummed, clenching your muscles and he groaned loudly putting his sweaty forehead against your neck. “Fucking shit,” he cursed finally calming down and you whimpered when you felt him slip out of you, already missing the feeling of him inside of you. 

“Wow,” he panted, slipping away from you, removing the condom and tossing it in the bin. You smiled lazily, sliding down against the mirror sitting on the floor completely spent, drinking in the sight of him. 

He really was the sexiest guy you’d ever laid eyes on. Muscles in all the right places and the juiciest ass that you simply wanted to sink your teeth into, if given the opportunity - god did you hope you’d get the opportunity to do this again. 

“Wow indeed,” he looked over at you, giving you a small chuckle when he saw you on the floor. “Y’alright?” he came over with some paper towels, giving you a bashful smile as though to say ‘sorry it’s the best i’ve got’. You took it nonetheless, carefully wiping yourself clean the best you could. “That was ..absolutely mindblowing,” you confessed honestly,  and his eyes lit up, a wide smile taking shape across his pretty face that left you molten at the sight. “It was pretty fucking sensational,” he agreed easily.

A moment passed between the two of you, your head resting on his shoulder as a comfortable silence washed over you, “so, what now?” you hummed feeling how your body finally relaxed after all it had been through, both the tattooing and getting the railing of a lifetime all in the same afternoon. He chuckled softly, “I don’t know about you but this has made me famished, so, wanna grab some dinner?” his voice turned surprisingly soft and unsure which made you grin, “aren’t you a smooth one then? All shy and bashful,” you teased and he let out a laugh, rolling his eyes, “well?”

“Yeah, let’s go for some dinner,” you agreed and he got up a hell of a lot more smoothly than you, Tom having to help you up and your legs were so shaky still. “Fuck,” you cursed walking on wobbly legs - of course Tom noticed it and he smirked proudly. 

“Shut up,” you muttered and he let out a laugh, “You can’t honestly think that this won’t give me such an ego boost, you can hardly walk and that’s all me,” he wiggled his eyebrows which infuriated you, “and here I was going to say we should definitely do this again sometime, buuuut,” you trailed off and he scoffed, pulling his shirt over his head. “Oh princess, you know we’re ending up in bed together again, no doubt,” he radiated confidence as he was checked you, not so subtly, out and it made your cheeks burn as you got dressed. 

“First, you buy me beer and dinner,” he let out a groan, walking behind you and you felt his eyes on your ass, “god, marry me already,” he begged and you couldn’t help but to be helplessly enamoured by him. 

“If that’s your way of proposing, you suck,” you shrugged and he clutched at his heart, “come on now, Romeo,” with that, you waited outside for Tom to close up the parlour.

“Thanks for waiting around,” he smiled, reaching for your hand and lacing your fingers together and you felt the same jolt of electricity as before when he touched you. 

“Anytime, something tells me you’re worth waiting around for,” you laced your fingers together as the two of you walked down the street and into a pub. 

if there's people still around to read ill tag a few of you

@duskholland @tetralea @thirsttrapholland @thefallenbibliophilequote @xoluvx @greenorangevioletgrass

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Nathan Bateman.. more like.. nathan masturbateman... hah got 'em

Nathan Bateman x GN!Reader • Rating: M •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •

A/N: I am, once again, apologising for my sins.

Warnings: pining, masturbation, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 636

______________________________________

Nathan huffs through his nose, his jaw clenched tight. 

He shouldn’t be reduced to this. To jerking off sitting at his desk all because you’d knocked on his office door five minutes ago and set a mug of green and peppermint tea on his desk. Your fingers lightly grazed his when he reached for it. 

You’d smiled at his grumbled, ‘thanks’. Mistaking his low voice and hard stare for grumpiness instead of focus and absolute horror at his sudden, very obvious, but thankfully hidden under the table, arousal. 

You’d wished him a good day, your own drink in your hands as you left the room to go about your day. 

This was ridiculous. Stupid. Nonsensical. 

He moved his hand faster, trying to bring himself to his peak as quickly as possible. 

At first, he’d tried to ignore it. Tried to will it away. But after a minute of no work, and his body’s seeming need for all play he’d given up and pushed his shorts to his ankles. 

He hadn’t asked you to bring him a drink. Had never even mentioned it. You just did it all on your own. To be nice. To him. Even though there wasn’t any immediate gratification for you. Maybe you had a weird kink where being kind to others got you off. Yeah. That made sense. That was the only thing it could be.

Nathan hissed, his hips jerking upwards despite his orgasm dancing just out of reach. 

It wasn’t fair. 

The first time he’d got hard around you he hadn’t thought much of it. Why would he? It was a normal reaction. You were the first person he’d been around that wasn’t designed by himself in months. And there were subtle things he’d made note of to work into the design of his androids to make them more real. It only made sense that his body would react. 

And then it happened again, and again, and again. And again. 

To the point that all you had to do was say his name in that sweet voice of yours and he’d be a full mast in less than a second. 

Other things didn’t interest him so much anymore. Which at first had just pissed him off, but now it was starting to become worrying. He couldn’t even get off with an android’s mouth around his dick, but had cum in his pants listening to your voice when you made a video call. 

He didn’t want to think about you. Didn’t want to imagine your hand on him, how you’d slide it down his chest and- 

Nathan moans so loudly that he curses, embarrassment bubbling along his veins. 

He didn’t get embarrassed. He didn’t get flustered over anything sexual. Anything that brought pleasure. He was Nathan Fucking Bateman for god’s sake. 

But still, he bit his lip, holding back a sob as he traced his free hand down his chest and cupped his balls, imagining it was you. 

God, he was pathetic. 

He came almost the instant he squeezed, cum splattering against his desk and keyboard as he called out your name. 

“Fuck,” he groaned as aftershocks rattled through him, annoyed at the mess on his equipment. 

He hastily grabbed a couple of tissues and began to wipe up the largest spill, when there was a worried knock at his door. 

He didn’t even get a chance to say anything before you’d opened it and poked your head around. 

“Nathan, you okay? You called for me?” The fret on your face quickly turned into something else when you took in the sight of him. Softening dick in one hand, a cum soaked tissue in the other, his shorts around his ankles. 

He swallowed. For once in his life at a complete loss for words. 

“I…” You said softly. 

Nathan’s cock twitched. 

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh @romanarose @strangerhands @saturn-rings-writes @lonelyisamyw-0love @queerponcho @steven-grants-world  @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie @silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @apesarecuul @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom @alwaysmicado @mangoslushcrush @marc-spectorr @soft-girl-musings  @spxctorsslxt @novarosewood

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[mercury2venus]

CHAPTER 2

THE INTERVIEW

" So Mr. Alexander — "

" Please, call me Kyle ." He smiled

" Okay. Kyle , tell me your story."

He looked at me with surprise. " No questions already in place ?" I let out a small chuckle. " I'd rather let you lead the interview. I speak for everyone when I say we want to know everything about you and what better way to do that is to just let you speak your piece ya know ? " I say to him.

Kyle gave me a light smile before answering.

" Of course. Well I'm from here, which I know is often debated. I was born and raised in Brooklyn till I was about 10. Then we moved to London. My mother wanted to be closer to our family,” he explained

" That explains the accent" I laughed .

" Exactly, and you're from Harlem correct? " he smiled

" Yea, I am...how'd you know that? I never told anyone." I leaned back.

" You're not the only person everyone is dying to know about Ms. Ali " he replied softly. He took a small breath. " I'm doing this interview with you because you see my work, my art for what it truly is, and I hope your readers can see your view just the same."

There goes that pretty boy villain look again. Intense and he knew it. But it takes more than some pretty blue sea green eyes and killer cheekbones to have me falter. I put on my game face. " Haute Couture was once just for the upper echelon. It came to Harlem like the second coming of Jesus. We always were fly! That's expected. But you ? You – I rambled.

" Had my ear to the streets ? That's what you said in your article." He tilted his head and smirked

I laughed. " You did though, your campaign with Dapper Dan changed the game. I myself own a few pieces.”

Kyle looked at me, those eyes of his held an emotion I rarely see. Admiration. " The brown crocodile and fox fur jacket. That was released this past fall for my ready to wear collection. "

I sat there dumfounded. I haven't worn that out yet right? No. It's currently in my closet.

Kyle continued " I know because I'm the one who sent it. It was designed with you in mind Ms. Ali. Why do you think it's a one of a kind."

Was he flirting ? I'm trippin' I have to be, I thought. "Well thank you for the jacket, that was kind of you. But honey I'm not model material you know those ladies are high class uppity . I'm a simple around the way girl. I'd expect you to design with Naomi in mind. " I rattled off. Suddenly I felt self conscious. I asked for another drink and turned back to Kyle

He smirked at me almost as if he was in awe. " Maybe that's what I like. I'm not fond of the high class and uppity as you call it. And given the chance you'd be in every design I can think of Miss Ali. " he replied softly

God he was doing wonders for my self esteem.

For the rest of the night we continued the interview. He was fascinating as he was witty. A Gemini. A Prince fan. An avid reader, lover of the arts and was diagnosed with synesthesia at an early age. Which he credits for his impeccable taste in fashion and color. I checked the clock above as I heard those around us countdown. Year 2000 was coming.

" So are you ready for the new year Ms. Ali ? he smiled lightly.

" I'm ready for everything all the time Mr. Alexander and please call me Mecca."

" Alright... Mecca, What are you doing after you leave here ?"

he asked me.

I looked into his eyes as 12 struck.

I watched his gaze find a home on my lips

" Guess I'm leaving with you, K." I smirked.

"K"... he chuckled. " I like that and I'd be more than glad to have your company for just a little longer."

the year 2000 was going to be an interesting one.

[dreamy-gal-30]

What Remains - Chapter 4

Masterlist link

Please read below the cut or AO3 - enjoy!

Beta-reader: @writingsoftarnishedsilver 💜

The waiting room smelled like lavender. It was clearly designed to soothe the people who sit here, stuck in endless loops cluttering their minds. Yet it left Sebastian feeling like he was suffocating. He sat stiffly on a wooden bench with soft cushions, his knee bouncing fast enough to make the floorboards creak beneath him. He was alone in this room. For him, the silence was oppressive. No ticking clock, no faint murmurs from behind closed doors. Just the frantic pounding of his own heart. 

He could still leave.

It had taken him a whole week to even reply to the appointment confirmation which came with a mind-numbing questionnaire. Bee and Ominis had both been subtly, but not so subtly, checking in with him. Worried he would bail. Their delicate badgering worked though.

Which is why he found himself the night before the questionnaire was due, after having downed two glasses of firewhiskey, filling it out in a single sitting.

First, a list of tick box questions asking about different symptoms he might be feeling, assessing the intensity of them. They were direct and clinical. He ticked them quickly, only halting when his stomach dropped at one of them.

“Feeling bad about yourself – or that you are a failure or have let yourself or your family down.”

His hand shakily filled out the bubble marking ‘Nearly every day’ even though it didn’t seem to cut it.

Then the open-ended questions.

"What brings you to therapy?"

Parents died when I was eight. Uncle was a real bastard. Twin sister was cursed when I was fifteen, lost everything trying to fix it, ended up worse than when I started. Do you want the long version? A copy of my court hearing is attached.

"What do you want to work on?"

Take your pick.

And then he sent it off. He had no idea what to expect from there. He hadn’t foreseen a response, but he received one. A simple, handwritten note:

Thank you for sharing this with me. I look forward to meeting you, Sebastian.

Cecile Hepthorne.

Now, here he was, on the verge of walking out before his very first session, gripping the bench until his chuckles became white. 

Just as he was about to bolt, the door creaked open.

“Sebastian?”

He tensed, looking up towards the door.

The woman at the doorway wasn’t what he imagined. To be honest, he didn’t know what he pictured. Some rigid, stern-looking therapist with a clipboard? A bit like Scriber? But, Cecile looked… normal. 

Her wavy, greying brown hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, the sleeves of her knitted, beige jumper were rolled up around her elbows, and tucked loosely into her navy trousers. She had kind, brown eyes and offered him a warm smile, with laugh lines on her cheeks. 

“I wasn’t sure if you’d come in,” she remarked. 

Sebastian scoffed, shifting against the bench. “That makes two of us.”

Cecile’s lips twitched. “Well, you’re here now. Shall we?”

For a brief moment, he hesitated. But then he thought about everything that led to him sitting on his bench in the first place. 

He couldn’t keep doing this. He was tired.

So, instead of running away, he stood and slowly followed her. 

He took in the sight of her office. The office wasn’t clinical at all. He’d been in clinical places before. The hospital wing at Hogwarts, St. Mungo’s, the interrogation rooms in the Auror office. 

But this space felt cosy – lived-in.

Bookshelves crowded the walls, filled with thick, leather-bound texts, some in perfect condition and some with cracked spines and faded titles. A beige rug softened the wooden floor in the sitting area. There was a comfortable-looking, forest green couch and two burgundy, velvety armchairs, and a small table in between with a pot of tea already steaming, close to a box of tissues.

His eyes spanned the other side of the room. There was a desk in the corner and a window overlooked a small, walled garden, granting a sense of privacy which can be hard to find in London. There were a few potted plants that sat on the window sill, one of them nearly withered. 

Noticing his quick glance at the struggling plant, Cecile teased as she sat on one of the armchairs, “I’m much better at helping people than I am at keeping plants alive, I can assure you.”

Sebastian huffed out a quiet laugh as he stood rigidly by the doorway.

“Please, sit wherever you’d like. Would you like a cup of tea, Sebastian?”

He stalled, then chose the armchair across from her and nodded. Sitting on the couch felt like too much.

She flicked her wand and the teapot levitated, filling up their cups on the table, and then floated towards each of them.

Cecile crossed one leg over the other, relaxed but observant. He took a sip of his tea, and she followed by taking a sip of hers.

“Before we start,” she said, “I just want to say that I’m happy you made the decision to come. It is a big step.”

“Yeah well, my friends probably would have dragged me here if I didn’t.” He deflected, looking at a serene oil painting of the sea hung on the wall behind her.

“You still came. You have some very caring friends – Bee and Ominis, was it?”

Sebastian’s eyes found hers again. “Yeah, Bee and Ominis…” His jaw tensed. “You get a lot of 'concerned friend referrals’?”

“You’d be surprised.” Her voice was calm.

He took another sip. “And? What’d they say? Bee and Ominis.”

She tilted her head. “Enough to give me some idea of what was going on, but that’s not the same as hearing it from you. It was helpful to read what you submitted. Thank you for sending that over again.”

Sebastian nodded and then exhaled. She let the pause settle before asking, “I’d like to ask – what do you hope to get from these sessions?”

Sebastian blinked. “What do I –?” He furrowed his brows in confusion and a hint of annoyance. “Dunno. Isn’t that your job to figure out?”

Cecile didn’t react the way he anticipated. No frown, no sigh of disappointment. Just a small, thoughtful tilt of her head.

"I could figure out what I think might help," she mused, "but it’s always better if we start with what you want – what feels right to you."

Sebastian exhaled sharply through his nose, then looked down at his tea, turning the cup in his hands. What did he want?

He didn’t know how to ‘fix’ himself. Didn’t even know what fixing himself looked like. But he knew he couldn’t keep doing this.

"I guess…” He exhaled, staring at the surface of his tea and the steam rising from it. “I just don’t want to keep feeling like this.”

Cecile’s voice stayed even. "What do you mean by ‘this’?"

He let out something that might have been a laugh, but it was void of real humour. "Just…" His hand gestured vaguely as if that could fill in the words he didn’t know how to say. "Being tired. Feeling like I keep ruining things—even now. Like I can’t fix anything, no matter how much I try."

The words came easier than he thought. 

"There are moments," he muttered, "where it feels like I’m fine. And then—" He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Something happens. Something big or small reminds me of,” he swallowed, “my f-family. And then it’s like I’m right back there again – that’s what happened at the mission that Bee probably told you about – And I… I react before I even know what I’m doing. I do stupid shit. I feel like – like I can’t stop it."

His grip on the cup tightened, and he kept his eyes firmly on it, avoiding hers.

"And then Bee and Ominis have to deal with it. Again. Have to deal with me. And I wonder if today is the day they realise they don’t have to stay. And then I’ll lose them. And I’ll be –"

His throat closed around the words before he could finish. He hadn’t meant to say that.

The silence stretched for a moment, but Cecile didn’t rush to fill it. She just nodded, as if everything he said made perfect sense.

"That’s already a great place to start," she said simply.

Sebastian arched a brow. "Yeah? I don’t even know exactly what I want. Or if it’s even possible."

"That’s alright," Cecile said. "We don’t have to know exactly where we’re going just yet. We’ll figure it out as we go. But knowing you don’t want to keep feeling this way? That’s already a great step."

Sebastian watched her for a moment, as if weighing her sincerity. Then, he looked away, lifting his cup to his lips and taking a slow sip of tea. Setting it back on the low table in front of him, he crossed his arms and met her gaze.

"Right," he muttered. "This is the part where I bare my soul, yeah?"

Cecile didn’t laugh at the sarcasm. Didn’t bristle, either. 

"Only if you want to," she said. "But we can take it at whatever pace works for you. How about we start off simple?"

Sebastian blinked, not expecting that, and nodded again.

She didn’t push him too much. She asked about his work, and he offered only the essentials. She asked how he liked London, and he gave her some generic answers. When she asked if he slept well, he quickly fibbed, “Yeah, fine.”

Raising an eyebrow, she commented, “That was a quick answer.”

He smirked. “What, you want me to say I have nightmares?”

Her expression didn’t change. “Do you?”

His jaw tightened, but instead of probing further, she let the silence linger for a moment before moving on to ask about his home life, his friendships, and what he liked to do in his free time. Understanding who he was. Easing him in.

After a while, Cecile asked, “So, what made you decide to stay?”

Sebastian tapped his fingers on the armrest as he thought of the answer. “I figured I might as well see if this lives up to all the hype.”

Her lips twitched in amusement. “And? What’s the verdict?”

He huffed, leaning back. “The jury’s still out.”

Glancing at the time, she said, “That’s it for today, Sebastian. You’ve done really well. I will keep your slot open for the same time next week, but do let me know if you’d like me to cancel it.”

He exhaled, though relief eluded him, and said thank you as he stood to leave. He got to the door, but her voice gently stopped him.

“Oh and Sebastian?”

He looked back, bracing himself.

“This isn’t about erasing or changing the past,” she explained softly, “It’s about helping you live with it.”

Her words tightened his chest before he closed the door behind him.

–

Sebastian trudged up the steps to their front door. His mind was a mishmash of half-formed thoughts and feelings as he reflected on today. It wasn’t too bad, but he still felt shaken. When he reached the door, he wordlessly unlocked it and paused, taking a moment to compose himself, and then stepped into the comfort of their home.

He sluggishly slipped off his coat and hung it on the coat rack by the door, moving on to kicking his trainers off. He walked quietly through the corridor towards the living room, where he found Bee curled up on their L-shaped couch, her legs tucked beneath her, a book balanced on her knees. A mug of coffee sat on their coffee table beside her, forgotten as she lost herself in whatever she was reading.

She looked up as he entered, her eyes finding his across the room. A small smile curved her lips, but she didn't speak, didn't rush to fill the silence immediately.

"Hey," she said softly, marking her place in the book with a finger, closing it.

"Hey," he replied, his voice sounding rough even to his own ears, crossing the room. He sank down onto the couch beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed. “Ominis home?”

"Nope," she said, accentuating the 'p' while a smile spread across her face. He gave her a puzzled look. "He's apparently on a date."

His eyes widened, "What? With who?"

"He wouldn't say, the bastard. Maybe you can coax it out of him."

“I can try,” he chuckled softly. 

There was a short moment of silence between them, until Bee finally asked, "So, how was it?" her voice was gentle, giving him space to answer however he needed to.

Sebastian exhaled slowly, tilting his head back against the soft cushions. "Fine," he said after a moment. "Not as terrible as I expected." He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "She didn't make me lie on a couch like in the muggle films you showed me."

Bee chuckled softly, warming him. "No soul-baring confessions? No dramatic breakthroughs?"

"Not yet," Sebastian quipped, surprising himself. He hadn't consciously decided to go back, but it slipped out anyway. She didn’t miss it either, as he caught quick, subdued awe in her eyes.

His eyes drifted to the book resting on Bee's knees, her hand partly covering it.

There were two silhouetted figures across the cover – one in a sharp suit and an umbrella, the other in a flowing, ballroom gown, connected by a curling red ribbon that wove between them.

"What's that you're reading?" he asked, nodding toward the book.

Bee glanced down, her fingers caressing the edge of the page. "Oh, this? It's called 'The Night Circus.' Muggle novel.”

"What's it about?" Sebastian shifted, turning to face – curious, but looking to change the topic.

"Well," Bee began, her green eyes lit up the way they always did when she talked about something that captivated her, "it's about this circus that only appears at night. It arrives and leaves without warning. And it's the venue for this competition between two magicians who've been trained since they were kids for a game they don't fully understand…” 

She glanced at him with a small smile, “I just started it. It's quite beautiful so far. I think you’d like it."

Sebastian nodded, finding himself drawn to the idea. Stories had always been a refuge for him. There was something soothing about losing himself in a world that wasn't his, with problems that belonged to someone else. Plus, he was curious to see muggles’ take on magic.

"Would you..." he hesitated. "Would you read some of it to me?"

Bee's eyes softened and nodded, shifting slightly on the couch to make more room. "Here," she said, patting her lap. "You look exhausted."

Sebastian wavered for just a second, biting the inside of his lip, before giving in. He stretched out on the couch, crossing his ankles, and lowered his head onto her lap. He felt the warmth from her thighs beneath his head.

Bee opened the book, flicking back a few pages to the start. 

"The circus arrives without warning," Bee began, her voice melodic as she read. "No announcements precede it, no paper notices on downtown posts and billboards, no mentions or advertisements in local newspapers. It is simply there, when yesterday it was not."

As he listened, her free hand moved almost absently to his hair, fingers gently weaving through the dark strands and massaging his scalp. Sebastian's eyes drifted closed at the touch, a sigh escaping him. As she continued reading, describing the tents that appeared as if by magic, Sebastian found himself spellbound – not just by the story, but by Bee.

With half-lidded eyes, he traced the way the afternoon light highlighted her dark auburn hair, turning the edges and ends to copper. The way a slight furrow appeared between her brows when she reached a mysterious passage. The way her voice dipped lower for certain characters, rose higher for others. The way her plump lips moved around certain words or when she smiled at the enchanted imagery.

His breathing slowed, deepened, as her fingers continued to play with his hair, sometimes brushing against his temple and ear. The tension he'd carried home from Cecile's office melted away beneath her touch. It was replaced by a warm ache in his chest as he listened, hanging on her every word while unable to look away – something both painful and sweet. 

He couldn’t name it. It somehow frightened him too much to examine it more closely.

Instead, he allowed himself to unthinkingly sink into the moment.

–

A week later, he found himself back in that same cosy room. Only this time, his knee wasn’t bouncing quite as much, but his fingers held his tea tightly. He shrugged off questions about his week, claiming work had been busy and mentioning the book he and Bee had been reading together.

At some point, she redirected the conversation to their previous session, seeking any lingering reflections. Sebastian remained elusive, using a long sip of tea as a shield against deeper inquiry. He had definitely thought about it – more than he wanted to admit. About the things he said too easily, the things he almost said. But also about how it hadn’t been as painful as he thought it was going to be, but still left him feeling… exposed. But he was here again, wasn’t he? That had to mean something.

"How did you sleep this week?"

A quick, reflexive answer rose to his lips, the same "fine" he'd offered last time, but he caught himself.

"Some nights are better than others," he admitted, his gaze fixed on the desk in the corner of the room. A stack of parchment sat neatly organised next to a quill.

Cecile nodded slightly. “Why are some nights better than others?”

Sebastian exhaled. “I don’t know.”

She didn’t push. She just waited.

The quiet stretched and maybe that was why he kept going.

“Some nights, I manage to sleep fine,” he said, voice slow, like he was choosing his words carefully as he spoke them. “It helps when I’m physically exhausted after work.”

Cecile hummed. “Makes sense… And the nights that aren’t better?”

Sebastian clenched his jaw. “The usual. Nightmares. Wake up at three. Can’t get back to sleep without–” 

Shame rose in his gut and he averted his eyes to the newly revitalised plant from last week.

Cecile cocked her head slightly to the side, “What was that?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

She didn’t press. Instead, wordlessly, she reached for the teapot and poured him another cup after he nodded yes.

The sound of tea filling the mug was the only sound in the room aside from the faint chirping of birds outside the window.

Sebastian knew what she was doing. She wasn’t pushing, but she wasn’t moving on just yet either. He could sit here in silence if he wanted to. Wait for her to move on. But he didn’t.

“Bee helps me,” he said finally, his voice quieter now.

Cecile’s voice remained neutral but still warm. “That’s nice of her. How does she do that?”

Sebastian swallowed, his fingers twitching slightly against the armrests. “She…” He stopped, then exhaled, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

His face flushed, which only irritated him further.

“She holds me,” he muttered. “When I wake up like that. She comes over and holds me for the rest of the night – because of a nightmare. Like I’m a child.”

His voice broke ever so slightly and was laced with irritation, but it wasn’t directed at Bee – Cecile could hear that. It was directed at himself.

She nodded slightly, taking a sip of her tea before saying, “It sounds like she cares about you a lot.”

Sebastian scoffed, shaking his head. “Yeah. That’s the problem.”

Cecile raised an eyebrow. “It’s a problem that she cares?”

He exhaled exasperatedly, “It’s a problem that I need it.”

Cecile set her cup down. She studied him for a moment, then asked, “What does it mean to you to need comfort?”

His jaw clenched again.

“That I’m weak,” he said finally.

She hummed, “And what about Bee? Does she ever need comfort?”

“Yeah…” he murmured, running his fingers on the velvet of the armrest.

“And do you think she’s weak?” 

His dark eyes flashed to hers, “No, of course not!” 

Cecile nodded as if she predicted the answer. “Everyone needs comfort sometimes, Sebastian. Where do you think you learned that? That you’re weak for needing it?”

Sebastian's throat felt tight. His pulse kicked up slightly like his body was already trying to outrun the question.

He swallowed, shifting in his seat, his grip tightening on the warm ceramic of his mug. A sudden pressure built in his chest, something that made the room feel a little smaller than before. His shoulders were tense, nearing his neck and ears. His heart drummed too fast, his breaths growing shallower. His fingers tightened against the cup almost painfully, and clenched into a fist against his shaky knee, as though he could shake off the feeling like lacewing flies were fluttering on his skin.

“Sebastian.”

His head snapped up. Her voice was steady, grounding. Not urgent, not concerned–just there.

“Take a double breath for me.”

Sebastian blinked. “A what?”

“A double breath,” Cecile repeated, her voice calm. “In through the nose, once. Then hold. Then again before you exhale very slowly.”

He frowned, “I’m breathing fine.”

She tilted her head, “Please try it. In through your nose. One breath–then another before you let it out.”

Sebastian rubbed a hand down his face and noticed that his pulse hadn’t settled.

So he did what she asked.

Inhale–once.

Then again, a second sip of air before exhaling slowly.

It felt… strange. Forced. But the second breath stretched something tight inside of him, loosened it just slightly.

He tried again.

And again.

And he could feel it–his chest opening up, his hands unclenching, his body releasing some tension and stilling, his pulse slowing from a frantic beat to something more manageable.

Cecile waited, watching him carefully, not speaking until he was ready.

When he finally exhaled again, she said, “That’s it.”

Sebastian mumbled, “That was weird.”

Cecile’s lips twitched into a gentle smile. “It helps, though, doesn’t it?”

He swallowed. “...Yeah.”

She let a brief silence pass before asking, “Did you notice anything just now?”

Sebastian frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

She gestured lightly toward him. “About your mind, your body–anything that changed as you got anxious.”

He hated this part. He considered brushing it off, but… something about the way she asked made him want to at least try.

His brows furrowed slightly. “I don’t know.”

“Take your time,” Cecile said softly.

Sebastian exhaled, rolling his shoulders. “My… hands. They were really tight. My skin was tingling.” He flexed his fingers as if realising it for the first time. “My chest felt… tight too. Like it wasn’t getting enough air. My shoulders kind of hurt. And my head–it felt like everything was moving too fast to catch a thought properly.”

She nodded approvingly. “That’s good, Sebastian.”

He grimaced. “Good?”

“It means you noticed.”

Sebastian scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “Right. Noticing things...”

She smiled. “Noticing means you can do something about it next time. Double breaths help because when anxiety rises, your body thinks it’s in danger. That second inhale tells your nervous system that you’re safe.”

He absorbed that for a moment. He wasn’t sure if he believed all of it, but he had to admit that it worked.

Cecile studied him for a moment, then asked, “Would you like to continue with what we were talking about?”

He gulped and shook his head, “Not today.”

She didn’t press. She simply nodded. “That’s alright.”

And then, with the kind of fluidity that made it seem like this was always where the conversation was going, she said, “You mentioned earlier you were reading The Night Circus with Bee.”

Sebastian's shoulders eased a little more, “Yeah.”

She tilted her head slightly. “How’s it going?”

He told her all about it. The corner of his mouth lifted unconsciously as he described their reading sessions. The tight lines around his eyes relaxed, his posture easing back into the armchair rather than perching on its edge. His hands now rested comfortably on the armchair. He shared how sometimes Ominis joins them, relaxed on their armchair, listening with closed eyes but never falling asleep. He didn't realise that for several minutes, he'd been speaking openly and not carefully.

Cecile observed the transformation with quiet attentiveness, noting how his voice softened when he mentioned Bee's name, a knowing, but subtle smile growing on her face.

She eyed the small clock mounted on the wall behind Sebastian. "We're almost out of time," she remarked.

"Yeah?" Sebastian replied, unsure whether he felt relieved or annoyed at how quickly the time had slipped by. He grabbed his mug, finishing off the last sip of tea.

She gave a brief nod. "But before you leave, I have some homework for you."

His face twisted into a scowl, though it lacked any real bite.

She chuckled lightly. "I promise, it’s nothing too strenuous."

He exhaled sharply as he adjusted his hold on his now-empty mug. "Alright, what kind of misery are you about to serve me?"

Ignoring his dramatics, she continued, "I want you to be aware of when you slip back into that state."

His mouth pressed into a firm line. "What state?"

He knew what she was talking about. He just didn’t want to acknowledge it.

She continued, gesturing subtly toward him. “Like earlier, when your chest tightened, when your hands clenched. When your mind started racing.”

He nodded, “And?” 

“That’s it. Just notice it.”

His frown deepened. “That’s all the homework?”

“That’s part of it,” she corrected. “And when you do notice it, I would like you to find a way to comfort yourself, like using the double breath.”

Sebastian nodded once, slow and measured. He wasn’t sure if he liked the idea, but it wasn’t the worst thing she could’ve asked him to do.

Cecile then added, “There’s one more thing.”

Sebastian groaned dramatically with a hint of a smirk, tilting his head back against the chair. “Merlin’s sake, there’s more?”

“I want you to notice when you avoid something,” she said calmly.

At that, he stiffened; his fingers, which had been loosely wrapped around his cup, curled around it tightly. 

“And what, I’m supposed to just sit there, basking in my self-awareness?” he muttered, unable to hide the edge in his voice.

“No. I just want you to write it down.”

“Write it down?” Sebastian asked with an annoyed tone.

She nodded. “Not to confront it. Not to act on it. Just… record it. When it happens. What you were avoiding. Nothing more.”

Sebastian did not like the sound of that.

“Not sure I see the point,” he said carefully, watching her reaction.

Cecile shrugged. “There doesn’t have to be a point. Not yet. But humour me.”

After a long moment, he sighed. “Fine.”

–

The room was surrounded by a hazy twilight, its air perfumed with the intoxicating scent of violets. 

Soft, muted sounds filled the space–staggered breaths mingling with almost inaudible moans, all synchronising with the echoed meeting of skin. His body moved of its own accord, driven by a raw, aching need, his bare hips meeting soft inner thighs.

He groaned against the blurred nape of her neck, his lips brushing over smooth, glistening skin, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses. Doing whatever he could to keep her whimpering around him. 

Her legs were wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, anchoring him and meeting his thrusts. His chest pressed against hers, the softness of her skin and her firm, pebbled nipples. 

He was so close, so completely enveloped in her, sensing her need for him as much as his for her.

He heard his name escape her lips – a husky, muffled moan that lingered in the air. Something tugged at the edges of his consciousness, a hint of familiarity that he couldn't quite grasp.

His movements faltered slightly, a brief hesitation as his hips continued to grind against hers, pulling almost completely out before slowly sinking back in – making her gasp and clench around him. His hands, once interlocked with hers and pinned by her head, wandered down her hips, gripping her as he thrust more languidly and let his head dip from her neck, against her collarbone.

Her hands found his ribs, skimming upward and curling at the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair in a way that felt achingly right and recognisable. She wasn’t grasping onto him in mindless, fevered lust. 

She was holding him.

She pulled him closer, her touch soft yet insistent, guiding his kisses up her neck to her ear. One of his hands moved from her hip, gliding over her curves, ribs, and up her side, until his fingers tangled in her hair. He tugged gently, evoking a hoarse cry as her body began to tremble with release beneath him.

Everything was blurred. The feeling of soft skin, the quiet, breathy sounds filling the space between them. He couldn’t see her, not really. But as he was kissing and nipping at the lobe of her ear, he noticed that his fingers were entwined in dark auburn strands — snapping her into focus.

His chest tightened and before he could fully comprehend, she breathed, her voice soft and pleading,

"Look at me, Seb."

Those same fingers in his hair led him from her neck, drawing him upwards until their foreheads pressed together, noses brushing, breath mingling, as she pulled him closer with her legs and he sunk into her, to the hilt.

Blissed-out green eyes met his in an unbreakable gaze.

And then, the scene cracked down around him.

Sebastian woke up with a sharp, startled inhale. His heart pounded, his skin was damp, and for a moment, he didn’t know where he was. But he knew that the smell of violets followed him here. 

The remnants of his dream clung to him, like her legs wrapped around him, the faint sounds of her breathless moans, the heat of her skin, the way she had held him so tenderly, so completely– 

Then, reality settled in and he felt her – not a dream, but in the flesh. Her head was tucked into the crook of his neck as he held her, her arm draped over his waist, while her leg rested on one of his. 

The rise and fall of her breathing was soft and steady.

Sebastian swallowed thickly in between heavy breaths, shutting his eyes for a moment, desperately trying to ground himself. But his mind was suddenly confronted by another reality: the unmistakable, insistent pressure between his legs. His entire body flushed as he shifted slightly, trying in vain to will it away before she woke up and–

“Mmph,” she murmured, causing him to freeze. She stirred with a sleepy inhale, shifting slightly against him.

“Seb?” Her voice was thick with sleep, her breath warm against his skin.

He silently cursed under his breath. Clenching his jaw, he tried desperately to calm himself before she noticed. Quietly, he pressed his palm against his growing arousal under the covers, in an attempt to hide it, biting back a groan to avoid drawing her attention.

Bee lifted her head slightly, her hand tightening against his stomach for just a second before she lifted up enough to see him. 

“You okay?” she murmured, voice still groggy but with a touch of concern.

Sebastian swallowed hard, staring at the ceiling. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice rough. “Just… woke up too fast.”

She furrowed her brows, fingers grazing against his chest absentmindedly.

“Bad dream?” she probed.

Sebastian exhaled through his nose. He couldn’t exactly tell her. Couldn’t explain how his subconscious had dragged him through something so intimate, something so raw – something he had no right to want from her.

So instead, he just murmured, “Something like that.” 

He shifted onto his side, turning away from her, and she followed suit, her arm still wrapped around him, her warmth pressed against his back. He could feel her watching him intently.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” she asked, voice quiet, gentle.

Merlin, no. 

There was no reality in which he would ever speak this into existence.

But out loud, all he said was, “No. It’s okay.”

He sensed her nod against his back. With a slow exhale, she relaxed, her body moulding easily against his once again.

Silence settled between them, but Sebastian’s mind was far from still.

He was at war with himself.

Desire still lingered in him, searing him with that dream. The one he couldn't afford to think about. The one he was trying so hard to shove back into the recesses of his mind. His body still traitorously ached from it. Her dreamlike touch still burned against his skin, even though she hadn't touched him like that.

Because that wasn’t what this was.

She wasn’t his to dream about. She wasn’t here for that.

She was here because he had woken up shaking again, the second time that week. Because she had heard him. Because she had come to him like she always did. And here she was, curled against him, grounding him, comforting him. Holding him together. And what had his mind done in return? Twisted her kindness into something–

He clenched his jaw, shame pressing in his ribs.

He told himself it was just a dream – dreams weren’t real, he couldn’t control them. They weren’t his fault. But that was a weak excuse, and he knew it. Just like that time in the shower not too long ago.

Some part of him had wanted it, had conjured it from his own mind. And worse, some part of him still wanted it, even now, even as she lay beside him.

The guilt gnawed at him.

He should pull away. He should put distance between them, roll onto his back, shake her off, something.

But he couldn’t.

Instead, he lay there, rigid and restless, while her arm remained draped over him, fingers curled slightly into his shirt as if even in sleep, she refused to let him slip away.

His throat tightened.

Why?

He wasn’t easy to care about. He wasn’t good at being cared for. He fucks up. He drives people away. He’d made a mess of everything ten years ago. And yet, she was still there.

Hasn’t she had enough of his shit by now?

“…Why do you do this?” he found himself asking, voice quieter than he meant.

Bee let out a small, sleepy hum. “Do what?”

“This.” The word felt too small for what he meant. He swallowed hard, trying to force the rest out. “Holding me. When I…” He couldn’t finish it. When I wake up shaking? When I don’t deserve it? When I wish I didn’t need it but I do?

There was a pause. Then, as if it were the simplest thing in the world, Bee murmured, “Because I care about you, you idiot.”

Sebastian didn’t move. He couldn’t. He felt like if he moved, he might shatter into pieces. 

She fell back asleep not long after, her breathing even and steady against the back of his neck.

His own body, mercifully, had calmed down enough that he didn’t have to worry about humiliating himself further.

So – very slowly and carefully, he turned to face her.

He found himself holding his breath. Her arm still lay draped over his waist, her body warm against his. Her hair had been mussed into a mess in a way that he adored. He travelled from her sleep-tousled fringe down to her slightly parted lips as she breathed deeply. His eyes lingered there, then continued their path. 

The blanket had slipped enough to reveal a few freckles were scattered across her shoulders and the sight of them stirred the quiet urge to trace them with his fingertips. His eyes drifted lower before he could stop himself – down to the soft rise of her chest, the way her top clung to her as she lay on her side. His breath hitched and he tore his eyes away, jaw tightening.

Get a grip.

But something inside him ached.

His fingers twitched where they rested against the sheets as if caught between restraint and surrender.

Carefully, tentatively, he moved closer. As if sensing him in her sleep, Bee shifted, closing the space between them. Only then did he gently reach out and pull her against his chest, wrapping his arm around her. Her nose grazed against his collarbone, her fingers lightly clutching onto the material of his shirt.

She sighed softly, instinctively tucking herself against him, as if she knew, on some unconscious level, that he needed it. It almost felt like she needed it too. 

Sebastian shut his eyes, his throat tight, his heart pounding.

He wasn’t ready for whatever this was. 

He didn’t even fully understand what this was.

But for just a little while, he let himself pretend everything was fine. 

Previous chapter

[occatorcreator]

Second Chances

Links - 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

3 - Friendship Forged

After the battle, Red, Yellow, Blue, and Green make friends with Purple, in spite of Purple's own doubts getting the better of him.

One of the villagers insisted that Red stay for a check up.

“If what you describe to me is true,” they told Purple, “then there may be possible side effects of her possession. I’d like to make sure she’s fit to go home.”

“Fine then,” Purple said, but struggled to hide his grumbling, “but don’t blame me if these ‘guests’ don’t wish to stay.”

“Oh, please, when they see the welcome feast we’re preparing, they’ll want to stay!” The villager said, nodding.

“Feast?” Purple echoed, “hold on, what’s this about a feast?”

“To celebrate your victory over Herobrine and the Wither!”

As the villager predicted, the stick figures were more willing to stay with the prospect of a large meal. It took some convincing to let the Villagers take Red away for a check up.

“Relax, my villagers mean you no harm,” Purple said.

“I know,” Blue said. She lingered by the window, leaning to look inside the hut. “I just hope they don’t discover something else wrong.”

“Hovering won’t help,” Yellow said, patting Blue’s shoulder. They glanced at Purple. “Say, uh, Purple was it? Do you mind if we help with the cooking?”

“Knock yourselves out,” Purple said, waving dismissively.

Yellow smiled and bowed. “Thanks! Come on, Blue!” Yellow held Blue by the shoulders and ushered her away from the window.

Only Green remained, fiddling with the Minecraft icon.

“Don’t you want to join them?” Purple asked.

“In a bit. I’m just thinking how we’re going to get home given that portal is knocked out,” Green said. He looked around in case the villagers listened in. “You know that creature is still out there?”

“You mean the Wither? I’m well aware of that,” Purple huffed, “give it some time, it probably will float off in the Nether elsewhere. It’s a large place.”

Green shot Purple a skeptical look. Purple kept his face as neutral as possible to appear firm. 

“Plus, if that way is blocked for you,” Purple said, “then I can show you how to use that block to make a portal home.”

Green regarded the icon in his hands nervously, eyes flicking to the window.

“And I’m certain that the spirit that possessed her has been purged from it,” Purple said, “just hold onto the icon for her if you’re still worried about it.”

Green’s shoulders visibly relaxed and he smiled at Purple.

“Thank you, for everything,” Green said.

“Don’t mention it,” Purple said, head lifting as he basked in the gratitude of a fellow stick figure around his age. He forgot how nice that feeling was.

“So!” Green put the Minecraft icon away. “How did you make this place? Or did the Minecraft people make these?”

“You mean the villagers?” Purple asked, finding himself smirking. “This was a joint effort between me and them, though my castle was…”

And, like that, he found himself just chatting nonstop as he led Green through a tour of the village. Talking was rather easy, much to Purple’s surprise. He felt like a wise sage, imparting knowledge to a curious and willing pupil. Green wasn’t the only one with questions; they ran into Blue and Yellow while cooking, and they too decided to follow Purple around with their own set of questions.

Purple quickly learned that these three had developed preferences in the single day they had played Minecraft. Green had a keen eye for design and building, offering way too many suggestions to improve Purple’s buildings. Blue favored farming and cooking and really wished to learn about potions, while Yellow took to redstone and suggested helpful contraptions for the village. They were earnest, sheltered, and nothing like the jaded teens at school.

I wonder if these dorks could even survive high school, Purple thought in amusement.

It did leave the question about what Red would be interested in, had she not been possessed. And with thoughts returned to their friend, the three became anxious.

“I’m sure they’re done by now,” Purple said, leading them back toward the direction of the hut.

As they retraced their steps, they spotted Red in the middle of a crude animal pen, petting the cows and the pigs.

“Aw, these ones are so cute,” she cooed. She looked toward an empty space, grinning as if she was looking at someone. “Which one’s your favorite?”

“Um, who is she talking to?” Yellow asked, scratching his head.

“Spirits,” the villager beside the gate said, “or what she believes to be spirits.”

“Excuse me? She’s hallucinating?” Green balked so loudly that it startled Red.

“Hallucinating?” She repeated, looking worryingly from her friends to the empty air.

“Oh, don’t fret about it. Side effects are to be expected after a possession from Herobrine, and luckily this one is minor,” the villager said. They went up to Red with a metal bucket. They milked a cow and gave the bucket to Red. “Take a regiment of 3 buckets of milk daily for a week, and the symptoms should fade.”

Red looked down at the bucket, frowning.

“And if seeing spirits still persists after that, come see me again,” the villager added, patting her back. “And no skipping a dosage, got it?”

“We’ll hold her to it,” Blue said.

The group left Purple’s side to crowd around Red, chittering and asking of her health. Purple gave them some distance, but couldn’t help but listen in.

Spirits, huh, Purple thought, I didn’t see any online guides mentioning that. I heard of Herobrine, but he wasn’t in the game, not really. Did Alana mod the game?

His chest tightened at the thought. If something could be added to the game that could make people see “ghosts”, then why couldn’t someone add a way to stop aging?

Purple’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a caldron being hit.

“Soup’s on!” A villager shouted, “Eat up!” 

“Oh boy, I’m starving!” Red said. She gave the cow one last head pat before vaulting over the fence. “Last one there’s a rotten egg!”

“Not fair! You're cheating!” Green exclaimed and, with a burst of energy, he, Yellow, and Blue came running after her in an impromptu race.

She got her good cheer back quickly, Purple thought, blinking as he walked up the stairs after them. A dining table was constructed in the center during the cooking, filled with all the Minecraft dishes available. Of course the villagers made nice color-coded seats for their guests of honor, with a throne at the end for Purple. 

Purple, trying to shake the creeping funk that threatened to ruin the mood, strutted to his spot and sat down with Green and Blue at his right and Red and Yellow at his left. Villagers took their own seats further down, passing bowls around.

“Wow, these are so good!” Red exclaimed as she took a bite of bread.

“Yeah, you were missing out from the tour earlier,” Blue said, “Purple’s got a nice place!”

“Lord Purple,” a villager shouted, “could you and your guests tell us all about your battle today?”

Purple took a sip of water and nodded. “Well, I was going into the Nether to collect some… resources, when I heard a sound…”

From there, the group partook in stories, questions, and then just silly jokes and anecdotes. Purple quickly learned that Red was the clown of the group, quick to make a pun and run her mouth. She had a soft spot for the animals too, avoiding most of the meats aside from fish upon reading its descriptions. 

The conversation was lively and Purple found himself chuckling at some of their antics.

“You gotta teach me potion making!” Blue said as Purple corked open another water bottle.

“Maybe next time,” Purple promised. He raised his glass. “A toast then?”

The others raised their glasses.

“To a new friendship!”

The four beamed back at him.

“‘To a new friendship!’” They shouted in unison, clinking their glasses together.

This was nice. Pleasant. For the first time in a long while, Purple felt truly joyful.

I could lead them on adventures and teach them all the tricks I’ve learned, he thought. Their curiosity and joy of the game, despite the harrowing ordeal, was infectious, and Purple wanted to recapture that feeling again. Just like when he and mom were building the castle and —

“Be grateful you never met him. He’d be horrible to you too.”

Chestnut’s words came to mind without warning. Like a thunderstrike, his good mood vanished in a puff of smoke so painful and sudden that it startled him. He froze, the scene before him slowing to a crawl and forcing him to observe it with fresh eyes. Delicious food turned to ash in his mouth and looked just as appetizing. The festive crowd turned from bubbly to oppressive and noisy.

The stick figures smiled and laughed with each other as they toasted, but Purple now found their laughter annoying and smiles too wide. When Green looked at Purple and saw the visible change of mood, his smile faded. 

“You alright?”

No, Purple scowled at Green’s concern. 

Out loud he said. “I’m tired,” he said, “I need to retire for the night.”

He left the table, pushing past the villagers coming by with more food.

“Lord Purple?”

“Purple, wait!” Green called out.

“I’m not in the mood. I’m tired,” Purple hissed. And it was true. It was like he was drained of battery. His limbs were stiff, and inventory items weighed him down with every step. 

How could he partake in joy like this? How could he deserve to have good meals when his mother will never eat with him ever again? How could he be proud of his accomplishments when was too weak to fight Red’s possession the “proper” way? How could he bother to make friends with them when all his friendships crumble to dust in the end?

“But, we need to go home, remember?” Green pointed out.

“Unless you want them to stay the night?” a villager added, unhelpfully.

Right, Purple did not want them to stay. He marched back and stuck his hand out to Green for the Minecraft icon. He climbed to a distant spot from his castle and made the portal frame, lit it, and tossed the icon back to Green.

“When you enter, you need to make another portal in this formation,” Purple said, “when you do, light the frame just like I showed you, and it will take you to where you need to go. Now, if you don’t mind.”

He marched past Green and Red, ignoring how the group stared at him as he retreated to his throne room.

Just get away. Get away.

When he collapsed on his bed, he instantly fell into a dreamless sleep.

=

“Lord Purple?”

Purple groaned and waved the villager away.

“Let your lord sleep,” he grumbled, turning away.

“My lord, you’ve been holed up in your castle for a month,” the villager said, “and we haven’t seen much of you. You’ve not fallen ill, have you?” 

“‘m not sick,” Purple said, “I’m just tired.”

“You’ve been tired for a very long time.”

Purple buried his head in the pillow, feeling terrible. It wasn’t like the villagers were wrong; this was the worst fugue he experienced since his mother’s burial. The sour end to the feast with those stick figures ended up coinciding with his birthday week. The realization that he was another year older, with only himself and a bunch of video game NPCs to celebrate it, left him with no energy to leave his bed. His mother wouldn’t be there to see him, to share gifts and spend time with him. He had no friends his age to invite, and thinking of those stick figures he met only hammered in how absolutely alone he was. 

As such, he spent his birthday laying in bed, crying. He knew he was breaking his promise to his mother to take care of himself, but how could he keep going knowing he had a future of more lonely birthdays and solitary holidays?

What's the point of trying anymore, Purple thought, if I am always going to feel this way?

“You also have visitors here,” the villager cut through his ruminating thoughts, “They want to see you.”

That got Purple to pull himself up from his bed. It was most slow and painful, as his fatigued body struggled to prop himself up. He shot a confused look at the villager.

“Who’d be visiting me at this hour?”

The villager quirked an eyebrow in return. “Your friends from the Wither battle.”

“Wait, they came to visit?” Purple asked, eyes widening further as he straightened up. 

As if on queue, the door to his chambers knocked wildly.

“Hey, Purple, it’s us!”

Purple let out a groan, recognizing Green’s chipper voice. 

Why are they back? He thought, covering his eyes, it’s been a month! I thought they'd forgotten about me…

“Can you send them away?” Purple groaned.

“I will try,” the villager sounded unsure. Purple heard them walk back, opening the door, only for the door to be slammed open as the gang burst through the door.

“The hell?” Purple jumped to his feet, shocked to find his poor villager flattened by the doorframe and four eager stick figures crowding before him.

“Rise and shine!” Red greeted, waving.

“What are you all doing here?” Purple snapped. He didn’t care for decorum at the moment, all he felt was irritation at the sight of their chipper faces.

They at least looked sheepish about their intrusion.

“Well, we wanted to follow up on you,” Yellow pointed out. “Sorry we took so long! We tried earlier, but your villagers said you were too sick for visitors.”

“We sent them a soup recipe for you!” Red said “Did you like it?”

Purple nodded even though he didn’t know what either of them was talking about. The month cooped up in the castle was a blur, and he had no memory of them visiting or eating any soup. Or much of anything, come to think of it.

“Plus, you said you’ll teach us how to brew potions,” Blue said, continuing on, “remember?”

“Yes, but,” Purple started, “it’s been awhile…?”

“I know. We would have visited a little more,” Green said, “but now we’re here. And you’re…” he paused as he actually took a good look at Purple and his room. “…feeling better, I hope?”

Purple shrugged. “Sort of,” he grumbled, “but I can’t teach you today.”

“Are you still under the weather?” Red asked, having the gall to sound so down. All four visibly deflated, their eagerness fading into sadness and concern. 

The sight of it made Purple both rankle from and clamor for their attention. A dual desire for their concern twisted and tumbled with the urge to be left alone to continue sleeping. He really didn’t know which he should follow.

“I’m not sick anymore, really. It’s more so that I’m… out of supplies,” he lied, “I didn’t get any time to stock up. Given that I was in bed for a good while.”

To that, they perked up. Green grinned widely at Purple. “We could get you some!”

Wow, Green just offered a nice way to get them off his back, but he did still need to play it up. 

Purple turned away, shaking his head. “I can’t ask you to do that, it’s such a long list,” he exaggerated.

“No problem!” Yellow said, “I bet you could give us 100 items and we’d get it all to you in under ten minutes.”

“Is that so?” Purple remembered their conversations and his observations. These four were rather competitive; they loved to boast and heckle. Oh, this would be very easy.

“Very well, I bet I can add a little incentive,” he said, pulling out his list of potion ingredients from a chest nearby his bed. “This is what I need. The first one to come back here with all the items on this list will be the lucky one I tutor in the secret art of potion brewing.”

There it was, the manic look in each and everyone of them. These were sticks determined to win.

“Got it memorized?”

The group nodded in unison.

“Then chop chop, timer’s ticking,” Purple said, clapping.

At that they proceeded to scramble out the door with shocking violence. Yellow and Green were elbowing each other out the door, while Blue sharply shoved Red into the villager just as they pried themselves free of the door.

“Sorry!” Red bowed before tearing off, “I’ll get you for this Blue!”

There, Purple thought, dusting his hands and laying back on his pillow, gets them out of my hair for a bit.

“Here’s everything!”

Blue dumped a bunch of potion ingredients. Given that Purple’s inventory was full, the items piled on him, floating, but the sound of her entrance shocked him out of his doze.

“Uh? Huh?” Purple blinked, looking around for the others. “How did you-?”

“I may have pulled some tricks on my opponents,” Blue said, rubbing her arm bashfully. “Honorably, of course!”

“Honorable trickery?” Purple said, eying each item. “That’s an oxymoron.”

“Look, if I happened to dare Red to tame a wild horse or ask Yellow what he would make with glowstone dust,” Blue said, “it’s not my fault they got distracted and wasted their time elsewhere.”

The sour mood eased as he smirked at Blue for her cunning. How unexpectedly sly! Maybe he was too quick to brush them off earlier.

“And what of Green?”

To that Blue paused, looking rather embarrassed. “I told him he forgot to grab ender pearls for the ingredient list,” she said.

“Lying?” Purple let out an exaggerated gasp of horror. “Color me shocked, I didn’t think that would qualify as an ‘honorable trick.’”

“Yeah, but-”

“I knew you were full of it!” Green snapped, appearing suddenly. He marched up, pointing a finger at Blue while looking heavily bruised, no doubt from his scraps with angry Endermen.

“What? I thought it was true!” Blue whistled.

“Bullcrap!” Green tossed his stuff down. “Purple, you can’t let this cheat get the win!”

“I dunno,” Purple said, “I didn’t give any rules on how you were to get it, just to get it.”

Green gave the most amusing irritated reaction. Purple needed to stifle the laughter bubbling in his throat. 

But then, Green’s shock turned to scrutiny, then into a smug smile.

“Well, she can’t win anyways,” Green said, pointing at the pile, “there’s no nethwart!”

“What?” Blue sifted through the pile and sure enough, no netherwart. “But I collected it- oh no!”

She gasped, slapping her hands over her mouth.

“What?” Purple asked.

Of all the things Blue said next, Purple wasn’t prepared for it.

“I ate it all!”

“You what?” Green shouted.

But Purple couldn’t speak, for he fell off his bed and onto the floor cackling.

=

Purple didn’t know how these four stick figures wormed their way into his life, but they managed to carve a space, bit by bit.

At first it was only a once a month visit. Sometimes, they bumped into each other while out in the Minecraft world; other times, they showed up randomly on Purple’s desktop. Then it became every two weeks. Then once a week.

Alana quickly caught wind of new stick figures visiting her desktop unannounced, and she was annoyed with Purple. She instated a rule that visits were to be strictly over the weekends and that they were not to touch her files. The gang were amenable to this and ended up visiting Saturday or Sunday to meet up, trade with the villagers, and play with Purple on the desktop.

One day, Purple was invited to visit the color gang’s computer. It was initially to judge some impromptu build completion, but ever since, Purple ended up visiting their desktop every Wednesday to hang out or play games. Windows was a different experience than Purple’s Mac. For one, their Animator, aka Alan Becker, was more present on the computer than Alana was, but he was fine with Purple visiting whenever he felt like. Sometimes he joined in their play, other times he just kept to himself and didn’t bother them much.

It took a long time for Purple to admit this to himself, but he was glad that he became friends with  Red, Blue, Green and Yellow.

That didn’t mean it was all sunshine and roses.

The four were hyper competitive and loved to fight. Way too much, in Purple’s opinion. They got up in arms over such little things. Even Blue, who opted for taking a peaceful approach when possible, was quick to join in a fray. Purple found himself either stomping out potential skirmishes or letting them tussle it out of their system. Purple wondered if Navy had met them, would he try to coax him to be more like his friends?

The thought of their similarities to Navy plagued him. It didn’t help that of the four, he and Green got into a lot of frequent clashes when they were out adventuring. Green seemed to be a de facto leader of the group, and haughty. Purple found Green the most vexing; some days he went along with Purple’s ideas, and other times Green wouldn’t stop nitpicking them.

And Purple learned the hard way that if Green was crossed enough, he would raise a sword against him.

They were in the middle of making a build, Purple and Green already started with an argument on either building a pagoda or a castle. When neither could settle the dispute, Blue suggested building on the castle on one side and the pagoda on the other. That worked for a bit, until Purple discovered that Green’s castle cut on his side where his pagoda should be. Purple tried to mine down the walls to make room, causing Green to come by to stop him. They argued and argued, only stopping when Green pointed his sword at Purple.

“Green! No!” Blue scolded, forcing Green’s arm down. Purple could see Green’s arm strain, glare not leaving Purple’s for a moment.

How that glare reminded him of Navy…

“That’s it, we’re done here,” Purple said, dropping his materials and marching away.

“Wait, where’re you going?” Red asked as Purple pushed past her.

“Home. And don’t bother coming this weekend or any other weekend after that,” Purple snapped.

“Wait- why?” Yellow balked.

The question, so simple and yet so stupid that Purple had to stop and look back at them.

“Why? You raise a sword at me and ask me why?” Purple yelled, “I’m not going to be friends with people who’ll raise a sword against me over a stupid build!”

The gang looked between him and the others in complete horror and shock. Green stared at his sword, slowly blinking as though it had only occurred to him what he had done.

“But… fighting is part of the game!” Red said. “I mean, we’ve fought with swords before, and you weren’t bothered by that?”

“I WAS bothered!” Purple said, “You have no idea how much it bothers me with how violent you all get! You guys are on the cusp of violence half the time, and it’s scary!”

Red, Blue, and Yellow exchanged an unreadable look. Then, Blue tentatively stepped up, hands clasped. 

“Why didn’t you let us know that it bothered you before?”

“It was obvious!” Purple snapped, stomping the ground. He deflated a bit when he saw Blue flinch back. “It was.”

There was a beat of silence before Blue continued. “We didn’t notice, honest! I know we’re easy to rile up, but if you told us that this bothered you so much we’d try harder to do better.” She rubbed her arm. “We probably could have avoided this if you had.”

“Plus, don’t let yourself off the hook,” Yellow added, “I mean, you kept riling up Green over this build instead of dropping it, and talking over him whenever he said anything.”

Purple rankled and pointed a finger at Yellow. “So? That doesn’t mean I deserve to have a sword pointed at me!”

“I’m not saying that,” Yellow said, raising his hands in defense. “I'm just being honest about how I feel- you dislike how we fight each other, and I dislike that you aren't clear about how you feel. It didn’t need to come to this point.”

“We’re your friends,” Red said, though with a questioning lift to her tone, “surely you should feel safe enough to tell us these things?”

No, I don’t, Purple thought, but he couldn’t get himself to say it out loud. He hated that, right now, he was proving them right. Hated that he always felt the need to clam up and hide his true feelings. Hated that he was being put on the spot. Hated how nervous and hurt they looked when he kept saying nothing.

He looked to Green, who had not said a word the entire time. Green stared down at his sword, muted and contemplating. When he looked up to see Purple’s gaze on him, he let out a nervous sigh and dropped the sword to the ground. The others turned to him upon hearing the clatter.

“Green?” Blue asked, but Green didn’t say anything. Very slowly he walked up to Purple, stopping only when Purple felt his foot move a step back.

“I’m sorry,” Green said, “I let my temper get the better of me. I shouldn’t have raised my sword at you over an argument over a build.”

Purple looked down at their feet. “You are aware that could have hurt me,” he said, quietly, “Killed me if you were careless.”

“I-” Green blanched, “No, I didn’t think of that. I’m sorry for that. And I’m sorry I didn’t know our fighting bothered you that much.”

Purple looked down at Green. His eyes were hidden, and his normally confident stance subdued and ashamed. Whatever vindictive thought Purple had about leaving or telling him off vanished.

I don’t want to be like my mom, making excuses for Navy, Purple thought, but I’m not doing myself a favor in ditching them.

He should give them a second chance.

“And Green? I’m sorry too, for not explaining how I felt earlier,” Purple said, looking at Blue, Red, and Yellow too, “let me be honest now: I don’t want you to fight like that. Swords and TNT shouldn’t be drawn or thrown over something as trivial as builds. I don’t want to ever feel like I’m going to get hurt if I did something wrong.”

“We will work on that, starting right now,” Yellow stepped up, “No matter how difficult it is, we’ll do better! We won’t fight like that again.”

“Promise?” Purple asked.

Yellow nodded and Blue stepped up. “Yeah, we promise.”

“But you’ll need to give us grace,” Red said, “We like sparring, but we’ll spar only when it’s appropriate- not when we’re angry.”

“Well, a spar’s different than a fight,” Purple said, “I just… I’ve seen what fighting like that leads to, arguments and fists.” His head drifted down. “It hurts people more than you think.”

It was the closest to voicing his mother and father’s whole affair to them. He should tell them, but he wasn’t ready. Not yet.

“Then, can we still hang out?” Green asked. He blinked rapidly, and Purple saw tears forming.

Purple looked down at Green, acknowledging the hopeful look in his eyes. 

“Yeah,” Purple nodded and opened his arms for a hug. “See you on Saturday.”

He wasn’t prepared to be ensnared in a group hug as the others joined Green in hugging them, but their embrace felt comforting if a bit tight.

I just hope I’m not repeating my mom’s mistake.

[cozy-the-overlord]

Free Fall

Summary: Tony Stark arranges for an Avengers Teambuilding Day at a local amusement park. Loki had been hoping to avoid it -- he's had enough thrills to last a lifetime, he has no desire to seek out more -- but you and your endearing enthusiasm for roller coasters convince him to come along. However, the free fall drop tower you start out with turns out to be a bit more thrilling than he bargained for.

Word Count: 3,482

Pairing: Loki x Gender Neutral Reader

A/N: Drags self out of the grave and awkwardly waves

So it's been a minute since I posted lol. Those of you who follow may be aware that I recently graduated from college with the Final Semester From Hell that involved my computer hard drive dying on me in class and causing me to lose not only forty pages of my honors thesis two weeks before it was due, but also almost every WIP I had been working on in the past four years because I am an idiot who chronically forgets to back things up :D I did make it through college, but between stress, burnout, depression, and the death of any motivation to work on anything because of having to restart from the beginning for all of my projects, I went a while without writing anything. But I'm slowly getting back into it -- I have several projects in the works and I'm hoping to get back to posting more regularly. This fic was a short piece that I had started prior to the computer death that I had a lot of physical notes on so they weren't lost when my hard drive decided to yeet itself into the sun. I'm not entirely happy with it, but honestly it feels so good to finally finish something that I don't care.

Anyways, sorry for the obnoxious A/N. Thank you so much for reading!

Warnings: PTSD, flashbacks, panic attack, a bit of motion sickness?

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @the-emo-asgardian @imnotrevealingmyname @electroma89 @lokislittlesigyn @moumouton4 @theredrenard @justdontmindmetm @lostgreekgod @naterson

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :) (I also realize that this taglist is Old so if I need to update it please let me know)

Read it on Ao3!

Standing in the shadow of the great tower, heart thudding in his throat, Loki is suddenly aware that he’s made an enormous mistake.

Next to him, Stark whistles. “This is what you usually start with?”

You grin up at the spire, a massive construction of electric green cutting through the cloudless sky. Two elevators, one on either side, are creeping slowly up the length of the tower. They linger at the top for just a moment before plunging back down to Earth, their occupants screaming. Loki feels ill just watching, but you’re practically vibrating in place. “It’s good to get the blood pumping.”

He can’t bring himself to look at you.

It’s your fault that he’s here. Loki hadn’t planned to come today at all. A day spent outside in the sweltering summer sun, following Stark’s gaggle of misfits onto various machines designed to fling mortals from side to side to simulate the feeling of a near death experience? Loki couldn’t imagine anything more torturous. Thor’s begging and cajoling received nothing in response. No, he hadn’t the slightest intention of coming today, not until last night, when he came across you restocking the main refrigerator.

“Are you excited for tomorrow?” you had asked as you arranged rows of Red Bull on the top shelf. “I can’t wait to take you guys around Rapid Rails—I’ve been begging Mr. Stark to do a teambuilding day there ever since he hired me.”

Your eagerness caught him off guard— as Stark’s personal assistant, you had been present at all of his godforsaken teambuilding events, but Loki had never known you to be particularly excited about any of them. “I … I wasn’t aware you had such an attachment to it.”

“Oh yeah—I grew up just down the street from there!” You beamed at him, breaking down the cardboard box you had used to carry the cans. “We used to have season passes – they were way cheaper when I was a kid – and we’d just go there to hang out all the time. Gosh it was so fun. And now I get to go for work!” You let out a merry laugh. “I guess some things never change, right?”

Loki huffed a soft chuckle. He had never seen you like this before, practically bubbling over in excitement. It was … rather endearing. “I suppose not.”

“You are coming, right? Thor said you hadn’t made up your mind yet.”

Were the circumstances different, Loki might have scoffed. Hadn’t made up your mind yet—Norns, his brother lived in denial. Instead though, he hesitated. “I … I’m afraid I hadn’t planned on it.”

“Really?” The way your face fell actually hurt his chest. “Why not?”

“I—” He glanced away, pressing his lips together. “I’m not sure I’m one for your roller coasters,” he said, finally. “You’d likely have a better time without me there.” It was an attempt at lightheartedness, but you only seemed more disappointed.

“Oh, that’s not true at all! I was really looking forward to—” you stopped suddenly, and when Loki looked up again, you were biting your lip with a nervous laugh. “I mean, it would be really fun if you came with us. But it’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“I suppose I could come, if you so desire.” He hoped he sounded nonchalantly cool, and that you couldn’t see the way his heart fluttered at the idea that you might want him there. “I wouldn’t wish to let you down.”

“Oh, I mean—” You looked away, the light from the refrigerator silhouetting your frame. “I don’t want to force you, if you don’t want to. You shouldn’t do it just for me.”

“No, I …” He inhaled, then smiled. “I think I would like to join you.”

And so here he is, at the base of this great metal monstrosity, intently studying the sign outside of the line entrance to avoid Thor’s knowing smirk. His brother has never worn self-satisfaction well.

DEATH DROP: THE TALLEST AND FASTEST DROP TOWER ON THE EAST COAST

 The description is illustrated with a photograph of two people strapped to their seats, mouths wide in mid-scream as their hair flies every which way. Loki lets out a shaky exhale as he reads. The tower, it claims, is 400 feet tall. It reaches top speeds of 85 miles per hour. The ride itself lasts about 90 seconds in total. The measuring stand besides the entrance indicates that participants must be at least 48 inches tall.

400 feet. That doesn’t sound too terrible, he tells himself. The concept of a foot as a unit of measurement is still something he struggles to wrap his head around, but he knows that Stark Tower stands at over a thousand. So that’s not too bad. 400 feet would be a drop in the bucket, really, compared to …

No. He pushes the thought down, back into the dark recesses of his memory. None of that. Not today.

Stark smirks at him. “You’re looking green, Tommy Wiseau.”

Loki swallows, straining to maintain his stiff mask of composure. It’s bad enough to have Stark reveling in his discomfort, but now you’re looking over at him too, brow furrowed in concern, and he wishes he could melt away on the spot. “I’m quite fine.”

“Of course he is!” Thor booms, slapping his shoulder with a hearty thwack that does nothing for Loki’s stomach. “We’ve fallen from much higher heights, haven’t we, brother?”

Weightless. Breathless. Engulfed by inky nothingness, the air so thin he can’t even scream —

Loki’s smile hurts. “Yes, very true.”

“You don’t have to go, Loki,” you interject. “It’s totally okay— I have friends who love roller coasters and refuse to touch this ride. It’s a lot.”

He knows you mean it as reassurance, but he can’t stand the way you’re looking at him, as if he were a frightened child, too fragile to be brought along. Are you regretting having convinced him to change his mind? Do you feel that he’s only holding you back? Somehow, the idea that you no longer want him here is almost as sickening as the thought of the fall.

Loki huffs a breath. No. He will prove himself worthy of your coaster. “I assure you, I am fine.” His voice is more strained than he’d prefer it to be. “Let’s get on with it, shall we?”

…

The attendant seems rather starstruck as he ushers the group onto the ride—he stumbles and stammers through the explanation of the seating arrangements and the harness. Loki’s not really listening as he follows you to the left side of the cart, trying not to ignore the buzzing that seems to be settling behind his ears.

You smile up at him. “Would you rather sit on the side or in the middle?”

He frowns. “Does it make a difference?”

“Well, personally I don’t think so, but I know some people who get scared of heights think it’s easier to sit in the middle.”

“I’m not scared of heights.” The words come out far too quickly to sound believable, and he curses inwardly at himself. “I can sit on the side.”

“Are you sure?”  You eye him uncertainly. “It’s okay if you—"

“I’m quite capable of managing such a seat.” He sits before you have the chance to question him again.

The seat is rather tight—Loki wonders if that’s intentional, or if it’s simply built with a smaller frame in mind. In the cart off to the right, he can hear Thor fumbling about with the attendant, and he chuckles despite himself. If he’s finding it to be a bit of a squeeze, he can’t imagine the troubles his bulky brother must be having.

It’s a momentary reprieve from his darker thoughts, and Loki is actually smiling when you warn him to sit back against the seat.

“The harness is going to be coming down soon.”

“What?”

You motion to the contraption above the cart, two plastic green masses shaped like upside down u’s that hover above your heads like the top of a clam shell. “It sits over you and keeps you from flying out of the cart.” You let out a small laugh. “It’s like the harnesses on the Quinjets, but way less cool. They also have little handles that you can hold on to if you want.”

Loki is eyeing the harnesses uncertainly. “What do you mean they’ll be coming down soon?”

“You used to have to pull it down yourself, but they have it all programmed now.” A great mechanical creak cracks through the air, and you press yourself against the back of the seat. “Oh, here it comes now!”

He frowns, mimicking your movement to sit as far back as he can. The green restraint descends slowly over his head, with a metallic groan that does not give him much faith in the construction of this monstrosity. He expects it to stop once it was hovering over his torso, but it continues until it’s pressed snuggly against his chest, pinning him to the seat. The attendant is saying something over the intercom, but Loki barely registers it over the feeling of the restraint. It’s … it’s not a painful sensation, but the firmness with which it holds … he’s been restrained before. Little flames of memory spark in the corners of his mind, flames he can’t seem to douse no matter how hard he tries.

Get it off. Get it off. Get it off.

He gives an apprehensive tug on the metal handles that now rest on either shoulder, a tug which quickly turns into a hard yank. The harness does not move. His mouth has gone dry.

“Loki?” you’re frowning at him, your head only barely visible through your own harness. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

You’re not bothered by the restraint. Of course you aren’t—how many times did you say you’ve ridden this ride? It’s fine. It’s fine. Goodness, what must you think of him, seeing him panic over the safety harness that you’ve worn hundreds of times before for fun? He nods his head, shaking away the feelings and memories and emotions and all the other thoughts that he wishes he could just wash down the drain …

“Are you sure—?”

“Perfectly,” he spits, but it comes out more snappishly than he intended, and you recoil with a look on your face that makes him despise himself.

I shouldn’t be allowed to speak.

“And enjoy your ride!” the attendant finishes with a flourish, and the thick metal cranking is all the warning you get before the cart begins to lift off from the ground. Loki’s heart jumps to his throat, pounding so fast he can’t make out the separate beats.

“This part is the scariest bit,” you yell at him over the grinding of machinery. “The anticipation kills me!”

Loki inhales. The elevator continues to rise, inching up slowly along the spire, the ground beneath their feet melting into miniature. This is alright, he tells himself. If this is the worst part of the experience, then he’ll be just fine. There’s nothing particularly frightening about it—he spoke the truth when he told you that he had never been bothered by heights. It’s all perfectly fine.

Perfectly. Fine.

Norns, they’re still going up. He risks a glance at the track above him—surely they must be close now? The movement makes him queasy, and he quickly turns back to face straight ahead. His knuckles are white from clutching the handles. The harness is digging into his chest and it takes all of his self-control not to rip it off. The elevator stutters—is this it? His breath catches, but no, they’re still going up. They seem to be slowing down though, don’t they? Or is that only his imagination?

I’m going to be ill.

They’ve stopped. That’s not in his head. Everything seems frozen in place. Why did he agree to do this? Loki presses his eyes closed. Any moment now. Any moment …

Still nothing.

His chest aches. He may have forgotten to breathe. Why have they stopped? Is something wrong? Loki turns to you—you look ecstatic, eyes crinkled with elation, mouth wide in an open grin.

“When is it going to—”

You drop.

The world goes silent. He feels it, that awful sensation in his stomach as the line goes slack and colors rush before his eyes in a blur until it all fades to darkness, airlessness, weightlessness, his lungs burning and drowning on the empty void of space—he’s falling, he’s falling again, he’s falling again oh please Norns not again—

There’s ground beneath his feet. He’s not sure where it came from. His knuckles ache. You’re talking – to him? He’s not sure, he only barely can make out your voice …

“Loki? The harness is coming up. Can you let go?”

He’s still clinging to the handles. Can he let go? He’s not sure. His body feels like lead. He pries his fingers from the metal tube and the pressure against his chest vanishes with a woosh over his head.

“There you go.” Your voice is soft, encouraging, closer than he remembered. He looks up to find you kneeling on the ground before him. You flash a nervous smile. “You alright?”

He’s not sure what to say. His instinct is to apologize, insist that yes, of course, he’s quite alright, he didn’t mean to give any impression to the contrary, everything is fine, but the words catch in his throat.

stars melting together smothering his last breath

Loki lets out a shuddering breath, settles for a nod.

“What’s the hold-up?” Stark calls out. “Barton and Romanov are waiting with the kids on the other side of the park.”

“We’re just taking a break for a minute!” Your reply is hurried. “You guys can go on, we’ll meet you there.”

“Is something wrong?” Thor sounds concerned, and—oh great—now both him and Stark are walking over to their cart. “Loki? What happened?”

“I—” But words, so often his steadfast ally, seem to be failing him right now. What happened? He has no answer; at least, none that his brother would accept. For nothing had happened, not really, and yet that was enough to send him spiraling through the fabric of reality.

He hates this. He hates feeling so weak.

Stark is chuckling. “If I knew that this was all it took to shut him up, I would have rented this place out sooner—”

Enough.

Loki forces himself to stand – far too quickly, his stomach churns at the movement, but he swallows the bile in his throat. He needs to get away. It doesn’t matter how, but he needs to not be with them. Besides him, you scramble to your feet too.

“I’m well.” His voice doesn’t sound right—it feels foreign, and thick like syrup, nothing like his own. “You may go on without me.”

“Are you certain?” Thor is frowning. “We can wait—”

Please don’t.

“I’m certain. I just need to sit for a moment.”

“There’s a bench nearby!” You’ve taken on the same cheery inflection typical of your working voice, and it adds a sense of normalcy to a distinctly abnormal situation. He’s grateful for it. “I can show you where!”

Both Stark and his brother seem reluctant to leave, but you insist that it’s fine. “I’ll call you if anything changes.”

He feels slightly steadier as he follows you to the bench—it’s just a wooden thing on the side of the concrete path, across from what appears to be a diner of some sort. You mumble something about going to get water. It’s a relief when you turn away, so you don’t see how he collapses against the seat.

There’s ground beneath his feet. Loki closes his eyes, focuses on that. There’s ground beneath my feet. The asphalt is firm, hot with the summer sun, anchoring him to reality. He lets out a breath. It feels safe.

Unless, of course, it crumbles beneath your step and flings you back into the abyss –

“Hey.” He jerks up at the sound of your voice, and the suddenness causes you to jump as well. You shift apologetically, standing in front of him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Loki swallows. How did he not hear you come up? “You didn’t.” Although it must be obvious that you did. At least you’re kind enough to allow him the lie.

You offer him a plastic cup. It’s a flimsy thing, but quite cold, relieving against his feverish skin. He takes it with a mumbled thanks, pretending he doesn’t notice how you’re studying him with a quiet sort of concern.

“Are you feeling better?” you ask after a moment.

Loki bites down on the inside of his cheek, relishing the way it stings. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just – I mean – ” you glance down, tugging at your shirt sleeve. “I get panic attacks too.”

“I don’t—” But he stops himself, stops the urge to argue. Gives a gentle nod instead. “I’m well, thank you. I just … I need a moment to catch my breath.”

“I’m sorry …” You look away guiltily. “Death Drop is kind of a lot – we shouldn’t have done that first.”

“It’s not that. I –” He wants to explain to you. He wants you to know that he’s not usually like this—he never used to be like this, he’s strong and steady and perfectly capable of anything you could ask of him, but his voice is failing once again. Loki huffs a sigh. “You ought to go on with the others. I don’t wish to ruin your day.”

“Oh, you haven’t ruined anything. I’ve been on every ride in this park about a million times. It’s fine!” Your voice is bubbly and light as you sit down next to him on the bench. There’s something oddly comforting about the sound. “Besides, it’s bad etiquette to leave a friend by themselves at an amusement park. Buddy system and all that.”

A friend. He can only stare at you.

You falter. “Unless … unless you’d rather I left?”

“No—” Loki surprises himself with how quickly he answers. “No, I’d rather you didn’t.”

Several minutes pass in silence, the frantic beating of his heart slowly tapering off into something softer as he drinks in your presence. He’s grateful for it, grateful for how you let him soak in the quiet. Thor would never have allowed him such a moment’s peace.

 He’s considering asking if you’re sure you don’t want to go on any other coasters (he feels guilty for keeping you here—perhaps he can accompany you through the queue and wait on the ground?) when you suddenly sit up stock-straight. “Oh!”

Loki frowns. “Is something wrong?”

You turn to him with a wide grin. “I just remembered they have Dole Whip here!”

“They—what kind of whip?” What sort of ride would a whip be, he wonders? A human sized slingshot, perhaps? His stomach lurches at the thought.

Luckily though, he’s proved wrong. “Dole Whip!” you giggle. “It’s like ice cream, but fruit flavored. Like there’s pineapple and strawberry and whatnot—it’s like soft serve.” You look at him with a kind of hopeful excitement. “Do you want to try some?”

Loki hums. He has yet to try soft serve ice cream, but he knows his brother practically swears by the stuff. “Is it good?”

“Supposedly. I’ve actually never tried it— we never wanted to spend money on park food when we would come as kids. It’s stupid expensive.” You smirk. “But today’s all on Mr. Stark’s dime, so…”

He chuckles. “And you would take advantage of your employer in such a fashion? I didn’t realize I had such a Machiavellian on my hands.”

“Hey, I’m just taking advantage of the opportunities presented to me!” You stand with a grin, holding your hands up in a mock surrender pose. “You can’t blame me for that, can you?”

“Oh, I’d never,” he teases as he stands, and he’s relieved to find that his legs have regained their steadiness. “I’d be honored to experience this Dole Whip with you on Stark’s expense.”

“Fantastic,” you beam. “It’s not too far from here. And it’s right next to a bunch of these little shops—they have this ridiculous giant sea monster toy that costs like $300, I can show you—”

You continue on as the both of you walk down the path, telling him all about the park’s various hidden gems and the inside jokes you and your friends have concocted around them, and Loki finds himself laughing more than not—he can’t help it, your giggles are just too infectious.

Huh. Perhaps joining you today wasn’t a mistake after all.

[gabessquishytum]

Dream got turned around, honestly. He'd been in this city for concerts before, and his habit for walking around the venue after sound check to shake out any final nerves never got him recognized, chased by over-eager fans, and (hounded) into hiding. He didn't want to compound the problem by picking another public place, but he needed to get off the street so he could arrange a pick up.

When he slammed his way into the New Inn at a dead run he was only a few minutes ahead of the crowd - he really needs to stop ditching his bodyguard (and cell phone) - and he hoped he could convince the people inside to hide him.

🎤🍺🎤🍺

When the door of the pub slammed open & shut so loudly before opening, Hob was worried that it was those hooligan kids causing mischief again (as once hooligan himself, Hob understood, but no one messes with his inn.).

Instead he was greeted by world famous (infamous) music phenomenon Dream. He looked ruffled and a little scared (and achingly beautiful), and like he needed help. Helping is a deep part of who Hob is now - half the reason Hob's inn exists is to be a safe place for people who might need help,,, no matter who they might be.

Still Dream might be the most high profile person to ever need Hob's helping hand.

Hob's hullo luv snapped the beautiful head up, allowing Hob to see the rapidly spreading blush. The deep speaking voice that apologized for the trouble (will live in Hob's dreams for the rest of forever) explained that he was being chased be a large group of fans and that Dream needed to hide until they mostly left and he could arrange to get picked up before his concert. Hob never had a better reason to open the inn a little late.

Dream was trying not to stare at the pretty man with tattoos poking out of the neck of his open shirt, that seemed to be designed to show off a little of a soft-looking pelt of chest hair, and tight enough to -cup- accentuate sexy tits 😳. The hair up in a bun,,,,Dream is trying to look "respectfully," but wow is the universe paying him back for being chased through the streets.

ALASKSJSJA love at first sight is always perfect for these adorable idiots <3

Hob is super understanding and kind - he offers his (big, calloused, warm) hand for Dream to take and helps him come around the back of the bar. There's a cozy little nook where Dream gladly sits cross-legged, catching his breath... suddenly realising that he's more or less eye-level with Hob’s very shapely arse. Dream is definitely staring. He can only hope that Hob doesn't feel it.

It's a good thing he's hidden behind the bar, to be honest, because a couple of fans actually come into the inn looking for him. Hob sternly tells them that they ought to leave the poor musician alone, and that if they don't intend to purchase anything then they can skedaddle, please and thank you. Dream falls irrevocably in love with the stern tone of Hob’s voice. He can't help but imagine it ordering him around in bed.....

When the coast is clear, Hob helps Dream up from the floor (once again, those hands are gorgeous and Dream is obsessed). They share a laugh about the awkwardness of the situation... and Dream knows that he's probably got one chance not to totally blow this. He first asks if he can use a phone (to call his poor manager and arrange to be picked up). And then he asks if Hob would like a backstage pass to the concert.

Hob’s trying not to sound too eager with his "Yes, please!" but he really can't bear to let Dream go just yet. The idea of hearing the beautiful man sing is irresistible. And the fact that they're still holding hands at this point is a pretty good indicator of the fact that neither of them really want to be separated just yet...

The press get a few pictures of Dream arriving back at the venue, shyly smiling at a "mystery man" who actually waves at the cameras. But unfortunately, no pictures are taken after the concert when Dream is back in the green room - straddling Hob on the couch, kissing the breath out of him and groping his amazing tits through his shirt. Post-show adrenaline apparently gives Dream the confidence to take what he wants... and Hob truly couldn't be more thrilled about that!!

[mellowwillowy]

helloooo there!

I just recently found your profile, and let’s just say I deeply fell in love with each and every one of your yandere chars.

I hope you are having a beautiful day. I would like to say that, I am very obsessed with my yandere! lawyer husband yulian <3. HE IS JUST SO STANDARDS!

and with regards to that, I was thinking if you could write on how he would react to reader has always loved embroidery and even makes small articles of clothing which they put their entire love into. but because their parents were not supportive of them going into arts pathway, they just took that as a hobby.

so, on the night of reader and yulian’s wedding, they bring out a very beautifully designed tie as a wedding gift for yulian. they feel a little conscious about it, so they babbles about how he doesn’t have to wear it but they just hopelessly adore him thus they want to show their love through the gift. the tie is a light green (matches his gorgeous eyes) with a golden line patterns to shows his success, affluence, and luxury.

yulian is someone who love his spouse immensely. and honestly, I cannot ever get enough of him. but please ignore if this is very weird! 😭

thank you and apology in advance! <3

Bawling at this ask, I'm glad people love him as much as I've loved him!!! Moya!!! Love!! Feeding me so well!! That aside, this is the first thought I had after reading this all,

"Sir, you've been wearing the same tie everyday. Can't you at least change it for once?"

"Nonsense. It fits my suit so well."

My man changes the suit to match the tie and not the other way around! Will not change it unless you gave him another tie :) he is such a lovesick puppy.

Anyway, I can see this happening in a much more modern setting timeline (one of the lives after Yulian gets to be with darling in the utopia!)

You are his beloved, anything you fancy will be sent to your doorstep, including embroideries' tools (...uh right?) Yulian knows you enjoy doing stuffs like these, making clothes for your dolls, scrapbooks, tending flowers and so on including embroidering.

The only thing was that you had never given him anything until the wedding ceremony shits happened.

You gave him something that made him feel like melting on the spot, a tie which reminded him of the emerald eyes he loathed yet he just couldn't bring himself to hate your creations.

The golden line patterns were adorable, he deduced that it symbolized the affluence and fame he carried.

"Dear... I love this... thank you, so much." He pulled you into a hug, his hand clutching the tie tightly, "What do you say about making more of these for me? Napkin will do well too. Hm? Oh what nonsense! This is beautiful! I've always known you are talented in handiworks! You are almost like a Clockworker!"

He will boost your confidence by 400% with his words, he's a lawyer and he knows how to word shits well. Almost too well.

So here we are, a husband who proudly only wears ties that are made by his spouse! A husband who is only seen using the napkins you give (unless it turns bloody) and is also the same guy who makes the people around him blind and bleeding from his lovesick ass.

[ihatedtoadmit]

A biteful memory [2]

pairing: OT8 x fem!reader

genre: werewolf AU, fluff, crack

warnings: Please read the 'Summary' of this series, all are listed there!

word count: ~3.6k

summary: You finally meet Felix's gang face-to-face, and it's safe to say that you're feeling a bit out of place, especially thanks to one person and his constant glaring.

↳ Masterlist ↳ Next chapter ↳ Previous chapter

All rights reserved. Please do not steal, repost or feed my work into AI. Thank you!

The male’s hair was at shoulder length, the sun shining warmly on its black strands. He had porcelain skin, just like Felix, but without the starry freckles. This had to have been Hwang Hyunjin, the artistic hottie the whole university was talking about. His doe eyes widened at the sight of me, flicking down to the aussie.

“Damn, you didn’t say she was taller than me.” “Hyunjin!” “What? It’s cool, can’t wait to see the shorties’ reactions.” - Hyunjin laughed out, his dark eyes meeting mine again and turning gentler. “I’m Hwang Hyunjin, nice to meet the person who has our little Lixie in her hold.” - he held out a hand for me that I hesitantly grabbed as I introduced myself. “But uh…I don’t, have Lixie in my hold?” “Oh? Are you sure? Becau–” - but before he could finish his sentence, Felix slapped a hand onto his mouth, silencing him with a deadly glare.

I just stared as the two now wrestled with each other playfully, reminding me of siblings. I let what the artist had said go, knowing that it could never be true anyway. It sounded hilarious even.

Not wanting things to somehow turn worse and ugly, I grabbed Felix off of Hyunjin, holding him close to myself.

“Stop it now, we didn’t come here to fight. Especially if I’m the reason for it.” - I scolded him, causing him to immediately turn lax in my hold and deny my statement. “We weren’t really fighting. Now, let’s go in, before you try to escape again.” - at his remark I glanced at the gate, but I noticed Hyunjin’s amused stare he shot at me and immediately gave up the thought of escaping.

It wouldn’t work anyway.

We waddled back up to the door, Felix free from my hold as I lingered behind the two, looking at the ground and wishing I had never asked to hang out on a friday. It was only logical they would have some kind of program to hang out on that particular day, something that somehow completely eluded my mind.

The door opened and we walked in, the sunshine incarnate telling me where I could put my shoes, jacket and backpack. I followed his instructions obediently, letting him lead me past a big, open kitchen towards the stairs. We then walked through a hallway that was littered with doors, until he stopped at one near the end.

“You can use this guest room while you’re here, nobody will barge in here, don’t worry. Come back down after you’re done, ‘kay?” - with that, Felix left after I nodded at him.

I watched his leaving form for a few more seconds before turning back towards the door, finally opening it and setting my eyes on the room’s interior.

Holy shit.

This was a guest room?? Shit was as big as a whole ass apartment!

There was a king sized bed resting at one of the walls, a neat little nightstand next to it. On the opposite wall was the biggest wardrobe I had ever seen, all made out of beautiful, dark oak with intricate designs carved into it. Symbols of flowers and animals could be seen, although I would definitely need to take some time to see it all properly. There was a table with a comfy-looking swivel chair as well, along with a few small bookshelves sprinkled onto the walls. As I turned to my left a bit, my breath hitched, floor to ceiling high glass panes greeting me with the view of the forest that resided behind their house. Different types of trees peeked over each other, pines and oaks mingling together in a cacophony of green.

It was breathtaking.

After marvelling for probably a worrying amount of time, I broke out of my haze and finally put down my backpack, fishing out my comfier clothes to change into. Because these tight, black jeans I currently had on were anything but that.

When I was done and hopefully still looking decent, I walked back down and into an even bigger room where the others sat, thankfully now fully clothed. The place was decked out with the biggest TV I had ever seen, with a sound system to match. There were plenty of seats to choose from, an enormous L-shaped couch resting between two, cosy looking loveseats. In front of me, at the back of the room, were floor to ceiling glass panes, two of them being lockable doors that lead to that same forest that resided behind the house.

Jesus christ, I felt so out of place in my cheap clothes and untamed appearance.

“Lixie, if you glare at them any harder, they will dig a hole into the floor just to escape it.” - Hyunjin laughed out loud, snapping my attention back to the boys. “Well, they would deserve it to be honest.  Sigh  Either way, this is Changbin and Jisung.” - he introduced us to each other, prompting the boys to greet me and bow in a way too low angle.

I tried greeting them back, but the inappropriate sight of them kept popping up in my mind whenever I looked at the two, rendering me a stuttering mess as I just covered my face with my hands and crouched down, my knees loudly popping in response. Laughter broke out around me, Lixie’s somewhere in it too, but I was too flustered to pay attention properly.

Who the fuck meets someone half-naked??

“Hey, please, as funny as it is, you know you shouldn’t be crouching. C’mon, sit down with me?” - Felix came to my rescue as I peeked up at him through my fingers, still too embarrassed to face them fully.

I let him drag me to a loveseat, where he gently pushed me down and nestled into my lap, no questions asked.

“I don’t think she’s gonna survive this night, her ears are already so red!” - Jisung laughed out once again, causing everyone to join in.

He was right, to give him where credit was due, Felix’s action had caught me completely off-guard as he had never done this before. Mostly because I was still uncomfortable with hugs, because trust me, he had tried in the past plenty of times. But strangely, as much as it flustered me, his action and presence also calmed me down. So, I willed my arms to close loosely around his middle, my head resting on top of his fluffy nest of hair. You could practically feel his happiness in response, how he leaned against me even more with all his weight.

Everyone looked at us, causing me to stiffen up in defence.

“What?” - I glared back at them, tightening my hold on the boy in my arms. “Nothing, nothing.” - Jisung said with held up arms, surrendering. “Yea, we just see why Lixie likes you so much now.” - Changbin did the same, joining in with Jisung.

I raised an eyebrow at that. That was the second time they’d said that Felix liked me a lot, something that was hard for me to believe with my zero self-confidence.

“Does he now?” - I murmured, glancing down at the lax boy in my arms. “When are the others coming?” - he asked instead, ignoring my question altogether, but I didn't really mind.

I listened to them as they spoke with each other, occasionally joining in when a question was directed at me after Felix grabbed my hands and disinfected them. I didn't even notice I’d scraped them, the scars so small and unnoticeable. Even so, he insisted that I let him clean the skin, and who was I to deny his doe-eyed request.

It was strange.

Usually, I wasn’t this comfortable in strangers’ presence, yet, here I was, having an okay time sitting in the same room as them, occasionally exchanging a few words with each other. The remaining boys had arrived one by one as well, joining us in the living room once they’d freshened up and changed into some comfier clothes. They had all greeted me and I’d waved back at them from behind Felix, who hadn’t moved away from me, not even once over the course of these past few hours. Most of the boys had amusement swimming in their eyes once they’d noticed us and our position, some even allowing a small smile to sneak itself onto their lips. It was fascinating to watch, a silent telltale sign that my friend wasn’t like this usually.

“What’re we watching?” - one of them asked, Seungmin, I believed. “We haven’t really chosen yet.” - Hyunjin replied, seemingly bored as he draped himself over their youngest, who I only knew because we were in the same semester, although in different majors. “Why don’t you choose something, hm?” - Felix asked me as he patted my hand and I was immediately struck with the urge to disappear, all heads now turned towards me. “I uh, I dunno, I’m fine with anything?” “Oh come ooon, surely you have a favourite movie!” - Jisung whined, entirely too comfortable in my presence.

That was the other strange thing. Everyone seemed to be behaving as if I was an old time friend -and i hoped that was the case-, except for one of them, Minho. His gaze on me was cold and calculative, as if he was ready for me to commit a grave sin against them. But he was only occasionally peering into my soul, as he masked it well in front of the others, hiding it from them. I involuntarily held Felix closer to me a bit, scared.

“On a second note, wasn’t it Innie’s turn to choose?” - Felix redirected the attention from me thankfully, causing chaos to erupt as they playfully argued and eventually settled on a movie, although it was a hard fight.

On a horror one, of course it was a horror movie.

“I’ll go and get some snacks with the others, mkay?” - he murmured, patting my arms so I would let him go. “Okay. Also, uh, where’s the bathroom?” - I murmured back, slightly anxious now that he was out of my hold.

He gave me clear instructions with a small smile and I followed them, happy to finally relieve and freshen myself up. Checking myself in the mirror as I was washing my hands, I tucked a few strands of hair back into their supposed place and turned my necklace around, so the clasp was at the back of my neck. I knew I looked terrible, especially amongst these popular people, urging me to put this and that in its place, straighten my clothes out here and there. It was of no use, of course, but I couldn’t help it.

Walking out of the bathroom, I went back to the living room, only to be met with a strange sight.

Felix was in the hold of a giggling Chan, pouting. In one of the loveseats was a delighted Hyunjin with an absolutely done Jeongin in his arms. In the other seat were Jisung and Minho, seemingly in their own world, something I was secretly grateful for. That left the aussies, Seungmin and Changbin on the big couch, with an empty space left.

A space left for me, undoubtedly, unless I wanted to sit on the carpeted floor boards.The thought didn’t sound as bad as one would think, since I used to do that a lot when there wasn’t enough space for me and my friends on the sofa. I didn’t mind it, really.

Not wanting to deal with that whole chaos just yet that was in front of my eyes, I sauntered over towards the kitchen, desperate to have a glass of water. I'd forgotten to drink ever since coming here, a bad habit of mine that I couldn’t manage to fix so far. Looking around for glasses, I spotted them in a windowed cabinet. I gently grabbed one, closing the door quietly and filling the glass with water from the tap. At this point, I was so parched that even the room temperature water felt heavenly, urging me to gulp it down as fast as I could.

Wiping my face with my sleeves, I sighed as I knew I couldn’t stall for more time and had to go back.

As soon as I was in his peripheral, Felix greeted me and shoved Changbin away onto a very displeased Seungmin, patting the now newly created empty seat for me. I shifted from one foot to the other, lips pursed as I looked at the short, buff male with uncertainty. He huffed and muttered something under his breath, causing Chan to gasp and berate him over it. But even then, Changbin looked at me with a small smile and motioned towards the seat with his head, telling me it was okay to sit there.

So I did, even though I was sure it wasn’t okay with all of them.

And thus, the movie night began.

Snacks were passed around, along with drinks -alcoholic and not-. I occasionally had some, juice being more than enough for me, besides, I had always been hesitant to consume things offered up by someone else. That was how I’d always worked, my long time friends needing to beat it into me that it was fine to eat their offered up food. 

Everything was great, until the first jumpscare happened. I lightly jerked in my place, stiff and hopeful that nobody had noticed.

I was horrible with jumpscares.

Scary, creepy atmosphere? I was fine with it. But put anything in front of me fast enough and I would have a heart attack, may it be a rotting corpse or a cute plushie.

Nobody seemed to have noticed me, so I really thought I was fine.

I wasn’t.

Jumpscares kept happening throughout the whole movie, causing Felix to put a hand on my thigh in a soothing manner. Although at first it had the opposite effect, his touch causing me to jump and almost collide into Changbin, almost. I could hear a laugh being stifled, but I was too on edge to care whom it was from.

And just when I thought I was in the clear, finally free from this curse, I felt air blown onto my ear as the credits were rolling, causing me to let out a loud yelp. With a hand on my heaving chest, I looked next to me to find a wheezing Seungmin, no doubt the cause of it all. The others joined in with his laughter, even Felix was having fun over my misery.

“Alright, that’s enough, otherwise we’ll scare her away and then Lixie will be angry.” - Chan chuckled out, earning Felix’s approval from his arms.

I pursed my lips and settled back into my place, crossing my arms and looking at the TV, waiting for the next movie to start.

“Wait, are you pouting right now?” - Felix asked in disbelief as I just looked away from him, refusing to answer. “Oh my god, you totally are! Big baby is pouting! Someone, take a picture for me!” - he continued, not even giving me a chance to stop before I heard several camera shutters going off, causing my eyes to widen.

I couldn’t believe him, what a friend I had.

I looked back at him in betrayal, flustered as I realised what he had just called me. Unable to look at him or any of the others at this point, I covered my face with my hands and rested my elbows on my legs, wanting to just disappear magically, as if that could ever happen.

“I fucking hate you guys.” - I muttered out, not changing my position in the slightest. “That means she loves you, don’t let it fool you.” “Especially you, Felix.” “Love you too~”

After everyone had their fun teasing me -and believe me, they had-, they started a new movie, giving me a chance to finally lean against the back of the sofa comfortably and let out a silent sigh of relief. It was an action movie this time, no jumpscares to rattle me, thankfully.

The hours went by as we watched movie after movie, some of the boys gradually falling asleep, until it was only me and Chan awake, Felix peacefully snoring away in his hold. Changbin just decided to lean onto me at one point and I was too socially awkward to do anything about it, so I just let him snooze away there, cursing him for not leaning in the other direction where his menace of a friend slept.

“Thank you, by the way.” - Chan’s gentle voice reached my ears, causing me to look at him in confusion. “For being there for Felix.” - he successfully cleared my confusion with even more confusion. “I didn’t do anything. In fact, I could have done more, especially in the last week or so…” - I whispered out, afraid of voicing my mistakes out loud in front of Felix's protective friend. “We know it’s hard to be our friend, especially in uni. We all see some of the looks our so called fans and admirers give to anyone who so much as speaks to us, and yet, here you are. You had the chance to not let Lixie get close to you, talk with you. But you persisted, even after trying to distance yourself. So thank you, for making him this happy, for being his friend.”

My eyes drifted towards the freckled male’s sleeping form, how he lightly scrunched up his nose and turned in Chan’s hold, only to grab onto him tighter, as if he was his lifeline.

“I never really cared for people, what they thought of me. Sure, the stares can get under your skin, but what does it matter? I’m already normally stared at, be it for my height, for how I dress or for how I look. It's just more intense now, that's all. Really, I’m the one who's thankful here. Felix braved through the cold and harsh facade I put up, determined to befriend me, and I couldn’t be happier about it. My life was dull, washed out before meeting him, but now it’s bright and warm. So thank you, for letting him be my friend.” - I smiled at Chan’s dark silhouette, unshed tears clinging onto my waterline.

The darkness of the night gave me a sense of safety, fogging up my mind and letting me speak of my true feelings.

“Gosh, you’re even sweeter than he said. You’re always welcome here, okay? Now let’s get these kids to sleep.” - he said as he passed a sleeping Felix into my arms, the boy immediately latching onto my clothes.

He gathered Changbin into his own hold, the male mumbling something, but remaining asleep. Chan looked at him with utter adoration, as if he was his own blood, something that didn’t go unnoticed by my tired eyes.

“Oh yeah, Lixie’s room is on the second floor, third door on the right. You can sleep in the room next door, since it’s a guest room, but I guess he’d already told you that, haha. Have a good night.” - and with that, he left, leaving me blinking at his leaving form until I couldn’t see it in the dark.

Well… I guess I had no choice now.

Positioning the sleeping boy in my hold so his legs were wound around my waist, I gently held onto his thighs and back and slowly stood up, not wanting to drop him or topple over like the tower I was. Finding myself stable, I made careful steps towards the faint shape of the staircase, carefully making my way up on it. It was a slow journey, but I wasn’t about to risk breaking my friend’s back open on the hard edge of a stair, no thanks.

But how did Chan go up and down so fucking fast? It was pitch black…

Eventually, I made my way to Felix’s room. Opening it was a bit tricky, since I had my hands full, but I managed. All the while I could hear Chan moving about, no doubt placing everyone else in their rooms so they wouldn't wake up with a sore neck. I found it endearing, how they cared so much and so openly for each other, in my presence. Looking around in the darkness, I somehow made out the bed’s silhouette after straining my eyes, slowly placing the boy in my hold onto it.

Now that, that was a war in itself.

In his sleep, he had somehow linked his legs together, so he was latched onto me in every possible way. No matter how much I tugged on his arms or legs, he just wouldn’t fucking let go. So with the heaviest sigh I could produce, I grabbed my bag that I had put into the guest room when I'd arrived here and blindly searched around for my toothbrush. Having successfully secured it, I secured my hands around Felix’s sleeping form once more and trudged into his own bathroom -which was, again, hard to find in the dark-, intent on washing my teeth before sleeping. At least let me have this, since I couldn’t shower or change into pyjamas…

After successfully suffering through that and not spitting on the sleeping boy accidentally, I went back to his bed and laid down. Felix wiggled around a bit, as if he sensed that we were finally on a bed and laid on top of me, legs latched onto mine.

He was a cuddlebug, alright.

Next chapter

Taglist: @meowmeeps @michelle4eve

[eggs-attorney]

[<<< First] [<Prev]

Reiker: Don't worry, Tony. We'll figure out what happened and get you out of here in no time.

Tony: [Sniff] Dude…

Tony: That's sweet, birds of a feather stickin' up for each other even with that old egghead pullin' the strings...

Reiker: Well, it is my job, but… You're welcome?

Yanshu: I don't think he gets that part. Either that, or he doesn't care… Maybe you should just take the appreciation at face value?

Reiker: Yeah, I suppose…

Reiker: Well, we're heading off to the crime scene to investigate. Tony, you… Hang in there?

Tony: Oh, uh... Thanks. Catch ya later, dudes!

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

4:05 PM - Collision Corkscrew Skate Park

Reiker: This looks like the right place... The police must be inside the tunnel.

Yanshu: Oh, over there! That must be Tony's board!

Reiker: Well, those do look like his feathers.

Reiker: ... Oh, yeah! Now that we're actually on the scene, it's important we Examine everything we can to make sure we get a clear picture of what might've happened. Leave no stone unturned!

Yanshu: Has anyone ever said you sound like a law book? The way you emphasize certain words, it's like you're quoting straight from a tutorial.

Reiker: I'm not! I'm just making sure we're on the same page!

Reiker: Anyway… Just keep an eye out for anyone or anything that stands out, okay? We might be able to glean some useful information!

Yanshu: Hmm, something that stands out…

Yanshu: Oh! What about that girl over there?

Reiker: Oh, yes! Um… Excuse me, miss-

???: Can I help you?

Reiker: O-oh! Uh… Possibly? A crime was committed here earlier today, and I'm investigating the-

???: Oh! You're… You're investigating my buggie-boo's harrowing traumas!

Reiker: Your… Huh?

Reiker: GAH!!

???: DON'T YELL AT MY POOKIE! You're scaring her!

Pookie: ...?

Reiker: Eugh... That thing's name is… Pookie?

???: SHE'S NOT A THING! SHE'S A-

Yanshu: Oh, that's a Bytenik! They're one of Eggman's most recent Badnik designs!

Yanshu: They're meant to operate without the need for an organic battery, sourcing electricity from their environment, but they aren't very effective for tactical purposes... They make good digi-pets, though!

???: See, you're a Mobian with class! What's your name, miss?

Yanshu: I'm Yanshu Dryll, and you?

Vivienne: My name is Vivienne Pikmei. A Bytenik enthusiast like you needs to have seen my posts on Eggstagram, me and Pookie have over 3000 followers!

Reiker: Well, Ms. Pikmei, my name is Reiker Strait, and I'll be working as the defense lawyer for the upcoming trial regarding the death of Radika Bodacious. I was wondering if-

Vivienne: Defense? You mean you're DEFENDING that MURDERER!?

Reiker: Well… There's no confirmation of guilt until the case is closed. We hope that asking around may enlighten us on what really happened.

Vivienne: No, no, NO! He HAS to be the murderer! I know what I saw, and I will not have some uncultured fashion-disaster of a lawyer make me doubt my memory! How am I supposed to trust the judgement of someone dressed head to toe in that green?

Reiker: (... Well I think it looks good...)

Yanshu: Hm… Do you think Pookie would be able to tell us more about the incident?

Reiker: Yanshu, are you serious…?

Yanshu: Please let me try! I might be onto something!

Reiker: If you say so...

Vivienne: You... You want to ask Pookie?

Pookie: [twitch twitch. click. twitch]

Vivienne: Oh, honey, don't be silly!

Pookie: [click. twitch]

Vivienne: What?

Pookie: [chht]

Vivienne: Well, if you insist...

Vivienne: Fine... You can ask her, but you better be nice! She's sensitive.

Pookie: ...?

Reiker: [Shudders] O...kay.

Reiker: (I swear to Chaos, if that thing touches me-)

> The Board has been updated! > Vivienne has been added to the Characters page!

[Next >]

[blarefordaglare]

this post used to be linked universe memes but because I don’t know where I got it from and want to give credit from now on instead I’ll just put a cr*cliff I made

TW: None, unless tying people to chairs is considered a crime?

“I’m not cooking tonight.” The familiar voice of the champion rang through the camp, “I swear if I cook fish one more night in a row I will turn into a cod.”

Normally, a refusal to cook, from the designated cook, would send alarm bells through the chain. But he had a point. This would mark the 17th night they ate fish (Yay, thanks Wind), and honestly, everyone was getting sick of it, even the sailor himself. 

“Ho-Kay then, so what are we going to eat?”

“Have you guys been to a restaurant before?” 

…

This is when chaos ensues.

“Okay, so you are a party of nine?” A waitress stood in front of the chain. 9 heroes, in probably the worst attire to wear for a fancy restaurant, standing right before her.

Time quickly stepped in, “Yes, nine. Five adults and four children.” That earned him a very aggressive poke on the shoulder.

“Old man, I’m over one hundred years old, I think a hundred and seventeen is over eighteen years of age.” 

“Oh hush you, this bill is already gonna be expensive, plus judging by how you literally ATE a rock the other day, I think we can subtract a century.” 

“Just shut up you both. I am famished.” The pink haired boy let out a dramatic sigh. He just wanted his food.

“Drama Queen.”

All settled around a booth, at the ripe time of 19:17, the boys and men were ready to eat most definitely. 

“Sailor, don’t fill up on bread.” The captain mentioned, slyly moving the bread basket away from the teenager. 

“Oh-ohm-ohn, Imf a owin oy!” The sailor retaliated (or so that’s what it sounded like anyway, you can’t really tell when someone’s mouth is full.)

“Um, ma’am? I think we’re ready to order.” Twilight spoke up. He was stuck between Legend and Warriors, making sure that they don’t beat each other up. Not sure how he got into the beautiful position of family therapist, but it’s whatever.

“Time?”

“Yes Sky?”

“What’s a medium rare?”

“Oh it’s when the meat is only partially cooked!”

“Okay, miss? May I please have a medium rare chicken?” The innocent boy asked. Legend stifled a laugh, and Hyrule looked a little bit shocked.

“Um… I’ll see what I can do, and you sir?”

“I’ll take… actually I’m full!” Wind replied. He could have sworn he heard someone mumble ‘called it.’ But didn’t say anything.

“Oh okay, what about you?” She looked over at Four, who looked deep in thought.

“I’ll have the stuffed bell peppers, but WHATEVER YOU DO… do not use the green bell peppers… or someone is going to get hurt.” Maybe threatening wasn’t the best idea, but then again it’s also a complete valid reason if you are completely afraid of green bell peppers… according to Four and only Four.

“Mhm… got it? And you?”

“Okay lady, listen up. I would like some pizza, but without the crust, and hold off on the cheese.” Legend earned himself a flick from Twilight, “…Please.”

“So… just sauce?”

“Whatever you call it.”

“May I please have the fried wild greens?” Twilight *politely* asked.

“Of course! What about you?” Her eyes fell on Warriors. 

“Do you have any dates?”

“No sir, this is a restaurant.”

“Well, would you like to orange a date?” The waitress’s cheeks flushed, before she quickly moved on to the next Link. 

“Quick question, is the water that you have drinkable?” Hyrule asked, eying his glass. The waitress slowly nodded her head in confusion. “Alright, then I’ll eat a red potion.”

“I’m just going to completely ignore that request, as I have no idea what a red potion is.”

“I’ll have the steak, if it’s no trouble.” Time politely requested. Aside from Twilight, he was basically the only one with a sensible dish. 

“Of course and what about… you?” The waitress looked down to where wild was supposed to be sitting, but somehow he was not there.

“Okay who kidnapped our archer?” Legend bluntly asked. 

“Give me a minute,” Time stood up, “I know where he is.”

…

“Wild!”

“Okay, and then you see this is how you fry-“

“WILD!”

The champion almost dropped the pan from the harshness of the old man’s voice, “What?!”

“Tell me why you are in the kitchen that says EMPLOYEES ONLY??”

“Because! They weren’t cooking it right. I’m teaching them.”

“Champion, tying people to chairs and forcing them to watch you cook isn’t ‘teaching’.”

“Oops”

“What are you making anyway?”

“Fish.”

[beginning-writer]

Wip Thursday! (even though it was suppost to be wednesday!)

Thanks for the tag, @lancedoncrimsonwings! And actualy i'm gonna share a whole chapter from my first fic, which also was a Lancewain, Weeping monk x Green knight fic. (yes, i've been obsessed on them for years, no judment allowed)

I'm tagging @holy3cake again because fanfic appretiation is everything, and @warlocklawyer666 @the-tav3rn-0wner for the game!

It's a pretty average fic, not well-structured and I still didn't know how to write a story properly. I deleted it from Ao3 because I was ashamed of it and of writing fics, and my chronic anxiety only made the situation worse. Today I'm proud to be a fic freak and I admit that to anyone who asks, and of course I laugh and am proud of my origins in this world. And in fact I'm considering reposting it as a "personal monument" on Ao3 again.

The following post is 5,329 words long. Read if you fell like it and please do so without judgment. The personalities aren't entirely accurate, there are medical errors that when I reread them made me wonder if I really knew how broken bones worked, and the narrative switches characters halfway through and then back again.

Chapter 1: Not firendly, but a start.

Three hours.

Had been exactly three hours since Lancelot betrayed the church. Three hours since he killed the trinity and saved a fae child. Three hours since he was brutally bruised to save the life of a reckless boy who hated him. Everyone hated him. This was something he was sure.

It had been three long hours since he abandoned everything he was raised to fight for and believe in since the moment he were considered useful to the church. But… abandoning everything because of a single moment with the Green Knight? No. This was not what happened. In fact, that was so far from what had in on his mind.

Lancelot was not emotional or foolish enough to let his world fall apart just for the sake of a moment. But it was not even for the moment, it was just a sentence. Either way, that was not why he fell. That was not why he let himself fall.

He did this because the Green Knight didn't smell like lies. He was not bad like the horrible demons, that he called his church brothers, that he's living whit since he has ten years old. No. He was good and kind. Even though the former monk was lost, he still considered him as a brother, because of course they are all brothers, but it did not smell like a lie when it came out of his mouth.

The boy, Percival, or Squirrel, as he preferred to be called, were just a small and more inconsequential image of someone he knew as a child at his vision. Maybe a little like the Knight, but much more like someone else.

Lancelot could not let all the atrocities that happened to him happen to another child. The idea that this could ever happen had always made him queasy.

Even though he was denying it, he really did not want, never wanted in fact, to hurt the boy or any other child. But especially never him. He was special, and he knew it from the moment he saw him for the first time. It was impossible to look at him and imagine his body on the brink of death without hurting himself by doing it, and feeling such a bitter taste in his mouth that it made him want to vomit.

The boy could be anything, but like other people he certainly was not.

Oh, how his brother would have loved him. This was a recurring thought in his mind during the ride.

The fight brought serious consequences. By now, the designated person should have read the letter he left. He could never come back. All that left for him was to accept what he had done and take care of the boy who was strangely quiet.

The fight was not bad just for the church. He was not feeling well either. His body was full of blood and had new wounds. But it could have been much more. It could be death. Which somehow did not seem so bad. Because now, death seemed just like an old friend who visited him often. Its cold smell of wet oak was very comforting and very strong too.

His body was aching and collapsing in on itself, but he still tried not to lean too much on the boy. Putting the full weight of your body on him felt wrong. Everything felt wrong, just as everything hurt. Both things had been going on for too long for it to become unbearable.

The guilt, uncertainty and pain finally meeting in your mind making your head pound and making everything worse.

Yeah, death definitely did not seem that bad right now.

The ribs was the most damage. It was worse, but the blood had hardened, limiting blood loss from some of the newly wounds. Due to the broken ribs, his lungs also hurt a lot. Each breath was torture, as if a thousand needles were pricking his lungs every time he tried to breath. The hot air going in and out of his nostrils made his lungs burn.

Apart from the large opening, the shoulder only appeared to be dislocated. The cut was deep, but it did not look like anything he could not fix on his own. Just a few bandages would be enough. If he did not use his arm too much he could recover easily in a few weeks, and even if he had to use it, he would still recover faster than normal people would.

He could handle it. He could handle a lot. Considering he was raised for this.

Percival was quieter than usual. Probably trying to understand what happened a few hours ago. Or maybe he just didn’t want to talk to the person responsible for killing everyone he knew and loved, including the one he admired most, the green knight.

The Green Knight. He was the greatest hope of all the fae and an image to be followed by children and teenagers. The figure who brought peace and even without a word said that they could sleep peacefully. And the monk killed him. This was definitely something he could not forget or ignore.

He had not said a word after they left the camp. His thoughts were too confused to form a sentence, and the proof of this was that the monk who had spoken for the first time asking his name. But now the monk, or Lancelot, as he would have to get used to calling him now, did not seem that different from his situation, since he also had not spoken a word since they both said their real names.

It was strange to being so long without talking to someone. Squirrel was used to being the most talkative, the person that others asked to calm down when he talked too much, something that was not very difficult for him to do usually. Squirrel always liked to talk and that was good, it was not a defect, so it did not need to be hidden or resolved.

A lot had happened in a short time. The paladins captured Gawain and tied him to a chair to be tortured, he tried to rescue him, but the knight refused the help because he knew he was on the verge of death, and also for Percival's own safety. While was running out of the camp he was caught and taken to be tortured, and almost was if the former monk hadn't saved him. Lancelot took him out of the torture chair and saved him, but got caught taking him out of the camp, then fought against the trinity so that he would come out alive, abandoning everything he knew and fighting only for him. And above that. He discovered that Lancelot, the Weeping Monk, responsible for the nightmares of many and the deaths of hundreds more, was, in fact, a fae.

Lancelot was not just a fae, he was from a folk who had left British lands centuries ago. No one knew for sure why they left. There were several legends and theories about why this happened, but nothing and no one to confirm it. All they knew was that they had left and taken their secrets with them, and had no plans to return. And if they did, it certainly would not be so soon.

Riding in silence did not seem to be a problem for Lancelot, maybe he even preferred it, but the endless silence was getting on Squirrel's nerves. He didn't want to and had no idea how to talk to the man, recently his ex-enemy, behind him. But the doubt was nagging at his head. "Why?”

Why of so many children, so many good and important people, so many who also deserved to be saved. Why among so many did he choose him? He was just one among the rest in the eyes of the paladins. At least it should be.

Of course, he did not see himself as the other brats at his age. Squirrel was more courageous and determined, ran and fought better too. He spoke without fear. If his only weapon were his voice, then he would gladly use it until the last second.

Particularly, he thought he was better than others were.

Maybe it was it. Maybe Lancelot had seen him the same way Squirrel sees himself, but it was really leaving a question mark in his head. He wanted to ask, but it was not the right time, maybe later. Or maybe he would figure it out on his own, or the man would let it out on his own and he would not have to ask. Anyway, the silence still was uncomfortable and annoying.

Lancelot on the other hand, was just a little uncomfortable with the situation. He never had a fae so close to his nostrils since he was a child and lived with others just like him. The silence was good. He was used to the silence from always traveling alone. It also helped him focus on any noise other than his creaking bones.

One of the good parts of riding alone was know exactly where to spend the night or not. Places that went unnoticed or that no one would imagine anyone could stay in. It was perfect, and his favourites too. No one but Goliath for company. But now he would have to get used to not staying or traveling alone.

Lancelot always trusted his horse, and his horse always trusted him. It didn't take much to direct it, even when its owner was injured. He grabs Goliath's reins and easily guides it off the trail. Within a few minutes of riding, they arrive in a small, narrow, deserted valley.

Squirrel becomes hysterical as soon as the horse begins to move off the trail, resembling a frightened animal.

What if he had saved him only to disembowel him alone and with his own hands? The thought echoes in his mind, making him more tense and frightened, though Lancelot seems too weak for that. But still: "Just because a wolf is calm doesn't mean he's trustworthy. Some dogs are trained to attack only with their owners' permission, or when they are close enough to their victims."

Perhaps he just wanted to gain his trust and of others one, so he could kill them and burn the camp while they slept. Yes, it made sense. The best of the paladins sure were smart enough to do so.

But if this was indeed his plan, why would he kill the trinity for it? Why save him instead of the Green Knight? Wouldn't it make more sense? Or maybe he knew he was close friends with the famous Wolf-Blood Witch, or as the fae knew her, The Fae Queen.

But it was not likely. Unless the paladins also had an interest in Squirrel. Which was not the case.

Lancelot noticed that Squirrel posture had become tenser. He was hysterical and not too hard to notice. Of course it would not be that easy. He didn't think the boy would forgive all the atrocities he committed to him and his people just because he saved him from being tortured. In fact, he didn't think anyone would.

He learned since an early age that the story of 'all fae are brothers, even the lost ones' was just a phrase for the other fae peoples. The Ashes, on the other hand, had taken it very seriously for centuries. Long before they left Britain they believed and followed it strongly. 'A brother is always a brother no matter what happened, and that should not be discussed.' That's what the elders always said.

The Knight said the liar phrase to him. But there was so much truth in his eyes, already bruised from torture, that it didn't seem like a lie. It seemed like such a clear truth that it made him believe that it had come from the depths of his painful broken soul. Not as something to save his own skin from death, but something to say that whenever he wanted to come back, he would have a home and a people waiting for him. And the fact that he hadn't told his secret when he could have only strengthened the thought.

Not all fae were brothers, and he knew it. But it seemed that to the Knight they really were all brothers. Seeing him with his whole body bruised on the verge of death made his heart bleed.

He thought about it when he was alone in his tent. And then a memory came to his mind. The memory that he had a people who loved him and would welcome him if he returned home. A people who were waiting for him to come home even after so many years. A subject so long buried in his mind, but that the Green Knight brought up again. Like the first ray of sunshine after winter.

He should have come back. He should have gone back a long time ago, when he first got the opportunity. But the constant thought of what might happen to him if the paladins caught him running away held him back every time he had the chance.

It was wrong. His people taught him that a brother was a brother no matter what. So he was supposed to be a brother, but he was not. Was not because his fear was always greater than his desire to return.

But he could go back to being a brother now. The knight could no longer be saved, but the kid could. Besides, he always refused to hurt children. He couldn't help the Knight, but the Knight wanted to help him and that was enough.

The least he could do now was to return the boy nicknamed Squirrel back to his people. Or what was left of it. And even though he didn't trust him, Lancelot had still taken him as his responsibility, even if the child didn't know it yet. But he still had to reassure him. A nervous, scared child was definitely the last thing he needed right now.

"It's getting dark. I'm just making sure no one is going to find us at night. I'm still hurting and you still need to sleep.” He says to Squirrel in an awful attempt to reassure him.

"You don't have to explain something so obvious to me. I'm not dumb.” He says in a slightly rude tone, trying to disguise the distrust and fear in his voice.

"I don't think you’re dumb, but your posture became tenser when I led Goliath off the trail." He explains to the youngest, who again looked like an animal frightened by the new information that every movement made was perceived.

"Hmm." That was the only thing he could say.

"I'm not going to disembowel you overnight if that's what you was thinking." He adds, seeing the child's posture relax a little. He really was bad at it. And the little bat was still worried, less, but still worried.

They pass through the small narrow valley, entering the vegetation next to it. Sleeping in the valley would be too easy for anyone to notice. Instead, they go to a clump of trees that was farther into the vegetation, not much, but a little far from the valley. It was good for spending the night without anyone cutting their heads off.

"Goliath, please get down." Lancelot gently orders the horse to stop.

When the horse does as it’s told, Squirrel quickly gets off the horse and walks a bit away from Lancelot, who leaves with a little more difficulty. As soon as he sets his feet on the ground, Lancelot begins to take off Goliath's saddle, feeling the boy's suspicious gaze on his back.

"It’s not completely darkened yet." He observes. "Go get some wood to make a bonfire. But don't go too far, stay close by where I can feel you.” He orders the boy, knowing well how scary it could be coming out of his mouth.

"And why should I obey you as your horse does?" The boy asks. It was a question with an obvious answer. But still, it was a scared and nervous child, he would have to take that into consideration.

"Because even though you don't like or trust me, I'm still your only and best chance of survive." He sees the child grit his teeth and asks for it once more. “Go quickly.”

With a loud sigh and a slightly quieter voice, almost sounding like a whisper, he asks to the tallest. "Can I get wood to make a pyre?" His gaze lowered a little too, it was a sentimental question.

"What is a pyre?" But of course a traitor like Lancelot wouldn't know what a pyre is. He would have to explain it to him.

"A pyre is like a bonfire. We do it when someone dies so that the soul passes to the green and doesn't get stuck here on earth. It is also for the occult to take your soul in peace with them, without you having a problem like an unresolved dilemma. That's a pyre. "

He surprisingly understood the quick and slightly scrambled explanation. It was a ritual for the souls of the dead people. The father would have called it witchcraft or satanic ritual. But he was no longer with his father and had to remember that.

"Look..." He starts by turning his gaze to the ground and then to the boy, trying to put the explanation into words. "You can't make a pyre today, too much smoke would attract people to us. But you can do that tomorrow when we're farther away from the camp and closer to your home.” He was hesitant, but he was also being sincere. He was once a child who wanted to perform a ritual for his dead familiars, but unlike Squirrel he had no freedom of choice. And Lancelot didn't want to repeat the experience he had with another child.

"Alright then, we do it tomorrow.” He agrees turning to run and grab some sticks.

After he left. Lancelot analysed his dislocated shoulder. The edges of the opening were covered in dried blood, but the bleeding wasn't too bad. It was controlled. He could solve it himself. It has always done so in fact. He turns to where Goliath's things are and picks up some bandages he was carrying with him.

He wraps a few bands around his ribs and shoulder and squeezes them tightly, just enough to stop the bleeding. As soon as he's done, he puts his arm on the trunk of a tree and forces it back into original place. Letting out only a few small low moans of pain.

It was better to have only a sore shoulder than a dislocated one. He could do things with his arm if it was only sore. With the pain he could use a bow and hunt for something to eat, since he would need both arms to do so. It was not something he couldn't handle.

Settling his shoulder, he puts more bands around it and his chest, holding it tighter in place, just to make sure nothing would move out of place again. The pain was just another old friend he had hugged for a long time, he could do anything whit it, even if it squeezed him tightly.

He picks up the bow and two of the arrows that were on Goliath's bank and goes only a few feet ahead when he sees two adult rabbits a little way away from each other. He put the two arrows into the bow, positioning his arms carefully so that nothing happens to his shoulder or ribs, putting his sore arm on the bow and the best to pull the arrows, using the bow horizontally.

As soon as he fired the first one, the second one would run. With that in mind, he takes a deep breath and releases the first arrow at the same speed as it releases the air from inside his aching lungs, and then traps it again. As the second one starts running, he shoots the second arrow, quickly letting out his breath again. Both rabbits shot in the eye.

"Wow!" Said Squirrel, seeing everything behind him. "Do you shoot two arrows at once?!" He asks him still with surprise on his face.

"I learned when I was younger." He says, picking up the rabbits and taking out the arrows stuck in their eyes.

"That's awesome!" He looks at the wood and then at Lancelot. "Is this enough? There's not a lot of fallen branches here. And the trees looks pretty strong. "

"Yes, that's enough. We just going to roast the rabbits with the fire. It's not very windy around here at dawn. Don't worry about it. He reassures the child. You can leave it there. "

Squirrel looked hesitant but excited. It was rare to see a child scared and excited at the same time. Especially in conditions like that, or when he's around. But again, he was not like other people, and that much was clear.

He was so anxious that he could not speak on his own. Lancelot would have to ask him, or it would get stuck in his throat.

"What is it?"

"I know how to slaughter a rabbit. I can prepare the rabbits and you can make the fire.” He proposes. “Anyway, making fire seems to be your specialty.” But of course he wouldn't say something so innocently without pricking it.

Lancelot thinks for a moment before answering.

"All right." He says, taking a dagger from one of his pants pockets and throwing it to the boy. Completely ignoring the provocation made.

Squirrel picks up the dagger, even though he almost dropped it. Lancelot hands the two rabbits and goes towards the sticks, picking them up from the ground and arranging them to make the fire.

Meanwhile, Squirrel begins to slaughter the first rabbit. First separating the paws from the arms and legs, ripping off the head and tail after. Then make a shallow, straight cut on the animal's back to remove the fur and skin, and then remove the excess apparent fat. Then making a deep cut in the belly to remove the organs, but keeping them in a cloth bag for the case it be needed. Repeating the same process with the second one.

He turns around to deliver the finished rabbits to Lancelot. He is surprised to see him making the fire with his hands. Not only that, but he seemed to be playing with him, as if he were a fussy little friend.

What struck him most was that the fire did not burn his hands. He passed it from side to side and twirled it in both hands, but the fire did not affect him. It looked like a life creature that chose who would and would not burn.

He was so engrossed in the movement that he only realized Lancelot was staring at him when the fire stopped moving.

"Is everything okay?" He asks and Squirrel nod in response. "Are you done?"

"Yes, I'm done. But you seem too entertained to finish your task.” He plays and gets closer to him, and Lancelot huffs amused in response.

"How you’re doing it?"

"Fire does not affect the Ashes Folk people. We can guide it instead.” He pauses. Maybe his words had run out, or maybe that should have been the end of the sentence. But the boy seemed to want to hear more, so he tries to think of something to say. "It's like a fussy little friend playing in our hands." And apparently fails. Letting the fire go on the small pile of wood right after to try to avoid saying anything again.

"It's beautiful. But how do you do that? And why aren't you burned? "

"I can't answer you that."

"Why not?"

He stops staring at him for a few seconds. "God, why can't this boy stop asking questions? And why does he want me to speak if he clearly hates me? Just stop talking to me! It's not that hard.” Lancelot thinks with a bit of anger. But he would still have to answer the boy's endless questions, so he would have to struggle to think of something.

"No one of the Ashes Folk is allowed to speak certain things to people of other folks. In fact, not even to speak to some other peoples are we allowed after we leave Britannia. But I don't think I can tell you that either.” Lancelot tries to explain, speaking with a little difficulty and looking into the fire.

"It’s all right. Gawain told me that the Ash Folk had taken their secrets with them when they left these lands. And that they would probably never return, and their secrets would be buried with them in their graves for the rest of eternity. "

"Your friend was right. We don't really have the planning to go back. But who knows, maybe it will change. "

"Why do you think that's will change now? I mean, it's been so long since you've been gone. "

Lancelot thinks for a moment before forcing himself to speak again. Looking between Squirrel and the fire.

"When we get out of here." He hesitates. "There were people who welcomed us and helped us in the other lands. The only one we've had an alliance with for decades." He try to explains, still thinking of the right way to continue counting without telling something wrong. "We were helped once when we were in a bad situation. They said we didn't have to, but we insisted on reciprocating. There were people here who helped us to escape, and others there who welcomed us and helped keep us alive."

He stopped again, and Squirrel began to wonder why he stopped and hesitated so much when he spoke. It seemed like a bad habit. Or maybe he just thought too much before speaking. But that was not a matter for now. Now he wanted to hear everything Lancelot had to say about his people, since it had been so long since there had been anyone to tell their history.

"If you, under any circumstances, needed help to escape, and a place to stay when you did. We would help, even after all. Without any doubt. "

"Why?" Asks the child, looking directly into Lancelot's eyes with immense hope carved on his face.

The eldest looks away at the ground, unable to look into the boy's face. "Because all fae are brothers. Hatred leads nowhere, resentment much less. Growing up is also about learning to forgive. Carrying a debt of grudge and hatred for centuries wouldn't change anything. It would only make everything worse."

He is silent for a second before speaking what been told to him so many times by the elders when he was a child. "All fae are brothers no matter what and that shouldn't be discussed. No matter the actions, we still all being brothers at the end of the day. Whether you like it or not. "

"It's a very beautiful thing to say. Even more when it came from a traitor mouth. Although I don't think those are your words.” Happiness appear briefly on his face.

He was a child tormented by the war he grew up in, but he was still a child. A hopeful child who did not let circumstances stop him from being happy, even if only for a few moments. And that was special. It was beautiful.

The smell of well-done meat began to waft through Lancelot's nose, warning him that the meat was ready to be eaten. He pulls the two rabbits out of the fire and hands one to Squirrel, who begins clumsily devouring it as soon as he catches it.

He looks at the rabbit in his hands and begins to eat as well, taking it piece by piece and eating slowly and politely. Very different from Squirrel who was almost embarrassed to see the way Lancelot was eating.

It was strange to start a meal without praying in thanksgiving first. That was how the paladins taught him. Whenever he went to eat something, he should thank God for letting him have food in his sinful hands, because he didn't deserve it. But he wasn't with the paladins. Although that's not the reason he didn't.

He knew very well that fae had no need to give thanks before eating, since everything would be repaid after death. He didn't pray because he didn't want to offend the boy in front of him. It was still hard for him to believe that he was beginning to develop a zeal and a small instinct for protection for a fae child. But he'd have to get used to it going forward. In the same way that he would have to get used to not praying before eating, and to the endless questions that would be asked for him.

"When you're done eating, go to sleep." He asks the child more than he commands.

"What about you?"

"I'm not sleepy, don't worry about me."

"Don't think I'm worried about you. Because I'm not.” Again a lie. This was looking more like a bad habit than a form of protection. And that was too bad for a kid like him.

They eat and finish the rest of the meal in silence. Squirrel finishes first and, despite not liking it, obeys what he was to do asked for. As soon as he finishes eating, he lies down in a place near some trees and sleeps.

Lancelot leaned back against a tree and lay awake for the rest of the night, thinking about what he would do the next day. Now he was a fugitive, and he was with a child who, though brave, was extremely reckless with his actions. The fae people had probably gone away to other lands. But a 'probably' is not a 'for sure', so maybe they hadn't boarded yet.

And if they had, as he himself knew, he would always have folk to call people and a place to call home who were waiting for him. Even if the boy didn't like it and wanted to go back to the others, they could locate or track them down and return him to their people. This was not a very difficult task. Not for people who had years of practice.

And looking at the boy, he didn't seem so annoying when he was sleeping. Maybe he could get used to him by his side for a while. While clinging to it would be a mistake, it wouldn't hurt for just a few moments.

But one thing was for sure. His smell was unbearable. Probably because he'd spent a lot of time with him and had never spent so much time with a fae so close before.

He would have to get used to it urgently if he wanted to be with others. He wanted to, but the probability of dying as soon as he arrived was very high, almost like a fact.

But he shouldn't think about it now. He already had a lot of problems, he didn't need to create more. Even though it really was very likely.

Pushing away the bad thoughts, he lifts his head to look at the stars dancing in the navy blue sky above his head. The night was beautiful. If he used a little of his imagination, he could smell a salty sea and beautiful whale sharks swimming among the constellations that shone brightly.

Always as beautiful as it could be. If he found some small white flowers, he could put them in Goliath's mane. Your steed would certainly look a lot prettier with them. Not that it needed to, because Goliath was beautiful by nature.

[possum-quesadilla]

Whoop. Oops. I got too excited to write the next chapter…

Chapter 5 of Lonely Remnants, “Now you remember where you came from, Now you remember where you’re going, You’ve got to keep it flowing” is here!

I promise I’ll work on the next chapter of Time’s Arrow after this besties.

PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING. THIS CHAPTER IS PARTICULARLY ROUGH.

Here are the extras!

- The lyrics for this chapter’s title are from “Spiral of Ants” by Lemon Demon! I’m sure the meaning is obvious, especially by the end of the chapter. :)

- “The lights were off within, and she could hear a faint, familiar humming resounding throughout.” - The Shoggoth doesn’t need to turn the lights on because it can see in the dark better than in the light.

- “It had changed into some sort of D.A.R.E. hoodie that used to be Lawrence’s, the left sleeve having yet to be tied off.” - I wonder why Lawrence has a D.A.R.E. hoodie?

- “She jolted in surprise when a tail swished anxiously behind the Shoggoth. It was long and thin, reaching down to his ankles, covered in black fur with a large tuft at the end.” - based on a medieval unicorn’s tail! Mostly for funsies with the design. And, y’know, thematic reasons. Like all the other features. ;)

- Car games - thank you to my mutuals in the discord server for the help picking them this time!! <33

- “ “What type of name would you like?” Barbara asked, glancing back at the demon. “Masculine? Feminine? Something ambiguous?” The demon blinked at her, furrowing his brows. “… huh?” ” - the Shoggoth has no concept of gender, hence why it uses it/its pronouns right now! (Eventually, it will shift to it/they.)

- “It seemed them pulling in past the sign that welcomed them to the town of ‘Hatchet Springs’ made something click in it’s mind.” - The name of the town is a mixture of two of my favorite fictional towns, both of which are thematically relevant! Hatchetfield from the Hatchetfield trilogy and Possum Springs from “Night in the Woods”.

- “ “… it looks so dorky.” The Shoggoth shrinked in on itself a bit, and the preteen held her hands up. “In a good way! I would totally not suspect you’re a demon. You fly under the radar.” ” - the Shoggoth really, really cares what Lydia things.

- “It kept insisting in a hissed whisper that someone was following them, but every time Lydia looked where the demon had indicated, there was nobody there.” - It wasn’t Juno! :)

- Collette - The last name has a specific thematic purpose beyond being a reference to Justin Collette!

- Thank you again to my homies for helping with the math on the poster!! Math is hard!!

- “Hair long and wild, unstyled and dyed with streaks of purple.” - Juno never taught him how to brush his hair or care for it, hence why it was wild here and when he first came to the haunted house. Emily and Charles taught him how to properly care for it!

- “Hhh- th-that explains the bits.” - The Shoggoth noticed a difference between the body and the way people referred to Lawrence, but just went along with it. It’s starting to understand what it all means here. (Imagine discovering transphobia for the first time…)

- “Lydia caught sight of dark green scales on his nose, glistening in the sunlight.” - Hmm! Weird. Perhaps thematic. (Definitely.)

- “Barbara and Adam exchanged a Look, and the Shoggoth let out a soft whimper.” - The Shoggoth understood the Look this time.

- “He ha-… has a heart condition.” - Adam was trying not to give away that Lawrence was dead, since it seemed like Juno didn’t know. Also, I will probably make a post about Lawrence’s first date with the Maitlands where he first brought up his heart condition!

- “Lydia strained to hear them, reaching up to adjust her hearing aid- ” - Hearing aids don’t actually work like that. You can’t just turn it up to hear better at a distance. Lydia was just a wee bit desperate and confused.

Tag list: @raineisinkless @c0zmo-writes @musical-fiend @katslitterbox

(Want to be tagged in future updates for CorpseJuice / LoopJuice? Let me know!)

[i-think-i-did-it-again]

The Tour IX

Warning: swearing, make out, drinking, angst

Why the fuck did I do that? If all she wants to do is fuck my brains out a couple of times a day, I should let her and say thank you for it. 

Colson paces around his hotel room, pissed at his stupid ego. He only shut you down because he was hoping you’d see him as more than just a fuck buddy. It felt dirty when you’d said it to him that it physically made his skin crawl. You deserved so much more than just a casual fling and he couldn’t believe you didn’t see that. 

He was not in the mindset to put on a concert but he had to pull himself together. He had a quick shower, trying his best not to think about you as he cleaned his naked body. Every time he thought of you, he thought of your lips, your moans, your tight, wet pussy wrapped around his-

Stop fucking thinking about her!

Colson had to completely shut his brain off if he was going to get anything done. He shaved and jumped out of the shower, drying off and wrapping the towel around his waist. He picked out an outfit to wear to the venue, his concert outfit already in the green room of the venue. 

He’d thought it was ridiculous when Ashleigh had suggested letting a stylist pick out his concert outfits but now he didn’t mind so much. She had good taste and the clothes were usually pretty comfortable on stage. Besides, he already used her to design and choose his outfits for events so it wasn’t like he didn’t trust her to a certain point. 

A knock at the door interrupts just as he’s about to pull his t-shirt on and he growls quietly to himself, feeling particularly irritable after his conversation with you. He throws the t-shirt on and stomps over to the door. He’s surprised to find a very concerned Rook and Ashleigh standing there, staring at him, burning fire and brimstone into his soul. 

“What do you two want?” he asks with a gruff tone, turning and walking away without hearing their answer. 

“Have you seen Y/N?” Ashleigh asks in a panic. That makes him sit up and pay attention. Ash never panics. 

“No, why?” he looks between the two of them when no one makes any attempt to answer. “Would someone please fucking answer, you’re freaking me out.”

“No one has seen her since we left the venue. I thought she’d gone to her room to take a nap but I’ve been banging on her door for half an hour with no answer,” Rook explains before pulling his phone out and dialling a number. “No, she’s not in here.” he tells whoever is on the other end of the line and hangs up. 

It doesn’t make any sense to Colson. Why wouldn’t you have come back from the venue when everybody else did?

Hello, earth to dumbass! Maybe because you were a dick to her and she didn’t want to be around you!

Colson swallows the bile rising in the back of his throat at the thought of you alone, upset and wandering a city you don’t know. He pulls his phone out and tried calling you but it goes straight to voicemail. It’s not like you to just disappear. What if someone saw you and grabbed you while everyone was off in their own selfish fucking worlds. 

“Didn’t she leave the venue with you?” Ash asks like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and Colson immediately feels guilty. 

“Um…no, we had a-a discussion and then I left to…to get something to eat and nap,” he quickly explains and they both eye him suspiciously. 

“What kind of discussion?” Rook narrows his eyes at Colson and he’s never felt it before but suddenly he’s afraid of his best friend. 

The sound of your voice echoing through the hallway sets everyone at ease. Colson, Ashleigh and Rook all stick their heads out to see you walking down the hallway, absentmindedly talking on the phone. When you look up to see three sets of eyes staring, you stop dead in your tracks. 

“I’ll call you back,” you mumble into the phone to your friend. “Why are you all staring at me?”

“Where the hell have you been? We’ve been calling you for hours!” Ashleigh is visibly frustrated and you’re not used to that emotion. 

“Sorry, there was some drama at my old job and one of my friends called to vent.”

They didn’t need to know that you actually called her to sob about what Colson had said to you and that she was yelling at you to grow a pair, make the asshole sit up and pay attention. You consciously avoid his eyes, focusing only on Rook and Ashleigh’s gazes. 

“Sorry, I didn’t realise how long I was gone for. I’m going to call her back and get ready.” 

You push past everyone and head to your room, ignoring their stares that follow you down the hallway, and close your door securely behind you. 

“What the fuck did you do?” Rook turns back to Colson, a dark look taking over his usually soft features. 

“What are you talking about?” Colson deflects nonchalantly. 

“She couldn’t even look at you. What the fuck was this so called ‘discussion’ the two of you had? Did it have anything to do with you swiping her room key from Ashleigh that first night?”

That night seemed so long ago now that Colson had all but blocked it from his mind. He wanted nothing more than to allow the memory to come flashing back to his mind but he pushed it away as quickly as it popped up. He knew Rook was just being protective of his friend and he couldn’t fault him for that but what happened between you and him was your own damn business. 

“No, now leave it the fuck alone,” Colson gritted through his teeth before slamming his door shut effectively ending the conversation, for now. 

The after party that Baze was throwing in his hotel room was so wild, you didn’t know where to look. In one corner there was Rook and Baze doing shots off half naked women, in another corner there was guys playing flaming beer pong which seemed like the dumbest idea ever, in another part of the room there was couples playing swap the girlfriend and then there was a bunch of people in the bathroom playing bathtub karaoke. You stood awkwardly off to the side, half listening to Ashleigh and Sophie’s drunk conversation and half watching the festivities. You could feel Colson watching you, a group of women hanging off him and trying to hold his attention. 

You didn’t recognise most of the people in the room except for your friends. There was a few familiar faces from backstage and a few friends of Baze’s from back home. A lot of bikey types with long hair, extensive tattoos and dark expressions. This party didn’t seem like their sort of scene but they swayed along to the music anyway. One of them caught your eye and smiled at you and suddenly he didn’t look so intimidating. You smiled and tipped your solo cup in his direction and he winked at you. 

He had jet black hair and dark brown eyes. His skin was tanned like he spent a lot of time outdoors. He wore a tight black t-shirt that hugged his rippling muscles perfectly. His tight black jeans showed off the muscularity of his thighs and his amazing ass. He either worked out a lot or was handcrafted by a Greek god. 

He strides across the room, his gaze never leaving your face, and stands in front of you with a kind smile and warm eyes. You can smell his cologne and you can’t help but take a deep breath in. He’s even taller up close and if you had to guess, you’d assume he might even be taller than Colson. 

“Hi,” the stranger calls out over the music. 

“Hey,” you call back, standing on your tippy toes so he can hear you clearer. 

“I’m Chase,” he holds out his large hand and you allow it to encapsulate your own. 

“I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.”

You notice a rather large rose tattoo on his right hand and you can’t help but stroke your thumb over it in admiration. Chase notices your interest and places his hand palm down in yours so you can study it closer. 

“First tattoo I ever got, hurt like a mother fucker but I was pretty hooked after that,” he explains as you study the colouring and line work. 

You look up his arms but frown when you notice no other tattoos. He smiles at you understandingly before lifting the bottom of his shirt to show toned abs and an extensive tattoo. You can only see part of it but you're pretty sure it leads the whole way up his torso. The bottom half of the tattoo appears to be the bottom half of a skull surrounded by more roses, all different colours. You can just make out the handle of a large sword that leads all the way up the length of his body. 

“That must’ve taken forever to finish,” you eye the tattoo with approval, resisting the urge to reach out and touch it. 

“Was a bunch of sessions spread over a few months but totally worth it. I’d be happy to show the whole tattoo some time,” he winks at you and you immediately blush. 

You can still feel Colson’s stare on the side of your face and it takes all your strength not to flip him the bird. 

You want to stare? I’ll give you something to look at. 

You release your earlier self-control and reach out to run your finger over the edge of Chase’s tattoo. He watches as you trace his tattoo and suddenly the gesture feels way too intimate for a crowded room. 

“I would love to see your tattoo but maybe not somewhere so public?” You look up at him with innocent eyes and his immediately light up at your invitation. 

“Where did you have in mind?” 

You take his hand and lead him to the door and down the hallway to your room. You unlock the door and slip both of you inside, feeling like you’re running away from something or somehow who’s following behind but you know it’s a stupid thought. When you’re alone in your room you’re suddenly hyper aware that even though Chase is a friend of Baze, he’s a complete stranger to you and now you’re alone in your room with him. 

“Do you want something to drink?” you ask, slipping your way to the mini fridge that you stocked with your favourite drinks and a beer. 

“Yeah sure, anything is fine,” Chase nods and sits down on the armchair near the fridge. 

You pull out two beers and hand him one. You take a big sip for liquid courage and stare at the floor. When you make no attempt to speak, the room begins to fill with an uncomfortable silence. 

“So how do you know everyone?” Chase asks politely. 

“I went on a date with Rook once but we realise about halfway through the night that we were better off as friends,” you shrug, finding the story so embarrassing now that you see Rook more like an older brother than a friend. 

“Oh so you’re not like secretly in love with him or anything?” he teases and you laugh but shake your head. 

No, not Rook. Just his best friend. 

“So, I’m pretty sure I was promised a tattoo viewing?” 

The beer is mixing with the alcohol you’d already consumed and you’re starting to feel way more courageous. Chase grins a heartbreaking smile and places his beer on the floor beside him. He stands and lifts his shirt over his head, giving you a full view of his tattoo. 

The top part of the skull has a red and black snake looping it’s way through the eye sockets, the colours so vibrant that it almost seems real. The flowers lead up around the skull, almost like it was dropped into a field of them. The sword is nestled between the flowers leading up to the middle of his chest. At the top of his chest is a banner that reads In rosa iaceat. 

“What do the words mean?” you ask curiously. 

“Loosely translated it means ‘let him lie on the rose’.”

You nod and move closer to him. You outline the entirety of the tattoo this time, not missing the way Chase’s breathing catches every time your fingertips move to a different aspect of the tattoo. His skin is warm and smooth but his muscles are hard. A complete juxtaposition. He smells even better up close. You stand on your tippy toes to study the Latin words sprawled across his skin. Before you can stop yourself, you lean forward and brush your lips along the words. He rolls his head back and lets out a groan of approval. You don’t know why you do it but for right now, you don’t want to think, you don’t want to analyse, you just want to do. 

You run your fingers up his arms and wrap them around his neck, pulling him closer to you. He responds by placing his hands on your hips. You walk him backwards until his legs hit the edge of the bed and he sits. You straddle his lap, already feeling his hard cock under you. You lean forward slowly, teasingly, and press your lips gently to his. That’s when he takes over. 

Chase wraps his fingers in your hair and pulls you to him so your lips are firmly against his. He grinds up into you and you moan into his mouth. He pulls your t-shirt over your head and runs his hands down your back until he finds the clasp of your bra. He unhooks it and drops it beside you, taking your breasts in his large hands. He runs his tongue along your bottom lip before slipping it inside. You’re a furied frenzy of kisses, moans and hot breaths. Chase stands and just as he drops you onto the bed to hover above you, your door slams open causing your head to whip in its direction. A very pissed Colson stands in the doorway staring back and forth between the two of you. You quickly cover your chest with your arms and stare wide eyed at him. 

“Get out,” he breathes in an eerily calm voice. 

Chase looks down at you for a second before looking back at Colson. Without saying a word, he stands, grabs his t-shirt off the back of the chair and squeezes past Colson’s unmoving frame. 

Before you even have a chance to tell Colson to get out and go fuck one of his groupies, he’s across the room and on top of you in a second. His lips find yours and his desperate kisses are so tempting you almost give in. 

“Get the fuck off me!” you screech at the top of your lungs and Colson immediately leans back so you can wriggle off the bed. 

You pick your bra and shirt off the floor and redress yourself. Without even looking at him, you storm back to the party in the hopes that Chase hasn’t left. You search the room and spot him standing with the group of men he started with except Baze, Rook and Slim are also in the group now too. You slip in between Chase and another guy, wrapping your arm around his waist. He looks down at you in surprise but drapes his arm over your shoulders and pulls you to his side. Rook quirks an eyebrow at you but you just smile. 

Screw Colson. Just because he doesn’t want to fuck, doesn’t mean I’ll go without sex for the next 3 months. 

[kikker-oma]

umm I’m feeling cr*ckfic time (censoring cuz don’t do drugs kids) that isn’t even lore accurate sooooOoOoo

and yes I made this when I should be sleeping lol

“I’m not cooking tonight.” The familiar voice of the champion rang through the camp, “I swear if I cook fish one more night in a row I will turn into a cod.”

Normally, a refusal to cook, from the designated cook, would send alarm bells through the chain. But he had a point. This would mark the 17th night they ate fish (Yay, thanks Wind), and honestly, everyone was getting sick of it, even the sailor himself. 

“Ho-Kay then, so what are we going to eat?”

“Have you guys been to a restaurant before?” 

…

This is when chaos ensues.

“Okay, so you are a party of nine?” A waitress stood in front of the chain. 9 heroes, in probably the worst attire to wear for a fancy restaurant, standing right before her.

Time quickly stepped in, “Yes, nine. Five adults and four children.” That earned him a very aggressive poke on the shoulder.

“Old man, I’m over one hundred years old, I think a hundred and seventeen is over eighteen years of age.” 

“Oh hush you, this bill is already gonna be expensive, plus judging by how you literally ATE a rock the other day, I think we can subtract a century.” 

“Just shut up you both. I am famished.” The pink haired boy let out a dramatic sigh. He just wanted his food.

“Drama Queen.”

All settled around a booth, at the ripe time of 19:17, the boys and men were ready to eat most definitely. 

“Sailor, don’t fill up on bread.” The captain mentioned, slyly moving the bread basket away from the teenager. 

“Oh-ohm-ohn, Imf a owin oy!” The sailor retaliated (or so that’s what it sounded like anyway, you can’t really tell when someone’s mouth is full.)

“Um, ma’am? I think we’re ready to order.” Twilight spoke up. He was stuck between Legend and Warriors, making sure that they don’t beat each other up. Not sure how he got into the beautiful position of family therapist, but it’s whatever.

“Time?”

“Yes Sky?”

“What’s a medium rare?”

“Oh it’s when the meat is only partially cooked!”

“Okay, miss? May I please have a medium rare chicken?” The innocent boy asked. Legend stifled a laugh, and Hyrule looked a little bit shocked.

“Um… I’ll see what I can do, and you sir?”

“I’ll take… actually I’m full!” Wind replied. He could have sworn he heard someone mumble ‘called it.’ But didn’t say anything.

“Oh okay, what about you?” She looked over at Four, who looked deep in thought.

“I’ll have the stuffed bell peppers, but WHATEVER YOU DO… do not use the green bell peppers… or someone is going to get hurt.” Maybe threatening wasn’t the best idea, but then again it’s also a complete valid reason if you are completely afraid of green bell peppers… according to Four and only Four.

“Mhm… got it? And you?”

“Okay lady, listen up. I would like some pizza, but without the crust, and hold off on the cheese.” Legend earned himself a flick from Twilight, “…Please.”

“So… just sauce?”

“Whatever you call it.”

“May I please have the fried wild greens?” Twilight *politely* asked.

“Of course! What about you?” Her eyes fell on Warriors. 

“Do you have any dried fruit?”

“No sir, this is a restaurant.”

“Well, would you like to orange a date?” The waitress’s cheeks flushed, before she quickly moved on to the next Link. 

“Quick question, is the water that you have drinkable?” Hyrule asked, eying his glass. The waitress slowly nodded her head in confusion. “Alright, then I’ll eat a red potion.”

“I’m just going to completely ignore that request, as I have no idea what a red potion is.”

“I’ll have the steak, if it’s no trouble.” Time politely requested. Aside from Twilight, he was basically the only one with a sensible dish. 

“Of course and what about… you?” The waitress looked down to where wild was supposed to be sitting, but somehow he was not there.

“Okay who kidnapped our archer?” Legend bluntly asked. 

“Give me a minute,” Time stood up, “I know where he is.”

…

“Wild!”

“Okay, and then you see this is how you fry-“

“WILD!”

The champion almost dropped the pan from the harshness of the old man’s voice, “What?!”

“Tell me why you are in the kitchen that says EMPLOYEES ONLY??”

“Because! They weren’t cooking it right. I’m teaching them.”

“Champion, tying people to chairs and forcing them to watch you cook isn’t ‘teaching’.”

“Oops”

“What are you making anyway?”

“Fish.”

HAHA I adore the idea of the chain going to a restaurant and being absolutely weird about it hahaha

Wild teaching the kitchen staff how to cook fish after being DONE with fish in the first place lolol

Wars flirting, Legend eating Marinara haha

Poor Twi is such a sibling stuck in the middle of the other two bickering hahaha

Thank you for this🤣🤣🤣