#Nighttime Symphony

[wickedzeevyln]

Phases

The moon comes in phases.It is a proud pageant wearing the light of a star when it waxes,and sips the last dregs of admiration when it wanes, calling out to the wolves below for them to howl their praises.Like the moon, when her well runs dry of passion for summer, she aglow with eerie amber light to say that she prefers autumn for now,or like a guiding star dangling on the wires directing…

[worldofpegasus]

The Magical Coloursplash Has Arrived at Disneyland Paris: Experience the Wonder!

🌈 Celebrating the launch of the new season at Disneyland Paris, come with us and experience the wonder of the Symphony of Colours season in our latest blog post! ✨

[samsdisneydiary]

First Look at Luminous The Symphony of Us Coming Soon to EPCOT

We’re just over a month away from the launch of the latest nighttime spectacular from Disney Live Entertainment, “Luminous The Symphony of Us,” debuting Dec. 5 at EPCOT. Featuring dazzling fireworks, fountains, lights and music to connect us all through commonalities of the heart, this all-new show shines a light on how each of our unique melodies comes together to form a great symphony – the…

[adelheidvonschicksal]

⋆｡°✩ Do Roommates Sleep Together?

“We’d be roommates, much better than neighbors,” you manage to explain, proud when you hold firm, but the delicate foundation you built cracks when his laugh highlights the room. You could nearly melt. “Do roommates sleep together too?”

Synopsis: Your relationship with Xavier is unconventional, skipping and trampling on the many proper steps society deems appropriate. It should take months to form the trust needed to sleep together, and it should take years for you to ask him to move in with you.

Yet, here you are, with more courage to ask him to live with you than to tell him you’re in love with him.

Content Warning: fluff, suggestive dialogue, pining, literal sleeping together, a lot of internal exposition, mild angst, hurt/comfort, acquaintances to friends to lovers, implied soulmate tomfoolery to justify the fast burn, small references to chapter 4 main story, Heartstring Symphony, Nighttime Stroll, Shooting Stars Myth, and Unit 602's Representative Phone Call, Xavier sucks at following the non-interference policy (he tried his best), female reader, 6.5k words, safe for work

A/N: First section before Warm Wishes/Dreams within Reach tender moments and second section after Close Feelings tender moment to give a better timeframe. This is going to be two parts with the second part NSFW.

“Do you want to hang out at my place?” 

Your smile begins to flatten as Xavier stares at you from his doorway. There’s a listless energy radiating from him. It’s intimidating even if there’s no anger behind his hooded gaze, the kind of intimidation where you’re afraid he might not be listening to you or even wants to listen to you.

“This new scary movie came out. Tara was supposed to watch with me, but she had a last-minute thing to take care of,” you explain, watching as he yawns and wipes his eyes. “So, I thought that maybe you’d like to watch with me instead. Or, we can do something else. I got games. Monopoly, Phase 10, Kitty Cards.” 

Xavier rubs at the back of his neck, refusing to meet your eye. “Are you sure you want it to be just the two of us?” 

There are many things to be said about your relationship with Xavier. You’re work partners, neighbors in the same apartment complex, and you consider him your friend. It’s also true that your friendship is young despite the many hours at the arcade together and whatever stories your co-workers like to imagine, making your offer sound more like a date invitation than hanging out. It causes you to go tongue-tied as your innocent mistake blankets you.

“Oh, not in that way! I mean not that it would be a bad thing.” You start to lose your composure when you meet his gaze again. It’s not like you wouldn’t go on a date with him if given the opportunity. He’s tall, soft-spoken, and very handsome. It’s more surprising he doesn't have a girlfriend. “I was thinking it could be a good way to foster friendship between hunters. Yeah, that’s it!”

The truth was that you were looking for something to distract yourself ever since the incident at your grandmother’s house. Tara having to cancel bummed you out more than you wanted to admit, but you didn’t want him to agree because he felt sorry for you.

“I understand,” Xavier cuts in. “I’d be happy to join you…in an hour,” he finishes with another small yawn. 

“Great!” you cheer. “See you soon.”

When you make it back to the elevator, you’re taken aback about how happy you are that he agreed. You thought you were simply happy not to have to be alone on your day off, but this was a different kind of satisfaction than when you invited Tara. It was a little strange but you ignored the thought and clicked the button to your floor. 

When Xavier arrives, everything goes as planned. You spread out an array of snacks on the table in front of the sofa, which your selection seems to be approved by how quickly he opens the package of chips and hums to himself when he takes a bite. 

“This is supposed to be super scary! I read you won’t sleep for days after,” you tell him, grabbing the remote to play the movie. 

“For days? Sounds awful,” Xavier mentions between bites, making you chuckle. 

“If you get scared, you always have me to protect you.” 

“I’m more worried about you than me,” he mouths off. “You always look like a statue when I tell you scary stories.”

“Fake movies and stories based on real places are different!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he agrees on the surface. You’re not sure how you only make friends with people who love to tease you, but you make no mention of it as the movie finally reaches its opening sequence. 

It doesn’t take long for you to realize this movie’s fear factor was greatly over exaggerated. There were monsters, sure, but also one too many jump scares and dark scenes that made it hard to tell what was happening. Fighting wanderers for a living did leave you a bit desensitized as well, you guess. 

As you reach to fill in your boredom with more chips, you can’t help but notice how Xavier looks like he’s about to give out any second. His eyes are drooping and his head bobbing to the side. You lose count of how many times he forces his limp body straight and strains to watch the movie playing on the screen, one agonizingly slow blink at a time.

“I’m fine,” he says before you can bring up how tired he looks.

“It’s not a big deal, Xavier. This movie is pretty boring, so if you wanna call it a night, it wouldn’t hurt my feelings.” You don’t want him to leave yet but you don't want to keep him up either. Sighing, you’re frustrated the movie isn’t as exciting as you thought it would be, and it’s difficult to fight the disappointment from showing on your face. 

And, well, Xavier…

“It’s alright. It’s honestly not bad, so—”

Xavier doesn’t even finish his sentence before his head hangs over. In hindsight, you start to realize that you must have woken him up earlier, explaining his prior passiveness.

You always wondered what he did on the days he wasn’t working. It should’ve been apparent to you that he spends most of his free time sleeping. No wonder his apartment was always so quiet during the day. You’re thankful he wasn’t actually annoyed at you earlier but guilty for interrupting his rest and decide to grab him a blanket.

You don’t notice him tilting to the side before you have the chance to get up. It’s quick after that. Without warning, he falls into you, his head brushing the side of your shoulder before he collapses on top of your lap.

The situation takes you by surprise, and the world churns to a slow stop. The sounds from the television fade into the background in favor of your heartbeat becoming the thing you’re most aware of when it registers that Xavier, a man you recently can call a friend, has fallen asleep in your lap. You have no idea what to do in a situation like this. It isn’t on purpose, so there’s no need to blow up, but you can’t allow this to continue.

So, you choose to wake him up.

“Xavier,” you call and rock his shoulder. You call his name again, a third time, and finally give up when he doesn’t budge by the fourth. “Would it be too mean to roll him off?” you wonder, grimacing as you imagine him hitting the floor. It would definitely be too mean.

Sighing, you gaze at his face nuzzled too comfortably against your thighs. Xavier looks so incredibly soft like this, bundled in an oversized Blanchi hoodie. It isn’t anything you’re not used to seeing him in. However, this is different. With his hair strewn across his temple and his face so at ease, it reminds you of a big fluffy bunny flopped over for an evening nap. Just like a cuddly bunny, you can’t resist petting him, brushing your fingers across his bangs to fix them. Your heart flutters as you confirm his hair is incredibly soft and his pale eyelashes longer than you ever noticed.

Not able to restrain yourself, you gently poke his cheek, marveling when it’s much chubbier than you imagined. It causes him to moan, his eyes twitching from the intrusion.

“Mm…what?” he groans out.

Swiftly, you pull your hand away, frightened he might have caught you.

“I wasn’t doing anything,” you stammer out, not the best of excuses; but in your defense, he caught you off-guard by waking up from something so small. When he doesn’t respond again, you quickly realize he’s still asleep. “Oh, he sleep talks!”

A mischievous wave washes over you from the new piece of information you acquired. Teasingly, you poke his cheek again, giggling when he shifts to hide his eyes from the light.

“Xavier, I have a question to ask you.” You slide your fingertips along his bangs once more. “Be honest. Are you Lumiere?”

Patiently, you wait for a response. However, nothing comes after several seconds. Just when you’re about to give up hope, you hear him muttering. You lean your head closer, hoping to hear him better.

“Red…” he mumbles.

You repeat after him. “Red?”

“Red…extra spicy.”

You blink at him, knitting your brows. “Extra spicy?”

Oh. The hot pot restaurant.

“Dreaming about food? That tracks.” You shrug. It was worth a shot. “Fine, keep your secrets.”

Choosing to leave him be, you’re about to sit back and continue the movie except you are interrupted by him mumbling again. This time, he whispers your name quietly under his breath causing your undivided attention to fall on him.

“Yes?” you ask.

Xavier sighs softly, peacefully.

“Come home…with me…”

There must be a world record for how fast someone can heat up, and you must have broken it. It’s like someone threw you directly into boiling oil and left you to burn in it. There’s no way you heard him correctly.

Did Xavier really ask you to come home…with him? Is he dreaming about you? If so, in what kind of dream? And why?

These are the questions stumping you. Sure, you consider him your friend, but when did he start to see you as someone close to him?

The more important question is why aren’t you doing anything about it? You aren’t angry about him whispering your name in his sleep nor offended, and it didn’t feel out of place to be close to him, like this, with his head resting in your lap and your hand in his hair. The moment becomes nicer and nicer—treasured—the more times you run it through your head, familiar even, like déjà vu.

There are too many variables for your brain to piece it all together in such a short amount of time. Praying for the tempest battering your emotional insides to reside, you resign yourself to your fate, allowing him to have his peace while your mind completely focuses on the words slipping from his dreams.

When Xavier begins to stir hours later, your movie is long finished, credits rolling as some dramatic music plays in the background. His eyes tighten then relax before he finally opens them, greeting you with hazy blue. He lifts himself into a stretch then rubs his eyes with his wrist. When he finally adjusts to his surroundings, he looks at you with an apologetic sulk.

“Did I…fall asleep on you?” he asks, grogginess still riding his voice.

“Literally or figuratively?” you ask as a joke, but it doesn’t seem to comfort him. Shaking your head, you try to ease the tension—the one known by him and the tension inside of yourself—by laughing. “It was both.”

Xavier blinks a few times, turns his head to the screen to see the credits rolling, and snaps his eyes back on you questioningly. “And you let me for two hours?”

“You looked really tired,” you explain, ignoring how hot your cheeks start to get. You couldn’t tell him you got distracted by his cute face. “I didn’t want to move and wake you.”

“I don’t wake that easily,” he states, proudly even. You almost tell him how well everyone knows he can sleep through a typhoon, but it’s drowned underneath the softness of his smile. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

The look he gives you is so tender, like looking at a fond memory. It brings back the fluttering knots in your stomach from before as you imagine what could be the true reason behind that gaze. What could he possibly be thinking in his waking moments that would make him dream about you?

“Xavier, do you know you talk in your sleep?” The confused and panicked, deer caught in headlights expression, he gives causes you to fidget with your fingers and drop your gaze to your lap where they lay.

His face tinges slightly. “Nothing too embarrassing I hope.”

You bite your bottom lip as his face reddens. He looks so sweetly shy for once, and you’re starting to question if you’re overreacting by confronting him about something as silly as a dream, one that probably didn’t mean much.

“You tried to order food in your sleep!” you tell him with a small laugh, and his shyness melts away.

“I did? What did I get?”

“Red sauce. Extra Spicy.”

“Then, I guess that’s what I’ll get for dinner tonight,” he remarks. He doesn’t laugh but you can see the amusement reflected in blue eyes, which makes you return his happiness. Yet, the calm moment is short-lived as your mind becomes overwhelmed again by questions you were too nervous to ask; and a small piece of you, too afraid to know the answer.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, drawing you out of your rampant, clashing thoughts. “You look sick.”

“I do?”

He nods, his expression softening.

”Are you still thinking about everything?" he pauses, his worry becoming more visible as he looks at you. "It must be difficult.” Your head blanks at his words. You weren’t aware Xavier gave you enough attention to notice your mood was different. You thought you did okay coming to terms with everything at least while at work to where he wouldn’t notice. 

“It’s been a pretty rough week, weeks, actually. I haven’t been sleeping well either,” you agree, struggling to keep your mind anywhere else but there. You’re sure you must look exhausted though. Your under eyes have been darker, the days you could convince Jenna you didn’t need any more leave a bit sluggish, and even Zayne warned you not to lose yourself in grief. It’s easier said than done.

What you don’t expect is for Xavier to grab your wrist and pull you closer.

Xavier normally isn’t the one to draw you, or others for that matter, to him. You’re the one who's been taking the steps to get to know more about him. Offering to help him get his plushie, bargaining with him into becoming your partner, asking him to watch movies with you, while he always seems to keep you a little at arms length, not opening up as much as you wish when sharing stories even when sometimes he looks like he desperately wants to before deciding against it.

Your eyes widen when your nose hits the side of his chest. It's strange to have him be the one pulling, failing to keep his boundaries and also testing them. You don’t want to push him away though. You liked this. Maybe because he was handsome. You hear pretty people can get away with anything, but it feels like more than that. Tara might have been right. Maybe you do have a crush on him but you didn’t care the reason right now when it’s so comforting. You can feel his muscles underneath the thick, warm fabric of his hoodie, and the clothing smells so nice. You can’t help thinking he definitely feels like a bunny too.

“Sleeping is much better with someone.” 

“How do you know?” you mumble against him.

“Well, I just had the best sleep I’ve had in days thanks to you. So, allow me to return the favor. I’ll be your pillow this time,” he offers; and surprisingly, your eyes do feel oddly heavy when his soothing voice reaches you. “Relax. I promise not to move for at least two hours, but you can take more if you like.”

”How kind,” you say with a smile, and it feels genuine.

Once again, you get the same familiar sensation from before, that same odd suspicion this has happened once before—or rather it’s supposed to happen? You’re too tired to think about it. You close your eyes to the most blissful dreams you’ve had in weeks.

When you wake up again, it’s not by choice. Xavier is looking down at you, his arm gently wrapped around your shoulders as your head lays on his chest. Your mind is still trapped halfway between being awake and asleep when he begins to talk.

“Welcome back. Did you sleep well?”

You nod. “Real well actually."

Xavier says something else but your tired mind misses the majority of it aside from the fact it’s getting late.

“You can spend the night if you want,” you tell him, allowing sleep to win back over as you try to close your eyes again, but he lifts you away from him, your head swaying with the motion until you find a place to prop your forehead on his shoulder. Your mind echoes with the thought of how soft his hoodie is and how you need one like it as you try to drift back off. Xavier is right. Sleeping with someone else is better, and this closeness you’ve been missing since you lost your family makes you needy. 

“It probably wouldn’t be appropriate.”

For some reason, it hurts to think he's back to pushing you away. Even though, it shouldn't.

“But you didn’t get a chance to watch the movie,” you reply, looking for an excuse for him not to leave. “It’s a 48-hour rental, so we can try again.”

Xavier shakes his head, gently poking at your forehead to force your head back. “I’m sure it’ll be twice as boring for you the second time.”

“If we watch it together…”

He meets your foggy gaze apologetically. “I don’t think we’d get very far.” 

“We won’t know until we try,” you argue drowsily. 

“You don’t look like you’d make it another ten minutes. You belong in bed.”

“I can,” you whimper as the too-bright lights of the overhead fan hit you. 

“Doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result,” he murmurs softly, almost teasingly until his tone takes on a seriousness you’re too lethargic to grasp, “Isn’t that insanity?”

“I like to call it determination. Who knows? Maybe this will be the time it works,” you joke. Instead of the smile you expected the look on his face is pensive and a little sad, like you touched a delicate spot. The sudden remorse wakes you up almost immediately. “Xavier?”

When he realizes you’re watching him, the longing in his gaze melts into something you can’t describe, other than the fact it makes your heart climb in your throat. 

“Alright,” he agrees, much to your surprise and relief. “Let’s try again…but tomorrow.”

Frowning, you avert your gaze, which makes him pet your head. 

“Don’t pout. Tonight, I’ll stay until you fall asleep again.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, moving back to rest your head against his chest.

Maybe your grandma wouldn’t have liked you getting so close to a man you didn’t know much about so quickly. Caleb would at least have a few questions, but your intuition tells you that you’re making the right choice when his arm goes back around you. As you start to drift off, you can swear you hear Xavier laughing at you under his breath. “You’re as impossible to say no to as always.”

You’re not entirely sure what time Xavier went back to his apartment that night, but the next morning you wake in your bed, looking forward to seeing him again. You only hope the sweet and confusing fact that you’re in love with him, of the parts he shows you when you’re alone, stays in your dreams the next night and the many nights following that you share with him.

Over the months, as your relationship with Xavier grows stronger, you find it common to share many things with each other. You play online games, house sit for one another, grow strawberries, and usually go home together after your deepspace trials. Most interestingly, you two take naps together on your days off sometimes, nothing sexual about it despite what Tara and her Tarot cards believe. Sure, there might have been questionable situations, but it was all innocent in the end. It's often a short nap in the afternoon after running errands or having lunch together. It's one of those days that you finally build the courage to bring up what's been on your mind for a while now. 

It's late when it happens.

The skyscraper lights begin to glow through your balcony door, blinking out the gentle shimmering of distant stars that managed to cut through the trickling rain earlier in the evening. It’s a little disappointing to lose sight of the stars. They’d become a comfort for you in the time you’ve spent with your friend. You'd never given them much thought before then.

The downpour of rain splattering against the glass panels of the balcony makes the city lights milkier to your sight and the steady dripping of water returns some form of calmness when paired with your neighbor’s breathing next to you.

It’s deep and warm, ushering you towards the world of dreams. Everything about Xavier is like a white noise or a desperately needed hug, which is why you’re curled up at his side in this bed that’s too small for the both of you. You didn’t care, and you suspected Xavier didn’t either.

He didn’t mention the smallness of the bed when you offered to take a nap together nor when your head found the bulge of his bicep to use as your pillow. You didn’t give him time to respond when one of your hands slid across his lean chest, reaching for his always subtle pulse. You find the lazy pattering easy to count while the heat in the sheets become much more apparent when you feel the weight of his touch cradle that very same hand to his chest as if promising every beat to you.

Everything about the situation causes your eyes to flutter with tiredness, but you want to savor this moment a little longer. In case this is all an elaborate dream. You hope to death it’s not. So, you force your eyes to remain open, releasing a soft sigh instead as you cuddle into his arm.

Too soon, you feel Xavier slipping further away from you.

You don’t want him to go yet. More than ever, a force inside you needs him to stay tonight, and you lock your grip on the white knit shirt he wears. You tug him back over to you to close this unbearable distance he made. The few little inches he moved were more than enough to cause your heart to yearn.

“Not yet,” you want to plead but make it a soft demand. “I just found the perfect spot.” You muffle the neediness of your requests into his skin, though your head is afraid that somehow he’ll feel it.

“You always use that excuse.”

“And it’s always true. So, no moving,” you order.

Xavier gives in so wonderfully quickly. Your heart is rapidly firing when the corners of his lips turn into his usual waif-like smile. You fail at hiding your satisfaction at his surrender, pressing more of your weight against him, in a sure sign to him that you have no intention of letting him escape any time soon.

“I take this to mean you’re finally admitting it’s your fault we didn’t do our errands today?”

“I never said that,” you disagree half-heartedly. “And don't pretend like you weren't the one who kept saying he didn't feel like getting up earlier.”

“And now that I do, you won’t let me up. Am I right? Why’s that?”

There’s a beat skipping in your chest when he asks. His tone is light and open, easy to treat as a teasing joke but also firm enough to be taken seriously. That was always your trouble with him. You could never quite tell what he was thinking and when he was serious. Xavier is hard to understand sometimes, sometimes vague and sometimes very straightforward in his words; and lately, you think he’s consistently more hot than cold towards you ever since the first time you've slept together.

You like to think this development is a good thing. People who knew you always said you worked a little too hard, a little too observant, overly energetic despite your fragile heart; but with Xavier, you could relax. Moments like these: when his arm was around you and when his breath was at the side of your neck, the soft words he speaks in his sleep dancing in your mind, were the moments when patrolling for wanderers and every loss in your life from your family to your problematic heart dissipated into the back of your mind for a few hours.

It isn’t an exaggeration to believe his influence must have been the cause, at least when it comes to this. But your influence is seeping into him as well. Given his loner habits when you first met and his frequent disappearing acts, you never pictured him as one to be so sweet and considerate and adorably charming in a way.

However, you can’t tell him that you enjoy…sleeping with him. You have a strong feeling he already knows how much you like him. Or, you’d like to think he does with the way he constantly seems to hint at it. He can make you flustered with a few words and easily leave you guessing if you’re reading too much into his actions or if he’s really that good at baiting you. It could also be a little of column A and a little of column B, which somehow makes you more antsy around him. Like how you feel now when his eyes meet yours.

“It’s supposed to be cold tonight,” you whisper. It’s a poor excuse but the only one you can use to defend yourself. “They say the best way to fend off the chill is body heat. Who better for that task than you, dear partner?”

“Many things, I assume, a portable heater comes to mind,” he says, and you don’t need to look at him to know he’s slyly teasing you behind that naive tone.

“Right, right, those things,” you grumble causing him to laugh as you hide your bashful face against him. “So loud, you know?”

“Are they? Alright, then five more minutes should be doable,” he says in the same low voice that makes your insides boil before his arm lowers to curl around your back. “Although, you’re too comfortable.”

His ears tinge in a lovely rose-colored blush, and you shudder when he finally fails to maintain eye contact and quickly scans your body. It’s slow enough for you to catch though. It makes your chest tight as you watch his quiet inhale and the murky flash of want dye his eyes shades darker before they fade back into clear pools of blue, big and pleading as he studies your face. 

“I might end up falling asleep here.”

It’s a warning, to make you think about the meaning of your actions, you think. However, this isn’t the first time this has happened nor the first time you spent a rainy day inside with each other; the kitchen counter lined with empty take-out trays, with his body heat radiating into you while a long-forgotten movie plays in the background.

It’ll continue like that until one of you is finally coherent enough after drowsy naps to try to piece together who fell asleep on whom first or who is making the other too hot. Neither of you wants to accept the fault without a lot of bickering; that’s if Xavier doesn’t fall back asleep mid-debate.

Even this time, you’re not sure who managed to drift off to sleep first earlier but neither of you tried to get up, let alone leave the house, until now. Ah, but it was your idea to use the bed this time, wasn’t it?

But it was his choice to agree.

Even now, he looks very peaceful nestled with you, and he still whispers your name in his sleep sometimes, which reminds you of the first time you slept together and he dreamt about wanting you to come home with him.

When you’re like this, you want the same thing. You want him to come home…with you.

“Xavier?” you ask quietly. You wonder if he’s fallen asleep already like he said. Carefully, you free your hand from his hold, slide it up his chest, and begin to draw smooth circles with your pointer finger once you reach his cheek. There’s a soft response from him, barely a moan but it’s enough to know he’s not out of it yet, at least not completely. “I’ve been thinking.”

The air is suddenly stifling when he engulfs the top of your hand with his own, holding it tighter as if he’s upset that you moved it out of his grasp in the first place, but it’s not the case as he affectionately seals your palm against his cheek.

“About what?”

The look he gives you makes it hard not to stumble over your thoughts like a schoolgirl despite being very much an adult.

“Wouldn’t…” You pause to steady your voice; you have to force yourself to not avoid his gaze, but each small movement makes your throat tighten. There’s no doubt you have his full attention now, at least what little remains of it. “Wouldn’t it be easier if we…move in together?”

You’re not sure where the courage to ask him a question like that comes from when you’re too unsure to even confess or to ask what the two of you even are but you didn’t have this fear of rejection until now.

“How would it be easier?”

“Well,” you start, unsure why you’re surprised that he’d want a reason. “We’re always visiting one another, and you made me your representative at the tenant meetings, so everyone already treats us like we’re a combined unit. It would also save me trips on watering your plants when you’re away or when you want to come over to eat. We could save money. Money that could be spent at the arcade or on more hot pot.”

There’s a quiet atmosphere that makes you too uneasy. The thrumming of rain grows louder in it along with the beating in your chest that’s telling you that this was stupid. Is it possible to be drunk on endorphins? Perhaps that’s what gave you the idea to ask something so foolish; you’d have to get Zayne to examine your empty head and tell you.

But then, Xavier smiles.

“Those are good reasons especially more hot pot, and I’m sure all the plushies would feel better if they shared a home again.”

Your anxiety lessens and you share in his smile. Luckily, you managed not to ruin everything it looks like.

“But.” Slowly, the inklings of self-doubt begin to return. A but. There’s always one of those. You should’ve expected as much. “If we move in together then we wouldn’t really be “neighbors” anymore.”

“Oh, um—” You become staggered by his observation, even more so when he interlocks your fingers. It’s another time when you’re not entirely sure if he’s being serious or not. His innocent puppy-eyed expression doesn’t help you differentiate either. It always makes your mind wander to more inappropriate topics—like the fact Xavier told you he didn’t believe that other neighbors acted like you two. The memory nearly makes you squirm. In this position, you decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. “We’d be roommates, much better than neighbors,” you manage to explain, proud when you hold firm, but that delicate foundation cracks when his laugh highlights the room. You could nearly melt.

“Do roommates sleep together too?”

There’s a shine of amusement that makes his face glow and heat claw higher up your neck. You know the question should be taken literally but when he words it like that…with that warm implicative inflection to his voice, you’re unable to think properly, and you realize that maybe you made a mistake. Maybe you shouldn’t have given him the benefit of the doubt this time.

“I’m sure some do,” you answer with some courage, “I’d imagine at least once a week.”

“I believe we’re up to twice a week now. So, if we become roommates, I think we have to do it at least that many times, otherwise I’m afraid I’m going to have to reject your offer.”

“Two times?” you repeat, silently begging the flapping of butterflies in your stomach to calm down at the suggestion, at the implication that he enjoys sleeping with you just as much as you do with him. It makes this strong emotion in your chest blossom even further. “I can manage that.”

“Additional proposal,” he interrupts suddenly. “Perhaps, three times? I can even throw in a pair of those fuzzy socks that I can never manage to find after you visit,” he adds coyly.

“Oh, I’m sure they’re around your apartment somewhere,” you quickly respond before releasing the buildup of nervous air in your lungs. You smile. “Proposal accepted. Shared naps three times a week minimum.”

“In that case,” he breathes in softly, and he slips his hand down releasing all your fingers except for your pinky that he wraps into his own. “I think I would like to be your roommate.”

Inside, there’s unadulterated joy beginning to flood you. You know that this agreement will require a more in-depth discussion that Xavier will probably try to gloss over but this is enough for you right now.

“We should take tonight to practice for our move.”

Confused, you raise your eyebrows. “Practice?”

He nods.

“Sleeping together overnight. We did a few times before, well, only twice in the same bed, once in yours and once in mine,” he explains. You definitely have the clearest memory of that time, of bandaging his wounds, of cluelessly pinning him down shirtless on his bed before he turned the tables on you, and then—you remind yourself to resist going over the details, not with him this close to you. Somehow, Xavier is the one who looks the most insecure between the two of you. Finally, he whispers, “I haven’t forgotten even if it was a long time ago.”

His eyes are half-lidded, cloudy with thought. Something about him looks restrained and longing but it disappears when you finally swallow your swelling emotions and call out his name. There’s a twinkle of adoration that blows away whatever doubt there as he focuses on you again.

“I think about it when I have a hard time sleeping on overnight missions.” Xavier turns and slides his arm from under your head, choosing to lay on his side to face you. “It makes it a lot easier to rest in the hunting zones when you have good memories like that. So, it's nice to have a chance to make more."

“I don’t think I could fall asleep at all if I thought of something like that,” you admit, as close to an admission of your love for him as you could muster without mountains of alcohol. “I’d just think about how much I’d rather be home with them.”

“And now? Are you having trouble sleeping?” he asks huskily, and you have to fight not to keep staring at his lips and the dire need to kiss them as you breathe each other in. You reach out, touching his bare collar then instinctively searching for his slow pulse, counting it to calm yourself from the rush of adrenaline building in you.

You’re not even sure when you breathed out the “yes” that echoes softly from your mouth. His lips are so close to yours that you’re sure he could catch it in his breath if he wanted.

“How about I tell you a story to help you fall asleep?” He sees your hesitation and laughs under his breath. “I promise it’ll be much better than the last one.”

Accepting his offer, you agree to listen to him.

Xavier nods and gently swoops the back of his hand against your forehead and then your cheek before cupping it. There’s a gentle squeeze, and you think you understand why he likes it so much when you do it.

“Once, there was a beautiful queen and a knight,” he begins. “They lived together in a palace far away.”

“And they fall in love and live happily ever after?” you question, too busy in the full and fuzzy sensations filling your being to hold back.

“No, they were separated from each other for a long time,” Xavier corrects but his expression softens at the trickling concern building on your face. “Don’t worry. They meet again and become neighbors.”

“And then?”

“They become roommates,” he states matter-of-factly, which causes you to chuckle at him. You can’t even be bothered to care that he’s poking fun at you.

“Then, happily ever after?”

“I don’t know yet,” he answers, causing you to frown and your face to wrinkle with a sullen expression. His head tilts further into the plush of the pillow. “But you can help me figure out the ending.”

Feeling exhausted from the cathartic flow of emotions from him to you, you wiggle into him and throw your arm across his waist. “There’d probably be a lot of naps and stargazing involved,” you mumble before a tiny yawn.

“Sounds like a happy ending to me. It's good to finally see it,” he agrees, and you sigh when you feel a strong squeeze around your waist. “Although, you forgot to mention the part where the queen promises to not get out of bed without waking him this time.”

You giggle. “She promises not to get up without her knight.”

Content, he hums. "Do you think you'll be able to sleep now?"

"I think so after a story like that," you confess, reaching out to brush his hair back so you can see his eyes more clearly. "Then again, I always sleep good with you."

"You’ll sleep best when we're close, right?"

You gasp when he shifts on top of you. His lips briefly brush your forehead, by accident or not, you can’t tell as he pins you between himself and the bed. With a stutter, you call out his name yet he pays no heed as he nuzzles his head into your hair.

“Good night, roommate.”

“Xav-!” You pout when he instantly slumps against you. There’s no point trying to wake him up now that his five minutes of alertness have long expired.

Settling your chin against the top of his shoulder, you hook your arms under his to hug him against your chest. Your forearms settle at his mid-back as you hold him close so you can gently brush the ends of his hair.

When you ultimately decide to give in minutes after him, it’s to the warmth of his weight on top of you, the tickle of his hair against your forehead, and the increased pulsing of his heart. Xavier was right, this is too comfortable. Letting your eyes fall close, you wonder if three times a week would really be enough to satisfy this strangely familiar craving. You only wish that the two of you could meet in your dreams like he says, but it's enough knowing you'll have each other in the morning and then on.

“…Good night, Xavier. Sweet dreams,” you whisper before you too give into sleep’s spell.

[moonstruckme]

I cannot stop thinking about this looking at Sirius after he says something stupid and saying “you’re so pretty baby”

Hi haha not sure if this was what you meant but hope you enjoy <3

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 662 words

It’s hardly more than a murmur, the barest whisper of speech rising above the soft nighttime symphony of crickets and frogs as you and Sirius lay in the grass looking up at the starry sky. 

“I think I could bench press the moon.” 

It takes a blink for you to process that, and even then you’re still not sure you’ve heard him right. “You what?” 

“I think I could lift the moon,” Sirius says in the same contemplative, tranquil voice. “Like, if I had to. With the way gravity is up there, it can’t be that hard, right?” 

A smile starts to form on your lips, and you turn your head to look at your boyfriend. “Oh, so you mean that if you went up into space and got below the moon, you think you’d be able to lift it?”

Sirius seems to think for a moment. Then he nods, still facing the sky. “I mean that if we were to somehow get a bench up there below the moon, I think I could bench press it. I’m not saying it’d be easy, but I could do it.” 

“You know there are, like, meteors that crash into the moon and don’t move it, right?” It’s impossible to keep the laughter out of your voice at this point, and Sirius looks over with a frown. “You think you’re stronger than a meteor?” 

“Maybe the meteors just haven’t tried the right angle.” 

You sigh dreamily, lifting a hand to brush your knuckles delicately across the fine plane of his cheekbone. “Sirius, baby,” you say, running a silken strand of hair between your fingers, “you’re so pretty. So, so pretty.” 

Dark eyebrows rise, and Sirius’ lips curl into an odd half-smile. “I know I am. Are you calling me dumb?” 

“No, not dumb.” You pull your lips to one side, toying with his hair while you think. “Just…not always the sharpest crayon in the box.” 

He laughs darkly. A giddy static goes through you, and it takes some effort to keep up your placid facade as you curl a piece of hair around your finger. 

“So you’re the brains of this operation, huh?” he asks you slowly. 

You hum. “If you say so.” 

“And you don’t think I could bench press the moon. I’m dumb and weak, is that it?” 

“Sirius,” you laugh. “I don’t think anyone could bench press the moon. It has its own gravity, and I’m not totally sure how that works but I’m pretty sure it means you can’t just toss it around like a beach ball.” 

“You think I’m not strong.”

“I didn’t say that.” 

“No,” he allows, calm settling over his features in the split second before he strikes, grabbing one of your hands in his and then the other as he rolls on top of you. “You just think my looks are all I’m good for. Did I get that right, sweetheart?” 

You laugh, trying to use your legs to push him off, but Sirius pins down your thighs with his knees. “I’m just saying,” you giggle, “it’s a good thing you’re pretty. Can’t you just accept the compliment?” 

“Oh, so that’s all I am to you.” His voice is scornful, but a playful mirth gleams in his eyes. “Just a hot piece of ass for you to strut about, huh?” 

“Maybe,” you bait, giggles worsening when he nips cruelly at the skin below your ear. “You’re like my trophy boyfriend.” 

Sirius squints down at you, and he really is lovely, all dark hair and brows that contrast against his pale skin. He looks like someone’s charcoal drawing come to life. The work of a very skilled artist, certainly.

He grins. “Fine,” he says, voice all smoothed out by certainty. “You can be the brains, honey, and I’ll just sit pretty. But that means it’s your job to figure out how to get me and a bench to the moon, because I’m gonna prove your smart ass wrong.”

[teddypickrwritings]

The Beautiful Moonlight - Night Watch x Reader

A/N: Mainly inspired by Ithaqua’s 6th anniversary quote! I referenced some of his other quotes too. This can be platonic or romantic!

Oletus Manor was no stranger to big and lavish events. This party was no exception—everyone who had visited or stayed at the manor in the past had been invited to celebrate its 6th anniversary of hosting daring survival games.

The impostor syndrome was kicking in for you. You had only been a guest at the manor for about a month and participated in a fairly small amount of games. There were so many people you still had yet to make acquaintances with.

Simply put, you felt like you shouldn’t be here.

A whirlwind of chatter was enveloping your mind. Combined with the symphony of clattering and clanking dishes, it was all getting to be too much for you to handle. You slipped out of the dining hall without anybody noticing or caring to stop you.

A sigh of relief escaped your lips. A sandbag had been lifted off your chest. Maybe you should go outside and-

“(Y/N)?”

A soft voice made you jump. You turned to come face-to-face with the Night Watch, or Ithaqua as you had heard some people call him. It was slightly comforting to see a familiar face—er, mask—but maybe ‘comforting’ was pushing it. You had had only one match against him and his eerily playful giggles had unnerved you greatly.

“That is your name, right?” Ithaqua asked.

“That’s right,” you said slowly as your heartbeat settled back to normal.

He looked at the set of doors that you came out of. Everyone’s voices were still loud enough to be heard, but were thankfully muffled. “Why aren’t you in there?”

“I could ask you the same,” you said with a polite smile.

Ithaqua tilted his head, and you hoped that you hadn’t made a mistake with your little quip. “I don’t like socializing very much,” he said plainly.

You nodded, relieved. “It can be overwhelming at times. That’s why I stepped out,” you explained.

“I think it’s also such a waste to hold a party in here,” Ithaqua said with a sigh. “The moon is so beautiful tonight. We should all be basking in its light.”

A smile tugged at your lips. “I’m guessing you prefer nighttime?”

Ithaqua let out one of those soft chuckles of his. But in this setting, it didn’t creep you out nearly as much. “Would you like to come along with me to see it?”

His request caught you off-guard. But this was a chance for you to become acquainted with him; after all, you should “keep your enemies close” as the saying goes. So you nodded after a bit of hesitation and followed him out to the gardens.

It didn’t occur to you once you both stepped in the darkness that he could kill you. A sense of dread overtook you as you realized this was the perfect time for him to strike. Everyone was inside.

Nobody would hear you.

But Ithaqua made no indication that he was going to strike. His stilts did not impede his smooth gait in the slightest despite the terrain changing from hard floor to soft grass. He crossed over to a smooth marble bench and sat down, staring at you expectantly.

You swallowed your fear and joined him in looking up at the night sky. Ithaqua was right—the moon was beautiful. A shining pearl in a sea of stars. No clouds in sight to ruin the breathtaking view.

A strange instinct overtook you, and you stretched your arm upwards. Your hand barely fit inside the moon.

Ithaqua’s soft giggles reminded you that you had company. You quickly lowered your arm as heat spread across your face.

“I am glad that you appreciate the moon like I do,” Ithaqua laughed. But there was no malice in his voice. “It was one of the few bright things in my forest…”

You smiled. “Thank you for asking me to join you. I was, um…looking forward to meeting you since our match together.”

Ithaqua stared at you intensely again. “What exactly were you looking forward to meeting…?”

Your embarrassment became greater. “I’m…not sure. But I want to have a friend,” you confessed. “I barely know anyone…”

The masked man hummed as he considered your words. “Ah, I see…I understand how you feel.”

His answer surprised you. “Really?”

Ithaqua looked back up at the moon. “I said earlier that I didn’t like socializing. But you…I remember you very well from our match. And that is why I sought you out.”

It had been strange for him to approach you, but you were glad to hear his reasoning. You took a deep breath and turned your body slightly so you were facing him more directly. “If that’s the case, then how about we be friends?” you asked boldly.

The ears of Ithaqua’s hood swayed a bit with how fast he turned his gaze back onto you. Your fight-or-flight instincts kicked in; in that moment, you were the piece of prey that the hunter was pondering whether to pounce on or not.

“How about I make it so you can never say you want to meet anyone ever again?” he asked with a menacingly playful lilt.

He’s definitely going to kill me now, you thought as a clawed hand emerged from his cloak. You couldn’t help but scoot away from him out of fear.

But instead of striking, his hand raised to his mask and pulled it off. It surprised you how…normal he looked. Granted, his eyes were pitch-black with almost ghostly-looking blue irises. But aside from that, he looked like a normal young man with messy pale hair falling into his face.

His small grin widened a bit when you said nothing. “Did you think I was going to kill you just now?”

“Yes,” you admitted sheepishly. What else were you supposed to think?

Ithaqua laughed. “Just because I am a hunter? I would not do something like that unless you gave me a reason to, (Y/N)” he said. His smile became a bit eerie as ne leaned closer to you. “Something like…telling everyone you saw my face…?”

Your eyes widened. “I would never!”

“Good, good…friends have secrets, yes? So this will be ours,” he mused. He straightened back up and returned his gaze to the moon yet again, closing his eyes as the moonlight made his alabaster skin almost luminescent.

Ithaqua was definitely a force to be reckoned with. And it would probably be some time before your heart would stop racing with fear around him.

But in that moment, as you watched his face become peaceful and his smile become content, you knew that you could trust him.

[lexirosewrites]

this might b too late for slick sunday 8/25 so feel free to use this for next week

inspired entirely by the videos of music festivals booking symphonic orchestras to headline

Here it goes

A!Eddie & Corroded Coffin (who r p much all alphas) have made it big, r selling out stadiums, r headlining festivals, r richer than any of their family past or present

They agree to headlining a metal/rock festival in Indianapolis bc I mean come on Indiana is their home state they go out of their way to start or end US tours in Indiana & this festival was putting in the leg work to get primarily bands from Indiana so they're generally excited, r booked for the main stage during a prime nighttime slot so they have time to either wander around disguised or b in VIP/the wings of the stages watching performances

The band is booked for the 2nd night of the 3 day festival, Eddie & Gareth decide to just rest in the hotel for the 1st day while Jeff & Felix (unnamed freak) go bounce around various VIP spots watching different artists

Well Jeff & Felix come back later tht night slightly drunk smelling of weed but overwhelming smell like alphas in love, Eddie & Gareth r intrigued to say the least, especially when the 2 begin praising an omega they met in the VIP section of a smaller stage, Steve was his name, he apparently smells like sunshine & apple juice, is the most beautiful omega in the world, apparently is performing the main stage tomorrow at around 3, they were invited to watch from the wings & please please please Eddie & Gareth have to come w them bc they definitely tripped over themselves like the dorks they r & they NEED their fellow band mates there to support them in their endeavors to woo this omega, so the band look up what act is performing on the main stage at 3 tomorrow so they can maybe prepare only to b met with the words "Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra"

Meanwhile across the city in an apartment omega Steve is pacing the floor of their living room while O!Robin sits leisurely on their thrifted couch & lets him freak out bc Steve is half in love w these 2 alphas who were so charming & dorky & respectful & definitely Famous & he asked them to watch their performance from the wings tomorrow oh God Robin what is he meant to do!? Robin calms him down by plying him w french fries & rootbeer & reminds him tht not only is he lovable but he's also smoking hot so these alphas r lucky Steve even looked at them plus he's first chair cello for a reason!! He's good at what he does! The whole orchestra is good! They've been practicing for this festival & everyone has the set their conductor put together memorized so well everyone is joking they won't need sheet music tomorrow!! The performance is going to go well & if these 2 alphas don't care abt the music Steve has dedicated his life to then its their loss! (Yes they both know Corroded Coffin is at the festival but neither of them rlly pays attention to the music scene outside of the classical genre & their co-created feel good playlist full of classical & bubblegum pop & pop punk so Steve did not recognize them & Robin doesn't care to investigate)

So the day of the performance dawns, Steve & Robin get dressed in the outfits the orchestra had agreed to: fitted black dress pants, white cotton dress shirts made to look splattered w blood & the dark vests everyone had gotten together & decorated w patches/pins/embroidery (embroidery taught to the rest of the orchestra by Steve + 2nd chair violinist Carol, yes she's here they dropped Tommy as a friend at the same time bc he didn't take their music srsly & she's an alpha deeply platonically bonded w stobin at this point)

Steve lugs his cello down to the street where Carol meets them w her car bc it's actually big enough for his cello (cellists must book an additional seat when traveling bc their instrument will fit absolutely nowhere else & any musician of a classical wood instrument never leaves the life of their instrument up to the Fates i.e. booking it as baggage) they get to the festival very early to beat parking gremlins & make their way thru the festival

Corroded Coffin got up ridiculously early to listen/watch recorded performances of the orchestra this dream omega is a part of & Jeff is getting even more excited bc before he picked up the guitar he trained in the violin & look!!! Guys!! That's Steve in the cello section!!! Felix recognizes him but to Eddie & Gareth it's just a blob in a sea of people

So they make their way to the main stage & observe a growing crowd of metal heads & rock fans as the orchestra makes their way onstage & begin briefly tuning their instruments, this is when Jeff & Felix point out Steve bc look!!!! Steve is first chair cello!!!!!! That's a big deal!!! & indeed Eddie & Gareth see the most beautiful omega on earth & also maybe fall in love a little

Then the individual Jeff told them is the conductor walks onstage, the tuning stops, the crowd actually grows silent then the orchestra launches into a set list that begins w songs ppl recognize both in classical genre & the general rock genre & everyone is getting into the passion of the musicians, the dramatic movements of the conductor, the undeniably blood pumping rhythm of the music, Eddie watches the moving ocean of people in the crowd

Ideas for the set list: Bohemian Rhapsody (first song they play to get everyone engaged w the music) Symphony No.5 in C Minor, Op. 67: I. Allegro con brio, Eye of the Tiger, The Planets, Suite for Large Orchestra Op.32: I. Mars- The Bringer Of War, Romeo & Juliet Suite No.2 Op. 64ter I. Montagues and Capulets (dance of the knights), Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, The Show Must Go On, & the very last song is In The Hall Of The Mountain King

Steve gets offstage & meets not just the 2 alphas he'd invited last night but an additional alpha w long curls & a beta w a tattoo of a drumstick & a drumstick (chicken) ONLY THEN do Steve & Robin learn the level of fame they have thanks to Carol

Corroded Coffin take Steve on a date each & then all together bc Corroded King is the true agenda of this little idea

i love when i can tell it’s gonna be corroded king, but i still hold my breath until the end to make sure it’s corroded king before i get too excited🤭

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Jungle Fantasies (18+)

2007!Leonardo x reader

Takes place before Leo becomes the Ghost of the Jungle, and before he decides to stay in South America. Leo has been in the jungle for a few weeks and just can’t stop thinking about you.

Warnings: Masturbation, descriptions of sex, gradually getting more and more desperate in nature, spelling.

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

Leonardo walked alone through the heart of the South American jungle, surrounded by the symphony of chirping insects and rustling leaves. The humid air clung to him like a second skin as he moved through the forest, the rhythmic swish of his katana cutting through the stillness of the night and the plants in his way, as he made his way to his hideout.

The jungles of South America offered a stark contrast to the urban landscape of New York City, where you, his constant muse, navigated the bustling streets. As Leonardo honed his skills under the dense canopy that made up forest above his head, he couldn't escape the persistent thoughts of you that tugged at the corners of his mind. It had only been a few weeks and he already missed you as if it had been years.

In the daytime, as the sun filtered through the lush foliage, Leonardo's training sessions were filled with the echoing memories of your laughter and the gentle brush of your fingers against his skin. The longing for the simple joys of holding you close and feeling the warmth of your embrace lingered in his every movement. It was usually with his longing he would write his letters to you. Telling you how much he was thinking about you, and how he was already dreaming of the day he would be home with you again.

But nighttime brought with it a different kind of struggle. Alone in the vast wilderness, Leonardo's thoughts took a more suggestive turn. The distant sounds of nocturnal creatures became a backdrop to his fantasies, where the intimacy he craved with you played out in his mind. And as he let those fantasies play out in his mind, he felt the growing need and longing for you. Not just in his heart and soul, but in his loins. A need that had been growing ever since he first arrived in South America, causing conflict in his mind. It was a battle between his commitment to training and the yearning for the physical connection he had left behind. It was in these moments he thought of abandoning his training, just so he could spend one more night in your bed, feeling you hug every inch of him. But Leo stayed in the jungle, determined to become the leader his brothers needed.

To cope with the loneliness and in an attempt to suppress his needs, Leonardo began to document his thoughts and feelings in a worn journal. Each page was a canvas for his emotions, a testament to the dichotomy of his desires. He sketched images of the jungle at the corners of his letters, just so he could somehow share the jungle and its wildlife with you. You in turn would do the same in your letters to him, adding small sketches of your life. But none of it stopped Leo’s longing to be with you again. It only made it stronger.

One day, as he sat on a moss-covered rock beneath a waterfall, Leonardo traced the flow of the waterfall at the bottom of his newest letter to you. The cascading water mirrored the rush of emotions within him, the sound a soothing melody that seemed to carry the whispers of your name through the dense foliage.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky, Leonardo retreated to the cave he had been calling home for the last few weeks. The makeshift shelter, hidden among the roots of ancient trees, became a sanctuary where his thoughts and emotions unraveled in the quiet solitude.

Inside the cave, the air was cool and damp, and the distant sounds of the jungle served as a gentle lullaby. Lying on a bed of moss, Leonardo stared up at the patch of sky visible through the entrance. The twinkling stars seemed to reflect the countless thoughts that danced in his mind, each one a testament to his longing for you.

As fatigue settled into his muscles, Leonardo closed his eyes, attempting to surrender to the embrace of sleep. However, the tranquility of the jungle only heightened his awareness of the emptiness beside him. His thoughts circled back to the intimate moments he had left behind - the shared laughter, the stolen glances, and the simple joy of having you by his side.

In the darkness of the cave, Leonardo's mind painted vivid scenes of cuddling with you. He could almost feel the softness of your presence, your warmth seeping into every crevice of his being. The imaginary touch of your fingers tracing patterns on his shell brought a comforting ache to his heart.

A sigh escaped Leonardo's lips as he yearned for the weight of your head on his plastron, the closeness that transcended the physical and delved into the realm of emotional intimacy. His mind danced on the edge of fantasy, exploring the idea of shared warmth beneath the celestial canvas of a starlit night. The gentle rise and fall of your breath and  the soothing cadence of your heartbeat. Leonardo's mind drifted to the gentle caress of your fingers along the edges of his shell, a sensation that lingered in his muscle memory. As he lay on the mossy surface, thoughts of cuddling with you took on a more nuanced flavor. Leonardo envisioned the curve of your body fitting seamlessly against his, the space between you shrinking until it was nonexistent.

As Leo’s thoughts played out, he felt the need in his cloaca grow even further. Frustrated, he ran his hands over his face before casting a glance down to his crutch. Pulsating, aching to drop. How Leo wished you were there with him. Outside of his mating season, he was not used to this aching feeling. Hell, he had not had a painful mating season ever since he started dating you…

Leo closed his eyes, once again imagining you were cuddled close against his side, already naked from activities he only wished the two of you had been up to. He imagined the need in your eyes, as he pictured your hand sliding down his plastron instead of his own. As his hand got closer to his cloaca he felt himself drop, just like he had promised himself he would only drop for you.

In his mind it was your hand that held on to his erection as your lips met his. He felt the pre cum on his head, using it lather up his hand, before ever so slowly moving his hand up and down his rod. He could see and hear you in front of him, whispering and telling him how much you had missed him, all while your hand started working faster on him. He imagined that his own hand, the one that had been wrapped around you holding you to his side, made its way down your back, grabbing your ass before sliding even further, until he found your wet entrance. Your moans were clear in his mind as he played with your soaked slit, before pushing a finger into you.

You moaned out, your face falling to his shoulder and your breast pressed against his plastron. Fuck how he missed that feeling. The thought only made his hand work faster on his member. He bit his lip, holding back a moan, dreaming of your lips making their way down his front, all while he still had his finger pumping into your pussy. He could still remember the sound from last time he did so to you.

Leo buckled his hip at the thought of his member in your mouth. “Fuck…”, he breathed out, wishing he could hold onto your head so he could thrust into your mouth. If you were there with him, he would have taken you over and over again, every single day.

Leonardo turned over in the moss bed, closing his eyes, imagining you were laying beneath him, begging for him to bury his cock deep inside of you. Normally he would tease you with it, rubbing his head against your clit, even eat you out til you were almost screaming for him to fuck you. But there, alone in the cave, Leo was the one that was about to scream for you. Frantically he grinded his hips against his makeshift bed, chasing the release he had been suppressing for so long.

The moss felt nothing like you, but at that moment Leo did not care. He just wanted to cum with the picture of you in his mind, sprawled out underneath him, needing him just as much as he needed you.

Normally Leo would be whispering all sorts of dirty things to you, like how good you were taking him or what a good girl you were for him. But that was not what Leo did in that cave. He was a moaning, whimpering mess, calling out your name over and over again as he chased his high.

Leo’s head fell to where he imagined your neck would be, lightly biting onto your skin to muffle his moans. But instead of the skin of your neck, it was the skin of his upper arm.

As Leo felt his high coming closer, he imagined you holding on to his shoulders, crying out as you were about to cum. Leo felt his head spin as he was about to cum, dreaming of your high pitch moans in his ear.

Leo came unto his moss bed moaning out your name, imagining you tighten around him as you came yourself. Your expression of pleasure as clear in his head as it was the night he gave you a proper goodbye.

With shaking breath Leo turned onto his back, staring up at the cave ceiling. His member softened ever so slowly as he tried calming his breath. Leo closed his eyes once more. Normally this would be the time for aftercare. Either you and Leo would take a shower together, or you would cuddle close until you fell asleep. But in the cold damp cave none of those things felt right without you. Without your soft warm body next to him, calming down from the pleasure he had just given you.

Leo tugged himself away, getting up to do a quick cleaning of his moss bed, before getting ready to sleep for the night. As sleep claimed him, he couldn’t stop himself from dreaming about you one last time. He pictured you next to him, already asleep, hair a mess, your cheeks pink and your face at peace. The image of you nestled in the crook of his arm became the anchor that tethered him to the promise of a future where the distance would be nothing more than a fleeting memory. The day he had finished his training and would come home to you again.

[thewulf]

Through Your Eyes || Simon "Ghost" Riley

Summary: Request -I'm thinking a military TF 141 reader where she and Ghost are tiptoeing the line between friendship and something more (you write it soooo well!) and maybe one night she's just feeling lonely/homesick - she really only sees the guys anymore since they're always working - so she decides to get a lil tipsy in her room... Read Rest Here

A/N: Probably the most OOC Ghost we'll see but idc he's soft and I love it. Enjoy!

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader, TF 141 x Platonic Female Reader

Word Count: 9.5k + (They keep getting longer lmao)

TW: Drinking our issues away

In the quiet confines of your room on base the night stretches out like a silent, unending void. England, with its overcast skies and endless drizzle, feels worlds away from the sun-drenched horizons of your hometown in America. Here the walls are a dull grey. The only decoration a faded photograph of your family, smiling. A stark reminder of what you’ve left behind.

You sit on the edge of your narrow bed with a glass of whiskey cradled in your hands. The ice was slowly melting, mirroring the monotonous drip of time passing. The soft buzz of the base’s nighttime activities filters through your closed door. It was a constant reminder that life goes on even when parts of you have stalled.

Loneliness clings to you like a second skin. Homesickness gnaws at your insides. The jokes shared and the meals eaten together are supposed to bring comfort, but tonight they're not enough. The laughter feels distant. The smiles seem forced through your filter of sadness. You miss the ease of being understood in your own home. The comfort of familiar streets. The casual meetups with friends who knew you before you were a soldier.

Most of all you miss the simple, irreplaceable connections that once filled your days. You long for the nights out with your girlfriends, their laughter and stories echoing in your ears. A drastic difference to the tactical discussions that now dominate your evenings. The absence of your mother's voice, once a daily comfort, now feels like a missing chord in the symphony of your life. It’s not like you didn’t try and talk with her but the time difference made it nearly impossible.

The loneliness is compounded by the intimacy you crave but lack. You longed for a partner to share quiet moments with. Someone whose mere presence could turn the coldest nights warm. Here, among soldiers, your vulnerability remains hidden. Your longing for tenderness a silent scream in the night.

Lately you’ve found yourself envying Captain Price. Whenever he talks about going home to his family, a pang of jealousy tightens your chest. He returns to love, to embraces, to conversations that have nothing to do with war. His normalcy seems like a distant dream, and you crave it with every fiber of your being.

As the whiskey warms your throat it brings a slight haze to your thoughts. A part of you wonders if you made the right decision. Did you trade your past and your peace for a purpose that now feels too heavy to shoulder alone? The drink wasn’t soothing like you craved. Instead, it sharpened the edges of your solitude. It highlighted the deep yearning for something, or someone, to call home.

As the evening stretches into the deeper hours of the night your thoughts begin to swirl as much as the whiskey in your glass. Desperate for a distraction from the creeping melancholy you find yourself reaching for your phone. A dangerous idea forming amidst the softening edges of your loneliness.

The glow of your phone screen seems harsh against the dim lighting of your room. Scrolling through your contacts your thumb hovers over Ghost's name. He’s always been solid, dependable. Perhaps too much so, you think, a slight smile playing at the edges of your lips. With a reckless flicker of courage fueled by the whiskey warming your veins you tap out a somewhat flirty message. A far cry from your usual sober texts. Evening, Ghosty. Bet you can't guess what I’m up to right now…

You hit send before you can second guess yourself.

Seconds tick by, morphing into the longest minute as you stare at the screen. Your heart racing as you wait for a reply. Instead of a text though your phone starts buzzing underneath your fingertips. Ghost is calling you! Panic and excitement flutter in your chest. This isn't what you expected. You decline the call without a second though setting it face down as if it could hide your sudden nerves.

But the phone buzzes again almost immediately, Ghost’s name flashing insistently. He’s not giving up. He’d never give up if you didn’t answer now. That just wasn’t his nature. Taking a deep breath, you flip the phone back over and press answer before bringing it up to your ear. "Hey," your voice is more playful than intended, the alcohol lending you a bubbly tone.

"Everything alright?" Ghost's voice is laced with concern. His usual calm edged with tension.

"Yeah, just couldn’t sleep," you giggle not realizing how tipsy you actually were. It was a sound that feels both foreign and delightful to your ears.

"You sure? It’s not like you to text like this... this late." His probing is gentle. But you can sense him on edge trying to read the situation.

"I’m perfectly fine, Ghosty," you drawl out the nickname only he would let you use with a teasing lilt, stretching the words playfully.

"Are you drunk?" His tone a tinge worried mixed with a faint amusement.

"No!” You reply immediately but after silence on the other side of the line you continue. “Maybe just a smidge tipsy," you admit. You heard him exhale sharply on the other end—part relief, part exasperation.

There's a brief pause before his laughter filters through, easing the tension on his side of the line. "Alright then, I’m coming over. Don’t move."

"Oh no! you don’t have to! I’m just enjoying a bit of liquid courage," you protest him. Your words dancing with mock seriousness.

"I think I better check on you in person. Stay put," he commands softly. A firm undercurrent in his voice that brooks no argument.

"Okay," you acquiesce with your tone still light, teasing. As you hang up a smile tugs at your lips. Maybe what you really needed wasn’t to dull the ache of loneliness but to stir a bit of excitement. And who better than Ghost to share that with?

When you first joined Task Force 141 the transition was expected to be challenging, especially with the unit's tight-knit and often closed-off nature. However, what no one anticipated was the immediate and inexplicable closeness that formed between you and Simon Riley, your Ghosty.

From the outset, Ghost, known for his stoic demeanor and laser-focused professionalism took an uncharacteristically soft approach with you. It was as if he sensed you needed a mentor, or perhaps something within him responded to your arrival on a level he hadn't anticipated. His usual reserve melted somewhat in your presence. His guidance more patient and his words often tinged with a protective tone. This shift in him didn't go unnoticed. It raised eyebrows among the rest of TF 141, sparking whispers and speculation. Even Ghost himself seemed taken aback by his own behavior as if he was watching himself from a distance unable to reconcile this newfound softness with his hardened warrior persona.

You brought something different to the team. You brought a warmth and a kindness that radiated naturally. Your approach to handling both the missions and interpersonal relationships within the unit was refreshingly human. Where others respected Ghost for his tactical brilliance and saw him as a near-unflappable soldier. You engaged with him as a person first and foremost. You asked him questions about his day, showed interest in the small details. And sometimes you just offered a quiet presence when words were too cumbersome.

This human connection was something Ghost hadn't realized he was missing until you arrived. Your sweetness, your unguarded way of interacting not just with him but with everyone, gradually broke down the walls he had built around himself. You saw beyond the mask—both literal and metaphorical—to the complex man beneath. It was this genuine understanding and acceptance from you that deepened his affection and protectiveness. It fostered a friendship that was both surprising and profoundly meaningful.

In your interactions Ghost found a sanctuary in you. Each dialogue, each shared silence, reinforced something vital between the two of you. A sense of belonging and mutual respect that neither of you had anticipated but both secretly yearned for. Ghost's initial decision to take you under his wing, driven by an instinctive pull, blossomed into a relationship where both of you found solace, understanding, and ultimately a love that neither the harshness of your environment nor the specter of past wounds could diminish.

The wait for Ghost to come to your room feels almost interminable. Each minute ticking by slower than the last as the shadows in your room seem to deepen, mirroring your mood. Just as you start to second-guess your impulsive invitation a soft knock at the door jolts you from your somber thoughts. It's a sound too gentle for someone like Ghost whose presence is usually more commanding. But then again, he's always full of surprises.

You pad over to the door, your steps hesitant, and open it to find him there. His posture rigid, familiar balaclava in place, his eyes immediately searching yours for signs of distress. "Hey, Tex," he greets with a softness that belies the hardness of his profession. Using the nickname that feels like a balm and a sting all at once.

It was cute, the origin of the nickname only he used on you. One evening after a long day of training with TF 141 you and Ghost found yourselves alone tasked with checking and maintaining equipment. The work was meticulous and quiet offering a rare opportunity for more personal conversation. A rarity given the usual intensity of your environment.

As you both worked the conversation naturally drifted to lighter topics and you shared a humorous story about a road trip mishap you had years ago. You ended up mistakenly driving into Texas instead of your intended destination due to a mix-up with GPS directions. You recounted the events with such animated detail and humor. Making sure to mention how you ended up enjoying some of the best barbecue and meeting some incredibly friendly locals that it left a lasting impression on you.

Ghost listened intently with a rare smile playing on his lips as he worked. When you jokingly concluded that you might have been a Texan in another life because of how seamlessly you blended into the culture during your unintended visit, Ghost chuckled. It was a sound so scarce it marked the significance of the moment.

From then on he started calling you "Tex" in a teasing yet affectionate manner. It was his way of referencing that story which had not only entertained him but also revealed your ability to adapt and find joy in unexpected situations. The nickname stuck between the two of you as it became a symbol of your resilience and the easy friensdship that had developed between the two of you.

Each time Ghost called you "Tex” it was with a tone that mixed fondness and a hint of admiration reminding both of you of that shared moment of laughter and your storytelling prowess. This private joke between you became a subtle yet constant affirmation of the bond you were building. A bond based on shared stories, mutual respect, and an emerging deep, personal connection.

"Hi, Ghosty," you manage with your voice barely above a whisper. You step aside to let him in, but as you do, the use of 'Tex' makes your heart clench painfully. Your smile falters, a frown etching itself across your face as you're vividly reminded of what you're missing.

He notices the shift in your demeanor immediately. The way your eyes dart away from his gaze. "What's going on?" he asks as he steps inside making sure to close the door behind him with a quiet click. His voice is low, laced with a concern that makes your heart ache even more. "It's not like you to drink alone, without us," he adds. His tone soft but probing. This observation hits a nerve. Highlighting how out of character your actions seem tonight.

You can't meet his eyes, not yet, not when they're so filled with worry and understanding. "It’s my brother's birthday today," you confess with your voice cracking slightly. "I got a picture from my family. They're all there, celebrating... and I’m here." The words hang heavy in the air laden with a sadness that feels too big to contain.

Ghost steps back a little giving you space. "Let's sit down," he suggests gently nodding towards your bed. You move to sit on the edge, and he joins you. He maintained a respectful distance with his posture open and inviting you to continue.

You finally glance over at him and the tears that you've been holding back start to blur your vision. "I miss them, Ghost. I miss being part of those moments. It feels like I’m losing time, losing them..."

He listens in silence, but his presence was steady. "You’re not losing them, Tex. Not really. But I get it… it’s hard to miss out. You belong here with us though. It’s okay to wish you were there too."

At his words a ripple of uncertainty courses through you. "Do I really belong?" you find yourself questioning aloud. The words spilling out before you can hold them back. Your voice is tinged with an unusual vulnerability you’re so good at hiding, "Sometimes I feel like I'm a world away, like I don't quite fit anywhere anymore."

Ghost turns to look at you completely. His gaze intense even through the shadows cast by his balaclava. Noticing the sadness deepening in your eyes he softens his tone further addressing you more personally. "I know it feels that way sometimes, Y/N," he acknowledges using your first name in a rare break from nicknames signaling his serious concern. "But you've made a place for yourself here, with us. It’s not just about the missions. It’s about the moments we share, the tough days we get through together. You’re as much a part of this team as anyone is."

His reassurance carries weight, but the hollow feeling doesn’t dissipate completely. You nod, appreciating his effort to make you feel included. Yet part of you still wrestles with the feeling of displacement. It's comforting to have someone who understands, who sees the struggle and still stands by your side affirming your place even when you doubt it yourself. Tonight, Ghost isn't just a shadowy figure or a call sign. He's the anchor you didn't realize you needed.

The room grows quieter, the only sound the distant hum of the base's nocturnal life. You reach for the whiskey glass that had been forgotten during the initial turmoil of Ghost's arrival. Tilting the glass, you take a long, deliberate drink seeking the false courage it offers. The burn a temporary distraction from the ache inside.

Ghost watches you for a moment. His expression is unreadable behind the balaclava, yet his eyes—a deep well of understanding—never leave your face. “It’s okay to feel lost sometimes, Y/N. It doesn’t mean you’re alone,” he finally says with a soft but firm voice.

You nod, feeling the alcohol loosen your tongue and the tightness in your chest. "I just feel so guilty all the time, Ghost," you admit before setting the glass down with a little more force than necessary. "Everyone here has been nothing but supportive, and here I am upset because I missed a birthday party across the ocean."

He shifts slightly turning to face you more directly. There’s a pause, a breath of a moment where he seems to be choosing his words carefully. "Guilt is a heavy burden to carry, Y/N. And it’s a familiar one to me too. We've all had moments when we felt like we're not giving enough. Not present enough for those we left behind."

Seeing him open up about his own struggles is unexpectedly comforting. It's rare for Ghost to talk about his feelings and even rarer still to admit any weakness. His willingness to share that with you now tightens something in your throat.

"Sometimes I wonder if it's all worth it," you whisper unsure if you actually wanted him to hear your admission.

He reaches out to you. His hand hesitating in the air before gently landing on your shoulder. It was a small, uncharacteristic gesture of comfort. "We chose this life because we believed in something greater than ourselves," he starts. His voice steady. "Doesn't make the personal sacrifices any lighter, but it does give them meaning. And Y/N, you bring your own meaning to this team. More than you know."

Tears brim in your eyes, spilling over despite your best efforts. You're not usually this open, this raw, but with him, it feels safe, necessary even. "I just miss being sure of things, you know? Being sure of where I belong, sure of who needs me..."

Ghost nods, his hand squeezing your shoulder slightly. "I get that. But here’s what I’m sure of—you're needed here, more than you might see. Not just as a soldier, but as you, Y/N. Just by being here you make things better for everyone. For me."

Your breath hiccups at his words, at the honesty and the raw edge in his voice. In this quiet, vulnerable space, you both share more than just words. You share understanding, burdens, and silently, the beginning of something deeper, something neither of you might fully grasp yet. As the conversation drifts into a comfortable silence, you realize that tonight you didn't just find a confidant in Ghost. You found a mirror for your own vulnerabilities, and perhaps, a reason to keep fighting. Not just for the missions but for these moments of unexpected connection.

Tears trickle down your cheeks, unchecked and unbidden as Ghost's words sink deep. His affirmation, his understanding, it hits a part of you that's been raw and exposed for far too long. He looks at you. His eyes softening under the rim of his balaclava and it's as if he sees right through to the heart of your pain.

"Come here, love," he murmurs. His voice a gentle command that stirs something deep within you. He opens his arms and it's an invitation you can't resist—not tonight. You move almost instinctively. Your body responding before your mind can catch up. You find yourself climbing into his lap without so much as a second thought. His arms encircle you, strong and sure, and you melt into him. His chest is a solid wall against your cheek, you breathe him in, the faint scent of gunpowder and mint somehow reassuring and exactly what you needed.

He's so much bigger and stronger than you. An immovable presence that you've only ever admired from a distance. And he's Ghost—your not-so-secret crush, the man behind the mask, whose face you've never seen but whose soul you felt like you completely understood. As his arms tighten around you, holding you close, it's more than comfort. It's a need fulfilled. The simple yet profound need to be held, to feel wanted, to have someone not just willing but wanting to hold you.

You let yourself be held by him. The steady beat of his heart beneath your ear a soothing rhythm in the chaos of your emotions. His hand strokes your back gently. A soothing contrast to the strength of his arms, and you feel safe, protected in a way that goes beyond physical safety. Ghost isn't just a teammate, or a mysterious figure shrouded in intrigue. He's the person who understands your loneliness, your longing, and meets it with his own kind of longing. A connection that perhaps he's been craving too.

The weight of everything—the base, the missions, the distance from home—seems to lift slightly making room for something new, something hopeful. As you nestle closer, letting yourself sink into the warmth and strength of his embrace. You realize that this closeness is something you've been missing. Something you've been needing without even knowing it. And maybe, just maybe, he needed it too.

Cuddled securely in Ghost's embrace you find a moment of peace amidst the swirl of emotions. Slowly, you tilt your head up to look at him with a small smile blossoming across your face. The intimacy of the moment, the rare closeness with someone you've both feared and admired from afar ignites a warmth that had been absent for too long.

"What, love?" Ghost asks after noticing your gentle smile. His voice is tender yet tinged with curiosity and a hint of amusement.

You shake your head with the smile still playing on your lips ever so reluctant to break the comfortable silence that's settled between you. But he's persistent, definitely not satisfied with your silent amusement. "Come on, what is it?" he presses. His tone gentle yet insistent, coaxing you to share the secret of your smile.

When you answer him it’s the last thing he expected. "You have blonde eyelashes," you murmur, almost to yourself. The observation slipping out before you can think better of it. "You're a blondie, Ghosty."

He shakes his head at you with a subtle chuckle barely audible, his gaze holding a flicker of amusement that surprises you. "Blondie, huh?" he remarks. The words dry but with an underlying warmth that feels rare and genuine. "Never figured that'd be the thing to get noticed," he adds, his tone maintaining that typical Ghost edge—cool, composed, yet unexpectedly tender.

The playful comment, light and teasing, helps to bridge the gap between your roles within TF 141 and who you are beneath the surface. His chuckle fills you with an inexplicable joy, lightening the emotional weight of the night.

Encouraged by this lighter moment, he shifts slightly, adjusting his hold on you, making sure you're more comfortable in his lap. "You know," he starts again in a thoughtful tone, "I find it interesting what people notice when they really look."

This new dynamic in your conversation allows both of you to explore this newfound closeness without the heavier undertones of your earlier emotions. It's a welcome reprieve, a chance to see each other in a new light. And perhaps to start building something uniquely personal and intimate from the shared vulnerabilities and now your shared laughter. Relishing the warmth of his embrace and buoyed by the lightness of the moment there’s a playful boldness that's unlike you but feels just right for now. With a mischievous tilt of your head, you look up at him once more. Your eyes were sparkling with a mix of flirtation and genuine curiosity.

"Should've paid more attention to you, huh?" you tease. Your voice soft yet audacious. "Bet you're real pretty under that mask Ghosty."

The words hang in the air, utterly bold and flirtatious, marking a departure from your usual reserve. Ghost pauses at that. The slight tension in his posture the only sign that your comment has caught him off guard. Yet there's a hint of amusement in his eyes. A spark that suggests your boldness might not be unwelcome.

His response is slow, deliberate, as if measuring the weight of your words and his next move. "Maybe one day you'll find out love," he replies, his voice low, a tease laced with a promise that sends a thrill through you.

The exchange was daring and filled with undercurrents of mutual interest. It adds a new layer to the atmosphere, thick with potential and unspoken possibilities. As you nestle even closer to him you feel the solid certainty of his arms around you. You can't help but feel that tonight might just be the beginning of something unexpected and exhilarating. A far departure from how you were feeling even just an hour prior.

As you rest your head against his chest, feeling the thrum of his quickening heartbeat, Ghost finds himself at a crossroads of vulnerability and longing. The playful flirtation, the warmth of your body against his… it's stirring emotions within him that he usually keeps locked away under layers of discipline and duty.

"A girl can dream, hmm?" Your words were light yet laden with unspoken wishes. They echo in his heart. He tightens his hold on you further. A protective gesture that also serves to reassure himself. You're trusting him in a way that no one else does, reaching out for comfort and perhaps more.

Ghost takes a deep breath, the fabric of his balaclava stretching slightly with the movement. The thought of removing the mask, of showing you the scars that mar his face, the physical reminders of battles fought and narrowly survived, suddenly feels less daunting. He adores you, more than he's willing to admit aloud. And that adoration mixed with trust makes him consider revealing his true self.

In this moment Ghost's internal conflict is palpable. He's been grappling with the idea of showing you his face for some time. A gesture that holds significant weight given the secretive and guarded nature of his life. The scars, which he typically regards as badges of survival and resilience, suddenly morph into vulnerabilities when he thinks about revealing them to you. This is not just about physical appearance. It's about letting someone into the most guarded parts of his existence.

Ghost's decision to consider this step now isn't just a spur-of-the-moment choice. It's been building up. You represent a safe haven for him. Someone who might understand and accept his past and the physical evidence of it without judgment. It's this trust and the depth of his feelings for you that push him toward vulnerability. The act of removing the balaclava would symbolize his willingness to lower his defenses and invite you into a more intimate, authentic part of his life. A significant leap for someone whose identity is so closely tied to his role as an elite operative.

In essence, the potential unveiling is more than revealing his face; it's an invitation into his deeper self, a crucial step in any meaningful relationship, intensified here by the layers of his hidden world.

"You know," he starts, his voice a delicate blend of resolve and hesitation, "sometimes, what we dream of isn't as far out of reach as we think." His statement was laden with vulnerability and causes your heart to swell with empathy and affection for this man who has faced so much yet stands so strong before you.

As Ghost's hands hover tentatively at the edge of his mask, the weight of his decision palpable in the air, your eyes meet his with a depth of understanding and gentleness. His fingers, curled around the fabric, pause as he seems to search your face for the reassurance he needs to move forward.

He continues, his voice lowering further, almost unsure by his bold actions. "If I show you, promise me something. Promise me you'll see beyond the scars." The sincerity and slight fear in his voice tug at you, compelling you to act. To reassure him in any way you can.

You reach out slowly, your hand moving to cover his where it still grips the mask. Your touch is light but firm, grounding, a physical manifestation of your support. "You don't have to do this," you whisper back. Your voice gentle but earnest. "I never want to push you if you're uncomfortable."

As you speak your other hand moves up instinctively giving his bicep a gentle squeeze. A silent message of reassurance and strength. "Whatever you’re ready to share, whenever you’re ready, that’s okay with me. I just want you to feel safe, not just with me but for yourself too."

Your words and the warm pressure of your hands convey everything you feel—your respect for his boundaries, your readiness to accept him as he is, and your desire to ensure his comfort above all. You smile softly hoping to convey a sense of peace and acceptance, wanting him to feel the depth of your care without any pressure.

Ghost looks down at your hands. Your much smaller fingers were intertwined with his, feeling the warmth and strength from your touch. The physical connection seems to bolster him, providing a tangible sense of support and acceptance. After a moment, he gives a small nod. An acknowledgment of your words and the comfort they bring. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Ghosty.” You assure him.

Before you can continue Ghost places a finger over your lips silencing your gentle flood of reassurances. His touch is light but there’s a decisiveness in his gesture that catches your attention. Looking into your eyes with a newfound intensity, he tilts his head slightly with a hint of a challenge in his gaze. "But what if I want to?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

His question hangs in the air loaded with possibilities and the promise of a deeper connection. His eyes search yours, looking for an answer, permission, understanding. “If you’re sure.” You looked into his eyes searching for any sort of doubt, but you couldn’t seem to find any.

Ghost's hand reaches up slowly, the weight of the decision evident in every measured movement. His fingers were rough and calloused from years of wielding weapons and facing harsh conditions. They tremble slightly as they hook around the edge of the balaclava. There's a moment's hesitation. A silent plea in his eyes as they lock onto yours, seeking reassurance. Your nod is gentle but firm, encouraging.

With a deep, steadying breath that lifts his chest and fills the air with anticipation, he pulls the fabric up and away from his face. The mask slides over his nose, past scars, and weathered skin, and finally clears his sharp jawline. The reveal is gradual with each inch of skin exposed adding layers to the man you've come to know. His scars map out a history of survival and silent battles.

As the balaclava comes off completely he allows it to drop from his fingers. His gaze never leaving yours. For a moment, he stands bare—not just physically but emotionally too. The vulnerability displayed in this act deepens everything between you profoundly. Ghost, the soldier fades into the background allowing the man behind the mask, marked by life but standing resilient, to shine through.

You see him clearly now. Not just as the formidable operative known as Ghost, but Simon, marked by his past but not defined by it. This shared moment of vulnerability cements a deeper connection. A space where truths are acknowledged without words and where your understanding and acceptance begin to kindle something far more profound than either of you had anticipated.

"Simon," you whisper. His name a gentle caress in the quiet of the room. The air between you thickens with vulnerability and you notice a slight tension in his posture. The uncertainty in his eyes. It's clear he's nervous, unaccustomed to such openness, to being seen so completely.

"May I?" you ask softly requesting permission not just to touch him but to bridge the final gap between your mutual vulnerabilities. At his hesitant nod you move closer. In a bold move you straddle his lap to minimize the distance. Your hands rise to his face, gentle and reassuring. As your fingers trace the texture of his scars you watch each reaction flicker across his features. Fleeting moments of surprise, of relief, of something tender blooming underneath.

As you study Simon’s unmasked face your heart surges with a deep and profound respect. The air between you feels charged with the significance of this moment as he allows himself to be seen, truly seen, perhaps for the first time in too long.

"Look at you," you whisper to him. Your voice laced with warmth and awe. You gaze at him more lovingly than even he could have anticipated. Your fingers gently trace the contours of his face. Your touch light but filled with intent, meant to comfort, and reassure him in his vulnerability. "You're so incredibly strong, Simon."

As your thumbs smooth over his cheeks, you can feel him relax slightly under your touch. His usual guardedness giving way to a tentative acceptance of your care. "And you’re beautiful. So handsome." you continue, each word deliberate and sincere. "Not despite these scars but because of them. They're not just marks. They're medals of your courage. Symbols of your endurance."

Simon's breath caught in his throat as he absorbed your words. No one had ever looked at him this way before. Seen him so completely and accepted him so fully. The barriers he had meticulously built around himself seemed to crumble under the gentle touch of your fingers and the sincere love in your voice. In this moment, stripped of his mask and the persona of Ghost, Simon felt truly seen. The fear that had knotted in his chest began to dissolve instead replaced by a warmth that spread through him, kindling a connection that went beyond the physical, touching something deep within his soul.

"Every line," you continued tracing one gently with your fingertip, "tells a story of survival, of fights bravely fought, of a life fiercely lived. They make you... uniquely you." Your voice is thick with admiration. Your eyes were locked in on his ensuring he feels the weight of your words.

Simon looks back at you, visibly moved. His eyes, usually a fortress of stoic resolve, now shimmer slightly with unshed tears. The walls he's built around himself seem to tremble under the warmth of your gaze and the sincerity in your voice. At your words, Simon's eyes hold yours. A mixture of awe and something that looks a lot like relief. You lean in with your forehead resting against his, sharing a breath, sharing a moment of profound connection.

Simon finds himself at the mercy of a cascade of emotions with feelings he's tightly regulated and kept at bay through years of training and harsh realities. As he looks into your eyes—eyes filled with genuine care and admiration—he experiences a vulnerability that is both terrifying and exhilarating.

Inside, Simon is grappling with a mix of disbelief and wonder. The walls he's constructed around his heart, built to protect, and isolate, are wavering under the gentle but persistent tide of your compassion. Each word you speak, each tender touch, challenges his long-held beliefs about himself and his worth. The fortress of stoic resolve that has always been his shield is now nearly crumbled by the warmth of your gaze. In the understanding in your voice.

Can she truly see something in me that I've failed to recognize? he wonders silently baffled by the idea that his scars and battles, which he has always viewed as disfigurements and burdens, could be seen as marks of beauty and strength. Your touch of tracing his face with such intimate loving care doesn't just map the physical contours of his scars but also traces the deeper emotional wounds he's carried silently for so long.

As your forehead rests against his, sharing this profound moment of connection, Simon feels a shift within himself. A melting of ice that he didn't realize had encased his heart. The feeling of being understood, truly and deeply, without the need for masks or defenses is profoundly disarming. It stirs something in him that feels dangerously close to hope, to love.

In the quiet of this shared moment Simon begins to accept the possibility that he may not only be capable of loving but that he is already deep in the throes of it especially after witnessing the care and devotion with which you regard him. It's a realization that brings both fear and a surprising relief. The kind of relief that comes from finally settling down a heavy burden he hadn't fully acknowledged carrying.

Amidst these revelations he feels a gratitude that tightens his throat. An overwhelming appreciation for the woman before him who sees beyond the surface, who sees him not as a collection of scars and stories, but as a whole person worthy of love and affection. This connection, this acceptance, it's something he's longed for without even realizing it. And now faced with its reality he's both humbled and profoundly moved.

"You see all this in me?" he finally managed to ask with his voice barely above a whisper. As if speaking louder might break the spell of this intimate exchange.

"It breaks my heart that you don't, Si," you respond softly. Your voice laced with both sadness and affection. It's rare for you to use that nickname, but in this moment it feels just right. Intimate and genuine.

As your fingers maintain their gentle contact on his face Simon feels a surge of emotions that almost overwhelms him. Your words were so full of sincerity and depth and pierce through the layers of self-doubt and isolation he has wrapped around himself for so long. "You should see yourself the way I see you. Not just for what you’ve been through but for who you are because of it. You’re remarkable, Simon. And yes, I see all of this and so much more." Each word resonates within him, echoing in the spaces he's kept guarded and hidden from the world.

As he absorbs the weight of your affirmation Simon's heart feels like it could burst from the sheer intensity of what he's experiencing. It's as if your words have unlocked something within him. A floodgate opening to reveal depths of emotion he had long disregarded as unreachable. The shock of realizing that he can feel so deeply that he might indeed love and be loved in return washes over him with an almost palpable force.

For years Simon has compartmentalized his emotions viewing them as potential weaknesses in the unforgiving environments he's navigated. But now being held by your gaze and touched by your understanding he finds himself reconsidering everything he thought he knew about his capacity for emotion. The realization that he does love you and that he has perhaps loved you in ways he hadn't allowed himself to fully acknowledge comes as both a shock and a beautiful revelation.

As he exhales softly, releasing the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, a mix of relief and wonder fills him. The connection you share seems to solidify into something tangible, something real and powerful. Your ability to see him—not just the soldier, not just the scars, but Simon, the man behind the mask—instills in him a newfound sense of worthiness and belonging. In the warmth of your touch and the earnestness of your words Simon finds a new perspective on himself and his place in the world. It's as if your belief in him has lent him the strength to believe in himself. To accept the possibility of a future shaped not by solitude and sacrifice but by love and mutual understanding.

This emotional turning point is not just a revelation of his feelings for you but an awakening to the idea that he can be loved for all that he is, scars and strengths alike. As he looks into your eyes filled with appreciation and a dawning recognition of his worth. Simon knows that whatever the future holds it has been irrevocably altered by the truth and beauty of this moment.

As the emotional weight of the moment hangs between you, you sense the intensity overwhelming Simon in the wake of his newfound realizations. To lighten the mood and bring a touch of levity back into the exchange you offer him a radiant, genuine smile. Your eyes sparkle with affection and a playful teasing tone colors your voice as you look into his eyes which are now more open and vulnerable than ever.

“I was right though,” you say with a quiet giggle as your smile broadened “You are real pretty under that mask.”

Simon's eyes light up at your playful remark. A spark of joy dancing in them as he absorbs the lighter mood you've introduced. His smile spreads across his face softening the lines and scars that mark his experiences. The laughter you share serves as a reminder of the normalcy and comfort that can exist even in moments filled with deep emotional revelations.

After the laughter subsides Simon's expression turns tender. His eyes still holding yours with an intensity that speaks volumes. Leaning in slightly, the proximity bridging any remaining space between you. He mirrors your intimate gesture with one of his own. His hand, previously resting cautiously at his side, now reaches up to gently cup your face. The touch is soft but deliberate. Filled with affection and a newfound confidence.

"You've always seen more than most," Simon says. His voice low and filled with emotion. "Not just the surface, but the stories and the scars beneath. For that, I’m more grateful than I can express."

He pauses, his thumb now tracing the contour of your cheek in a slow, affectionate caress. "And you," Simon continues with his voice softening further. Softer than you’ve ever heard with a gentle sincerity underscoring his words, "are truly beautiful. In ways that go beyond what's visible. Your strength, your compassion… it shines through in everything you do."

The intimacy of his touch and his words draw you even closer, knitting your connection tighter. Simon's actions reveal his comfort and trust in you. Showcasing his willingness to not only accept the love and acceptance offered but to return it in kind. In this shared space, filled with genuine smiles and soft touches, the foundation of your relationship deepens. It promised a future where both laughter and earnest declarations have a place.

Your heart now feels as if it might burst right out of your chest. Simon’s words, laden with genuine admiration for who you are beyond the surface, touch you profoundly. You've always felt a strong connection with him but hearing him articulate his appreciation for your inner qualities. It's overwhelming in the most beautiful way.

A single tear escapes without your permission tracing a path down your cheek, not out of sadness but from the sheer intensity of emotion swirling within you. Simon notices the tear and his expression softens further. Gently, he wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. His touch tender and filled with utmost concern.

As Simon's gentle fingers brush away the tear from your cheek the sweet gesture triggers something deep within you. The floodgates open and a rush of emotions surge forward. You feel an overwhelming mix of relief, gratitude, and a profound connection that you've never experienced so intensely before. Each tear that falls feels like a release of feelings too long held back.

Noticing your distress Simon acts with instinctive care. He gently guides you back into his lap wrapping his strong arms around you. The closeness of his embrace feels like a sanctuary as you nestle into his chest, letting your tears flow freely. Simon rocks you gently. His presence a calming force in the storm of your emotions. "It's okay, it'll all be okay," he murmurs soothingly, his voice a steady, comforting rumble against your ear. Each word he whispers is a balm, helping to steady your shaking breaths as you cry it all out. The built-up emotions washing over you.

After a few moments as the tide of your tears begins to subside, you lift your head to look up at him. Simon meets your gaze with a gentle smile. The softness in his eyes reflecting his deep care for you. "You alright, love?" he asks full of concern and affection for you.

You nod slowly, still nestled in the safety of Simon's embrace. The warmth from his body lending you calm. "I'm sorry, I just got overwhelmed," you explain with your voice barely above a whisper. The flood of emotions was unexpected yet not unwelcome. "It's just... all of this, hearing how you see me. Being this close to you," you continue as your eyes searched his for understanding. "It means so much to me, Simon. More than I can really express."

Simon's smile is genuine as he watches you. Understanding flickering in his eyes as he gently rocks you, keeping you close. "There's nothing to apologize for, love," he reassures you. His voice a steady presence. "It’s okay to feel this deeply. It's okay to let it show. I don’t mind a bit."

His words, affirming and gentle, help to steady the last remnants of your emotional whirlwind. As you slowly pull back to look at him again his hand remains comforting on your back, always reassuring.

"You alright now?" he asks after a moment of watching you closely. His voice low and husky.

Nodding, you manage a more composed smile this time, touched by his patience and care. "Yes, I'm alright. Thank you, Simon. For being here. For understanding," you say with gratitude coloring your tone.

Simon’s response is a tender squeeze of his arms around you. A nonverbal promise of his continued support. "Always," he murmurs. The simplicity of that single word carries with it the weight of his commitment.

In this quiet space held in Simon's arms you realize the strength that lies in vulnerability and the beauty of being seen and accepted. It’s a profound moment between the two of you. One that you both will cherish as a cornerstone of your relationship, built on understanding, respect, and heartfelt emotion.

As you rest quietly in Simon's embrace, comforted by his gentle rocking and the soothing timbre of his voice, you notice a subtle shift in his demeanor. His gaze usually so guarded and controlled now holds an unmistakable depth of emotion. The intimacy of the moment, coupled with the rawness of your tears seems to have broken down the last barriers he had in place.

Simon takes a deep breath as if steeling himself to cross a threshold he's been guarding for too long. "Seeing you like this, feeling so much right alongside you... it's made me realize something," he starts. His voice thick with emotion. His eyes lock onto yours deciding not to hold anything back. "I… I need you to know."

He pauses ensuring he has your full attention. His hands still gently cradling you. "I want to be there for you, not just now but always. I want to be the one you lean on, the one who gets to see all the sides of you, the beautiful, the tough, the vulnerable." His words pour out, fervent and sincere. "I want to be your person, love. If you'll have me."

The confession hangs in the air, bold and heartfelt. Simon's face is open, hopeful yet anxious, as he gauges your reaction. It's clear this isn't just a sudden admission but something he's been grappling with. The intensity of the current situation pushing his feelings to the surface.

You blink back a fresh wave of tears, not from sadness, but from a bewildering mix of joy and doubt. His words are everything you wanted to hear yet they also echo in the corners of your mind where you harbor insecurities. You see him—Simon, so confident, so capable. The embodiment of everything you admire. And then there’s you, the ‘inexperienced little American girl’ as you harshly label yourself, suddenly feeling all the more plain and unworthy beside him.

“Simon,” you start. Your voice wavering not just with emotion but with the weight of your own self-doubt. “Why me? You’re… you’re incredible, and I’m just… I don’t know, I always feel like I’m just stumbling around you. I’m not sure what you see in someone like me.”

As your insecurities surface, revealing the depth of your unsureness, Simon's expression shifts into one of immediate concern and gentle reproof. "Love, you can't be serious…" he begins. His voice imbued with a firm conviction that makes you pause. "You're everything and more. You don’t see that?"

He makes sure you're looking directly at him with his hands tenderly cradling your face, ensuring that you feel the weight and sincerity of his words. "You see inexperience, but I see a woman who bravely faces every new challenge. Who learns and adapts, who grows stronger every day. You’re not just someone trying to keep up. You're someone who enhances our team with your unique strengths and perspective."

Simon's voice softens even further as he continues. Each word carefully chosen to convey his deep admiration and affection. "Every time you think you're just scrambling to catch up, I see someone gracefully navigating through obstacles. What you call inexperience, I call a journey of growth and courage. And that’s what draws me to you. Not just your resilience but your authenticity. The realness you bring to every situation is unguarded and genuine."

He leans in closer reducing the space between you, his gaze locked with yours in an intense, heartfelt connection. "To me, you are a woman who has taught me more about heart and perseverance than anyone else. You bring laughter, support, and challenge to my life in ways you don’t even realize."

Simon shakes his head slightly, a smile tinged with affection and a hint of awe breaking through. "You being you, with all your doubts, your laughs, your dreams—that's what I want and need. You might feel like you're just keeping pace, but love, in my eyes, you're flying. And I want to be there to support you. To celebrate every victory and help you through every challenge."

Simon's words not only offer reassurance but also begin to dismantle the walls of doubt you've built around yourself just as he had. His belief in you, his unwavering support, resonates deeply, perhaps starting to shift how you view yourself. No longer as a mere participant trying to keep up but as an invaluable member of the team whose journey and contributions are deeply cherished.

Overwhelmed by Simon's heartfelt words you find yourself momentarily speechless. His deep belief in your worth and his unwavering support pierce through the layers of your self-doubt, striking a chord deep within you. It's as if his words have not only reached your ears but also wrapped around your heart, offering both solace and a profound reassurance.

Without a word you lean forward, burying your face in the warmth of Simon's chest. The sturdy beat of his heart under your ear is comforting. A steady rhythm in the storm of emotions you're navigating. As you inhale deeply, you're enveloped by his familiar scent, a mixture that's uniquely Simon—part strength, part safety. It's grounding, helping you anchor yourself in the reality of his presence. In the truth of his words.

Simon's arms encircle you gently once more. His hand finding its way to your back where he begins to rub soothing circles. The simple gesture is nurturing, allowing you the space and comfort to collect your thoughts. To let the emotional turbulence settle into a sense of peace. His patience is palpable. There's no rush, no urgency, just a steady presence as he holds you. Affirming that he's there for you, not just in moments of strength but also in moments of vulnerability.

In the sanctuary of Simon's embrace, you feel a deep gratitude washing over you. His support not only uplifts you but also starts to reshape the way you view yourself. The doubts that once loomed large now begin to shrink, overshadowed by the new perspective he's given you—one where you are valued, capable, and cherished.

As you slowly lift your head to meet his gaze your eyes are reflective of the emotions still swirling within you but also shining with a newfound confidence. The connection you share has deepened, strengthened by vulnerability and honesty. You're ready to voice your thoughts, to respond to his openness with your own. “Simon,” you begin. Your voice a whisper that carries all the depth of your emotions, “Can I kiss you?”

The moment hangs suspended. Your question lingering between you, filled with anticipation. Simon’s response is not in words but actions. A reflection of the straightforward, decisive man you know him to be. With a swift, gentle motion, he cups your face in his hands once more. His touch reassuring and intent. Before you can react further he pulls you closer and presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is a surge of warmth and tenderness. Deepening as if to make up for all the unspoken times you both held back. It's a kiss that communicates more than any words could. Filled with all the emotions that have been steadily brewing—a mixture of relief, affection, and undisguised longing.

When you finally come up for air Simon's eyes twinkle with a mixture of delight and affection. A sweet smirk playing on his lips. “Thought you’d never ask, love,” he teases gently. His voice a soft rumble that sends a thrill through you. The playfulness in his tone lightens the intensity of the moment adding a layer of joy to the emotional depth you've shared.

Amidst the deep embrace, as Simon's arms encircle you, creating a world that consists only of the two of you, his question still lingers in the air. A soft echo amidst the intensity of your mutual connection. "Is that a yes?" His voice, though light and teasing, carries an undercurrent of earnest desire for affirmation, a confirmation of the bond you both feel.

Your body is pressed against his feeling the reassuring strength of his chest. The protective circle of his arms and the gentle touch of his hands tracing soothing patterns on your back. The physical closeness amplifies the emotional intimacy of the moment making the space between heartbeats seem significant filled with unspoken promises and shared dreams.

You lift your head from the sanctuary of his chest meeting his gaze which is alight with anticipation and warmth. His eyes, so often a bastion of resolve, now hold a tender vulnerability, waiting for your words, your confirmation.

"Yes, Simon," you respond, your voice soft but filled with conviction, the words flowing effortlessly in the safety of his hold. "Absolutely it's a yes. I can't imagine being with anyone else but you." The smile that spreads across your face mirrors the joy and sincerity in your heart.

As you speak your hand gently caresses his cheek feeling the slight roughness of his skin beneath your fingertips grounding the moment in the tactile reality of his presence. Simon's reaction is immediate as a deep, relieved breath. And his eyes close for a brief moment, savoring the words that have sealed the understanding between you.

When he opens his eyes again there's a new light in them, one of deep contentment and resolve. He leans in to capture your lips with his once more. This kiss infused with the joy of mutual acceptance and the excitement of a future together. It's a kiss that reaffirms everything that has been shared, a tender seal on the promises made.

Pulling back slightly, Simon's forehead rests against yours. A contented sigh escaping him. "I was hoping you'd say that," he murmurs, his voice a low hum filled with happiness. "You have no idea how much you mean to me."

In the cocoon of Simon's embrace, the air around you pulses with a newfound joy, each moment intensifying the connection that binds you together. With each word, each touch, Simon showers you with the love and affection that he's held back for so long. His lips find yours again, this time more eagerly, conveying emotions too powerful for words.

As Simon deepens the kiss, he pauses briefly, pulling back just enough to gaze into your eyes with an expression brimming with tenderness. "You're so beautiful," he whispers. The warmth of his breath caressing your face as he plants soft kisses along your jawline. Each kiss seems to say what words cannot fully express, marking a trail of affection that sends tingles through your body.

Trailing kisses down your neck, he murmurs, "The prettiest girl I've ever seen," his voice a velvety whisper that wraps around you like a soothing blanket. The sincerity in his tone, coupled with the gentle press of his lips against your skin, makes your heart flutter and your pulse quicken.

He then moves back up to meet your gaze again, his hands cradling your face with a reverence that makes you feel cherished in ways you'd only imagined. "And you're not just beautiful, you're the smartest woman I know," he adds. His admiration for your intellect just as palpable as his physical attraction. His thumbs gently stroke your cheeks as he continues, "Watching you solve problems that stump everyone else—it's incredible."

Simon's compliments flow seamlessly as he explores your face with his kisses. Each touch a testament to his deepening feelings. With every word, every gentle caress, you feel more seen and appreciated than ever before. The connection deepens, wrapping both of you in a tender intimacy that feels both exhilarating and profoundly right.

As you lie there, enveloped in Simon's love and adoration, a giggle escapes you. A sound of pure happiness and contentment. You've never felt so loved, so valued. In Simon's arms, with his voice whispering sweet affirmations, you feel an overwhelming sense of belonging. He's not just a partner. He's your person in every sense, and in this perfect heartfelt moment you trust him completely and utterly.

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!) : @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @kenn-spencerswifey @guacam011y @illisea @hiireadstuff @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

[misfit-mania-the-first]

Sweet Tooth

Egon Spengler x GN!Reader

I giggled and munched on the pieces of chocolate that I held, smudges left behind on my fingertips as the heat of my body melted it slightly. It was nighttime and…it was far too late for so much sugar. But this wonderful scientist was begging me for the candy I had.

“Egon, its the last candy bar! You always eat the snacks before I get them.”

The man in question being Egon, who was staring down at the candy bar in my hand intensely. His brown eyes were wide behind his round glasses. I sighed. He had spent the past three hours working in the lab, locked up listening to rock n’ roll and tinkering with the extra proton pack that just refused to work.

“Ugh…you…you’re taunting me with that.”

His voice came out a bit monotone, as it always did, but there was a lilt of a whine and it just made me giggle again and shift to slide down on the couch. He was such a grumpy man. His eyes went to the side and he hunched a bit.

“I’m not teasing you, you’re just upset because you can’t have it.”

He scoffed and adjusted his glasses, his long fingers pinching the frames. His other hand went and shoved into his pocket. There weren’t any snacks left, not even a little hershey kiss.

A kiss.

Hmm…

I licked my thumb and forefinger of the chocolate and patted the couch.

“Here. Sit.”

“I’m not a hound.”

“Sit.”

He grumbled and sat next to me, still a few inches taller. His knees rested a little bit higher than mine, long legs folding slightly. I broke off a piece of chocolate, and he put his hand out with a more open expression…and I put it in my mouth. He stared at me with a heavy brow and an incredulous look.

“You…”

He huffed and I put the chocolate bar down behind me with a crinkle. I scooted up to him on the suede couch. The moon was bright and it glinted in his glasses as they slid down a bit. I pushed them back up and cupped his cheeks.

“Here, baby.”

And then I pressed my lips to his and met him in an open mouthed kiss. My tongue was coated in melted chocolate and he melted in the same way, his large hands pulling my hips to him as I slid my tongue over his to coat his tongue in sweetness. The wet sounds of our lips was a quiet symphony in the firehouse.

When I pulled back a little while later it was reluctantly, slowly. I loved seeing him in moments like this, when his eyes were closed and his lips tried to follow mine, chasing the feel of me. Although now I was pretty sure it was the chocolate he wanted.

He shifted and grumbled to himself about how convoluted this was until I met him in a kiss again with a new piece of chocolate, his beautiful deep voice making sweet sounds against my mouth as I fed his sweet tooth with the taste of my tongue.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Can you do mini-headcanons of the MC familiar being a Parrot?

Tysm!!

The Arcana Mini-HCs: With a Parrot familiar

Julian: constantly trying to borrow your parrot for his pirate acting bits, blushes up to his ears when it mimics the nervous stutter that somehow just comes out constantly around you

Asra: loves how colorful it is and is always on the lookout for new shiny things to put in its enclosure (assuming it has one). has knitted multiple parrot-patterned snake sweaters for Faust

Nadia: loves that Chandra has a flying companion now! is secretly determined to teach it how to sing so she can have it serenade you on her behalf when she's not around. success is ... variable

Muriel: so startled the first time he heard it talk. he knew it was possible, he just ... wasn't prepared. nearly snorted with laughter when it imitated Inanna's growl back to her face

Portia: oh, she is teaching this parrot so. many. phrases. at first it was cute, like "I love MC!" but last night at dinner it was a very sudden "I have a vile odor!" and there was no coming back

Lucio: he thought the parrot was awesome until it figured out how to imitate Mercedes and Melchior's barks and howls. now it's the number one nighttime howl symphony instigator

[oil-bh]

I’ve been thinking a lot about Deathduo/Pissa specifically in our canon/ig headcanons

Philza is the moon, not the sun, and Missa is the sun, not the moon. Philza is first creation and life. Missa is second creation/repurposing and death. Philza was “born” on the last day of the last month, rather than the first day of the new year, and Missa was “born” on the first day of the new year, not the last day of the last month.

It’s so interesting to me how they adhere to some more typical tropes, with life being creation, but a lot of more typical life/death dynamics are entirely flipped for them. Like the sun/moon one. How Philza’s “birthday” was the last of everything, despite him being the creation.

Wouldn’t you expect life’s “birthday” to be the new, unfolding year? And vice versa for Missa. Wouldn’t you expect death to be on the last of everything, teetering toward the end? Wouldn’t you expect something as cold and frightening as death to be linked to the moon, the nighttime? For life to be associated with the warmth of the sun? No. It’s flipped.

And, wouldn’t you anticipate death to be destruction? For life to be creation? Why is life remarked as the angel of death? Why is death remarked as a sinfonia, a symphony, something beautiful and new? There isn’t an end all, there’s life beyond death. Sure, it may be a limbo, but there’s death in life and life in death.

Why do so many mythos depict them as polarizing opposites when they’re so much more similar than you’d think, than you’d like? Why is life colder than death? Death warmer than life? Why are they more alike and more reversed than mythos depict them?

Did you know that life was born from the death of a star and that death was born from the new life brought to clay by the potter’s hands?

[hisui-dreamer]

unspoken pleas and hidden confessions

Pairing: Jade Leech x gn!reader, Floyd Leech x gn!reader

Synopsis: you could only watch as he slowly faded away, your feelings never to be spoken

Tags: angst, farewells, comfort(?), unrequited feelings, open ending(?)

Word count: 1.1k+

Notes: @dove-da-birb @leonistic the angst fic that we talked about a while ago hehe, hope this hurts good!

heavily inspired by this song!

Masterlist

A hushed ambience envelops the platform, the station's lights above casting a soft radiance. Nighttime has unfurled its dark cloak, with only several sources of light breaking up the darkness.

The sky is remarkably clear tonight, and if it were any other night you would have found yourself knocking on Jade's door, excited to go stargazing with him. You'd revel in his patient explanations of constellations, savouring his descriptive narratives of the celestial wonders above.

But tonight is different.

Jade had always been interested in academics, while you and Floyd had revelled in your outdoor adventures. It was only a matter of time before he would leave to pursue new horizons.

You just wish that time wasn't now.

"Don't make that face now, I'd much rather be sent off by one of your smiles," his voice a tender caress only intensifies the ache in your heart.

For as intelligent and astute of a man he is, could he really not tell what your feelings were for him? Or maybe, he understood but deliberately ignored them in hopes they'd die down.

'Don't go,' you plead in your mind. 'Please don't leave me,'

A tear forms at the edge of your eyelashes, and you take a slow, steadying breath, willing the tear to retreat. It clings to your lashes for a moment, before you blink it away like a fleeting memory. A simple smile curves your lips as you manage, "I'll miss you."

"You'll be alright, my dear," he reassures you, though you don't feel yourself feeling any better. "You still have Floyd by your side, and remember, I'm just a phone call away."

The train's soft hum grows more insistent, a reminder that time is slipping away. You wish you could freeze this moment, and hold onto it a little longer, but the sparkle of excitement in his eyes is enough for you to cease your selfish desires.

"Take care, Jade," you begin, your voice quivering as you choose your words carefully, pulling him into an embrace. "Remember to eat your meals, okay? Don't lose track of time while engrossed in your experiments, and don't sacrifice sleep for the allure of an interesting book..."

'... because I can't be there for you anymore.' you think to yourself, the courage to voice them slipping through your fingers like sand.

'I love you.'

As he rests within the embrace of your arms, a torrent of memories cascades floods your mind–the laughter shared, the secrets exchanged, the countless hours spent in each other's company. For a fleeting second, you dare to believe in the possibility of more. Your heart swells like a dammed river eager to breach its confines. The love you've harboured, veiled by friendship's guise, yearns to be unshackled.

But you won't let it.

Instead, you immerse yourself in the embrace of his proximity, each heartbeat a symphony of shared warmth. His breath dances upon your skin, a gentle caress that sets your senses ablaze. His arms, a protective fortress, encircle you. You will this moment to linger, to engrain itself into your very being, a memory to be etched in the deepest corners of your heart.

Reluctantly, you release your embrace, allowing him the space he needs to step onto the waiting train. His footsteps echo with the finality of departure, each beat echoing in your chest. As he turns to face you one last time, his eyes hold a mixture of excitement and nostalgia, mirroring your own feelings.

"I will. And take care of yourself too," he says. "Help keep Floyd in check for me."

The corners of your eyes begin to glisten, yet you muster the strength to hold them back. A bittersweet smile dances on your lips as you nod, your voice catching in your throat, and you manage to muster a whisper, "I promise."

With a soft hiss, the doors to the train slide shut. He stands on the other side, his hand raised in a farewell wave, a soft smile gracing his lips. As you watch, a pang of longing settles heavily within your chest, a weight that seems to anchor you to the platform.

The train begins to inch forward as the rhythmic chug of the locomotive reverberates through the air, each beat echoing in your ears as if finalizing your farewell. The night enfolds the retreating train, its darkness swallowing the scene until only the faint glimmer of taillights remains visible, a distant star in the night sky. The world around you seems to shrink, encapsulating only the train, the tracks, and the fading echoes of his presence.

'Goodbye.'

A shiver runs down your spine as the weight of his absence settles in-- you would no longer find Jade right next door. The days you've spent laughing and studying together are long gone.

Your defences falter, and the tears you've been holding back finally break free. They glide down your cheeks, tracing the paths of memories and unspoken words, falling freely as a testament to the depth of your feelings. The weight of his absence bears down on your shoulders, threatening to crush you under its immense burden. Your knees buckle beneath you, unable to support the weight of your sorrow.

Just as you feel yourself about to collapse, a strong hand grabs hold of your arm, steadying you. Startled, you look up to see Floyd, standing beside you with a look of concern etched across his face.

"Floyd..." you manage to choke out his name, your voice thick with emotion.

He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace, offering you the comfort and support you so desperately need in this moment of despair. His presence, though not the one you long for, is a lifeline in the sea of grief threatening to engulf you.

"It's real dark tonight... I wouldn't let my Shrimpy walk home alone," he states softly, his tone carrying a mix of concern and affection. He reaches out, his fingers brushing against your cheek as he gently wipes away the trails of tears.

You blink at his sudden presence, though you manage a thankful smile, "Thanks, Floyd. You're a great friend."

A fleeting pause in his movements, a glimmer of something profound flickers in his eyes. "Yeah..." he mutters, a deeper emotion shadowing his words. "Let's head back."

His fingers curl around yours, leading you along. The streets are hushed, serenaded by the distant chorus of crickets. The path you tread upon holds the echoes of countless summers, laughter, and precious memories.

Without warning, Floyd's steps come to a halt, his attention drawn skyward, where the moon hangs like a luminous jewel in the velvet tapestry of the night. His face is bathed in the gentle glow of the moon, its luminous touch painting his features with a dreamlike softness.

His words escape in a soft exhale, a whisper woven with a hint of wistfulness. "The moon sure is pretty tonight," he murmurs, a hint of yearning in his voice.

Your gaze follows his, taking in the pale, full moon. Its glow is full and inviting, making you feel a little lighter.

"It really is, huh?"

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

[mcyt-builds-contest]

A promise is a promise, so here you guys go (might not be lore accurate i'm not a dsmp fan)

How to stop a dreamer by @mcyt-builds-contest

Dream is faced with a power he had never seen before: shreeping

"It had been weeks since Dream started putting this plan, months even, it had to be perfect, everything was calculated, everyone had been studied, corrupted, manipulated. there were no variable left, not a single amount of "unknown" was allowed in this equation. Dream had done it, it was the perfect plan." Punz was monologuing while trying to sneak out of what remained of L'manberg without getting noticed, a compass in hand, tonight would this symphony be finaly finnished.

Dream didn't really have a base, but he was hiding a room in the castle he once gave to Eret, and the empty walls of the structure made it feel like a prison, none of the torches had been lit in a long time, except a faint light, dissapearing behind a corner. "For Goodness sake why does he keep doing it!?" Dream's voice echoed through the hallway, startling Punz for an instant, he had never heard him this upset before.

"Dream? Is something wrong?"

"Oh. Sorry Punz, I didn't see that you were there." answered Dream, his mask dangling in one of his hands, "It's just that my foolproof plan, wasn't foolproof enough!", his voice started to derail a little has Dream tried to keep his composure, his grip thightening on his mask, almost cracking it

"But we took everything into account!" Punz added, his voice tinted in disbelief as he sat down, "We didn't make a single error!"

Dreamed sighed, exasperated by this new obstacle, "Turns out, Ranboo can only enderwalk during nighttime,"

"And?"

"And that guy, what's his name again, Bdubs? seem to just be able to sleep it away!" Dream threw his mask down on the table, filled with maps, papers and books, before taking out a folder filled with hastly scribbled pages, covered in all kinds of markings, "Since he 'appeared' here two week ago, he skipped throught every single night."

"You have a solution right? you always find a solution!" Punz said before taking a closer look at one of the pages, on it was drawn a pair of sunglasses,a weird rift-looking location and some sort of weird structure, labeled "temple to the sun god (ME!), gifted by Sausaage :p", Punz took the rest of the green folder arbored with the meticulous drawing of a clock, before asking "Where did you find this?"

"I took them from a diary i found in that Bdubs guy's house!"

"And you have a plan then?"

"Of course i do" Dream slighlty smirked, before putting his mask back on, "Remenber that prison i made Sam build and i'm supposed to go in? I think we may have to change the convict :)"

[e-dubbc11]

Two Heartbeats

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F! Reader

Warnings: Angst, tears, and fluff

Word Count: 1.7K-ish

Summary: Even though you’re not his to protect anymore, Matt still checks up on you every night. And after several weeks of nightly visits without your knowledge, he hears something that scares him and leaves him frozen in place. He needs to talk to you.

A/N: Now I haven’t written for Matt in a LONG time, I really hope it’s alright. I miss writing for him, inspiration just hasn’t hit me in awhile. Anyway, I don’t know what the deal is with not being able to answer certain asks from my inbox but this one was sent to me by my love @ittybxttykxttytxtty I hope you like it!

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

Shadows danced across the pavement as the nocturnal symphony of Hell’s Kitchen started to play. The ethereal glow from the moon passed through the gray clouds turning them white and then back to gray again.

Matt Murdock couldn’t see the shadows or the moon although he felt them both. The pull of the moon when it was full caused all the crazies to come out. The night whispered to him, telling him all of her secrets, telling him everyone’s secrets.

The dark shadows were caused by pedestrians as they walked by. As he stood perched on a rooftop above his world, he could hear when they stepped on a bottlecap, or swore under their breath because they stepped in freshly discarded gum.

A slight smirk tugged across his mouth when they did that, it amused him. With a subtle tilt of the head, he licked his lips, the cool nighttime air dried them out as he honed in on those sounds. Calls of distress were coming from all directions now.

But you were safe and that’s all that mattered. He always checked on you to make sure you were alright even if you weren’t his to protect anymore.

The black hood protected his identity as he protected his city. By day, he tried to protect Hell’s Kitchen the right way, the legal way. But at night, the Devil came out and the law went out the window.

The childhood accident that took Matt’s sight from him, heightened the rest of his senses which he used to his advantage. He used them to stop those cries for help he would hear in the middle of the night. The residents of Hell’s Kitchen deserved to feel safe in their homes and you were the resident that meant the most to him.

Outside your window, he would whisper to you. “I’m always here, sweetheart.” He loved you but never wanted you to know he was there. Matt knew you would be furious if you found out he was outside, listening to you because he had put you through enough; the secrets and the lies were what you couldn’t handle. It wasn’t the cuts, bruises or stitches. All you had wanted was the truth and he couldn’t give it to you so you left.

Matt could sense something was off, your hormone level maybe? He wasn’t quite sure. It would explain why you were absolutely furious and acting a little irrational.

And after 6 weeks of nightly visits, he heard something coming from your apartment that stopped him dead in his tracks. His own heart rate increased and his rapid inhales and exhales of his breathing almost became uncontrollable.

The Devil heard TWO heartbeats…and they were both coming from you.

Clinging to the fire escape, he listened for a minute. The second heartbeat was much faster than yours, Matt sensed it was a part of him and he couldn’t move, he was frozen in place.

Screams and calls for help tore Matt away from your window but he would be back and next time, he wouldn’t just be standing outside. He desperately needed to talk to you.

**********

After a long day at work and the doctor, you were finally able to take your shoes off and relax. Normally after a long day like today, you’d relax with a little tv and a glass of wine but you wouldn’t be having any wine for another several months, at least.

And even if you did, you probably wouldn’t be able to keep that down either. There wasn’t a lot you were able to keep down lately aside from clementines and bagels but you were thankful that New York bagels were large so they kept you full for a long time.

Frequent trips to the ladies room at work was getting old. You were hoping that your morning sickness wouldn’t last too much longer but all pregnancies were different. Who knows how long this part would last?

Your thoughts drifted to Matt.

You wished you knew what it was he was keeping from you. How many chances did you give him to come clean and explain himself yet he still didn’t tell you the truth?

You missed him though.

And you were going to have to tell him about the baby sooner or later because it was the right thing to do.

Matt was going to be a father, you just had to gather the courage to tell him.

**********

Every time Matt felt brave enough to talk to you, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He still checked on you nightly, listened to your and the baby’s heartbeat for a little while before fleeing to fight the evil of Hell’s Kitchen.

He had arguments with himself constantly about what he wanted to say to you. His days had been long and his nights even longer but he made his decision that he would make time to talk to you…tonight.

Enough time had passed to where you found out you were having a girl. Going to your doctor’s appointments by yourself was scary and lonely. You watched as other expectant mothers brought their significant others with them to their appointments and wished Matt was with you.

You were going to tell him…soon.

**********

Something startled you awake but you didn’t know what it was. It was just a feeling you had, that someone was inside your apartment. The metal baseball bat you kept under your bed was always at arm’s length and as you reached for it, you heard a low gravelly voice coming from the chair on the other side of the room.

“Don’t swing for the fences, sweetheart. It’s just me.” Said Matt.

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you saw an outline of a silhouette sitting in your chair before flicking the lamp on.

He had a black hood over his head, covering half of his face. The rest of his clothes were black from head to toe and suddenly you recognized the figure. You had seen his picture in the paper and now that you thought about it, remembering certain photos, you recognized that ass anywhere.

“Matty?! What the fu—? Y-you’re the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen?!!” You asked, shocked to your core.

Suddenly the cuts, stitches and bruises…they all made sense. All of the late nights, unanswered phone calls, and why he was so secretive. It all came together, he was sitting in your apartment, confessing to what he was doing, why he was doing it, and why he felt like he had to hide the truth from you.

“I am so so sorry, Angel.” He said.

You sat there in the gathering darkness, stunned and speechless at the trace of desperation in his voice as he talked to you. He confessed his secrets to you just as Hell’s Kitchen confesses its secrets to him…every night.

With no warning, you just blurted out your secret.

“I’m pregnant.” You said, softly.

Matt replied, “I know, sweetheart.”

He went on to explain that the accident had left his other senses heightened.

“…So I can hear your heart beating right now. And I can hear the baby’s.” He said.

With tears swimming in your eyes, you were finally able to find your voice.

“Do you understand why I left, Matthew?” You asked him.

Matt had taken off his hood and moved from the chair to the edge of your bed. You could see his soft brown eyes now in the low light of the bedroom.

“I do but I don’t understand why you couldn’t trust me enough to know it was because I wanted to keep you safe. I don’t want you involved in that part of my life.” He said.

You raised your voice a little. “You can’t separate something like that, Matt! I don’t want to be involved with just PART of your life. Just like I don’t think you want to be involved with just PART of mine! Ya know so far I’ve gone to ALL of my doctor’s appointments alone? I hate going by myself!”

He replied, “But I wanted to do that with you! You could have asked me!”

Matt was slightly agitated. You could tell by the way he pressed his lips into a straight line and how his breathing became more rapid. He stood up and placed his hands firmly on his hips.

“Oh you did?! How? Would you have penciled me in between court and fighting crime?” You yelled sarcastically.

He reached for your hand.

“I don’t wanna fight with you, y/n. I really am sorry.” Said Matt.

To a point, you could understand why he kept all of that from you. Keeping you safe was very important to Matt and now he had an even bigger reason to keep you safe, to keep the both of you safe. The tension in your shoulders eased a little; you knew stress couldn’t be good for the baby.

Matt could feel your body relax as you squeezed his hand.

“Please don’t keep things from me, Matty, ok? I’m gonna need your help when she gets here.” You said with a warm smile.

The corners of Matt’s mouth turned up into a sly smile.

“She?” He asked in barely more than a whisper. “We’re having a girl?”

Matt sat down on the bed once again, closer to you this time, and removed his black gloves. His eyes looked more hazel than brown at the moment as he put his hand out, wanting to touch your stomach.

“Is it ok?” He asked.

You took his hand in yours and placed it on your stomach. “Of course it is. I feel little flutters now and then…like that! Did you feel that?” You asked.

Matt smiled, let out a slight chuckle and nodded.

The gap between your bodies became smaller as you inched closer to him where you could feel his breath on your lashes and close enough to inhale his scent.

Matt brushed his knuckles along your cheek as his lips searched for yours; he kissed you tenderly and slowly like he was scared he was going to break you.

“I’m not gonna pop, Matthew. You don’t have to be THAT gentle.” You said as you kissed him again.

“I’ll remember that, sweetheart.” Said Matt with a devilish smile. “Have you thought of any names for her yet?”

You gently rubbed your belly.

“Maybe.” You replied.

A ghost of a smile stretched across his lips

“Can you tell me what they are?” He asked.

You bit down on your lower lip before replying.

“Maybe.”

Tag List: @munsonownsmyass @elgrandeavocados @freshabogados @gijos @chezagnes @matt-erialgirl

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @pedrito-friskito @mattmurdocksscars @theradioactivespidergwen

Thank you for reading, I appreciate it! I’ve only tagged a handful of people. If you liked it, you can tell me, I don’t bite. I know I haven’t written for Matt in awhile, no pressure.

[dmwrites]

Sleeping arrangements in the team TIES base was a little precarious, to say the least. They hadn’t actually planned an area to sleep in, too busy trying to survive and fortify, so they mostly just plopped themselves down wherever there was room. Skizz usually fell asleep on top of the table, cuddling whatever was nearest to him (chairs, a furnace, Tango whenever he was feeling lonely). Tango slept in front of the furnaces like a cat, usually curled up on his sleeping bag, also like a cat. Etho slept amongst the crops and animals- he said he liked the earthy smell, but Impulse was pretty sure that there was also an escape tunnel in one of the water holes. And Impulse slept in a small alcove tucked away in the wall of the staircase.

It was cramped and odd, but it worked for them. Impulse didn’t mind his spot, meant he could watch people come and go, slip away unnoticed if he needed to. It wasn’t as soft and warm as his sleeping arrangements in Double Life, his brain would sometimes unhelpfully remind him when he was tossing and turning on sleepless nights, but it was good enough.

——

It was one of the sleepless nights, with Impulse tossing and turning in his sleeping bag and trying to just will himself to sleep. He could hear Skizz and Tango snoring, a badly tuned symphony of mouth sounds, and the gentle lapping of the ocean against the land.

There was a sudden soft slap of flesh on wood, and Impulse cracked an eye to see a glowing red one looking back at him. It was Etho on the stairs, and Impulse raised a couple of fingers in a lazy wave.

Etho just looked at him, and Impulse looked back. It was hard to read Etho’s expression in the dark- hell, it was hard to read Etho’s expressions period, what with the mask he kept on. Impulse raised an eyebrow, a silent question. Where are you going? Etho glanced up the stairs, then, after some kind of mental dithering, it seemed, he held out his hand to Impulse and raised an eyebrow. Want to come with me?

Impulse took Etho’s hand and got to his feet. He followed him up the stairs and out into the ocean. The water was still warm from the sunny day before, and it felt nice on his skin. Impulse followed Etho onto the land, and up the water elevator to the second floor of their tower base. Etho pulled a small bag out of a chest, then went and sat on the edge of the balcony, legs hanging off the side. Impulse sat next to him.

“Want some berries?” Etho proffered the bag to Impulse, and he saw it was full of bright red berries. “I like to keep them up here for a nighttime snack.”

Impulse chuckled and took a few. “Thanks, man.”

They ate in silence for a while. All was quiet on the horizon, just some hostile mobs walking about in the dark. Impulse glanced at Etho from time to time- it was odd, allying with Etho. Etho had always been such an enigma in Impulse’s mind, quick-witted and sharp as a tack, calculating and smart. And he was all of those things, but also just kind of to himself, always fidgeting with redstone and wires. And there was this kind of friction between him and Etho, just in short glances and the odd joke. The standard procedure was to let the old series go, leave old emotions in the past. But no one ever really forgot, not completely, anyway.

Etho looked out towards the janky clocktower near spawn, and it wasn’t hard to figure out what he was thinking about.

“It’s weird to not be… there.”

Impulse somehow knew that it wasn’t a place that Etho was talking about.

“Yeah.”

Etho turned to look at him. “You and me. And Cleo. We know…” he trailed off, looking back towards the clockers tower. “I used to think of all of you as my enemies. Especially you, because you’re so…” Etho sighed. “You were really good to him.” His eyes crinkled slightly. “As much as I hate to admit it. You loved- love, you love him like I do. He never said a bad thing about you, even when I goaded him. And you… it was, is, clear that you adore him.”

Impulse chuckled. “Well, that’s Bdubs for you. You said it yourself. You, me, and Cleo, we just know… I don’t know, man, it’s the Bdubs effect or something. I will never know him like you do, and that’s okay, but I get it. I understand.”

Etho gave him a funny look, eyebrows furrowed, looking at Impulse like he’d never really seen him properly before.

“You’re a pretty great guy, Impulse.”

Impulse bowed his head, a blush coming to his cheeks. “Oh, stop that. You are too.”

They sat in silence for a while longer, lulled by the waves. Impulse kept thinking about what Etho said, or, more specifically, what the silences between his words had meant. It felt good, being here with Etho, like someone had smoothed out the wrinkles of the fabric of their friendship. Impulse wasn’t sure what would come next, no one ever did in these life series, but he felt a little more confident that he would follow Etho until their timers ran out of life to give.

——

Additional lore I couldn’t fit into the story:

Skizz will grab anything while he sleeps. Like, you know how if you give a baby something they'll wrap their fingers around it? Yeah, that’s Skizz. He’s grabbed Tango, Tango’s sleeping bag with and without Tango in it, furnaces, crafting tables, chairs, blocks from the floor, Etho once when he was passing by to get a drink of water. Impulse, when he can’t sleep, will sometimes peer around the corner to see what Skizz is holding this time (and save Etho if he’s there). He and Etho have def played a game to see what Skizz will cuddle if they hand it to him.