#also: if any of you have fics you'd like to recommend i'm ALL ears

[pennyserenade]

Below the cut is a list compiled of X-Files fanfic that I've enjoyed in the past month or so. Some of these fics (or maybe all of these fics) are ones that are probably well known by this fandom, but they are new to me. The purpose of this list is both to share my recommendations and also to have something to refer back to when my mind gets to wondering about one of them. There's nothing more heartbreaking than losing a good fic you remember vividly. Special thanks to those beyond incredible websites like X-Libris and Gossamer, as well as tumblr users with impressive fic recs such @lilydalexf, @enigmaticxbee, and @randomfoggytiger.

THE X-FILES ORIGINAL SERIES era:

SHORTER STORIES:

The Angle of the Wrist by pqlaertes (1.7k) (explicit):

season four, cancer arc. A heartbreakingly good, soft smut story where a concerned Mulder watches intently over a sick Scully, and loves her in his own ways. 

LONGER STORIES:

Inspection by IngridGradient (22k+) (explicit):

set seasons one through seven. Beginning in season one, Mulder and Scully begin to inspect one another’s bodies for ticks after certain field cases. What begins as a rather innocuous exercise gradually forms into something much different than intended. I loved this because it felt very Mulder and Scully in the way it was full of yearning and all the flirting and the loving was done so silently as to be almost deadly to the two of them. Mulder is so sappy and in love in this, too, and I adore it so much. Also it's hot! 

*Equilibrium by astronaught (currently at 14k+) (teen):

currently season one through eight. A deep look into the ever-adapting relationship of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully throughout the series, as well as the agents themselves. Begins in season one and offers insightful and moving analysis for each of the seasons. This one is truly literary and absolutely breathtaking. The author is beyond talented, offering insightful and touching analysis of these two brilliant characters in a decidedly brilliant way. I’ve re-read many of these chapters, not only because they are so good, but because I feel there’s always more to find within them. This isn’t finished yet but it is definitely worth checking out.

Overnight Sensation by Syntax6 (50k+) (explicit):

set in season six, between Tithonus and Arcadia. A peeved post One Son/Two Father’s Scully debates her future with The X-Files and Mulder. She ends up taking a case in Boston to try out another life for a size, and Mulder - being Mulder - follows her out there. Chaos ensues when past grudges (and loves) are dredged up, and a killer continues to unleash hell on the city of Boston. This is another good profiler Mulder fic and also a lovely jealousy fic. Mulder was such an ass in season six and some of Scully’s decisions in this feel a little gratifying. I wouldn’t say it was so much explicit in the case of sexual situations, but definitely in terms of the content surrounding the murders. Another to be wary of if you can’t do dark, but very, very good. This author is excellent at case file fics. 

All the Way Home by Syntax6 (48k+) (explicit):

set early season seven, a bit after The Sixth Extinction: Amor Fati. Mulder is forced down memory lane when a serial killer he tried to help catch years ago seemingly comes back -- and he wants Mulder’s attention. This one I remember being distinctively creepy. It's definitely what I would consider a case file fic and I highly recommend it (but you ought to know it does get dark and if you feel uncomfortable with say, the contents of Silence of the Lambs, you should be wary of this. If you can get through that then you should be okay, though). I love the way this writer writes Mulder and Scully, and quickly found that I’m quite attached to fics where Mulder is a profiler. It’s a different and captivating side to him and I love, love, love the way the author weaves who Mulder is into how he responds to cases such as these. Mulder is such a nuanced individual and this author always writes he and Scully with such respect and accuracy. I would not be surprised to find out they have also written X-Files episodes in real life. 

Eclipse by Diana Battis and Alanna (20k+) (explicit): 

set in season seven. Scully asks Mulder to help her conceive children and they spend the next few months fighting that battle together, close as they ever have been. This story is so heartbreakingly tender and I fear my heart won’t ever recover from reading it (especially with that ending).  

Parabiosis by Penumbra (50k+) (explicit):

set in season seven. Mulder and Scully’s relationship as it evolves during the era of season seven, with a little bit of Mummy casefile to top it off. This one was a bit hard to wrap my mind around at first, but once I got the hang of the structure, it was smooth sailing from there. The way this author writes Mulder and Scully’s evolving relationship is beautiful--almost so intimate that you feel intrusive just for reading. I couldn’t put it down. Also, I must say this in relation to this fic: Chris Carter, eat your heart out.

X-FILES: I WANT TO BELIEVE era (either pre or during):

SHORTER STORIES:

Phenomenology by h0ldthiscat (3.6k+) (explicit):

Mulder wakes up frightened, afraid something has happened to Scully when he can’t find her in bed, and she comforts him. This is angsty but very good.

Porch Sex by icedteainthebag (1.8k+) (explicit):

I love, love, love a good flirty Mulder/Scully fic. This is definitely that. See also: the addressing of height difference during doggy sex. *chef’s kiss*’

LONGER STORIES:

Gravity by Malibu Sunset (26k+) (explicit):

Follows Mulder and Scully inside their life of exile, with Scully working as nurse and Mulder flying entirely under the radar; that is, until the events of the movie take place and he’s able to have a life outside of the unremarkable house again. I love this one for a lot of reasons -- the domesticity of Mulder and Scully, in which we get so little of in the original and revival series; the talk of William, of what they lost, and what they continue to lose; and the soft, comforting vignettes in between it all. I’m also particularly fond of the descriptive but accurate sex. It’s not always perfect (an aging Mulder has to wait until he can get another erection; they have drunk, imperfect sex while the lasagna cooks; Scully doesn’t cum each time; and Scully - yes even Scully - gets UTIs). 

THE X-FILES REBOOT era:

knock three times by wtfmulder (1k) (explicit):

season eleven, plus one. Scully initiates sex with Mulder in the connected motel rooms. I have a special place in my heart for smut with an older Mulder and Scully. This is short and sweet and absolutely perfect. 

THE X-FILES aus:

LONGER STORIES:

You He Did Not Fail by extraordinarily_ordinary (85k) (explicit):

seasons one-five, deriving from the plot a little after Scully goes into remission. Scully has left Mulder and the X-Files behind without an explanation, taking a reassignment in L.A. Needing an expert profiler to help her with a difficult case, Scully asks Skinner for one from Washington D.C. Mulder ends up being the one she gets, and he comes with lots of questions about her departure, along with the heavy weight of their shared past together. Scully is made to make some difficult decisions while she and Mulder make headway in the case. This fic was so good I devoured it in a single day. This derives from the plot in a way that I found equal parts realistic and painful, and I love the Mulder we get in this. He feels like Duchovny’s own deeply sorrowful man, who just can’t seem to catch a break no matter how he tries. Oh, and he’s deeply and pitifully in love with Scully. Scully too feels so well fleshed out here. This is an incredible, and perhaps more realistic, take on a plot I’ve always regarded with some questions in The X-Files, and it gives Scully back some agency that she deserves.

[thatfreshi]

Can I request an Astarion x reader fic where the reader keeps getting hit on/cat called by random people, and she brushes it off at first but it slowly becomes evident that it really bothers her, and needs someone to intervene or comfort her?

TW - Sexual harassment, threat of kidnapping

Recommended Song: Used - SZA FT. Don Toliver

Ah taverns, such wondrous places of inebriation and sloppy people of all creeds. You and Astarion are party people, despite his introverted nature. It's more about being two people thriving in chaos, playing the other patrons like pawns to make the night exciting, flirting with a stranger to snatch their drink from the bar, and all of those morally grey things. Sure, maybe it's not ethical to steal, but it sure is fun.

It's not a secret that you are two of the most good-looking regulars, but it's also well-known that you're severely monogamous. In fact, it's gotten very close to voyeurism multiple times, which has gotten you kicked out of a couple places. You don't mind public displays of affection, even if they're a little far gone at times. All of that to say, it's hard not to notice when you arrive.

Ever since the death of Cazador, you've been living in luxury. Despite rejecting ascension, Astarion didn't mind getting his hands all over the stockpile of gold and jewels the Szarrs had at their estate. After all, you'd say he deserves it. It's almost like being nobility, adorned in gorgeous clothing amongst the common people, and yet you fit in quite well. This rich adornment came with tight-fitting gowns, gorgeous lace pieces, corsets of the highest quality. Those also didn't go unnoticed, but this night in particular some people crossed the line.

You and Astarion brought your own bottle of wine to start the evening, something to get you loose enough to put up with whatever was on tap. Occasionally you'd befriend some strangers, just for the evening. Astarion had a bad habit of making jokes about his vampirism, so you often avoided speaking to the same people again in case they'd look past his sarcasm.

This night in particular you'd come across quite the fun group, and you'd kindly shared some of your wine with them, which was a most rare occurrence. Soon enough you ran out, and Astarion offered to grab something else for the table.

"I'll be right back darling."

He has a habit of disappearing in most circles, but he's always nearby when it comes to you, especially in a place like this. Of course he's protective of you, all you truly have is each other. He'll walk to the bar and purchase a new bottle, keeping eyes, or at least ears on you the entire time he's away. Perks of loving an elf, as his heightened senses have come in handy multiple times.

"Well, that man of yours certainly is something."

A human man comments from across the table, taking a sip of your fancy wine.

"I know."

You smirk, taking a sip of your drink.

"I can't imagine he's all that in the bedroom though."

You almost spit out your wine, surprised by the audacity of this complete stranger.

"I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"Just someone who thinks you could do better."

"And what makes you say that?"

"Well, I could bed you for a change."

You almost want to throw up at how bold this man is being. Instead of dragging the conversation on any further, you grab your drink and go to stand up, trying to eye Astarion from across the room. The tavern was awfully busy, far more than usual. After realizing he was nowhere in sight, you move to make your way to the bar. Suddenly, there's a hand in your hair, yanking you back.

"Well that's no way to treat a nice young man, now is it?"

This human snarls in your ear. No one seems to notice the situation, as the crowd is bustling. It's not often you get scared of random tavern goers, but this man is far more handsy than others.

"Unhand me."

You go to grab for the knife hidden under the slit of your dress, realizing you forgot to grab it on the way out. Of course, tonight of all nights. Realizing you were trying to grab for a weapon, the human twists your wrist behind your back, making you yelp in pain.

Astarion had a hard time hearing that night because of all the overlapping conversation, but that sound was all he needed for his ears to perk up and for him to abandon his drink mission. He has a keen sense for knowing when you're in danger.

"Adorable, you think you're that strong huh?"

He goes to feel where you reached for your knife, lingering on your leg a little too long. Then, he freezes.

"Excuse me sir, could you show me where your pulse is in your neck? Make sure your blood's still pumping?"

Astarion has his dagger in hand behind your attacker. The human starts shaking, and slowly creeps his hand off of your leg and onto his neck.

"Very good. Now, if you'd like to keep that precious sustenance pumping through your veins and don't want me to pop your jaw out of it's socket, you'll unhand my wife."

He points the tip of his dagger right where the neck meets the jawline, almost drawing blood. Soon after the human unhands your hair, and scrambles away, not before Astarion leaves the tiniest knick in his neck: a reminder. You turn around and embrace the vampire, finally catching your breath. He lets you stay wrapped around his side as he guides you out of the tavern.

"Are you alright my love? Did he hurt you?"

"Just my scalp a little. I forgot my knife before we left, stupid mistake."

He lifts your chin up to make eye contact with him.

"You shouldn't have to be armed so some man won't harass you. Would I prefer you to have a weapon on you? Of course, but if you ever can't protect yourself, I will."

You start to tear up a little. It's been a while since you've been that scared, and no one seemed to notice. What would've happened if Astarion was too late?

"Look at me."

He wakes you from your thoughts.

"Let's go home. Perhaps this isn't the right place for us."

You wrap your arm around his, holding onto his sleeve. Darkvision is nice at times like this, since he can see much further than you. The walk home is quiet, and he doesn't mind. However, he is constantly eyeing nearby alleyways in case that man decides to get smart with him. When you get home you ball up on the sofa, and he makes sure the door is double-locked, something he doesn't often do considering he made the locks himself. He makes his way to the sofa, the plush velvet making a nice contrast to rickety wooden chairs of the tavern.

"Come here darling."

He pulls you back to lay on him, and he unclasps your necklace, placing it gently on the nearby table.

"Astarion?"

You look up at him.

"Yes my love?"

Tears prick at your eyes again. You have a hard time getting the words out, as if it's an embarrassing question.

"Will... will you always keep me safe?"

Your voice wavers. He starts massaging your shoulders.

"Of course my sweet Tav, I'll keep you safe as long as you live."

His voice lowered, a certain serious tone taking hold. Part of him felt guilty things even went as far as they did tonight, but he promised himself he'd never let it happen again.

"I love you."

He smiles. It's not often you just say 'I love you' to one another, it's usually said in many different ways, in actions, in pet names. You save it for serious moments, when it feels important to remind each other of your love, how it binds you.

"I love you too darling."

Nothing else is said. Soon enough you fall asleep as he rubs your back, peaceful and safe.

[kikixreverie]

Sweeter mornings

Roommate!Bucky x Female reader

Summary - After an intense night with your roommate, Bucky Barnes, you wake in his arms with the promise he had made to you only hours before playing on your mind, he definitely intends to keep it. Part 2 of sleepless nights.

Word count - 2.8k

Warnings - (18+) smut, oral (m receiving), p in v, friends to lovers, fluff.

A/N - Part 2 of sleepless nights is finally here! After many sleepless nights of my own I might add. Hopefully you all enjoy and it can live amongst it's famed sibling (my most liked/rebloged fic ever). Also this fic could probably be read alone if you haven't read part 1 but I still would recommend reading it for full context.

Sleepless nights (part 1)

_______________________________

It was almost afternoon when you woke up. No loud alarm to jolt you awake, no rushing to get yourself dressed for work, it was still and calm, something you hadn't experienced much living in an apartment in Brooklyn.

You eyes fluttered open and closed, feeling rested for the first time in a long time, you'd finally slept longer than 5 hours in weeks, though well into the late morning as you could tell.

Thank god for weekends... and thank god for Bucky.

You peaked your eyes open at the reminder of him, and the reminder of what had occurred between you last night, and despite the soothing warmth that surrounded you, for a moment, you worried he would have already fled, but with a gentle tug of an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his chest, your worries were mere worries.

Bucky had stayed.

You didn't let yourself dwell on what that could mean for the both of you, instead you snuggled into his warmth, resting your own hand on the metal one he had on your stomach, pushing away any insecurities and letting yourself enjoy this while you had it.

His legs were entangled with yours under the duvet, nose pressed against the nape of your neck, his other arm under the pillow you rested your head on. You were surrounded by him in the best possible way, that touch-starved part of you basking in the affection of his embrace.

Your eyes fluttered closed again, sinking into the bed when Bucky shifted behind you, his nose pressing against that sensitive spot below your ear, nuzzling slightly before kissing he kisses you there, soft and slow.

You couldn't help but release a pleased sigh, biting your lip when he continued his kissing, trailing his lips down your neck, then kissing your shoulder. You turned in his arms, facing him, and Bucky squeezed your hip in appreciation when you didn't waste any time with kissing him properly, placing your hand on his cheek to rub your thumb across his cheekbone.

Bucky shifted his hand to your thigh, grabbing above your knee to hitch your leg over his, effectively pressing your body against his, and you could already feel his arousal.

You almost felt guilty as you recalled last night, remembering that you had gone to sleep before returning the favour, leaving Bucky to deal with himself.

You wondered if he had managed to get himself off, but considering he had cuddled up to you last night in the same position you woke in, you doubt he had the chance. Which is why you didn't hesitate to push him onto his back, straddling his stomach as you kissed him harder.

You were both out of breath, lips kiss bitten and cheeks heated when Bucky pulled away from you, panting with his eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed.

You were in a similar state, though you tried to force down a smile when you realised that you had somehow managed to get a super solider out of breath, something you knew didn't happen often.

"I should get you some food, it's the afternoon." Bucky said in a raspy, unbelievably sexy, morning voice, the first words spoken since last night. He opened his eyes to look up at you, and you instantly recalled the image of his head between your legs last night, and huffed a laugh at the almost shy look he had on his face now.

"I'm not hungry." You replied, pouting slightly, shifting yourself backwards to sit further on his hips, your ass brushing against his hard cock still confined to his boxers, and a rush of air slipped past Bucky's lips, quickly reaching for your waist and holding you in place.

"Honey, I-" He stopped himself, getting distracted by the sight of your bare chest above him, before dragging his eyes back to yours again, his cheeks pinker. He licked his lips as he failed to regain his focus, furrowing his brows to try to seem more stern, "You need to eat."

"And I will, after you fulfil that promise you made to me last night." You reminded him, kissing his soft lips again, watching how his eyes fluttered closed and he lifted his head to follow your lips when you pulled back, desperate for it to continue. His hips lifted of the own accord from the mattress when you crawled down his body, trailing kisses as you went, just as Bucky had to you last night. You thought it only fair for you to torture him the same sweet way he did you.

You looked up at him when you reached his boxers, watching as he wet his lips with his tongue while you lowered yourself to kiss the dip between his abs, biting your lip in appreciation of the sight of the happy trail that led from his navel, down to where his boxers covered him.

You smiled up at him when Bucky finally lifted his hips slightly to let you slide them off.

God was he a pretty sight.

His cock was desperately hard, already leaking and a deep flush of red from the tip down, Bucky hissed at the sensation of the cool air alone against him, you could only imagine how sensitive he'd be for your tongue.

You gently took his cock in your hand, watching Bucky's face the entire time, not wanting to take your eyes away from him.

As you pumped him from base to tip, he instantly lifted his hips, whispering curses under his breath, you wondered how long it had been since he last came, by the sight of him, it was a while.

"You okay, Buck?" You asked sweetly, continuing to pump your hand on his length slowly, before rubbing your thumb across the slit at the tip, spreading his desire down his cock, using it to make the soft glide of your hand smoother.

He nodded, his lips parted, watching you with bated breath. You lowered your head closer to him, and Bucky fought with that desperate urge to lift his hips again, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth when you kissed the tip of him, and again, and again and again. Kisses peppered across his cock until he was practically begging.

"Please, honey."

You throbbed between your legs at the sound of him begging you, calling you honey with a voice sweeter than the stuff. You squeezed them together to relieve the ache before you gave him what he needed. How couldn't you?

He moaned when you finally took him into your mouth, teasing the tip of him with your tongue before taking him deeper and hollowing your cheeks around him, your own moan vibrating around his cock when his flesh hand found its way to your head, not forcing any movement, only encouraging you at your own pace.

His body seemed to be out of his control, and Bucky never expected that feeling not to fill him with fear, though in this moment, all he could focus on was the feeling of your hot, wet tongue against his cock, that lust in your eyes when you looked up at him through your lashes.

He didn't think much before he said it, just suddenly filled with the desperation to be as close to you as possible, to be inside of you, make up on that promise.

"Can I fuck you, sweetheart?" He asked, his voice still rough and his breath uneven. He let out another sweet sound when you swirled your tongue around him before pulling your mouth away, nodding in agreement as you quickly crawled back up his body and crashed your lips to his, Bucky's hand cupping your face as he leant up on his elbow, meeting you halfway, kissing you senseless as you situated yourself above his cock and reached between you to sink down onto him, already wet and throbbing with need.

Bucky's eyes rolled back as you slowly sank onto him, tight and wet and fucking perfect. His hand slid between your thighs to gently rub your clit, not wanting you to experience any discomfort, and you moaned against his lips, pressing your forehead to his when you were finally seated, Bucky's cock buried deep inside you.

"Fuck." He breathed, waiting patiently for you to start moving, and when you started rocking your hips, grinding yourself down against him, he smiled as he bit his lip, before he used his other hand to grip your jaw between his thumb and pointer finger, guiding your open mouth to his.

"Bucky-" You rasped, moaning as he teased his tongue into your mouth, his flesh hand still focused on rubbing your clit, his cock barely moving inside you, only keeping you nice and full.

"You close already, sweetheart?" He joked, though the words held no judgement, he was smitten with himself, pulling back to watch your face contort as you edged closer and closer to an orgasm, his fingers moving faster, your hips bucking against him, which only made his cock nudge a spot deep inside you that made you see stars. You were clenching around him and Bucky groaned as you did so. "C'mon honey, cum on my cock."

Your head tipped back as you fell over the edge, your orgasm washing over you in intense waves as Bucky guided you through it, rubbing your clit until it had passed.

"Good girl. You're so perfect, doll." Said Bucky, giving you a few more seconds to recuperate as he kissed down your neck.

When he pulled back to look at you again, that devious smile you had seen a glimpse of last night had returned to his face, and he wrapped an arm around your waist, his metal hand moving to your thigh, dimpling your flesh with the gentlest of squeezes. You almost asked him to squeeze harder.

You bit your lip at his words, huffing a laugh at the state of yourself as you came down from your high, though you were still incredibly hyper-aware of Bucky's cock still inside you, throbbing with need, along with your heart racing in your chest.

You were taken by surprise when he flipped you over, your back hitting the bed with him looming over you, pure, wanton lust in his blue eyes.

You moaned when the movement made the tip of his cock nudge against a spot inside of you that brought a jolt of pleasure, and Bucky seemed to appreciate the sound, watching you as he rolled his hips forward, so perfectly deep inside you.

"C'mon, Buck." You begged, that need for him to finally take you rising steadily in your core.

His eyes darkened and he took your wrists in his hands, pressing them into the mattress above your head with his right hand, as his left travelled to your chest, slowly rubbing your nipple with his thumb.

"You can ask me nicer than that, honey. C'mon pretty baby, say it again. Ask me better. Tell me what you want." He practically purred, his voice liquid honey. His head dipped to lick the nipple he hadn't yet paid attention too, looking up at you when he took it into his mouth, and you arched into his touch, every word that comes out of his mouth only building your desire.

With a mouth like that, you would do virtually anything he asked you to.

"Please, James. I need you to fuck me. God, please, I need it so bad." You whispered breathily, not even comprehending that you had called him by his first name, something you had never done, and he all but growled.

His lips were on yours instantly, tongue dipping past your lips as he finally released your hands and used his arm to wrap around your thighs, just about bending you in half as he finally began to thrust into you, starting slower than you knew he wanted to.

When you threw your head back and cried out at the satisfaction of it, Bucky knew he would be okay to fuck you harder, and before you knew it, his hips were slamming into yours hard, the friction of his cock rubbing against your walls and finding home deep inside you had you arching your body into him, your hands grasping his back, nails scratching into his skin, you almost felt like you would cum again already.

Bucky was just as much of a mess as you, sinful noises escaping past his parted lips, his eyebrows furrowed tightly as he chased his pleasure, dizzy with need, and enraptured with the feel of your hot, wet cunt clenching around him, a perfect fucking fit.

He couldn't help but watch you, your teeth holding your bottom lip, eyes closed.

He released your legs so that he could kiss you again, moaning into your mouth when your fingers threaded through his hair, pulling gently.

Holding himself up with his right arm, his left hand drifted to your chest again, cupping your breast as he tugged at your lip with his teeth, before gliding his thumb across your nipple, the gentle stimulation a perfect contrast to the way he fucked you harder than you ever knew you desperately needed.

You could barely keep yourself quiet, the experience of having sex with your roommate, whom you've been obsessing over for months, was beyond your comprehension. You knew Bucky had already ruined any prospect of another man, not that you would ever want another man anyway.

It was rough and needy, a sheen of sweat covering both of your bodies, almost feral but god knows the both of you needed it. There was still somehow a softness at the same time, the subtle touches felt just as intense as everything else.

Neither of you wanted it to end, but neither of you had much hope of holding out for much longer.

Bucky was already surprised he'd lasted this long, having technically accidentally edged himself last night, and with the way your mouth was on him earlier, he was absolutely intoxicated with your body.

"Fuck, you feel so good." Bucky husked, resting his forehead on yours so that you could both breath once you'd run out of air. You opened your eyes to meet his as he continued to fuck you into the mattress, your second orgasm creeping closer and closer. "Do you feel good, sweet girl? Look how good you take me, fucking perfect."

Your eyes fluttered closed, moaning at every sensation, gasping at his words, seconds away from coming undone, "James, please."

"Fuck, sweetheart, open your eyes. That's it, look at me, baby. Are you gonna cum?" He asked, though he knew the answer, your legs had wrapped themselves around his waist, your pussy clenching down on him perfectly. He certainly wouldn't be far behind.

You nodded, staring into those blue eyes with your own half lidded, your lips parted and kiss bitten, his metal hand held your jaw gently, only inches away from where he could be holding your throat instead, though you fought the urge you had to move his hand, knowing it might cross a line for him. That didn't stop you from imagining him doing it anyway, his hand wrapping around your throat, squeezing just enough to not be uncomfortable, but still make your heart beat faster in your chest.

Your orgasm hit you then, washing over you with an intensity you were learning apparently came with Bucky's touch. Your hips lifted to meet his, his cock so deep inside you as you clenched down on him.

Bucky came with a broken moan, rolling his hips into yours with deep, shallow thrusts, painting your walls with his cum.

It soothed a burning heat deep inside him, the both of you completely blissed out in the afterglow as you came down, catching your breath as his head dipped to rest on your collarbone.

Your hands were in his hair as he relaxed on top of you, though he still held most of his own weight as to not completely squish you.

"Fuck, Bucky." You breathed, smiling and shaking your head as you played with his hair.

He lifted his head and looked at you, that puppy dog look returning as though he hadn't just fucked you like his life depended on it only minutes ago.

"You okay?" He asked, chiding himself mentally that he hadn't checked up on you already, too lost in the ongoing sensations, and the fact that he was still inside of you.

You nodded, smiling, your fingers drifting to dust across his cheeks, tracing his features gently with your fingertips, the soft touches soothing not only Bucky but yourself too. He closed his eyes at the gentle touch, then kissed you, softer, but somehow more intense, and with something in his eyes when he pulled back that made you blush like you weren't naked beneath him.

"You're the best roommate ever." You joked, raising your eyebrows at him and holding his face in your hands, Bucky laughed softly.

"Well, I was hoping I could be something more than that?" He replied, tilting his head at you, smiling when you nudged your nose against his.

A part of you was still insecure, worried that he didn't like you in the way you did him, but another part of you told you to look at the way he was looking back at you, soft, sweet eyes, and his hands hadn't left your skin all morning, unable to tear them away. You'd both talk properly soon, and you were hopeful of how that conversation would go.

"Hm, I think that could be a good idea, Mr Barnes." You kissed him again, though he pulled away before you were done.

A smirk grew on his lips and the sight made your stomach flutter. He shifted impossibly closer to you. "You keep talking like that, sweetheart, and I'm gonna have to fuck you again."

His ability to switch between puppy dog and cocky bastard was definitely going to be something you were gonna have to get used to, but it wasn't something you didn't appreciate, you smirked all the same, fingers brushing through his soft hair, "You'd be more than welcome to... Mr Barnes."

He laughed quietly, "Oh I will, darling. Still gotta get some food into you first though."

You rolled your eyes playfully, though didn't disagree with him, your light dinner last night did not account for the intense cardio you did not expect yourself to be doing this morning. Nodding along to his words, you kissed him again, wrapping your limbs around his body to pull him as close as possible. You just couldn't get enough.

The kiss ended but Bucky stayed close, whispering against your lips, "If you're a good girl, I'll take you on the kitchen counter."

You couldn't have gotten out of bed and into the kitchen quicker, leaving Bucky smiling to himself in your bed.

[shintin]

The Hickey on Your Neck

↳ Vash the Stampede x Female Reader

One-shot

Summary: Only seconds before closing your eyes do you realize that the dreams you had forgotten among the lust and thrust of your lover were the life you were destined to lead.

Or a story about how You and Vash fucked from dawn to dusk on his birthday.

Word count: +17.5 k.

Genre: explicit smut, romance, angst (Trigun au).

Warnings/Tags: +18, NSFW, established relationship, soft/dom Vash the Stampede, too much fluff and kissing, scar worship, plant patterns display, manhandling, cunnilingus + fellatio, creampie,  fingering (with prosthetic arm), unprotected sex (c’mon! We want his seeds), multiple orgasms, hair pulling, two smut scenes (one romantic, other hardcore), aftercare, emotional trauma, violence, blood and gore, post-Trigun Stampede but no manga spoilers.

Notes: I'd never written a Trigun fic before, but with this Vash brain rot, I'm sure it won't be the last. I originally intended to name this fic "Sleepless Nightmare" after TOMBI song, but somehow changed my mind. You'll see why. "Elay" in my mother tongue means the Moon of a Tribe. A nick name Vash will use for reader.

By the way, you can also read the Disclaimers and Writer's Note at the end.

Song Recommendation: The Hickey on Your Neck Playlist

You can read my fics on AO3 and Wattpad. If you have any questions, don’t be shy and ASK. This is my DISCORD account, in case you want to contact me.

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07:30 pm – July 21st

A hole had been left in your heart. Throwing yourself backward, you tripped over your feet. Your head slammed into the floor as your arms did little to break your fall. It was a pain you'd never known, a pain you never thought you could feel, never would have even imagined. From the inside out, you were lit on fire by a bullet that went off in your chest.

All of a sudden, everything slowed down.

So this, you thought, was what dying felt like.

You blinked, and it seemed to take forever. The images before you were unfocused, with colors, bodies, and lights swaying in unison and stilted movements blurring. Your ears couldn't hear clearly. All the sounds were garbled, warped, and too high or low.

Who … she?

I asked for a tall, blond man with … eyes, and the folks pointed at her.

How come … shot her …?

She said … had never met such a man.

… idiot! What if she's with the gunman?

Whatever. … doesn't draw a gun anymore; rumor has it.

What a moron! The man may not kill, but … wiped out … whole city!

What … … we should … then?

If … … his girl, … … screwed up!

… the bounty! … get lost before the news …!

It was like all the words were banging into each other, colliding again, spinning around you. Your name seemed to be being called, but you couldn't hear it. Everything was muffled, slippery, and off-balance, like it was there, just out of reach, but you couldn't find it.

Heavy footsteps stomped, stomped, and stomped the ground, and a familiar face appeared before you. The shape, the golden and green colors drew your attention, and you tried raising your hand to feel his warmth once more and assure him that everything was okay, but it was too hard, and suddenly you couldn't breathe. Your throat felt like it was being slashed, holes punching into your lungs, and the more you blinked, the less clearly you could see. The tightest breaths, tiny little gasps, were soon all you could manage. Pain, pain, and more pain followed the dizziness and lightheaded feeling. It was terrible, never seeming to end.

Your sight suddenly went dim. Blindness overtook you.

Blood dripped from you rather than being seen as you blinked, blinked, and blinked in a desperate attempt to regain your vision, but all you saw was a cloud of white. A short frantic gasp and the pounding of your eardrums were all heard. Some warm sensation spread throughout your body as the fresh blood pooled under you.

You knew your life was about to evaporate, and it only made you think about how short you lived with him and how he would blame himself for your loss. Leaving your tears to fall, you whispered, "I-I'm sorry, Vash."

05:45 am - July 21st

A sharp intake of breath caused your eyes to fly open. Your skin froze in a cold sweat as your brain waded in waves of distress. Inhaling as much as possible was the only thing you could do. Your chest heaved, and your heart raced. You looked around, feeling the stillness within the madness, blinking hard against the white ceiling.

Your hands reached your throat and chest. No blood. No holes. You could feel your pulse. That must be the sound of your heart, at least, you hoped.

There was a strange feeling in your gut, like your instincts were stumbling through mud, and your bones were filled with stones. Your eyes shifted to the other side of the bed, and you sighed in relief. The reality sleeping next to you brought a moment of clarity. You sat up on your elbows, head spinning as you glanced at the nightstand.

The glass was empty.

You slowly pushed the sheets aside and felt more awake with your bare feet touching the cold floor. Picking up the glass, you tiptoed toward the murky kitchen.

You reached for the pitcher on the table, but the water never made it to your lips; instead, your trembling hands grabbed the faded and scratched edges of the cabinet as if letting go of this old piece of plywood would plunge you into the blackhole of your nightmare.

A muffled whimper escaped from the bottom of your throat, and you whispered, it was just a dream. Yet, your white knuckles became wet as tears streamed down your face, blurring the cracked tiles before you.

You shouldn't have cried. You should have been stronger. Not just for yourself, but...

Incoherent thoughts still occurred to you as you pressed your palm to your lips—a fruitless attempt to stop any further crying from coming out.

It was just a dream. Everything was fine.

Your glistening eyes were fixed on the glass of water as you took a sip and pushed the venom-like lump down your throat. Nobody was going to lose anyone. This fear was deeply buried under the sands of your heart. Why did it have to appear today of all days?

A chill ran down your esophagus. Your hand shook involuntarily, and a few drops of water slid from the corner of your mouth to your chin and neck and then ran to your perked nipples.

Looking down at your body, you wiped the drops away before feeling cold. After all, this planet didn't earn its name, "Noman's Land" for nothing. The weather could get pretty chilly and cruel in this desert when those two suns weren't out. Moreover, let's not forget how many people were denied heat due to a lack of resources. Ugh! So, it's not like you didn't know you should've worn something, but God damn it! You woke up feeling a great deal of fear. Fuck! Still, you weren't eager to catch a cold. At least, not today. As you were about to return to bed, you suddenly stopped. Random images filled your mind.

Tears staining emerald green eyes, red flowers blooming on blood, and heart-wrenching screams fading in the night, all in an empty room filled with balloons and mud.

The next gulp of water tasted salty, leaving you feeling numb. Tears must have flowed down your cheeks. You lowered your glass and let your thoughts drift away.

There was a flash of your limp body in your mind, accompanied by a sharp twinge in your gut, a screaming sensation in your body, as if your lungs craved for air.

You wicked away the images, expunging thoughts of pain and death from your mind. The churning in your stomach began to slow, but your skin took on a damp, clammy sensation in its wake. You struggled to recount the things you had eaten last night. It must be it. No doubt, you had eaten poorly.

It was just a dream. What the hell was wrong with you? Crying over a dream? What were you, five? No, not today! Not today! Not today! Get your shits together!

After a moment of hesitation, you rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand, ran your palm across your forehead and nose, and stopped it on your mouth before glancing at the bed.

Your pale face bloomed with a faint smile as you saw the sight—a miracle in this barren wilderness.

The curtains of the half-open window fluttered lazily with the morning breeze, letting the suns' rays play upon his scarred shoulder blades now and then, and run their greedy fingers through the golden waves of his hair, an enraged sea of sunflowers bounded by rough rocky beaches on the side. Oh! His undercut was glorious from where you watched.

He was sleeping with his eyelids slowly moving. The corners of his lips were curved upwards. Today seemed to be one of those rare days when he was free of the burdens of his past. Was he dreaming? What was his dream about? Love? Peace? Foods? Probably sweets!

You tried to avoid the woods squeaking beneath your feet as you walked back. Putting the glass of water next to the orange-tinted shades, you slowly climbed back under the warm sheets without shifting the mattress too much.

Once your head touched the pillow, cinnamon, and caramel again filled your nostrils. The man ate so many donuts that you feared he would become one. When you pictured it, your smile reached your eyes, and you giggled silently.

Like on the days you woke up early, you rolled over to face him and let your eyes roam over his abs muscles and those beautiful V lines guiding you to his secret paradise. Other than the massive gash across his chest, he had several cuts on his arms, wounds on his shoulders, and scars all over his back and legs. This man was a walking history, marked with painful memories, and luckily, your lips had perfectly mastered the story behind every blemish, slit, and stitch on his body.

It wasn't that simple, though.

When you first met him, he was a broken man covered in an old cloak, his eyes filled with agony. He was consumed by remorse, but nonetheless, he was still full of life and willing to try and glue back all his broken parts. Indeed, it was a challenge for him, and somehow, it didn't come easy to you either. Your heart ached when you removed each piece of clothing from his body. You cursed those who hurt him. It took you time and love to learn how to cherish those wounds instead of looking at them with pity. And little by little, your eyes learned to see a delicate kind of beauty in them, as if, every once in a while, you could see the sunlight shining through the cracks of his heart, lighting up your world in a most wonderful way.

Perhaps that's why after years of running, running, and running, he stopped for once and decided to rest. Something about you must have felt like home. And how lucky you were to have this?

06:30 am - July 21st

You couldn't look away from him, your mind unable to comprehend the perfection of this happiness. He was so ethereal you could hardly fathom that he was yours, wanted and loved you. You couldn't even hear yourself think over the rush of blood in your ears. The sight of him sleeping beside you, relaxed and vulnerable, was causing wild, desperate thoughts to race through your head. God! The fantasies you'd had about him. The places your mind had gone.

You sighed and brushed your face to the pillow, hoping he would roll over to you in his sleep so you could get back into his arms and the legs draped around you. Your eyelids peered at the glistening prosthetic arm in the soft light of the down. Could he feel your warmth whenever you kissed those fingers? How come you had never asked? There were many things you hadn't asked him yet.

Maybe you should start tomorrow? Hm? It's not like the world was ending today.

"You're going to come back over here, or you want to leave me cold and lonely?" he murmured, the raggedness in his voice confirming that he had been sleeping. Your gaze shifted upwards to meet his eyes, only to realize they were still shut, but his lips were painted with a playful grin.

Something inside you melted. It moved by his words, his smile, and his voice.

"I thought you were asleep." You scooted closer, and he wrapped his arms around you, cautious not to accidentally hurt you when he slipped his left arm beneath your neck. "I didn't want to wake you up." Your forehead pressed against his chest, and you felt the coldness of the iron mesh against your skin. His chin rested on your head, and his toes caressed your legs. The prickles of scars and fine hairs of his limbs tickled yours, and you felt blessed.

Funny how your nightmare faded the moment you felt his warmth like he burned a hole right through your head and pulled all your thoughts out. Well, other than that, it seemed like this morning, everything about him was exactly what you needed. His voice was calm and caring, his arms protective, and his presence comforting. You didn't want him to let go of you.

"Even if you had woken me up," he said, his artificial fingers sinking into your hair, and he continued, "I wouldn't have minded." A light kiss on the crown of your head followed his honest words. Even though this man kissed you every day and night, you could feel a silent giggle seeping into your body, causing your face to blush bright red.

Vash yawned soundlessly as he pulled you closer, his eyes still closed. The two of you were so close, too close, but never close enough for him. You had come to realize that your body heat did more for him than any blanket could. It was always in his eyes, aching with a desperate yearning he could only meet with you and your touch.

A joyful happiness settled between you as his hands drew shapes and patterns alongside your spine like those bright ones sometimes you could see on his body. Your lips curved into a smile as you watched him. His hair thick and blonde. The lines of his body sharp and robust. Damn! He had everything about him beautifully crafted. His nose. His chin. His ears and eyebrows. The eyelashes any girl would kill for and those turquoise-green eyes you longed to see. He had a gorgeous mouth.

You lingered too long there, your eyes betraying your mind.

Vash smiled. "What are you doing?" He fiddled with your hair, wrapping a lock around his finger.

In response, you sighed. Clearly, you would never discover how to avoid getting caught red-handed every time. "Just enjoying the view," you said, still staring at his mouth. You reached and touched two fingers to his bottom lip only to feel a rush of memories.

Long nights. Early morning. His mouth on you. Everywhere. Over and over again.

07:15 am - July 21st

He laughed sheepishly at your response.

You brushed a strand of hair off his forehead. His hair had grown a little long. You stroked his cheeks and drew his head back toward you, pressing your lush mouth against his. It never took him long to part his lips. He kissed you back, holding your head steady with his prosthetic arm while his other embraced you tightly. You could feel him smiling against your lips.

He had your heart, and you loved him quite horribly, too. This fact always smacked you over the head so hard you felt dizzy. You should have been afraid and wanted to hide it, as he was the most wanted man on the planet, but love had made you bold and brave.

You pulled back and studied his kiss-inspiring lips. Your whole body was filled with a warmth you wanted to share with him because it was pure, and so was he. There was no way for you to find the right words to describe how you felt.

The morning light was shining through the windows at the perfect angle and time. His muscles were taut, bathed in gold.

"Can you lie back, Vash?" you asked, pushing his shoulder back toward the bed. Finally fluttering his eyes open, he lifted his head in your direction.

Oh.

God.

His eyes.

He blinked dark lashes, revealing a spectrum of sadness and beauty, unlike anything you'd seen before. The way a person could convey so much with a glance caught you off guard. He had an extraordinary amount of pain paired with even more extraordinary passion.

His face spread into a wide smile the moment he saw you. These smiles, they changed him, and moments like this killed you a little.

He had the kind of face that made you forget where you were, who you were, and what you might say or do. You held his face in your hands as you laid his head down on the pillow. A half-lidded gaze sat on his face as he leaned to your touch, and you kissed him. Slowly, this time. His eyes fell closed. His mouth responded to yours.

Your fingers moved to his neck, then to his hair, and your mouth followed them. Soft lips caressed his earlobes and nipped the tiny single hoop, hot breaths hitting his skin, surprising a giggle out of him.

His hands reached up to pull you closer, but you stopped him. "No," you whispered. "Don't move." Without a second thought, he dropped his hands.

"Lie back and keep your eyes closed," you muttered, and strangely, he didn't object. His obedience led to you kissing him everywhere. His cheeks. His eyelids. His chin. The tip of his nose and the space between his eyebrows. All across his forehead and along his jawline. Every inch of his face. Soft, small kisses that said more than you ever could. You wanted him to know how you felt. You wanted him to feel it in the way only he could, the way he could sense the depth of your emotions. You wanted him to know and never forget.

And you wanted to take your time.

As your mouth moved down his neck, he gasped. You peeked up at his features only to meet a crooked grin on his face. The moment was worth savoring. It seemed like Mr. Vash was enjoying himself, so your tongue continued to adore his arm's sculpted hills and valleys, the perfect shape of his torso.

You breathed in the scent of his skin and took in the taste of him as your hands ran down his abs, kissing your way across and down the line of his torso. You kissed around his navel, and the trails of fine hair underneath caressed your lips. He kept reaching for you, trying to touch you until you told him to stop.

"Please," he said, taking a deep breath. "I want to feel—"

Even though he couldn't see you, you raised your brows with a head tilt and gentled back his arms. "Not yet. Not now."

He let out a breath in protest and crossed his arms behind his neck until your hands went further down and his eyes flew open. Blinking at him, you found out you were still fascinated by his eyes—such a stunning shade of green. "Close your eyes, Vash," you had to tell him.

A big gulp of air filled up his Adam apple. "No." He hardly spoke.

"Close your eyes!"

With his sharp gaze following your every move, he shook his head and leaned on his elbows.

"Fine." You rolled your eyes, and your hand grabbed the base of his hardness.

As soon as your nails brushed the skin of his length, he sat up and stared at you. He was breathing so fast you could hear and see his chest moving.

With a smile, you looked him in the eyes and leaned your head down. Your mouth took in the tip, and your tongue traced circles as Vash gasped. The sight of your bent head made him bite his lip. No doubt every fiber of his being demanded you to take him fully in your mouth, but he wanted you to call the shots. Allowing you to control the pace pushed him to the edge. He enjoyed the thrill of knowing he was at your mercy.

Soft hairs of his thighs against your ears, your nose skimmed his sensitive areas, and your lips kissed all over those favorite parts. The smooth skin of your fingers rolled around was warm and delicate, so fragile you were afraid you might tear it with your teeth. You felt his hardness throb against your cheek, pleading with you not to neglect him. Your thumb rubbed the pre-cum off the pink tip as you raised your head.

You looked up at him, his hair gleaming like golden flames, his cheeks drenched with sweat, and his lower lip stuck between his teeth, and you realized that his eyes looked at you with a look of something like trepidation, as if he was nervous. His face was still flushed red, and he had an expression somewhere between unworthiness and pleasure. With every stroke, his breath grew heavier. Obviously, he wanted more but was trying to contain his desire. Did he feel he was getting something he didn't deserve again?

There was no way you could let him be alone with these thoughts. So, before his dazzled eyes, you licked your thumb and watched how blood drained from his head and rushed straight to his torso. In surrender, he fell back; his eyes squeezed shut. You closed your mouth to half his length, and he turned his face to the pillow, stifling a moan. A tremor ran through his body, and his hands gripped the sheets tightly. Your hands ran down his legs, grabbing them just above his knees and inching them apart so you could trail kisses down the insides of his thighs.

He looked like he was in so much pain. So much pain.

You licked the pain away.

Twirling your fingers around the length, you took the crown in your mouth. Only enough to tease. Too little to satisfy. Your lips gently pressed against it, and when Vash was ready to scream, you accepted his whole length in your mouth.

Your lips were sealed tight as you hummed and increased the speed of your ministration. He threaded his fingers through your hair and molded his hands into your head, not to push you further down but to tilt your face up.

His forehead and neck were dripping sweat. The lines of emotion on his face were so deep you wondered how you must look to him. His throat bobbed, and you felt yourself drown in his eyes, enigmatic yet expressive, like sea foam, tempestuous but very calm. His fingers trailed over your salivate-covered lips, and you noticed that the sadness in his eyes had receded.

The world was suddenly brighter, bigger, and more beautiful.

07:40 am - July 21st

Taking hold of you by the arm pits, Vash pulled you in until your chest touched his. Next, you were rolled over so that your back touched the mattress, and he crawled onto you. Now his arms were propped up on either side of your head so he would not crush you under his weight. Looking into his eyes, you were pinned in place. His urgency ignited your bones. The polished planes of his face glowed with rivulets of sweat. His hardness was poking desperately against your thigh.

"I want to … …, …," he whispered. Intoxicated, you couldn't digest anything except his body hovering over you.

"… ?" His body pressed closer, and you realized you were paying attention to nothing but the dandelions blowing wishes in your lungs.

His eyes were heavy now in a way that worried you, but his gaze was still so tender, focused, and full of emotions you could hardly bring yourself to say anything. As your words faded, they became an unspoken whisper. Your lips glued together.

Screams.

Death.

Screams.

Your heart suddenly raced. What if these moments were destined to expire?

The sound of a clock striking midnight. A pumpkin carriage. The possibility of losing him.

You didn't want your arms to be deprived of his warmth. His touch. His lips, God, his lips, his mouth on your neck, his body wrapped around yours. The nightmare had caused this all, you knew, but the realization was like a pendulum the size of the moon. It wouldn't stop slamming into you.

Blinking fast, you swallowed back the fear building in your throat. God! He was speaking with you, but you couldn't hear him.

You were worried, really worried something was going to happen to him. What if bounty hunters found him? Could his brother hurt him? No. No. No. Even though you were only a human, you would never allow such a thing to happen. You just couldn't. You...

"Hey," he said, his voice soft, so soft. His arms were stronger than all the bones in your body. He pulled your figure close. You heard the beats of his heart humming deeply within his chest, and the steel of his arm encircled your whole body, releasing tension from your limbs. The icicles in your body were melted by his heat. Something about this frame made you want to freeze it forever. "You okay, Firefly? Wanna stop?"

The words he said sent waves of emotion coursing through you. He could read you like an open palm. You weren't lost before you met him, but you were never found until he laid eyes on you. Your tears stung as they fell backward down your throat, burning as they went. "Kiss me, Vash," you said before closing your eyes.

He searched your face, unsure what to do, hesitating, until you felt his lips on your shoulder, tender and scorching, so gentle you could almost believe it was the kiss of breeze and not a man.

Again.

This time, it was on your collarbones and felt like an ache that needed to be soothed. You didn't want to do anything to stop his mouth from touching your body.

He pulled back.

Desire.

Crave.

Need.

Again.

Your eyes refused to open.

His finger grazed the corner of your mouth, tracing its shape, the curves, the seams, and the dips. You felt him so much closer, his body heat filling the air around you, along with his smell and something sweet, until nothing was left. Your senses were so engulfed in his scent you didn't even realize your back was arching toward him as you breathed him in until you found out his fingers were no longer on your lips because his hand had gotten around your body.

"So, where do you want me to kiss you?" Vash whispered, his chest heaving, his words almost gasping. A wave of blistering heat moved through you, sealed shut your mouth. You didn't specify precisely where you wanted him to kiss you, and he didn't seem to have any difficulty selecting the spot. 

He whispered your name as he kissed the corner of your eyebrow. "Here?" His lips brushed over the shell of your ear, and your body squirmed slightly. "Or here?" He pressed a kiss against your neck, right beneath your ear, and you tipped your head to let him in, biting down the urge to beg him to take more, to take faster, as he murmured, "tell me."

Clasping your warm fingers with his cold metallic ones, he hovered over you to kiss your throat. You were the oxygen he desperately needed to breathe. His body was almost on top of yours, one hand in your hair while the other held yours delicately yet firmly. His lips crushed yours in no time.

A kiss like this was like swimming in honey rivers, like being dipped in gold, like diving into an ocean of bliss and not realizing you were drowning because you were too caught up in the current to notice. Nothing mattered anymore—neither your nightmare, this room, or the whole fucking planet.

All that mattered was this.

This.

This moment. These lips. This strong body pressed against yours, and these firm hands that always found a way you bring you closer. Oh, My Gosh! You wanted so much more of him. You wanted all of him.

Your eyes opened up.

Not content to be passive, your hands ran down his back, dancing over his broad shoulders, pressing into his dimples, and squeezing his hips.

Your hand grabbed a fistful of his hair when he broke for air with a groan, but you pushed him back, kissing his neck, arm, collarbones, and chest. It was amazing. Being with him, touching him, holding him like this. The rush of adrenaline was so intense and euphoric that you felt invincible.

He muttered your name, his lips mouthing the letters, barely speaking. Your skin was scorched everywhere he hadn't touched you.

He kissed your top lip.

He licked your bottom lip.

He kissed just under your chin, the tip of your nose, the length of your forehead, both temples and cheeks across your jawline. Then your neck, behind your ears, the space between your breasts. He nibbled your nipples and left trails of kisses all the way down your belly button until his entire form moved down your figure, disappearing as he shifted downward, and suddenly his chest was hovering above your hips.

Grasping your calves, he spread your legs apart just enough for his head to fit between. Your thighs were lifted, and you couldn't see him anymore. His only visible features were the top of his head, the curve of his shoulders, and the unsteady rise and fall of his back as he breathed. Eventually, even that sight was lost, with your head falling backward and muffled moans leaving your mouth.

Vash ran his hands down and up around your bare upper thighs and ribs, and he held your hips to make you stand still. Your eyes lit up like small firecrackers every time his hair teased your groins until his lips kissed you there, and fireworks exploded in the back of your head.

As his right hand pressed against your stomach, his tongue played around to make you scream aloud. His mouth brushed against your skin in places you couldn't see but felt deeply. Oh my! You were out of your body, touching stars, when you realized he was working his way up your body, leaving two fingers of that prosthetic arm behind.

"It might feel a bit cold," he said as his nose glided the skin of your stomach, leaving random kisses around your breasts and collarbones just to ease your tension. "Tell me if it hurts, okay?" His hair was a mess, the wetness on his lips all familiar.

A nod came from you in response. He almost seemed to be smiling as his fingers slipped inside your slit, and your nails dug into the fabric. Moaning, you felt his warm hand brushing your hair backward as the other moved up and down inside your walls.

Your mouth was parted in a silent moan, and his small pecks covered you all around. There were tears in your eyes, baby hairs sticking to your sweaty forehead.

As his thumb and two fingers hit all the right spots, your throat wailed in frustration.

You grabbed his free arm, and he pulled himself up, onto you, on top of you. As if reading your thoughts, he kissed you hard. How strange, yet sweet, all you could taste was you, yourself, on his tongue. You moaned at the taste, and he opened his mouth more for you, allowing you to brush your tongue against his teeth.

The stinging coldness of his fingers was long gone. You had forgotten everything. There was something you shouldn't have forgotten, but you couldn't even remember why, what you were forgetting. Amid his length caressing your side and those digits thrusting backward and forward, paying attention to anything else was hard.

You could die from this, you decided. From wanting him, from the pleasure of being with him.

You must be smiling because he was looking at you and smiling too. His forehead was pressed against yours. His skin was flushed with heat. His hand had kept your head still. Your hands gripped his nick, sliding into the hollow behind it. You placed your palms just above his nape, and your fingertips gently began to squeeze and massage his undercut.

"Va-sh."

For a moment, you thought life poured out of you, or maybe your vision fractured as release barreled into you, and you grasped his name over and over again till your body calmed under his weight.

08:10 am- July 21st

Your eyes landed on his glistening wet metallic fingers, and you were dripping, burning, melting with anticipation. He was still on top of you when you thought you heard him speak, his mouth close to your ear.

"I love you," he whispered and kissed your brow. It never occurred to you that he could be like this, so human, so real, but it was there. It was right there. Raw, written across his face. You were about to mutter all the words and worries you held in your chest, but suddenly he stood up and stared blankly at the other side of the room.

You followed his gaze to the pane of glass separating you from the reality outside. You awaited his lips to part. You waited to listen to him speak. His eyes weren't revealing anything about what he was thinking, what was going on.

Something about the realization struck fear into your heart. In the span of a single instant, darkness surrounded your vision. Images appeared in the blur of your sight again.

The petals of red Geraniums floating in the sky, a boy running through blood-stained sands, the time speeding up and slowing down in fits and starts, streaks of green and red staining your dilated eyes, stars exploding, lights flashing, sparking, and then it's all darkness and Vash's screams.

You shook your head.

The images disappeared, but the heartaches and fears lingered, and you had to keep reminding yourself to breathe. Your lungs begged for air, but you looked around for Vash instead.

It seemed he wanted to scream, but you knew the words wouldn't leave his mouth. Those thoughts would expand in his head, explosive and angry, pressing against the ridges of his mind, and then he would hide them behind a smile. As he always did.

"Vash?" you called, just before witnessing how a car's radio sound from the street ripped open his past, pulled out what was left of his heart, and dropped it on the floor.

"… been two years since that fateful July 21st. A crowd has gathered at what used to be the third city of July to pay their respects. Even after two years, the pain of losing their loved ones has yet to heal. The suspect said to have murdered 90 percent of the city, also known as the Humanoid Typhoon, still remains at large. Vash the Stampede is on the run. If I were the demon who turned the whole city into a gaping crater overnight, I'd hide my face too. There is no forgetting the sorrow of loved ones taken from us. The Alliance of Cities has raised the dead or alive bounty on Vash the Stampede to $$60 billion, the highest in the history of…"

The loud words bounced around in the haze of your head, fogging your senses, misting your eyes, and clouding your concentration. In your bones, there was just ice. Your entire being wanted to vomit. Reality slapped you in the face, punched you in the jaw, and dumped you into sand oceans. You grasped the nightstand to keep yourself steady. The orange shades fell on the floor, leaving a big crack on display.

Vash was shaking his head over and over and over and over. He was looking at his hands like he would see some blood on them, as if waiting for the part where someone would tell him this wasn't real and he didn't actually kill those 200,000 innocent people.

Oh, my beloved.

The pain was so plain on his face; it was killing you. Your gaze was drawn to the balled fists at his sides, the furrows in his brow, and the tension in his jaw. Minutes ago, this man was free, but now he was a prisoner of his own crime. In your heart, you wished you could release him from the claws of self-reproach.

Having seen his terror too often, you knew it well.

Sometimes, even when he was asleep, his tormented mind would grip his heart, and such emptiness and sadness would fill him that you felt he was suffocating, as if his sleepless nightmares never had an end.

You didn't know him before,

but

you

thought

he

had

lost

a

bit

of

himself

on

the

day

of

July

incident.

As time passed, you assumed he had finally learned not to dwell on what had happened. You imagined he avoided it like a cripple learning not to put weight on his injured leg.

However, deep down, you knew he was living on eggshells, always wondering when something would break, when everything would crumble. You always dreaded this day. This silence. It was not just an ordinary silence caused by the lack of things that moved or made noise, but a deep and tired silence that sometimes covered him like an invisible cloak—like the one ruling between your shared walls right now.

Stacks of sorrow had grown inside him, settling on his bones and snapping him in half. A cable twisted around his neck, a worm crawling across his stomach. It was the night, midnight, and the twilight of indecision. Too many pains to bear.

How naive of him to think he could slip into the role of a regular being and live a normal life in love and peace.

Vash.

Vash the stampede with a dream.

The mere thought of it filled him with mortification. He began to think others were right when they said things like him were better off destroyed.

Shaking his head, he coughed against the torture in his lungs, heaving strange, horrible gasps until his whole body spasmed into submission, leaving him sitting on the bed's edge like a sack full of nothingness. The old gunman looked as if he might collapse, barely breathing, his life-force being torn asunder.

You felt like your throat was closing up. You knew the infamous humanoid typhoon was everything broken and glued back together, and now knives bore holes into his cracked bones, filled with grief that could take his breath away.

Your face was drained of color, your ears ringing with your heart pounding. His desperate screams from your nightmare echoed in your head as if on repeat. His agony was acute. His terror palpable. Tears sprung to your eyes. It was painful to look at him, being so close and far away from him.

"Local news. You know how dumb they are," you said, trying to hide your petrified and nerve-wracking thoughts from his reach. What if he never experienced peace? What if there was no sanctuary, and the pain was always a whisper away, no matter where he went?

Pressing your nails to your palm, you continued, "None of that incident was your fault. You know that too. You hear me?"

His eyes widened a little. No one had ever cared about him for this long. No one had kept him ever this closely to read his thoughts word by word. No one had ever treated him like a human being. Then again, he thought you didn't know about all of his sins. In a century and a half, he hadn't been able to forgive himself; how could you? It made him wonder how long you could endure him before running for your life.

His head was spinning, thoughts knocking into one another. He clenched his fists and pushed back down the misery that had stuck with him. Even though he didn't want this, you'd probably be better off without him.

"Vash?" You swallowed and dug your fingers into the sheets desperately, a tear trickling down your cheek. It kept hitting you in the face, in the skull, in the spine, this knowledge of just how much you loved him.

His lips looked like they were barely able to form words. He could only take these harsh gasps and wonder why his body hadn't given up.

On all fours, you approached him and sat on your knees on the edge of the bed with a slight distance between you and him. You knew he wouldn't object, but you didn't want to intrude on his privacy. Thus, you remained silent so that he wouldn't be left by himself, and he would know you wouldn't leave him alone.

09:15 am – July 21st

Time passed, and you checked on him occasionally to see if he wanted to talk until he raised his head slightly.

"I'm a demon," he said the sentence so quietly. So, so quietly. He ran a hand across his face, both hands through his hair, looking like he wanted to scream, to break something, like he was truly about to lose his mind. "The world sees me as a threat. An unfixable monster. An abomination. They want me dead." His voice sounded sorrowful, almost like he had already accepted these labels.

Thousand pieces of feeling stabbed you in the heart. "I don't think you're a demon. Also, I don't think you're some sick, twisted monster. I don't think you're a heartless killer, and I don't think you deserve to die. You're not a humanoid typhoon. No, you're not any of the things people have said about you," you told him, words tripping and stumbling out of you.

His mouth fell closed, struggling with some kind of emotion, struggling to find composure. Suddenly he gasped. "No." One broken word. Barely even a sound. He was shaking his head, looking away from you. He turned to face the window. "No. No, no—"

"Vash—"

"No," he said. His voice was so soft and so scared you could scarcely hear it. "No, you don't know what you're saying—"

"You're not a monster!" you said. "And I love you exactly as you are. I don't even want you to fix yourself; I don't think you need to be fixed. People here love you as you are. Your name is the only thing that scares them," you told him.

You knew people had the right to fear him. You knew. Humanoid Typhoon certainly wasn't made of sugar, spice, and everything nice, but rather from hurricanes, lightning, and all things that scared. Seeing dusty storms and raging winds, people thought he was scary. They feared he would harm them. In truth, he was only his own disaster, destroying himself for others. He was Vash. Your Vash. Vash the Stampede, and you loved him with all his fears and frights, dreams and nightmares, sins and scars.

You smiled and continued, "If they learn your name and start hunting you, we'll run away! We'll run, run, and keep running as far as we have to! And when things calm down, we'll settle by their side again. You won't kill. You'll never kill anyone again, and one day, people will begin seeing you as I do."

Maybe tears filled his eyes. Possibly his breath was trapped in his chest. Perhaps his heart warmed a little. No one knew, not even the author. He had his head down, his chest rising and falling.

You sat behind him. A map of pain had covered his entire back. Thick, thin, uneven, and terrible, scars like roads leading nowhere. There were bolts and ragged slices, marks of torture he was not protected from.

Kindness must be difficult when all you'd received was hatred. Being able to see goodness in the world must be so hard when your only experience had been terror. You wanted to say something to him. Something profound, complete, and memorable, but there was nothing suitable. This planet was a broken bone that didn't set right, and Vash wanted to glue it back together. Alone, all by himself.

You two differed in this respect. Fearless and unafraid were two different things. He was fearless. He dared to outshine the sun, stare down a bullet, kiss death and walk away with his back unguarded. He would hold the whole world in his palms despite its bone-crushing weight, despite its sharp edges crusted with blood, if only he could stop it from falling apart. But you? You were fearful. Sometimes you couldn't breathe around the clot of fear lodged in your throat. The only way to lessen its weight on your tongue was to scream until no words came out, while the only way to chase away its shadows was never to close your eyes at night. You were unafraid of one thing, though —he could tear down the world and bury you alive under the weight of his guilt, yet you would follow him without hesitation.

Your eyes rested upon woven strands of sunlight, alighting softly upon his scarred skin. These honeyed arcing rays gave him a light glimmer that revealed his plant patterns, pulsing slowly and dimly. Something about the scene was so divine, and you felt the dawn rise from your heart every morning and reach the sky.

You hugged him from behind by bridging the gap between your bodies and leaned your cheek against his sun-kissed back. Your hands gently caressed his stomach and chest as your lips left kisses on his love reminiscences—one by one.

You could hear him breathing in and out. Unevenly. Yet he was silent. Hands clenched, knuckles white. Of course, he wanted you with a desperate need he had never known. But his regret, sins, and crimes were so overwhelming they consumed him. He thought, how could you be so kind to a thing like him?

Unaware of the voices in his mind, you dropped a kiss on his spine. You kissed the curve of his shoulder. His shoulder blades. Five kisses down his spine, each softer than the other one. For every little moment of pain he had ever felt in his life, you wanted to make it all go away. You kissed his neck, trying to ignore the tension in his muscles, the ache spreading inside you, urging you to end his suffering.

Your words were heavy with sincerity when you said, "I don't care what everyone else thinks about you." You leaned your forehead to his shoulder, your breaths gently caressing his back. "Because you're the only good thing left in this world."

As his eyes widened, he breathed heavily, trying to gain control of himself. "What are you saying?" he asked, his hand caught in his hair. "How can you tell such a thing this after all this?" His hand pointed to the window, to the news on the radio.

Standing on your knees, you kissed the hand caught between his gold locks. The same hand he always tried to cover its scar with a glove. Because the idiot thought his scars would be repulsive. The idiot. Your favorite idiot.

You didn't sit back. Keeping your head there, your nose buried in his hair, and your chest pressed to his back—this smell. You had never seen a sea, but you had heard about them. And you believed if there was ever to be a sea in this hell hole, he would smell like a sunny beach. Sweet, enveloping, and warm.

"That is—" your voice broke when you spoke. "That's what the family is for, Vash."

A sudden searing heat flashed behind his eyes, and his heart leaped at your response. He dropped his hand on his knee and sat still in place by the weight of your words. His hand trembled, and his eyes were willing and wanting but filled with both sadness and happiness.

A family.

All this time, he thought you were with him all along because you didn't have a grasp on his sins, but now, he could see that you already knew everything. And despite all of this, you were still willing to forgive him and give him something he always wanted but never had without even requiring him to earn it or redeem himself.

You touched his arm and traced the tender skin with your fingertips. Scars everywhere. You kissed the back of his elbow. "I'm sorry for everything humans have done to you," you told him, and he took a shallow breath. "Forgive us." Another kiss. "Forgive me."

A delicate warmth filled Vash's heart and melted it into drops of warm honey that soothed the scars in his soul. He turned his head and stared at you with open, vulnerable eyes, a tight jaw, and tensed muscles. No one had ever apologized to him. According to his experience, he was usually the monster, the wicked one. The onus always was on him to make amends.

It stunned him how strange it felt. Up until now, he never thought he deserved forgiveness, let alone someone asking for it.

Running a tired hand across his face, he wasn't sure what to do with himself. A joy filled his heart, causing him to feel heavy with something he wasn't even sure he could describe.

Gratitude, perhaps.

The ache in his chest had grown more assertive, more painful. But for now, he didn't want to think about it. He simply just wanted to enjoy your proximity.

Your hand reached up to stroke the luminous curved shapes on his cheek, tracing them to the softness of the mole beneath his left eye. The look in those aquamarines breaking your heart. You couldn't bear to see his face covered in sorrow and guilt.

"You're a good man, my Vash," you said, your words soft, your hand gentle as you tilted his chin up toward your mouth. He was blinking fast, yet not denying. You whispered words on his lips that no one had ever spelled out for him. "Rem would've been proud of you," you told him, watching the movement in his throat and his effort to keep it together. It didn't take you long to kiss him once, tenderly.

He found himself at a loss for words, opting to convey his emotions through touch instead as he melded his lips with yours. He sighed into your mouth, and you kissed him even more deeply, almost desperately, as if trying to pass over your breaths to him. You could taste the salt on your tongue. The wet drops falling on your cheeks made your flesh burn. You were uncertain whose they were as you continued to try and cling to him.

10:00 am – July 21st

The sheets slowly slipped and fell to the floor as Vash pulled you into his arms, clutching you tight, hardly able to breathe. When he exhaled and looked at you again, there were stories in his eyes, thoughts, whispers, and feelings of things you had never seen before. His whole body seemed to be relaxed in relief. He looked like he was hanging on his sanity by a single, fraying thread. You.

And you promised yourself, at this moment, that you would hold him forever, just like this, until all the pain, the torture, and the suffering was gone, until he'd given a chance to live the kind of life where no one could ever hurt him this deeply ever again.

He touched your cheek. Soft, as if he wasn't sure if you were real. His four fingers caressed the side of your face gently before they slipped behind your neck, caught in that in-between spot below your ear, and his thumb brushed the apple of your cheek, then grazing your bottom lip.

You did so much with these lips, you thought. Touched, kissed, and pressed them against tender parts of his skin. You made promises, and the words they formed, the shapes and sounds they curved around, all for him.

Vash moved closer by just an inch. His free metallic hand cupped the other side of your face. He was holding you like you were made of crystals. Holding you and looking at his own hands, he couldn't believe you were real.

Gone was the man with guns and bullets. These hands treasuring you had never held a weapon. They were perfect and kind, never touched by death. He took your hands and pressed your palms to his face. Tears must have welled up in your eyes when you closed them.

You whispered his name, and he breathed harder than you.

Could this be a dream?

You shook, shuddered, splintered into teardrops, and he held you like no one had before. He wanted you. Seeing him cling to you as he might never let go did something to you, something heady, knowing that he might wish you, or need you, like this, made you want to protect him even though he didn't need your protection.

Gently, he stroked your hair and pressed his lips to your forehead. Gradually, his arms became the arms around your waist; his lips became the lips pressed against yours, his body the warmth you felt.

You weren't even breathing, but you were alive, and he was kissing you. Deeply, desperately. The palms of his hands were rubbing the small of your back as he lifted you into his lap. Your legs automatically wrapped around his hips, allowing him to kiss your neck, throat, and nipples.

You broke apart with his small licks here and there, breathing hard, and stared at him like a bonehead, your brain still too numb to figure out exactly how you two got here.

Tilting his head to a side, he pressed his lips against yours again, seeking you with a burning need, a new kind of desperation. His hands were threaded in your hair, his lips so soft, so urgent against yours, like fire and cinnamon exploding in your mouth.

Vash nibbled your bottom lip in a flash and pulled back just a little bit. Your body was flooded with heat and desire so intense you could hardly think when he parted his lips from you to sigh in your mouth, and that slight sound of pleasure drove you crazy.

Putting one hand under your neck, placing his mouth on your breast, and running his fingers down your back, he pressed your body closer, only to find something hard pressing against your groin.

Oh.

Well.

While he avoided your gaze, he smiled sheepishly and tentatively touched your thighs with his hands. Because of what had happened, you knew he would probably feel embarrassed to ask for it, but that didn't mean you wouldn't give it to him. He deserved the whole world if you had the chance to provide for him. His markings were glowing softly when you squeezed him closer to yourself, holding him tighter.

Biting his lip and stifling his groan, his smart-ass hands slid up your legs and into your thighs. Soon, his lips reached your chest. Your body ached everywhere, tasting colors and sounds you didn't even know existed. His forehead was pressed against your chin, and your hands gripped his shoulders. He was hot, gentle, and somehow in a hurry.

You were beyond the reach of rational thoughts. Beyond words, beyond comprehension. The world was beyond understanding because nothing could ever compare with this. Nothing could ever capture the way you were feeling right now. Nothing mattered anymore. You were left with only this moment: his mouth on your body, his hands on your skin, and his lust deep in his eyes, making you absolutely insane.

Your wetness was no longer a secret when he surrounded you everywhere. As he watched you, you reached down and adjusted his length against your slippery entrance over a few strokes. His pulse could be felt in your palm and soon inside of you.

Using both soft and hard hands, he gently grasped your hips and pulled you down toward him. As he entered, you gasped, every time surprised at his size, clinging desperately to his neck as he hitched your legs around his waist, his prosthetic arm settling beneath your thigh. You loved the feeling of him stretching you. You loved having him this close to you. You loved the way he manhandled you. You loved his hand around your neck and the little squeeze of his fingers around your nape.

His grip tightened when he sensed you were ready for him, and he started moving you up and down. You cried out and leaned your cheek to his nose, dying and somehow being brought back to life in the same moment, in the same breath.

Fuck! You were full of him.

He lifted your thighs, and you bit back the moan stuck in your throat. His mouth wouldn't let go of your skin, kissing you with an intensity that made you wonder why you hadn't died, caught on fire, or woken up from this dream yet. Then he returned his hands to your face and kissed you once, twice.

The room's silence was filled with your heavy breathing, your chest against Vash's. Your pulses hammered against each other. You felt his arms around you become unbearably tight as he yanked you up and down with even more force than before, hitting you in a place he seemed to know too well.

As his teeth caught your bottom lip momentarily, you pushed your nails to his shoulder, running your fingers through his hair to pull him into your mouth. He tasted so sweet. So hot and sweet. You kept trying to say his name, but you couldn't even breathe, much less say a single word.

The pace increased slightly; each thrust was hard, deliberate, wringing gasps, whimpers, and long, rolling moans from you.

Your eyes tingled with tears, falling fast down, traveling quietly down your cheeks, and he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs two parentheses in your mouth, against your tongue and saliva. As if he had found Adam's ale between million mirages of the desert, he stared at you, his eyes like fire in the water.

"I love you," he whispered over and over, his voice fragile, uneven. His lips covered yours in a tender kiss. He kissed you and tasted your tears, the lingering flavor of pleasure laced in your mouth. He kissed you and kissed you until time toppled over, and your head spun into oblivion.

Vash loved you…

His temple was leaned against yours when you took his earlobe between your teeth, stripped him to his bones, and ruined him from the inside out. Your sweet little tongue was frantic when you whispered, "I'm yours to love."

Hearing your words, he held still for moments, sucking in the air because he felt almost dizzy with satisfaction, running his hands over your thighs.

You. You were his. You, the one who knew if you left him alone at that moment, would fall into the depths of his own hell; if he'd slipped through your fingers, he would be gone, and no one could bring him back. You did not erase all his pain or offer to solve all his problems. You didn't fix everything that was broken, but that wasn't what he needed anyway. What mattered the most was that you stayed.

He loved you.

He loved you so much.

Grasping your soft hips, he buried his face against your shoulder and sped up. You were his undoing, taking him apart and putting him back together differently, better, and more himself than he ever could have been. He gritted his teeth as his orgasm came barreling at him. His hands glided on your back when you shuddered, your inner walls squeezing him so hard he couldn't prevent his release. With a growl, he thrust wildly, once, twice—and then everything around you both disappeared until it was all just colors and light, the sun shines and oceans, apple trees, and blossoms.

Your eyes were still closed, and you felt his hands laced with yours, just to remind you that you had him here and that he was with you. Your partner in everything. His chest heaving, he buried his face in your neck, sweat covering his temples. Kissing him there, you inhaled the scent of his hair.

"You're my family too," you heard him whisper, his words etched into your soul as his lips moved against your skin. And you wished, more than ever, that you could capture moments like this and relive them forever.

12:50 pm – July 21st

You woke up with a smile, your skin still hot from the memory of your vile. You were cleaned with a wet towel, placed in bed with a kiss, and promptly fell asleep. Thankfully, no nightmares this time.

What time was it? You didn't know.

As you stretched your legs under the sheets, you realized your back was against Vash, his prosthetic arm resting on your pillow, the other tucked around your waist. Knowing he had held you this close warmed the pit of your stomach and made you feel so safe that you didn't ever want to move, but you had a thousand things to do today, but you never, ever wanted to move.

Truth be told, you loved these moments the most. The quiet contentment. Being enveloped by his naked body. You never felt closer to him than you did like this when there was nothing between you.

Today was a big day delayed by your nightmare and the sound of that stupid radio! There was no way you were going to let anything overshadow his birthday anymore. Even for a few hours, he deserved this celebration, this little distraction. He deserved to be happy, eat, and laugh.

You sighed, hating to wake him up since he seemed pretty tired. Slowly, you turned around in his arms. A smile tugged at your mouth as you watched him, amazed at how his presence could bring you such peace. He shifted again, burrowing deeper into the pillows, and you realized he must be exhausted.

Watching the movement of his throat, you breathed him in, running your hands along the deep, strong lines of muscle in his arm. His entire being felt raw. Powerful. Being a plant had something wild and terrifying about it; somehow, this knowledge only made you love him more. You traced the contours of his shoulder blades, then his spine. He stirred, but only briefly, and buried his face in your hair.

"Don't go," he whispered softly, pressing his nose to your scalp alongside his lips.

You tilted your head, gently kissing the column of his throat. "Vash," you whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."

Taking a deep breath, he said, "good."

You smiled. "Oh, but we should probably get out of bed. I promised Rosalina I'll help—"

A disapproving sound escaped his throat as he shook his head, deftly helping you turn around. He hugged you close again, your back pressed against his chest. Soft and husky, his voice was full of desire when he said, "C'mon, let me enjoy this. Feeling good."

"You don't want a cake?" you blurted out, but it certainly caught his attention.

You could feel he raised his head, stiffened and confused. "How come Rosalina's making me a cake?"

Did you hear correctly? Had he forgotten about his birthday? Did this day become neglected to the point where it was forgotten?

Turning around, you saw he was sitting, his body frozen and his heart probably pounding furiously. Getting him to attend his birthday would take more effort than you expected. Because he asked how you could possibly plan a party for him, why anyone would throw him a party, what if he didn't even like birthday parties, and so on. Still, you didn't fall short. Since the day he told you about Rem making them a cake for their birthday, you kept track of his birthday. The July incident wasn't going to overshadow his birthday. It was your vow to replace that memory with better ones. That forever and ever, you'd strive to drown out the darkness that had ruined his life.

In his eyes, tragedy and beauty could be seen, a stoicism that wouldn't be shaken, and childlike joy that couldn't help but flow. When he swallowed, you noticed the gentle movement in his throat and moved your hand to his ear, your pinkie touching his earring, then tracing down his jawline. You didn't receive a rejection, but you didn't receive a yes, either. Why wasn't he saying anything? He had you on your worried until he clasped his hands over his face.

Your hand brushed against his undercut as you gently kissed his temple and tried to pry his hands away from his face. "Vash?" you said, your words hardly a whisper. "Is everything alright?"

The reply took him a few seconds to come out, but when he finally did, he nodded. It was only once, but it was enough. "Yeah," he said softly. "I'm okay."

The feeling of relaxation washed over you as you exhaled. "If you don't want a—"

He held and squeezed your hand as he looked at you, his eyes round when he said, a little nervously, "what have I done," he whispered, his voice trembling, "to deserve you?"

Did you die of joy? Because he took your face in his hands and kissed you so passionately, it blew your mind. Your heart began to beat violently, and you didn't recognize yourself. You didn't recognize your hands, your bones, your heart. You felt new. "Thank you," he whispered. "For loving me and everything."

"It's very, very easy to love you, Vash," your lips might have said, but the words never left your lips. You didn't know what to do, so you reeled him in, kissed him, and lost yourself in his taste and feel, in the fantasy of what you might have. What you might be.

But wait! Didn't you know fate was a jealous, vicious mistress that never ever slept?

You blinked.

You blinked again, but this time for too long. You saw a flash of blood spewing inside your open mouth. Nausea returned with a swiftness that scared you. A breath was drawn, your fingers fluttering as you desperately tried pressing them against your stomach. Pain filled your eyes as you kept them open. Clenching your fists, you attempted to control spiraling thoughts.

However, nothing helped. Nothing helped. Nothing, you thought. Nothing, nothing, and nothing.

Where was Vash? Where were you?

Throughout your open eyes, terror oozed from your heart. You heard someone calling your name. A hand brushed lightly along your spine as you shivered suddenly at the unexpected sensation.

" …," the voice said, "do you … ?"

The warmth moved in only to meet the coldness of your skin. You felt it all. Again and again, a touch of his finger did pull you out of your nightmare.

A rustle of sheets caught your attention, and Vash pulled you onto his lap. Straddling him, your legs stretched across the rumpled fabric. Wrapping his arm around you, he spread his hand along your back.

It was just a dream. It was just a dream. It was just a dream.

Turning carefully in the cradle of his arms, you pressed your forehead to his bare chest, your eyelashes fluttering against his rough gash.

"You okay?" he asked, his metallic fingers combing through your hair in a soothing act.

"Yes," you replied, forcing air into your lungs. You were breathing hard, head spinning as you held on to him. "Yes."

"Is something wrong, Elay?" He probably had lowered his head because his breath was touching your shoulder.

"Nothing," you claimed. Your heart was beating fast, too fast. You didn't know why you were lying. You should have just told him, but you didn't know why you weren't.

Wait.

Actually, you knew.

You were waiting.

You were waiting to see if this shit would pass. It had to, because today was a special day. Because you were already exhausted, and the radio's sound was repeating in your ears. Because you didn't want to add another burden to his shoulders with your silly nightmare. Even more, it wasn't real. Just a figment of your imagination, and saying it out loud would make it sound more real than it really was.

Vash asked no further questions. He was more of an "if you love someone, let them keep their secrets to themselves " guy. He pulled you close, and you melted into him, grateful for his warmth and steady hold. You took a deep, shuddering breath and let it all go, exhaling against him. A faint aroma of caramel lingered in your nostrils as you breathed in his skin's rich, heady scent. The minutes passed silently as you both listened to each other breathe.

01:45 pm – July 21st

It took a while, but your heart rate steadied.

You could feel it.

Here.

This.

Your bones against his bones. This was your home.

"What're you thinking?" His lips touched your neck, a graze that sparked, hot and cold, right down to your toes.

"Been thinking about you." You raised your head and looked at him. He was smiling, the unfaltering sun glinting in his eyes. You could see his fear, hopes, and love for you like a mirror to his soul in those mountain lake-colored spheres. Then there was something else as well—something like bliss. It was a faint glow, but it was there and made you so happy. You had blessed the blessing. He deserved happiness after everything he had been through. After all the horrors he had suffered alone.

"Me?"

As you closed the gap between you two again, you nodded against his chest. Nothing was said, but you could hear his heart racing until he exhaled. It was a heavy, uneven sound, as if he might have been holding his breath for too long.

Gently, you ran your hand along his back. "How long has it been since you celebrated your birthday?" you whispered.

"Hm?" He buried his face in your hair, and his nose glided over your scalp in what appeared to be caressing movements.

It didn't take a genius to figure out when he was ducking a question. You wiggled a little to loosen his grip and looked up. Your fingers ran through the soft, silky strands. The sight of him mesmerized you. His eyes were wide and bright. His lips soft and pale. He was perfect, bare, and beautiful, holding you in his arms. Sighing, you closed your eyes. "Let me ask it this way then," you said, "How many birthdays have you missed so far?"

Nothing came out of his mouth for what seemed like an eternity. You felt him finally move. In a gentle caress, his prosthetic fingers touched your face. "150 birthdays," he whispered, his voice uneven.

Your spine tingled involuntarily. 150 years of solitude. Loneliness. Alone with himself. On this giant planet. Where was his home? Where were his friends? His lovers?

You knew he was so much better at being alone as if being alone came more naturally. He led a life of deliberate seclusion, and when occasional loneliness crept in, he knew how to sink in and absorb its particular comforts or work his way out. After all, there were always bars and saloons and strangers around.

You knew he wanted to carry the weight of life all alone, even the burden of those he once loved. It wasn't fair, though. You had to be allowed to help him carry it all. A frown formed on your face, and you inhaled, "Happy birthday #1! Happy birthday #2! Happy birthday #3!..."

His metallic forefinger stopped your lips. Slowly, you looked up to meet his eyes. His expression was sad, sweet, and filled with love. You felt something thawed inside of you as you stared at him.

"You don't have to do this," he said as he separated his finger from your lips to brush away stray strands of hair from your face. A part of you wished his finger could stay there longer.

"Shut up and let yourself celebrate! We've got at least 150 birthdays to catch up on!"

He kissed your eye, and you felt his smile on your eyelid. His lips started moving tardily when he said, "I don't—"

"Shhhh! Since you interrupted me, I'm starting over!" you snapped and continued, "Happy birthday #1! Happy birthday #2! …"

The smile on his face grew bigger and bigger, as if he was filled with so much joy that he hardly recognized himself. You couldn't recall the last time he smiled this much. It was the most pure, unburdened bliss you had ever experienced.

He held you the entire time you felicitated all his forgotten birthdays. You could see it in how he looked at you. You could feel his fears disappearing and his emotions becoming something else. Now, his touch was hot and electric against your skin. Your heart was beating faster and harder, and he didn't have to say anything. You could feel the temperature change between you.

"You," he said, staring at your mouth. He touched his nose to yours, and something inside you jolted to life. You heard your breath caught, your ears turning red, unbidden. "I love you," he whispered.

The words did something to you every time you heard them. They built something new inside of you. You swallowed hard. A fire consumed your mind. "You know," you mumbled shyly, "It never gets old hearing you say that."

Leaning you back a little, he moved, his nose brushed the line of your jaw, and his lips touched your throat. You were holding your breath, terrified to move, to leave this moment.

"I love you," he said again.

Heat filled your veins. You could feel him in your blood, his whispers overwhelming your senses.

"Vash," you said. You wanted to talk to him about what happened hours ago. You knew you should've moved and snapped out of this but couldn't. You couldn't think. And then his hand brushed against your breasts. You breathed quickly, fighting against a sudden rush of pleasure.

It was impossible to pretend anything when he was this close to you. You knew he could feel how badly you wanted him. You could feel him, too. His heat. His desire. He made no secret of what he wanted from you. What he wanted you to do to him.

He kissed you softly, wrapping his arms around you, one too cold, the other too hot. Your body shifted forward in his embrace as you took another painful, agonizing breath.

"I know you're worried," he said, his lips too close to yours and his hot breath in your mouth. "I know we have to talk, but—" He never finished that sentence. He kissed you as he reached down, trailing his fingers along the inner parts of your thighs, and the movement seared through you. Your vision went white. You heard nothing but the pounding of your heart, then you remembered.

"Vash? Um-I have to-ah," you panted, "she is waiting."

You could feel his smile as he whispered the word in your ear. His fingers were teasing your groins. "Please." And you were gone.

One hand kept your head steady, the other roamed around your loins, and he kissed and melted you. Your eyes met his, and the feeling threatened to drown you. He kissed you, and every thought and worry wicked away, replaced by the feel of his mouth against your skin, his hand claiming your body.

Holy Molly!

He eft his kisses everywhere like he knew, like he knew how desperately you needed this, needed him, needed this comfort and release.

Like he needed it, too.

Taking hold of his neck, you raised yourself up to kiss his nose, cheeks, and lips. The line of your bodies was welded together. You felt yourself dissolving, becoming pure emotion as he parted his lips, teased you, and breathed into your mouth. "I love you," he said, gasping the words.

He kissed the top of your shoulder, and his artificial hand wandered over your body, down your back, cupping your back side, lingering on your upper thighs like he wanted to memorize the shape of you, always leaving you in awe of how gentle he was. Your muscles tightened with longing, and you were surprised at how much you wanted him.

Again.

So soon.

However, you had to stop this.

"I'd better get dressed," you said, pulling yourself back, grabbing sheets, and covering yourself with them. "I've got stuff to do."

A grin spread across his face as he watched you as if he could sense your frustration. You crawled from his lap, the bedsheets catching under your knees and making you lose your composure. Like a sneaky fox, he couldn't resist taking advantage of the moment. He yanked the rest of the sheet away from you and tucked you underneath him. His weight pinned you to the mattress, a knee intentionally jammed between your legs and slowly grinding you down.

"Here's what I want for my birthday," he said, kissing your parted lips. He knew what he was doing and knew you couldn't comprehend his words. "I have this idea. Just hear me out; I think that maybe you should consider being naked all the time. I mean, just always. Okay?"

"Okay. I have to—" What were you saying? He had his mouth all over you, sucking at your breasts, licking your throat, his fingers going straight to your sensitive spots.

The moment he got there, you knew you wouldn't let him go, even if he wanted to. So, you needed to gather your wits and act before it was too late.

Think. Think. Think.

"Vash!" you gasped, pushing him up with your hand as much as possible. "I know you're going nuts like a hunk in heat," you said, holding his cheeks between your hands and staring at his big downturned eyes. "I gotta shower and go to the saloon so you can meet me there at eight, okay, good boy?" You tapped on his shoulder.

With raised eyebrows, Vash got off you, but you remained trapped between his knees. Although he crossed his arms and pretended to be mad, you could see him fighting back a smile. It was amazing how that poor piece of sheet managed to cover his hips; otherwise, you wouldn't have been able to focus on his face.

"You were going to take a shower without me?" he said sternly.

You couldn't figure out what to say for a moment and then carefully asked, "would you like to join me?"

Considering your offer, he gazed at you, up and down, with a sweet, secret smile. The look in his eyes was enough to persuade you to agree to anything. You would do anything for this man if he asked. Even if he didn't bother to ask.

"Vash."

Your heart was heavy as you whispered his name, filled with emotion. You went still as he hovered over you, gently mouthing your nipples. His kisses grow more intent, leaving a trail of fire across your chest, down your torso, and rushing through your veins.

Suddenly, you forgot why you were even in such a hurry.

Your hands slipped around his neck, and you reeled him in. He felt incredible against you, his body fitting perfectly. You tilted his face up, your hand caught somewhere behind his neck and the base of his jaw, and you kissed him softly and slowly, heat filling your blood with dangerous speed.

As one hand held him steady, the other skimmed the smooth skin of your waist, gripping your hip hard. He parted your legs with his thigh, hearing you make a desperate sound deep in your throat, and it did something to him, to feel and hear you like that, to be assaulted by your pleasure and desire. It drove him crazy.

Vash buried his face in your neck, and his hand moved up to feel your breasts' tender skin, hot, soft, and sensitive to his touch. He wanted your body under his hands, the scent of your skin, and the light whisper of your hair against his. Licking your earlobes, he tried to ignore the strain in his muscles and the hard, desperate pressure driving him towards you, toward madness.

An ache was expanding inside you and demanding more, craving him to flip you over and lose yourself in you. You clung to him, your eyes half-lidded, your face flushed. Your breathes were heavy when you said, "take me, Vash."

His eyes widened, and he stared at you like he might be going deaf and blind at the same time, hunching over from the effort of inhaling and exhaling. He said nothing and only looked at you carefully from the top, drinking you in. His pulse was wild, his mind racing. There was no way he could refuse you.

02:50 pm - July 21st

Vash stepped aside, and you pushed the sheets away when he asked you to get up. Soon you were standing in the middle of the room as he had demanded.

He couldn't look away from you and probably couldn't even hear himself think over his heart beating fast like a thud against his skull. Pinning you against the closest wall, he kissed you wild enough for you never to forget why he was called the stampede. His fingers touched every everywhere. Every bend and arc. Every pit and hole. Leaving gentle slaps and smacks on the soft skin of yours.

It was lovely to feel your soft curves against his rough edges, and somehow, the paradox between the smoothness of your bodies pressed against each other made the scene even more surreal. In order not to miss any precious time, he picked you up, and you gasped, shocked, and scrambled to hold on for dear life. He pushed the bathroom door aside with his shoulder and carried you into the shower.

He needed you. Needed this. Now. You could see it in his eyes, in the upward arch of his erection.

He drew a deep, unsteady breath before switching the tap on.

A short scream tore through your throat.

You two got soaked in cold water as he pressed your front against the shower wall, losing himself in you like never before. His kisses were more profound, more desperate, and his hands less considerate than before. The heat more explosive, and everything between you wild, raw, and vulnerable. His mouth devoured you. He had his lips all over your body, his tongue tasting new places.

With the cold tiles touching your breasts, a sensation of pleasure spread throughout your entire body. You could feel it, the bottom half of your body urging you to press against him more deeply and fully. He had to hear the pleas of every cell in your body because his next thrust was so intense that you had to hold on to the wall with your palms to steady yourself while your cheeks pressed more and more against the cold ceramic as he had his way with you.

You lost track of time.

You had no idea how long you had been here. You didn't know how long he had gone haywire in you. Your knees were starting to shake when he turned you around, and your eyes fell on his soaked hair sticking to his forehead and clumping eyelashes blinking slowly. You considered yourself lucky for not only seeing such a marvel but also tasting him and feeling him.

With such hunger, he kissed your lips like he hadn't had them in years. You felt the hard tiles press against your back as he pushed himself inside, without hesitating to move up and down. Over and over again, you were lauded, his panting echoing within four walls.

So many times that you wanted to open your mouth to protest, but every time he took one turgid nipple into his mouth. Heat surged through your blood as his teeth scraped over the end of one, and you moaned instead of complaining. You couldn't stop thinking about how good it felt to feel him inside you, his tongue twirling around your other breast.

The pressure was built. You were consumed by the need to reach the climax in every action. Your stomach muscles were tightening and quivering.

He moved his hands from your hips to your head, tangles of wet hair wrapping around his fingers as he pulled you upwards for a kiss. His tongue immediately thrust past your lips, and he increased his speed.

God! Nothing had ever tasted as good as Vash, you thought. Sensual, decadent, the flavor of him slipped through you.

His hands clenched tighter in your hair, and his teeth bit the flesh of your neck, but you barely noticed, barely caring about the hickey it would leave as he threw back his head, groaning your name. The sight of him in the throes of his peak drove you to the edge, your inner muscles clamping around his hardness, pulling him in deeper.

You cried out, clutching his shoulders so tightly that your fingernails dug into his skin, and your screams were muffled against his chest. The plunk of shower water running between your feet could be heard as your body shook, and he leaned his forehead against your head.

His hot released load was dripping and sliding down on your thighs when you collapsed into his arms, feeling weak and unsteady. He held you close to himself, tight yet so gentle, stroking your wet hair with his fingers and leaving small pecks wherever he could reach. "We should eat something," he said, kissing the curve of your shoulder and the sides of your neck.

You were intoxicated by the pure, stunning power of his emotions, endless waves of love and desire, love and kindness, love and joy, love and tenderness.

So much tenderness.

You pressed your cheek against his chest and held him as he braced himself against the wall. Your bodies were wet and heavy with feeling, your hearts pounding with something more powerful than you had ever imagined possible.

Water was dripping from the mess of his hair. So gorgeous, you thought. Then you forgot where you were and what you were going to do. Your arms and limbs trembled slightly, and he was too terrified to let you go.

Too in love to let you go.

07:15 pm - July 21st

As night fell, the blue haze of the day lifted and revealed the stars brightening the sky, shining like beams of happiness, appearing still as an old photograph. The wind blew Vash's hair into a tousled bun.

He walked out of his favorite shop and leaned against the wall with a big bag of donuts and an even bigger smile. Yeah, he perfectly knew he would eat cake, but eating donuts had nothing to do with it: a warm-up, just appetizers.

His eyes followed the long shadows of townies milling around under the flickering lamppost lights, even though he couldn't make out any faces from such afar. He liked this town. It was so small that his typhoon hadn't yet found it. Or maybe because he was a stranger here. Nobody knew him, and everybody was safe from the curse his name carried around.

Everybody but you.

You already had been spelled by those fifteen letters.

V-A-S-H-T-H-E-S-T-A-M-P-E-D-E

Taking a look around, he tried to find a clock on a building or something. The birthday boy didn't want to be late. This and, of course, the words you uttered before you left the house:

"Eight o'clock, Vash. Don't forget! Don't be late! Don't be early and wear that white shirt. See you there!"

He sighed and took a donut from the bag, careful not to stain his white shirt with his clumsiness. It smelled great. What a heavenly aroma, smelling like honey. This and you and this town. It sure felt good to see happy people around.

Without further ado, he took a bite of his sugar-coated donut.

He expected it to taste incredible and super tasty, like being alive, but he couldn't feel it. There was a sense of numbness in him. The weight of an unknown worry was heavy against his heart.

A muffled whistle-like sound echoed in the distance, followed by several. Another shot rang out, this time sounding like it was meant. Suffocating silence, creaking doors, and screams that tore the sky open.

He felt strangely dull, as if his connection with his body had been cut off. The bag fell to the ground, and the donuts scattered around. People were crying, weeping, but all he could hear was the wind's wails in his ears, slapping sharply against his face.

He took uncertain steps forward. The area outside the saloon looked like more than a graveyard. It was worse than he had expected. There were injured people everywhere; some collapsed on the ground.

From where he stood, he counted two men, one woman, and a child dead. Open eyes, mouths agape, fresh blood still dripping down limp bodies. Where were you? Something about that realization struck fear into his veins.

The horrifying possibilities flashed through his mind. His mind was blank as to what had happened. Were you okay?

Vash looked over the crowd, still staring, waiting for you to show up. Waiting for you to find him. But you weren't anywhere to be found. In the chaos, he ran from one to another, people scattered around, and he didn't see you. The terror of this moment kicked him in the gut.

So many thoughts were tangled in his head that he couldn't untie the insanity. He glanced back at the doors you were supposed to come out, opening it with a smile.

He waited. He waited longer than was reasonable. Then he called you. Quietly at first, then louder. He shouted your name. His chest was being torn apart by fear, squeezing his heart. A part of him was afraid to speak the words aloud, fearful of making them true.

His legs felt like they had been formed from fresh clay, like he was moving through a fog. His voice reached everyone, pleading this time, running forward until the doors were in his line of sight.

"Is she in?" he asked, but no one answered. Everybody was frozen by the agony of the moment. All that could be heard were silent weeps and the wind howling.

Vash gulped, his throat all dry, and walked in; his lips parted, his eyes wide and horrified. The blood in his veins all ice.

Pain.

It began at his feet, bloomed up his legs, unfurled in his stomach, and worked its way up to his throat, only to explode behind his eyes. The sudden scream ripped itself from his lungs. It wrenched free from his chest without warning, without permission, and it was a scream so loud, so hard and violent, it broke his back. His hands were pressed against his knees, his head half bent.

Echoes of his misery would never be lost in the wind or carried away by the clouds but would always live between these walls. Forever.

His voice was unfamiliar to him. The horror, shock, and dread that flooded his body was something he had never felt — never known before, not like this.

The popped balloons on the walls. A half-ruined cake on the counter. Blood-stained confetti all around. A shoeless foot lying on the floor. Locks of tousled hair slipped from the makeshift shroud.

The numbness was now merciful, at least for a few moments. Then, everything crashed.

Vash fell next to the body. The knowledge rushed up in him, choking off his breath. Another scream tore its way out. Then another, and another. It felt as if his very essence had been ripped from him.

He pulled you into his arms, clutching you tightly, barely able to breathe. His fingers seized your hair and yanked it from your face. The golden strands of his hair fell onto your bloody face. You were called over and over, but it didn't seem like anything more than a sound. His pleas were like commands, begging you to open your eyes, but you ignored them as if playing a nasty prank.

Vash held both of your hands in his. There was no touch. All he felt was an empty coldness. The silence grew even louder, consuming him like a pitch-black shadow. Biting his lip, he tasted a faint metallic taste on his tongue. The desperation in his expression, the grief carved into his features, the way he looked at you as if he were about to pass the gates of hell and utter his last farewell.

Suddenly, he wanted to laugh one of those strange, high-pitched, delusional laughs that marked the end of sanity. Because this world, he thought, had a terrible sense of humor. It always seemed to mock him, making his life more miserable and ruining his dreams by destroying everything he ever loved.

You were dead. This pain was truly real.

Vash broke apart. Sobs cracked open his chest and cried until the pain spiraled and peaked; he bawled until his head throbbed and his eyes swelled. His fingers dug into your back as he called, desperate for a sign of hope. Your hollow body was clutched to his heart, and he felt the injustice roared through him. The feeling fractured him apart. His forehead pressed against your cheek, and his mouth trembled as he whispered, "C-Come ba-ck." The words fell apart. He could only mumble stuttering sounds.

He kissed your knuckles briefly. Would you have blushed if you were still breathing, whining about how cheesy he was being? He could only imagine your reactions now.

Hot tears streamed down his face, and he squeezed his eyelids shut in an effort to make them stop. He sat there unmoving for quite some time with choppy breathing and watery eyes.

09:00 pm - July 21st

Things were in a state of disarray in his vision. People were coming in with dropped shoulders and muffled weeps in the air. Someone approached and touched his shoulder for comfort, and a fierce unknown rage emerged in him. He could kill the man there but would have to let go of you, and he couldn't.

Vash turned his face back and held you so tightly like you would be able to feel the faint beat of his heart. He wept, cradling you, and he wouldn't move nor speak a word other than your name. It was like seeing the sun through the water. His tears fell, but you wouldn't be able to kiss them away this time.

"How dare you mourn her!" Someone bent over him. "You killed her!" Weak fists landed on his back but hurt him more than torture and shots. "She died because of you! You bring misfortune and destruction everywhere you go!" yelled Rosalina with a devastated voice.

Words, he thought, were such unpredictable creatures. No gun, knife, army, or enemy could ever be more powerful than a sentence. Blades may cut and kill, but words would stab and stay, burying into the future, digging and failing to rip his skeletons from his flesh. These weren't nice things to say. Not now. Not after what he was going through. Not when his white shirt was covered in your blood, and his hands burned with the bit of warmth left in your body.

Vash continued to hold you, silent and steady, even as the tears receded, even when he began to tremble. He had you tight as his body shook, held you close when the tears started anew, held you in his arms, and stroked your hair, whispering, "Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me." His voice was a terrible thing, cracked and broken.

He felt guilty. Anyone who got close to him was doomed to die. He thought his actions and inactions always took away his loved ones. Oh, stubborn, stubborn Vash! Of course, he would blame himself for something that had nothing to do with him.

The once happy eyes of Rosalina spilled hot tears on his shirt. "For two years, you lived among us, looked into our eyes every day, and lied about who you are, Vash the Stampede!"

Several gasps were heard from the crowd, followed by whispers filling the air.

Vash the stampede was here.

Chaos.

Questions flew, and weeps were muffled. Everyone was shocked, horrified, freaking out. You had long been forgotten, he thought.

"Is he the most wanted Vash the Stampede?"

"Were there raids in the saloon because of him?"

"The bounty hunters were after the money on his head?"

"They shot us and ran away because of this man?"

"This guy really had us fooled!"

"Is this true?"

Vash's reality was too broken, too distracted to process these kinds of talks. This horrible instant was one mess of insanity in his mind. He couldn't make any sense of it. He didn't answer a word to anyone and just stroked your cold cheek with as much gentleness as he could.

Someone shouted, "What's the hell's the matter with you? Say something. At least make some excuse!"

"Shame on you for bringing danger to our town!"

"We've heard enough of your crying!"

"At least have the decency and go die like a man!"

"No normal human being could cause all these horrible things! He had to be a monster! Who else could have been responsible?"

"Did you feel some of the pain of people who died because of your reckless behaviors?"

He was dying, he thought. He must be. He thought he knew what death was like, but he must have been wrong because this was a whole different kind of dying—a whole different kind of pain.

"That girl died protecting this demon?"

"She knew about the humanoid typhoon all this time." The man gulped and pointed at your dead body. "Our loved ones are dead and hurt because of her stupid devotion to this walking disaster!"

The scene was quite unbelievable, horrifying. His mind reeled, incapable of comprehending or processing what he was hearing. Everything in him came to a halt while his thoughts caught up. It was for him that you died. The shock brought a quietness, a moment to gird his soul for what would come. Truth poured gasoline on the spark of denial in his belly, burning him alive. It fashioned itself into a knife and stabbed him in the eye. And the funny thing was, he didn't want to do anything to stop it. Anguish was all that remained of you; he embraced it with all he was. He deserved it. So he bled with a smile on his face, wishing the pain to end him this time.

"If that self-righteous whore had revealed his whereabouts, not only would she be alive now, but the others wouldn't be dead either!"

Blackness seemed to press against his eyes, ears, and throat. He couldn't breathe, hear, or see clearly, and the suffocation of the moment was so terrifying that he was almost sure he had lost his mind.

How many insults can one person take before throwing in the fucking towel? For him, that number was infinite, but for you, he wouldn't allow even one.

He stood up and grabbed a fistful of the man's shirt. He pointed a gun at the infamous criminal, but Vash ripped the gun out of his hand. "What did you say about her?" he asked with a voice like a rusty saw that wanted to cut the bone. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes were burning in absolute rage. Nobody had seen him like this. Not once. People were so used to his calm and kind demeanor that this side of him scared them. If they wanted a typhoon, they'd get one. He was fortified with a new kind of anger, a desperate, animal intensity that overpowered him and forced him to stand still.

The man was trembling in his grip. "N-nothing," he finally said. Vash's pulse was racing, breathing heavily, almost like he would burst. The muscles in his hand tensed, causing him to crack his knuckles. Almost like a blazing inferno, his blood boiled in his veins, burning him from the inside out. He was mainly angry with himself, but that wouldn't stop his urge to hunt each and every single one of those bounty hunters, just to make sure they suffered and felt a lot of pain, just like he felt. No longer did he want to show sympathy to anyone. Maybe he was really a monster, wasn't he?

"If they learn your name and start haunting you, we'll run away! We'll run, run, run, and keep running as far as we have to! And when things calm down, we'll settle by their side again. You won't kill. You'll never kill anyone again, and one day, people will begin seeing you as I do."

Recalling your words, his eyes widened, and his fist loosened. The man's face was devoid of color. Vash tried to read his eyes for something but saw nothing but terror in the end. He was afraid.

No.

Your race was merciless. How could they say such a thing about one of their own? This man probably deserved the worst, but you didn't want Vash to be cruel, only to be kind. And he couldn't do this to you. Because if he did and an afterlife existed, you'd probably be the only sad person in heaven right now.

Dropping the man on the floor, Vash crushed his gun in his hand and tossed it away. The stranger was groaning and hunching over when he returned to you.

It was the first time Rosalina had seen him like this, her brain unable to digest or process this information. Unlike the man she knew, this one had cold, sharp eyes only focused on you. The look on his face was different. Scary, even. Somehow that worried her even more. She might be sad for you, even hate her people for having talked disparagingly about you; maybe she would give them a piece of her mind and grieve your loss. Maybe. Right now, though, her child's safety was her top priority, and this blood-stained man didn't look very stable.

"Listen, we don't want to die! Leave here and never come back!"

Vash sat by your side, helpless, as if something had broken inside him and all his emotions had poured out. When you left him alone, did you take some part of him with you?

"Get her out of this town. This disaster would've never happened if you hadn't stumbled into this town. She'd still be alive," Rosalina said firmly, staring at your peaceful face like you were in a deep sleep.

Vash didn't answer or even glance at the woman who wanted to help you celebrate his birthday. Like an orphan, he pulled you impossibly close, your bodies soldering together. He pondered Rosalina's words and the night he saw you and wondered whether your life would have been different if he hadn't met you. Who was even capable of answering this? As he whispered your name and begged you for forgiveness, his tears washed the blood from your cheeks, and Rosalina felt something inside her die. As she watched him willingly take all blame upon himself alone, as if he was already familiar with this feeling, she felt something break apart inside her.

Vash resembled his wanted posters now. A tall man with blond hair covered in red, but this time, it was your blood instead of his famous coat. His hands were trembling so hard he couldn't even recognize them anymore. Even so, he picked you up, cuddling you in his arms, only to notice the hickey on your neck from hours ago. Pain cramped his joints, breaking away every single bone in his body. He wanted to shriek through the sky; he wanted to fall to his knees again and sob into the ground. He didn't know why the agony wasn't finding an escape through his tears.

"Think way back. Remember that story I told you? About the man that found a blank ticket that could take him anywhere he wanted? That man is all of us. Where you go is yours to choose. You'll always have that ticket in your pocket, no matter what darkness life throws at you. When you're ready, write down the destination. I promise you. You'll be alright."

He wished Rem was right, but there was no such concept as happiness in this world. There was only endless strife, destruction, and death. There was only loneliness, pain, and regret. Whatever he did, no matter how much he pleaded, no matter how much he wished with all his heart to make things right, life always had a way of taking everything from him.

It seemed like Vash the Stampede's life had peaked, and nothing that came after you would ever matter to him. Because for him, there was before you, and there was during you, but he didn't want any after you. You were the light he never knew he needed. He was lost in the darkness, wandering life without direction. Then he found you, and you brought him warmth and light. You were the one who saved him. Twice and he couldn't do the same.

As he walked forward, he pleaded with his bones to remain steady, to carry him through the rest of the day and into the rest of his meaningless life. He passed through the crowd as if he had never been a part of them. The sand dragged under his feet, his knees weak, but he held you tight and walked away. His footprints grew smaller and smaller until there was only the empty silence of a long, lonely night.

Let's let him be for now. Everyone deserves to be left alone for a moment or two, right? Be that as it may, he always lost his most precious ones on his birthdays. Maybe it would have been better if he had never been born so that he would not have to endure so much grief alone. Or perhaps it was the way it was so we could be part of his life.

Author note: My real world had grown so dark that I didn't want to live in it. That's why I escaped and spent the day in a world darker than mine. Please accept my sincere apologies for dragging you down here with me ^_^

If you have anything to say, don't be shy to use ASK and the comment sections.

Disclaimers: This fan-written story contains quotes from "The Song of Achilles", "King Killer Chronicles", "Shatter Me" series and "Reminders of him" books, "Hamlet" play, and "I am unafraid with him" poem by pencap on Tumblr.

The arts are from "Trigun Stampede" anime.

[layuhsblog]

LOVE LANGUAGES: request: love languages of Yangyang and Chenle

ACTS OF SERVICE: Chenle

I dont think Chenle is going to be very vocal about his feelings for you but instead he'll show it in little acts of service. You craved some fruits once in your relationship? Now your house is always stocked up with your favourite fruits.

You're too tired from work? He'll be at your house even before you reach and brings your favourite takeout so you can eat with him and go to sleep.

If you're arguing he won't apologise but would still do small things to show he cares. If he's drinking water and you're next to him, he'd not look your way and hand you the bottle so you can drink too. You are dozing off watching youtube, he'd snatch your phone, put it on charge and tuck you in the blanket before he grumbles how annoying you are and pecks your forehead.

GIFT GIVING: CHENLE, Yangyang

We all knew Chenle would be here. I've written more about Gift Giving on my 'NCT Dream as bfs who give their gf princess treatment fic' (hehe promo)

I'll say it again tho. He's the type to make you kiss all over his face before handing you his card and telling you to go all out.

He'd spoil you with expensive gifts even if you tell him not too.

Everyone has a hyperfixation, whether you hoard electronics, plushies, stickers, toys, stationery or whatever- hes supportive, buys you any new product in the market he thinks you'll find cool. Also the type to secretly keep track of your amazon wishlist, to buy you the things you like.

Yangyang will be more on the handmade gifts or small gifts type. Like things that aren't fancy but significant.

Like earrings/rings/jewellery you eyed in the mall when you were walking together. Guess what he's giving you on your anniversary.

A book your friend recommended to you which you asked to borrow when theyre done, he'll get it for you. Will also read your annotations and smile to himself, glad he gets to read the books that have a hint of you in it.

Another one to support your hyperfixations. He finds them cute.

PHYSICAL TOUCH: Yangyang, Chenle?

I have a feeling Yangyang is the clingy annoying types. Like y'all hang out together a lot in silence but after a while he'll get bored and decide to annoy you. Especially if you're the type to like your personal space, guess what- he also likes your personal space, he'll be all up in it.

Will sit on you, bite your cheek randomly, lick you for no reason (ew), tug your hair to annoy you, tickle you etc. His way of showing you love

Chenle at first will be a bit distant but slowly and gradually as he gets more comfortable he's going to get so clingy. But he'll be moody about it. He always wants to share a blanket, he'd share a pillow with you if you'd let him but as soon as you start to wake him up or try to pull the blanket to yourself at night when he steals it HE'LL GLARE AT YOU SO BAD. He's scary. The next morning apologises for being mean if you're sulking about it. Allows you to get a separate blanket for yourself so he doesnt repeat this. (He can't control it he was sleepy :/ )

QUALITY TIME: YANGYANG, Chenle

They both love to spend time with you. They find it very intimate when you are comfortable with eachother enough to sit in silence without feeling the need to talk. They LOVE when you're alone together spending time and you can tell what the other wants by their eyes alone. I'll elaborate;

If you're having a fight with your friend on text and you sigh and keep your phone down, they'll already leave everything they have and open their arms to you so you can bury your face in their chest and just relax. They'll hold you and stroke your hair. Only when you look up and smile at them softly they'll let you go and then ask you to talk about it. Cute.

WORDS OF AFFIRMATION: I'M SORRY NONE. a little Yangyang tho once hes comfortable with you. He'll say constant i love yous, tell you you're pretty, stuff like that. I cant see them saying much cheesy stuff so I'll keep this short.

-

[callmearcturus]

hiii just wanted to say that through the many many fic related spotify playlists you have made, you have had by far the most profound impact on my music tastes than anything else I can think of. Portugal the Man, Watsky, Spoon, The National, Cold War Kids, all of the KTOWL character playlists. You also streamlined my listening of Woodkid from "light interest" to "full blown obsession". And frankly I cannot thank you enough for it, so I'll instead just ask, do you have any more recommendations?

i have been wanting forever for an ask like this

i'm gonna put these in some vague categories so you can decide what you're in the mood for

Weird haunting folksy vibes

Fleet Foxes' Crack-Up (melancholic, deep water, forgotten legends)

Andrew Bird's Are You Serious (tho Armchair Apocrypha is my all time fave)

Bruce Peninsula's A Mountain Is A Mouth (their only good album sadly but fuck me its SO GODDAMN GOOD)

The Builders and the Butchers' Salvation is a Deep Dark Well (cannot believe how tight and cohesive this is)

Laura Marling's I Speak Because I Can (she's done other good stuff but this has "Devil's Spoke" so)

A little less alternative with more danceability

Franz Ferdinand's first three albums (the anthem to my own queer awakening when i was younger, my fave is probably still "The Fallen" which had a hand in inspiring the revenant AU)

James Blake's Assume Form but specifically "Where's the Catch?" which has the most incredible verse for Andre 3000 I've ever heard

if you want Karkat-vibes, check out Stars, no specific album bc a lot of their stuff is good, but try our "Fluorescent Light," "Romantic Comedy," "Hold On When You Get Love," "We Don't Want Your Body," and my favorite "Personal"

Gin Wigmore's Gravel & Wine

MGMT's Oracular Spectacular (my god that block of the last three songs is amazing)

Los Campesinos' No Blues (they have a LOT of good albums, this is the easiest to start with imo)

Arc's Weird Faves That Add Up To 90% Of Their Personality

Janelle Monae's Metropolis Suite, especially The Chase and The ArchAndroid. (PLEASE look up the video for "Many Moons" because its my favorite piece of science fiction. I CANNOT overstate how exemplary and unmatched Janelle is. I am just thinking about it and feeling goosebumps.)

Miracle Musical's Hawaii: Part II (there is not a part one really, it's a very strange, magical concept album)

The Mechanisms' The Bifrost Incident (i'm not gonna say anything except this is the only music album i know with a Plot Twist and if you can go into it not knowing the twist, do it)

and finally the most About Me Album that I feel weird even reccing because it's so specific, so interwoven into EVERYTHING I do:

The Klaxon's Myths of the Near Future. I cannot sell you on this album, only that I think if you somehow got a hold of my skull and held it to your ear like a conch shell, you'd hear this.

and i'm gonna stop there bc yeah that's. that's enough for now.

[theminecraftbee]

This isn't really related to anything specifically but one of my favourite things about your writing is how you manage to incorporate the way different characters are friends with other characters and how they can tell how they feel.

In some fics it's just "these two are friends" and that's about it and thats fine but in your fics I always like how much. Thought you put into how other characters think of eachother, and that won't always align up to how they respond? The characters you write can call back on previous attempts and notice habits and really think about what's going on.

I think that's also partially it? That you give characters time to think? Even if its very dialogue heavy. And it never feels like the characters are trying to get an A* in therapy.

Idk basically I'm saying I like your writing and it's super inspiring, especially how you always tend to twist the conversation in a slightly different way than I expect.

oh, this is really sweet! yeah, i do try to go a lot for "characters who know each other well can know what they're getting at without having to spell it out for each other all the time", and also for the classic "these two guys are having a conversation about one thing but do not actually talk about that thing, they are talking about something else". sometimes because they know each other well sometimes to Avoid Talking About a Thing They Don't Wanna. and like, yeah, filler dialogue can be important, as long as you're using it for a good role! like, it doesn't all have to be extremely plot-relevant it's just gotta fit the vibes, you know?

and like, i don't know if my dialogue is always realistic. the pacing of it is normally a little intentionally what sounds good to my ear but not NECESSARILY how two people would actually talk? like, i think i've said this before, but the way people interrupt each other in my dialogue is more like a play than it is like most real conversations. however it SOUNDS nice and you can normally get the point of it, which is what i am really going for - perfectly realistic dialogue is hard, dialogue that gets my idea across is better, i think.

and like, yeah, people call back to each other's habits and body language in conversation! actually if you want to get the "give characters time to think" across i can't recommend enough 'character A notices/thinks about character B's body language' as like, a replacement for where you'd put 'beat' in a script, in order to give the dialogue a 'pause' where you need it. if that makes any sense.

anyway this is just me rambling about my dialogue thank you this means a lot to me i like my dialogue

[sunhavenkitten]

Bundles of Love

Amari!OC x Jun

TW: Childbirth, emetophobia

Word Count: 3,283

Summary: Isabelle the cat Amari finds out she's pregnant with Jun's baby and undergoes the process of breaking the news to Jun all the way up to the birth.

Notes: I know the idea might not be very popular with everyone, but I decided to write in a water birth because I find the idea of water birth very interesting. I've also written a few birth fics and wanted to change things up. I hope that is okay! Thanks for reading!

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯ ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯ ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯  

"Congratulations."

"Hm?" She hummed in confusion, replying to the man in the white lab coat.

"It looks like you don't have the flu after all. The persistent bouts of morning sickness you've been experiencing are because you're pregnant," he said with a relaxed smile.

The whole world seemed to stop for her right then and there. Was he serious? Well, of course he was. This was Wornhardt, after all. He was always serious. Especially about extra serious matters. She smiled then, though by her expression one would think she was in pain.

"I'm sorry. I think I'm feeling another bout of nausea..."

Wornhardt chuckled, "Well, it isn't a surprise that you'd be nervous. This is your first, isn't it?"

She nodded.

"I can recommend some tea and lemon first thing in the morning for the nausea. If it continues to be a problem let me know, and I can try and get some medicine that will be safe for both you and the baby... Is.. everything alright?"

After the question Wornhardt reached down and pulled out a round metal basin from a cabinet by the bed, handing it to Belle in case she really was going to be sick. He thought by the look on her face that she might be.

"Thank you Wornhardt, but I'm okay. I'm just shocked. I mean, we weren't really trying for a baby but... at the same time I suppose we weren't really trying to prevent it, either."

Wornhardt laughed, "Well, that's how it happens sometimes." Then, he replied more seriously, "But really, Isabelle, you don't have to worry about a thing. I'm going to give you and your baby the best care I possibly can. And I know Jun will be over the moon to find out."

She looked up at him then, "You think so? You don't think it will be too sudden?"

"You know Jun just as well as I do, if not more. He isn't one to worry in the face of something unexpected. He welcomes life with open arms."

She smiled to herself then, "You're right, Wornhardt. Thank you."

"Of course. And besides, he'll be glad to hear that nothing is the matter with you."

She looked up then, "What do you mean?"

"Well, Jun has noticed that you haven't been yourself lately, which I'm sure he's communicated with you. He was the one who asked me to take a look at you before you decided to finally come in yourself. He's been pretty worried."

Her ears went down as she frowned. Has she really been making Jun worry so much? She couldn't help but feel a little selfish for putting off this doctor's appointment when it could've been something to help put Jun's nerves at ease.

"I see. I guess I have an apology to deliver along with the good news."

Wornhardt smiled before proceeding to fill out her paperwork and send her on her way.

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

She waited until the end of the day to make her way over to Jun’s house. When she got there, Jun had been starting a pot of tea.

"Oh, Belle! I didn't expect you at this time. How are you feeling? Want to come in for some tea?"

"Hi, Jun. I'd love that," she replied.

Jun welcomed her in, guiding her to the kotatsu in his living room. She sat down and thanked him as he handed her a warm cup of tea.

"Actually, Jun, as much as I love your company, I was here because I wanted to talk."

Jun set his cup down, "Of course. You know I'm here to listen any time you want to talk."

She clutched her own cup to her chest. The warmth from the ceramic mug comforted and grounded her. She knew she didn't need to be so nervous, but she's never had a conversation like this before. She only hoped it went as well as Wornhardt seemed to believe it would.

"I went to see Dr. Wornhardt today."

Jun reached a hand out across the table as an offer for her to take it. She unclasped her mug and took his hand in hers. His expression didn't seem concerned. It was the same calm, gentle expression he always wore when listening to someone speak their heart. He was just letting her know he was there for her, whatever it may be.

"He said I'm pregnant."

After she spoke she bit her lip, her eyes scanning his face anxiously as realization slowly set in. His own eyes widened, sparkling like a set of amethysts as his lips began to part.

"Isabelle..." then, his face spread into a wide smile, "That's wonderful news!"

She finally set her cup down, nodding at him.

"I was worried that you wouldn't be ready," she admitted.

"Is that why you seemed nervous? True, having a baby is a huge deal. It's going to change our lives forever. But there isn't anyone else in the world I'd rather go on that journey with than you."

She smiled sweetly, "Jun..."

"I gave you my old journal a while back. I never asked you if you read it or not, but I wrote a lot about how it was one of my biggest dreams to find the love of my life, settle down, and have a family with them. You've made that dream come true. I feel like the happiest person alive."

He held her then, hugging her tight as she wrapped her arms around him. He spoke softly in her ear, his voice tinged with joy.

"No matter what, I'm always here for you. You can count on me and come to me for anything you need. I'll always be there for you..."

He pulled away then, resting a palm against her stomach as he continued, "...For both of you."

She smiled, tears stinging the corners of her eyes. Damned hormones.

"Thank you, Jun."

Jun wiped the tears from her lashes, giggling and smiling gleefully as he pressed his forhead against hers before kissing her. The tea long forgotten.

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

The next few months were a blur. She was still able to do her usual farming, adventuring, and exploring initially, but there were a series of long discussions about what would happen as she got further along. Exploring and adventuring would be out of the question, especially alone in places that were dangerous and riddled with monsters. She would receive help from different people in town when it came to her farm. At the very least, helping her water crops and keep them alive for the few months that she was ordered to keep hard labor to a minimum.

The time she didn't spend farming she spent gathering baby supplies, picking out names, and nesting her home so that everything was perfect for when baby came. She had already discussed with Jun the high possibility of having multiples. After all, it was fairly common for an Amari to have at the very least two or three, though not always, especially with hybrid pregnancies.

It didn't matter, Jun was a ball of excitement either way. Every time he thought of their future together or saw her stomach steadily getting bigger, it filled his heart with so much joy.

Everyone around town was buzzing with excitement when they heard the news. After all, in a town so small, it was always a matter of celebration when someone was growing their family and adding new little ones to the town of Sun Haven.

Catherine offered her healthy snacks and herbal remedies to help with any ailments she might be dealing with throughout her pregnancy. Kitty knitted onesies, complete with snaps on the back just in case they were born with tails. And Liam offered her so many hand-me-downs from his sisters, delighted that they might be put to use instead of adding to all the clutter in his small home.

She felt so safe and comforted by the people of Sun Haven, welcoming her and her baby with open arms and so much warmth. It often brought her to tears, and there was always a warm hand on her shoulder comforting her until the mood swing passed.

As she approached her due date, Jun made sure to keep his schedule more open so that he could spend more time with her, excited for the baby and wanting to take care of her as much as possible. Her back was often sore and she had gotten clumsier the bigger her belly got, which was quite large. Dr. Wornhardt suspected twins at least.

There were moments where she was nervous about motherhood or about the birth, and Jun was always right there comforting her.

"I'll be there with you the whole way. No matter what happens, we have each other."

Then, one day she was on her farm, tending to a few simple tasks like watering flowers and feeding the chickens when suddenly a rush of warm fluid soaked her pants. It had felt odd, almost like a rubber band snapping inside her. Right away she knew what it meant.

Luckily, Jun was in her home making some tea for when she came inside so that she didn't get dehydrated. When she entered her kitchen he turned to greet her, then saw the large damp patch covering her lower half. He stopped what he was doing and made his way over towards her, his voice as gentle as ever.

"Oh, did you have an accident sweetheart? That's okay. I'll help you get cleaned up."

"No, Jun. Actually, I'm pretty sure my water just broke."

Jun had been taking her hand, wrapping his arm around her waist to lead her to the bathroom when he paused.

"Wait, really?"

She nodded, and Jun smiled. Sure, there were nerves, but he couldn't contain his excitement at the thought that he would finally meet his little one soon. He took her face in his hands, kissing her and pressing his forehead to hers.

"Alright, make yourself comfortable, okay? I'll help you get changed then I'm going to run and tell Wornhardt. Will you be okay until I get back?"

She nodded once more, "I'll be fine. You don't have to help me change, I can do it myself. Besides, I'm going to hop in the bath anyway and rinse off."

He nodded, still helping her to the bathroom anyway and holding her hand as she stepped out of her wet pants. He didn't leave until the bath was running and he knew she safe and cozy in the tub. Then, he rushed out and jogged towards the hospital.

When Jun returned he immediately went to her side, seeing her hunched over the side of the bathtub gripping the edge for dear life. Her breathing was heavy and she was moaning in pain. Jun tucked her hair out of her face, though it was sweaty and stuck to her forehead.

"It's okay. I've got you. Remember to just breathe."

Jun breathed with her for a moment, helping her get back into the rhythm until the contraction passed. When she was more clear headed he gave her the news.

"You did so great, baby. I'm sorry I wasn't here when it started. Wornhardt will be here any moment. Let's get you out of the bath and into something nice and comfortable, alright?"

She nodded, feeling a little sick. Once she was out of the bath Jun helped hold her hair back while she was sick in the toilet, rubbing her back in soothing circles.

Afterwards, he helped her get on a cool, silky nightgown and coze up in the bed while he set up the bath for her water birth. She knew right away that she wanted a home birth, feeling much more comfortable in her space than in a hospital, but the water birth had been Jun's suggestion. He had read that it can help mothers experience less pain and feel more in control, and after some discussion with Wornhardt about the pros and cons of different birthing methods she had decided to go with it.

When Wornhardt finally arrived he was with a birthing assistant, someone from the hospital to help with the overall process. The assistant took over setting up the bath so Jun could be by Isabelle's side. He sat by the bed and held her hand while Wornhardt checked her dilation.

"Everything seems to be going along smoothly. You still have a ways to go, so just hang tight for now. My assistant and I will make sure everything is ready by the time active labor begins."

Jun was grateful that he had read so many books to prepare for this moment. He had read every pregnancy and parenthood book the library had to offer, so thankfully he wasn't left in the dark about any part of the process. It helped put his nerves at ease so he could better support her.

As time went on her contractions slowly started to get longer and stronger. She went for a walk around the farm and let Jun massage her lower back when the pain got too intense. After a couple hours, Wornhardt checked her cervix again to reveal that she was dilated past 6cm, and her labor would start to progress much faster now.

As the contractions became unbearable she held onto Jun's hand tight, struggling to breathe properly as the pain encompassed everything inside her. That's when they decided to move her to the bath, hoping the warm water would help soothe the pain, even just a little.

Things increasingly got more intense. Soon, the contractions almost felt like more than she could take. She was so grateful that they would eventually pass, but when she was in the midst of a particularly bad one, it felt like it would go on forever. Momentarily, she worried that not opting to be in the hospital was a bad idea. What if something went horribly wrong? What if she really couldn't take the pain?

Jun eventually got in the bath with her, holding her hand through contractions and helping put pressure on her lower back to relieve some of the pain. With him there she started to feel more at ease. He constantly gave her encouragement and reassurances, telling her she was strong and that she could do this. It filled her with a renewed sense of vigor.

In the end, she appreciated his support in massaging her and encouraging her from inside the tub, but ultimately she felt more comfortable with him being outside of the tub when things started to really kick into gear. He was happy to help her any way he could, still holding her hand tightly and offering her encouraging words from just outside the bath. Soon, it was finally time to push.

"Wornhardt... I feel an urge to push."

Wornhardt was putting on a fresh pair of gloves as he came over to the birthing pool.

"I'd say that sounds about right for how far along you are. Go ahead and listen to your body. If you feel an urge go ahead and push. When the contraction passes you're free to take a break."

She cried out as she bore down and began pushing, feeling like she might break Jun's hand. The pain was incredible. Unlike anything she had ever felt before, but it was as though her body knew exactly what to do about it. She didn't feel scared and helpless like she thought she would. She felt completely in control, allowing her body to give her the right signals and following them accordingly.

As the contraction died she caught her breath, panting heavily while Jun wiped her forehead with a cool cloth.

"You're doing so well, baby. You've got this. Just a little more," Jun cooed by her ear.

As the next wave of contractions hit she began pushing again, everything feeling more intense this time around. Luckily, Jun knew exactly what to do without her even needing to say anything. He was calm, supportive, and let her lean her head against him when the fatigue got to be too much.

"The head is starting to crown. Jun, would you like to see?" Wornhardt asked, reaching into the pool.

Jun nodded. He didn't let go of Belle's hand as he scooted around the tub, peering into the water and seeing one of the most amazing sights he'd ever seen in his life. All he could think about was the awe and respect he had for his love, and the excitement that the baby was almost here. He could literally see them. Soon, they'd be in his arms.

"Give me one more good push, Belle," Wornhardt encouraged.

She cried out loudly as she did so, her scream filling the room yet barely being processed by anyone as the whirlwind of events followed suit. The baby came out and Wornhardt caught them and brought them up above water in one swift motion. He set the baby against mom's chest, and her arms wrapped around them tight as she caught her breath.

Jun was simply mesmerized. His face lit up and he was right back at Belle's side, reaching his arm out towards the baby as it took its first breaths. Overcome with joy, all he could do was press his head against Belle's and stare at the little bundle in her arms. Wornhardt's assistant checked the time, wrote something down, then wrapped a towel around the baby's small body.

The assistant's voice was kind and gentle, "Do you mind if I take her? It seems you aren't done yet."

Isabelle nodded, reluctant to let her baby go but at the same time ready to get back to business. Jun watched longingly as his daughter was whisked away by the assistant, but he was soon distracted by the doctor.

"Jun, do you want to help me catch baby number two?"

Jun was ecstatic. Wornhardt gave him a quick set of simple instructions and Jun was at the ready as the next round of pushing quickly revealed baby number two into the world. This time, the process was much easier and faster than the first, and before he knew it the baby was sliding into his arms. Gently, Jun lifted them up out of the water, smiling gleefully as he set them on mom's chest.

A son and a daughter. Jun felt like the luckiest person who ever lived. Wornhardt let the two of them snuggle while he checked on the little girl. Afterwards, Jun helped cut their umbilical cords while Belle passed the placenta and got cleaned up and moved to the bed.

She was so glad to see that Jun wasn't squeamish or put off by any of it at all. He seemed enchanted. Like everything going on around him was exciting and beautiful, and she was the center of it all right up until their little bundles entered the scene.

Once all the excitement and flurry of medical processes passed it was just the four of them snuggling up in bed with a baby on each of their chests. Belle would fall in and out of sleep, smiling to herself each time she woke up and saw her little boy wrapped up safely on her chest, his fluffy black tail wiggling as it was swaddled in the blanket. Jun was cuddled in bed beside her, torn between staring at his daughter, his son, and his worn out lover whom he had fallen in love with all over again.

He couldn't be more thankful for the journey that their lives had blessed upon him, and he would do his best to show his family that every single day.

[starchild--27]

Hello again! I can definitely understand being in the post military feels. I think I've gotten emotional over every departure and return so far. Like sometimes you don't even realize how much you missed them until they return. I have to say the way you describe Chanyeol was lovely.

In answer to some of your questions, I'll answer some but if I feel that it might reveal or at the least narrow down the possibilities, then I'll save those answers til the end if you're still interested in hearing them. There's not much I can think of to tell you about myself. Um I like to read, write and create edits and moodboards. I work probably more than I should so I don't have a ton of free time, but what time I do have is spent either online talking to friends and doing the above mentioned or in the kitchen. I like to cook and explore flavours and recipes. I'd love to travel the world and learn new techniques and dishes but sadly I'm stuck with YouTube.

You said you like to read and watch things are there any particular that stand out to you that you'd recommend? Don't feel limited to hard copy books it could be fic too if you'd like.

Speaking of fic....what sort of gift were you thinking of....I'm capable of, well, what I mentioned earlier lol, I'm not sure if I'll have time for fic writing, but if you'd care to share some ideas for your gift maybe a few wants in each category you're interested in?

(Ps. Ramble away and talk my ear off I do not mind at all. Make these as long or short as you want!)

Hey there, sorry for keeping you waiting with my response. 🙊 I hope you've been well.

And yes, with every enlistment i've been frequently hit with waves of missing each of them a lot. But I'm getting all excited thinking about how we are more than halfway through already - Baekhyun's coming back soon (gosh i miss him-) and then it's only Sehun and Jongin which will sting but after them they are all done. That's such a good thought ^-^

Hehe, I'll surely come back to those questions later, I enjoy reading other people's takes on their biases and all that a lot ^^

Ohh, cooking and traveling - how fun~ I love travelling a lot too! Are there any places/countries you want to visit especially? And for cooking, are there any dishes you enjoy making and/or eating most? And which would you love to try but didn't have the chance to yet? I'm not big on cooking because I'm too lazy and rarely take myself time for it ^^' but I am fond of baking every now and then, hehe, at least i watch baking asmr videos on youtube every now and then and try out some things I've seen every now and then xD

Man, I'm really bad at picking favourites because I really love so many books/movies/etc and each in a unique way, so it's hard to choose.

My favourite fanfic tho is probably On the Booze with Brahms (it's a chanbaek fic, in case you are not into ships) - it unites so many of my favourite tropes *^* But I also love the works of @marshmallow-phd and @guardians-of-exo on here - both are such talented writers and did fic series i enjoyed reading very much.

My recent favourites for books are The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon, This Is How You Lose The Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone & The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller (which i both read last year but i am still so impacted by them), I'll Give You The Sun by Jandy Nelson (which i read two or three years ago but is one of the most heart-wrenching stories), all the Grishaverse books by Leigh Bardugo and the books from the Wayfarers series by Becky Chambers.

All time favourite (and recommended) movies are Le Fabuleux Destin D'Amelie Poulain (2001), Donnie Darko (2001) Everything, Everywhere, All At Once (2022) but I also love the usual fantasy/sci-fi stuff like The Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, Harry Potter (fuck JKR tho) and so on.

For series I love Gilmore Girls a lot, I loved The Queen's Gambit too and Anne with an E and recently also Stranger Things (jumped on the hype train after season 4 was out xD). I also sometimes watch K-Dramas, I haven't seen that many tho because they not always pique my interest but the last two I watched got me pretty invested, My Liberation Notes (2022) and Rain or Shine (2017) and I am also watching Bad Prosecutor now, which is the first of the dramas starring Kyungsoo for me and I am really enjoying it so far!!

Ok that was a lot ^^'

For my gift I really don't have a preference, I know that especially writing something demands time so please don't feel obligated at all to do that, if you don't get around to it. Ideas for stuff I'd enjoy would include basically anything with music xD I am a sucker for everything from making mixtapes/playlists for each other (with whatever sentiment btw it doesn't have to be romantic) to making music together, songwriting together, that kind of stuff. But I am also absolutely infatuated with Baby-Zzar (who isn't even a real baby anymore but she'll always be for me xD) and Toben the little rascal too, so any pet parent themed things would absolutely make me squeal as well. (I hope you can work with that answer a little, I tried not to be too "Idc I'll be happy with whatever ^^" which is totally true but probably wouldn't help you at all with coming up with a gift idea)

Anyway, that much from me, I already wrote so much again xD

Have a good time, dear secret santa ♡

[i-need-air]

Hybrid!AU Wolf!Bakugou Katsuki HCs Part 2.

Summary: Part 2 is here! While in part 1 it was mostly adoption and how he'd behave with you as a roommate, part two is him ✨ realizing things ✨ followed by how he'd be in a romantic relationship.

Word Count: 2k words [ oops, I did it again ]

Notes: So I said it'll be out in a few days but three [3] people asked me for part 2 and I'm a sucker soooooooo!! I could've just written a long ass fic but whatever, I thought I'd make it shorter in headcanons... hah lol right. Enjoy!

Part 1 here!

× he's a wild wolf so he's very active; like you need to understand he needs to go outside if not he'd get impatient, more aggressive, snappy, so once you took him on an easy hiking trail near your house and he loved it so once or twice a month you both go together to different places [ he demands it ]

× it's hard to keep up with him bc he's literally genetically engineered to be better than any very fit human being but he slows down for you

× morning runs at 5 a.m. bc he's insane

× is also a grandpa

× watched all documentaries on any streaming platform you could provide to him, also loves reading

× as months pass and you start to have your routine in order, word comes to you that an acquaintance is looking for a security guard at his mechanical shop two streets away from your house

× you casually mentioned it to Bakugou because he was starting to act anxious whenever you'd leave the house, so you assumed he was extra bored

× seriously, the house was spotlessly cleaned, he cooked amazingly and was occupied with your old laptop and going around the city to explore, but you guessed he wanted more independence?

× little did you know you were right but so wrong lol

× so Bakugou stared at you intensely and asked "Where?"

× it was as easy as telling him the location, him nodding and you thought he'd consider it; you didn't put any pressure on him because he already did so much to help around anyway

× well guess what bitch, next day he comes up to you saying you gotta co-sign his contract [cuz fuck society] meaning he got the job

× he was perfect for it because tall, intimidating, muscular wolf guy? who'd even mess with him? do they have a death wish?

× well, even before this he started to be... soft

× but once you really did show him you support whatever he wants to do, you give him his freedom and liberty of choice, he just reaaally changes, man

× he gets touchy, like his hands stay one second longer on your skin, he uses any excuse to have them on you, even his eyes follow you everywhere

× like c'mon, it's obvious but you didn't wanna put too much thought into it because we're respectful here

× not like you had a big fat crush on him and slowly started to realize it too

× sike bitch he knows

× you think his super-hearing didn't catch the way your heartbeat spikes up every single time he touches you? *please*

× i think he knows before you know

× meanwhile he is working to discover his feelings too

× so your relationship slowly turns into a couple's like relationship but without anything official and of course no kissing or such [ sadly ]

× would get jealous easily

× basically because nothing is talked between you two and deep down is insecure

× why the hell do you smell like other people? was it just a hug or something else? hell, why would you even hug people when he's right there??? just ask and don't touch some extras????

× another thing he does is getting very close to you while you talk to somebody else; scoffs and glares at them too

× ok so!! gifts! he really appreciates any gift you give him but scolds you if you do because you genuinely don't need to do that

× of course he just scolds you and calls you an idiot so I do hope you already learned his language

× it basically means that you shouldn't have done it, he's really grateful but seriously you shouldn't have

× like that one time you saved up money to get him a good computer and he forgot how to speak for like an hour

× the softest thank you ever afterwards

× still sounded rough but he was shocked as fuck

× one thing that remained in your brain were his friends, as sometimes he'd mention them

× so you took it upon yourself to find them, of course with his permission

× gets genuinely overwhelmed and plays it off saying he wouldn't mind knowing where those idiots ended but you didn't miss the way his voice trembled

× for you to find them you needed names and any information he could provide so that's when he, after a long silence and a mesmerized look on his face, started really talking about his life

× which was fucked; won't get much into detail but he was indeed in a fighting ring, people came and bet on whoever was stronger, he even had to fight his friends, everything was filled with abuse and their conditions were subhuman...

× just overall awful

× you couldn't help but hug him tight, feeling him shake in your arms

× with a hesitant voice he asked if you really did think there was a chance to find them

× just couldn't believe how amazing he felt in your arms

× or how your determination that night made his heart clench and took a big weight off his shoulders

× anywho;;;; after his first paycheck he takes you out on cute dates

× never calls them that, just demands you dress up [helps you out cuz boy got style] and takes you to a nice coffee shop or something

× AND on your fifth not date cuz you're not official but there's this weird tension between you date he finally kinda s n a p s

× you honestly didn't expect the waiter to flirt with you, he came out as very pushy and even if you were a lil uncomfortable you smiled and brushed it off

× when the waiter suggested giving you his number the sandy blond hybrid growled

× which i shit you not made the whole coffee shop freeze

× and you froze too

× but neither of you could say anything because the oblivious fuck kept talking

× basically joking about how you should keep your pet in a leash, to which you got up, threw some money on the table, grabbed Bakugou by the hand and leave before he'd rip someone's head off

× it only took you to touch Bakugou's arm to calm him down as he followed behind you wordlessly

× so you stood outside, angry, deep red eyes on your figure

× and silence

× his hand still in yours

× it was warm and amazing and you felt angry but your heart was beating loudly; angry at the waiter that you wanted to go full Karen on and get fired but excited because that growl shook you to the core, as if you could tell it was territorial and it was because of that pig flirting with you and did Bakugou Katsuki just lace his fingers with you?!

× "Oi." he interrupted your thoughts

× he turned your frame towards him and pulled you [kinda harshly] into him

× you'd make a comment about it but brain empty, just Bakugou Katsuki blushing

× "You're mine, you get it?"

× skdjflglykshs

× it sounded like he asked but it was a demand so oops you're his now ok bye

× like I said, boy isn't dumb so he lowkey knew you felt something too

× legit from there on he's just soft as fuck

× has a hard time opening up but visibly tries for you

× still continues to be a pain in the ass, Bakugou Style, but with a loving teasing attitude behind it

× his eyes give him away all the time

× they shine whenever you're in his field of view so congrats because, and this is the best part:

× WOLVES MATE FOREVER 💕💓💞💗💝💟

× oh yeah, he's yours, no takebacks

× he isn't one to half-ass the relationship; you're his now and he'll do anything for you

× big time touch starved it hurts

× because he is shy

× so whenever you introduce him to hand holding and cuddles, he can't get enough

× not big on PDA [ and not recommended since human-hybrid relationships are kiiiinda frowned upon but it's getting better ]

× although at home it's another deal

× seriously cuddle him; he's big into the protector vibe so he's a big spoon almost exclusively unless it's to sleep on top of you

× speaking of! accept that even if your relationship isn't that intimate, he'd still hint about sleeping together in the same bed

× so you better catch on when he does because he'll just click his tongue and call you needy

× while dragging you to bed

× sleeps holding you, his nose in your hair or in the crook of your neck

× unless it's summer then stay on your side 💅

× you know those kisses that just scream "I can't get enough of you"? that's his whole kissing vibe in a sentence

× hell, even the gentlest kiss gives that vibe away and it'll 100% leave you breathless

× doesn't have experience but is a very fast learner

× pays very close attention to your body language

× really into biting your skin enough to leave marks

× wear his hoodies

× no, I'm fucking serious, wear them now

× his chest puffs and he turns into a blushing mess when you do it the first times because his scent is on you

× scenting is a big thing for him so of course he's gonna love it

× 10x more territorial because now he has a mate to protect

× jealous but trusts you

× still very jealous though

× let's all pretend he is definitely not scenting you before you go out because it's in his nature and it is embarrassing

× the first time he tells you he loves you it's when he's feeling vulnerable

× the search for his friends is still on-going, he feels less than adequate as a providing mate, is pissed at the world for treating him like an inferior animal when they created him, everything is piled on his shoulders and whenever than happens he closes off

× you notice immediately

× will not tell you at first

× it's only when you go to bed and he turns his back to you when you really know it's bad

× even if you fought before, he'd angrily snuggle you at night-time

× now it's so different

× hug him, whisper sweet nothings in his ear, pull a blanket all over you both and big spoon him, he'd start shaking and talking in no time

× will hide his tears from you but you'd know

× "You're the best fucking thing that happened to me, [Y/N]... I—... Shit... I love you so much."

× neither of you slept that night

× excuse you? drink some water and pray to jesus;;; you talked about feelings, ok? communication is key in a relationship, puh-lease

× [ i have this whole nsfw hcs post already cookin in my brain so maybe I'll make it happen cuz y'all know he has a mating season and all that comes with it 👀 ]

× back to being children of jesus here

× thanks the moon, the heavens and all the gods for putting you in his life; boy didn't believe in destiny but deep down he thinks you were meant to be

× you still better wash the dishes or you'll get your ass kicked.

Extra:

× you did find some of his friends, little by little, and even if he acted nonchalant, like k das cool, it was obvious he was extremely happy

× so they did get adopted too

× you got in contact with them on social media and they were all very excited about meeting

× so it was a chaotic meeting with a dog hybrid called Kirishima and a mouse like vibrat yellow guy called Kaminari

× they all were looking for Bakugou too since they were very worried about where he ended

× Kirishima shed manly tears when seeing Bakugou

× as they instantly welcomed you in their small group, they informed you both that the majority of the squad was adopted and they're in contact, while they're still actively looking for the others

× cue to the softest expression you've seen on Bakugou in public followed by "That's good"

× silence

× shock and silence

× Kaminari turning to you and whispering "You did this" with a hand on his heart, lips trembling as he wiped an imaginary tear

× insert instantly snappy Bakugou

× when everyone laughed and continued to make plans to meet up with the others, he just looked at you conversing with them, soft expression again on his features and his chest warming

× "Oh! Look, he's doing it again! Quick, take a pictur—"

× "SHINE!"

[internalsealpanic]

Love Through the Ages (Jason Todd)

Summary:  Love like baggage needs to be declared.

a/n: This is part three of a series that is a fic rec list disguised as a fic. For these fics, most of the characters will be speaking different languages, so unless specified otherwise assume that the characters are speaking in the first language I mention. They’re all vampires with centuries under their belt. Why wouldn’t I make them all polyglots.  Also, thank you to the proof reading gang for putting up with my shenanigans.  I will have links to the fics I recommend in the fic itself. ALSO, y'all can thank @littleredwing89 for the poem that comes up.

Warnings: Everyone is dramatic.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist.

You tap at your phone screen, planting seeds in a satisfyingly hypnotic rhythm, the sounds of the train vacillating in and out of your periphery. It was soothing having your own compartment, a little world you can isolate yourself in while you anxiously await for the inevitable. 

It wasn’t a secret that you found Gotham stressful. It was about as much a secret as Tony Stark’s civilian identity. You pulled your knees up to your chest at the thought. Big cities were stressful but Gotham was a different beast entirely. It was a writhing monster of steel and smoke. You wrinkle your nose deciding to sweep the thought away. 

Instead, you concentrate on your plants and your farm. You wince looking at your journal. It looks like you’d forgotten another quest. Pursing your lips, you decide to turn your phone off for a bit and pretend the NPCs can sort it out on their own as you look out the window. 

You lean against the wall, pressing your cheek to the cool window. You can’t help but smile to yourself thinking of a sea of black curly hair interrupted by a shock of white, sea green eye perpetually alight with mischief or intelligence (9 times out of 10, you really couldn’t tell which it was.), freckles like star map, and a mouth permanently set in a cocky grin. It’s hard not to smile like an idiot when thinking of Jason Todd.  

   Your skirt flutters in the wind as you dance your way through the crowd, bobbing up and down on your tiptoes over the sea of humans. Sometimes the smell of them still makes your mouth water but not now, not when the smell of Gotham is so pungent in the air. 

You see a gloved hand wave at you on the other side of the crowd. You pin your sunhat against your head as you rush through the crowd, your luggage dragging behind you.

Jason waves a two fingered salute at  you in front of a motorcycle, his foot clearly stomping a cigarette. You toss your hat to him. It flutters over the crowd. Jason catches it easily, putting it on his own head. 

"Hey Princess, welcome back." Jason greets, the syllables of your native French gliding off of his tongue so easily. Fighting down a blush, you swallow your own greeting. Jason would have been a great ambassador in a different life were he not inclined to murder someone with a desert spoon for being a jackass.

He offers his hat back to you, but you shake your head. "You might freckle too much in Gotham's sunny weather." He gives you a hearty chuckle keeping the hat on. 

"Missed you too, princess."

You roll your eyes. Pinching your nose, you look around. "You forgot to tell me to bring a gas mask."

"Every city smells like this."

"Darling, you've been in Gotham for too long."

"And you've been in your French villa for too long." Jason says, putting his sunglasses on you. You glare at him through them.

"First of all, it's a cottage."

Jason snorts, "As if that makes a difference. It's still in the idyllic French countryside, isn't it?"

"I-" 

"I rest my case."

You cross your arms. "You're welcome to visit, you know?" It was a hopeful suggestion at best. 

"We both know the quiet will drive me crazy."

"I said visit," you say, "besides, I think the train ride alone would drive you up the wall." You remember how Jason is with tight spaces.

"Not with you there." Jason winks.

Your heart presses a bruise into your throat and you hate Jason Peter Todd all over again. 

"Ah yes, you plan on driving me mad. Evil. Truly evil of you." You say, grinning back at him. 

"Here's a wild idea, how bout we just not listen to Roy? How does that sound?" Jason gently suggests, handing you your offensively pink cup of caffeinated goop. Jason can smell the sickening amount of sweeteners added. He might gag. 

"Nope," you say, smiling at him as you slurp your ooze. Jason's stomach rolls. Alfred would have an aneurysm. "He was even nice enough to get us both tickets." You hand him one, fingers brushing against his. They felt calloused as they always did. Jason suppresses any oncoming reaction.

He instead turns his attention to the ticket in his hands. Love Through the Ages: Gotham Museum Exhibition on expressions of love. Jason runs through the numbers. "These are $59 each."

"So sweet of him, isn't it?" You chirp adorably.

Jason makes a mental note to kill both of you. "You're only going along with this cus you want to watch me suffer." Jason says, slumping his chair. His foot kicks out to tap your foot. 

"I'm doing it affectionately," you say, tapping his foot with yours. "Besides, it's a universal pass time at this point." You swirl your drink and grin at him. It was your real grin, all bright and eager and stupidly sweet. Something in Jason's chest twists. It's always hard to breathe when you smile at him but really Jason would rather all the oxygen in the atmosphere be burned up than see your smile disappear. 

He sounds dramatic and he knows that but still he knows it's true.

"C'mon Jay, it'll be fun."

Shoulders slouched, Jason smiles at you indulgently. "Fun for who?"

"Mainly me but you can have fun too."

"You are so lucky you're adorable when you're being evil."

Your smile brightens and with a tap of his foot against yours, he thinks he'll survive whatever Roy has in store for him.

You and Jason have been walking around the museum for quite a bit with Jason's arm wrapped tightly around your shoulders and homicide radiating off of him every time someone even looks at you funny. He'd said that the arm slung around your shoulder was so that you wouldn't get lost. As for the homicide,  he elected to ignore the question entirely. 

You flush as Jason quotes another line from 'Master Valentine' back to you. You definitely regret letting him house sit. You regret even more not hiding your books. You squirm as Jason whispers the quote in your ear in a husky drawl. The erotica in the book is amazing and you're normally comfortable with talking to Jason about everything, but this- this was just cruel and unusual punishment. It's what you get for trying to make him suffer.

All the pet names he murmured in your ear crawled up your spine. You shove his face away hiding your own in your sleeve. He laughs into your hand enjoying your sudden bout of shyness.

Jason mumbles a half-hearted apology into your hand, pressing a soft kiss into your palm. You lower your head. You're still clearly avoiding his gaze but you let him press you to his side. Jason Todd is an asshole.

You point to a pair of ice skates so well worn and well loved that you almost miss the little penguins stitched on the side. "Love on the ice? That's so cute!"

Jason glances at them with mild interest. "Sounds like hypothermia." He says, shrugging. 

Swatting at his chest, you pout at him. He rolls his eyes nudging your shoulder with his. You scowl at him and stick your tongue out. Jason leans down, unable to stop the urge to press a kiss to your brow. You scowl even harder. 

"Admit it, doll. The whole exhibition is just Dickie's favorite fanfiction tropes."

"Professor Todd, be a dear and enlighten my troglodyte ass."

He snorts, "Princess, if I was a professor we both know I'd have the highest attendance rate."

"And the highest failure rate." You say cocking a brow. 

"Probably."

"You're terribly humble today."

"I just know I look good."

No, you don't, you think. You shake your head. "That explains the leather jacket."

"You love my leather jacket."

"Well, Biscuit certainly loved your previous one."

Jason wrinkled his nose thinking of the yellow disaster. "That dog was a menace."

"She is the sweetest creature on earth."

"She destroyed my jacket and ate my wallet AND phone."

"I never said she was smart... wait, we're getting off topic."

Jason narrows his eyes at you then points to a crown. It was an intricate lattice of silvers and golds with diamonds that glittered like starlight. "Royal AU," he says simply, "go on read the description."

"A prince and a princess from rival nations are bound by a marriage of convenience. Through a series of missteps. They fell for each other.... that one was pretty easy. Do it again."

He points to a blue feather. "Mythology AU."

You arch a brow at him. He waves at it, urging you to read. "A god descended to earth to be with his mortal lover only for him to lose his memories of her." The feather's glow is incandescent. You can feel the power radiating off of it, a sure sign of divinity.

Once, you would have brushed it off as mere story. You've spent more than twice your lifetime now dipped into the world of myths. You glance at Jason.  Simple divinity no longer fazes you.

"See?"

"I- Nope."

"You're just being stubborn."

"Would you have been my friend if I wasn't?" Would you have saved me if I wasn't?

You think Jason hears your unspoken question when he frowns. Instead, he turns on his heel to face the other direction. He points to a bouquet of wilted roses tied together by a green ribbon. They still smell of blood and something you couldn't identify.  Your eyes drift down curious. Your eyes trace over the words feeling your stomach tumble.

"Gruesome." Jason vocalizes inanely. He hooks his head on the crown of your head, neatly slotting your body under his. You're safe, surrounded by walls of muscle. The crease in your brow softens. You would think that Jason would be less protective after you'd turned but now that you were a vampire, he was somehow even more protective. Roy always joked you only got Biscuit and your other dogs as lap dogs because you already had Jason. He may not have been too off on his guess.

"This should be in a horror exhibit," you say leaning into Jason's chest, "kind of reminds me of you though." You tilt your head up grinning at him. 

"If you make a joke about me being jack the ripper again, I swear I'll-"

"-Bury me alive 6 feet under concrete with a recording of Roy singing Auld Lang Syne in a terrible British accent. Got it. What I meant was... you're just as protective as the man in the story." You say, smiling at him. 

For good reason, Jason thinks. 

Jason buries half of his face in your hair, hiding his answering smile. You smell like sugar and cinnamon. It's a familiar combination of smells that puts him at ease despite the atrocious amount of people in the museum.

You point to another artifact, afraid that you'd accidentally picked at an old wound. 

"Star-crossed lovers." He mumbles into your hair. 

"Bullshit!"

"Read it and weep, doll."

You read the plaque and the words 'meet' and 'different world' assault your eyes. You scowl at him. "Fuck you."

The grin on Jason's face is genuine. It makes something in your veins sing knowing how much fun he's having. 

Your face softens. "You really love this romance stuff, huh?"

Jason narrows his eyes at you.

"You were the one bawling your eyes out when we binged Spaces Between Us. Who the hell cries during erotica?"

"IT'S TRUE LOVE AND YOU KNOW IT IN YOUR SOUL," you protest, pounding your fist against his chest,"besides, you're the one who was crying nonstop when we watched the IDHY duology."

"I was crying because they were accurate book adaptations."

You blink at him confused. "There's a book?"

"Yes, you illiterate heathen."

"You sound like a conquistador."

“....”

"At least they got their happy ending." You say, changing the subject.  

"That's true."

"Still better than Titanic."

He furrows his brow at you. "What's wrong with the Titanic?"

"First of all," You pitch your shoulders like you're about to give him a lecture, "That was 3 hours of my life wasted on a shitty movie. It wasn't even that accurate."

"Princess, not everyone can survive the Arctic."

"And second, the most romantic scene in that romantic movie was the old couple staying together as they sank."

Jason laughs, a deep rumbling sound. It scrambles your brain, almost dissolving your annoyance until he opens his mouth again. "You sound like Damian."

"Jason Peter Todd, take that back." You screech, swiping at him. 

He jumps back, his laughter still echoing. "Stop sounding like the demon brat first."

You run after him, telegraphing your murderous intent. Jason walks away faster, sticking his tongue out at you. Your growl and claw at the air. You screech obscenities as Jason continues to evade you. He is having way too much fun with this. 

You chase Jason around the exhibition for a solid half hour before you come to a skittering halt.

Your eyes land on a vermillion book, leather bound and carefully crafted by skilled hands. You step closer to admire the swirling, arabesque patterns lining the leather. No title is embossed on the front.  It's thick. You would wager it was at least 400 pages.

Your eyes drift down even further, finding a  familiar scrawl. Below the book were photocopies of some of the pages. Pablo Neruda's 'If You Forget me', Beethoven's 'Immortal beloved', Ibn Hazm's 'My Heart', and a bunch of other poets you didn't know but recognized as ...

"Jason these are your favorites."

"What?" He says, walking over to you cautiously.

You look back down at the pages and your eyes catch on the one in the middle. From the numbering, it was the last.

Love is such a hard thing to define,

I don’t know if I could ever find,

The words to truly express the complexity of such an emotion.

It is an emotion felt in the heart,

Long before it makes sense to the mind,

illusive and uncertain until suddenly it just clicks.

Like so many things in this world,

we tend to know it when we see it in others,

even if we can’t be sure of it ourselves.

I think I’ve always known how much I love you,

When I look at you, 

I see everything I’ve ever wanted.

When I look at you,

I see nothing else but your perfect beauty.

Inside and out.

I'm not a poet, (Y/n), but I will tell you anyway I can how much I love you.

-Jason Peter Todd

Jason is a stone next to you.

His mouth is filled with sand as he looks at the far too familiar handwriting. He knew. He knew the moment he saw the red book what it was. Hell, the moment you told Jason it was Roy who told you to go to the museum, he knew what it was. God, why can't he just turn to ash. 

Jason can't make himself turn to you. He can't bear to see what ever disgusted expression you make. He just can't. 

He feels a tug on his sleeve. He doesn't move. He  feels another tug, this time harder. When he doesn't respond the second time, you lace your fingers in his and spin him around. 

You squish his cheeks in your hands. "Jason, you actual sap." You say. You look like you're glowing. You beam at him, all toothy and scrunched faced. Jason's lungs stop working again. His mind can't process what you're saying. All Jason knows is that something warm is crowding his chest, pushing everything else out.

"Wha?"

"Jason, you absolute dork!" You repeat, unfazed by his temporary bout of insanity.

Jason is blushing, looking like a strawberry with his freckles. Jason is more adorable than anyone has any right to be. But that's ok. That's perfectly ok cus he's yours.

In a moment of uncontained affection, you pull Jason to you, pressing a kiss against his lips. It's soft and earnest and exciting. It was a kiss Jason spent lifetimes dreaming about. It was you and completely you.

"Jay, they're beautiful." You say in a breathless laugh. 

Jason looked down at his feet. "I-" was never planning on giving it to you, he thinks. Because, why would you ever love someone like Jason? Especially, after what he'd done to you. 

As if reading his mind, you press your forehead against his. "I love you too, Jay, and you can't argue me out of it. Sorry bud, you're stuck with me."

Jason can't help the smile as it curls on his lips.

He's happy. He's so stupidly happy and he blames you.

"Plus, I already knew."

"Why didn't you say it first?" He asks, his fingers brushing against his tingling lips. 

"Cus," you say, pirouetting away from him, "you wouldn't believe me if I did."

"How-"

You put your hand up. "Trust me, Jay. I've tried before." You tilt your head back looking up at the sky light. The curtain of light fell on you like a spotlight highlighting everything ethereal about you. "Remember in Milan? When I told you I cared about you and you told me I didn't."

Jason remembered that. He was angrier back then. He snarled that to you like some wild animal and threatened to throw you out on your ass if you ever so much as spoke a word of that nonsense again. It was the first time he'd seen you look hurt. You face was wide open with shock.  Jason felt something in his chest tear at that look. He stormed off, leaving you in that room. 

When he came back, you offered him warm tea and a smile. You were quiet, inconsolably quiet.

It didn't…

He didn't…

It didn't occur to him that look in your eyes was heartbreak.

Jason curses under his breath.

You chortle at him, the mirth in your eyes incandescent.

"Yeah. Exactly." You say, clasping your hands behind your back. Jason would like to be buried six feet under with the only words carved into his gravestone 'I am so sorry (Y/n)'.

You snick seeing the look in his eyes. "Or that time in Paris. The one in the little patisserie when I told you in perfect Catalan that you meant more to me than anything else and do you remember what you told me?"

"I told you you were possessed." Jason's shoulders slump. "Please tell me you don't have a third example."

You smile at him pityingly. "I don't-"

"OH THANK FU-"

"I have 50. Well, 51 but the last one didn't count since I was joking that time."

In Jason's mind, his jaw hits the obsidian floor with an audible 'plop'. It would be loud enough that the entire museum would hear it were it real. He blinks at you. "You tried more than 10 times?"

"I was encouraged." You say shrugging.

"Of course, you were," he grumbles and you laugh. Jason's heart skips a beat but he pushes past the feeling in favor of pleading with you. "Please don't list them."

"Oh, I'm not." You hum. 

Jason sighs with relief. 

"I'm gonna leave that to Roy."

"Son of a- He knows?"

You look over your shoulder. "Yeah. Who do you think I complain to?"

"Who else knows?" He asks, trailing behind you as you walk to .... Jason doesn't know at this point and he doubts you do too. 

"Oh just your family."

"I'm surprised they haven't given me shit about it."

"Oh I bullied them into not doing it."

"Impressive." He whistles and you preen. 

"Always," you say smugly. You begin to walk a bit faster, craning your neck. "Now, let's go find out if Dickie installed that bakery I asked for." 

"That's what you're after?" Jason laughs.

"It's a noble goal." You protest. 

"You don't even need to feed."

"I need to feed my inner sweets monster. She's very fussy and is demanding crepes specifically."

Jason smiles softly at you, amused that of all the human traits you could have retained after being turned was a sweet tooth.

"Sorry to tell you doll face, Dickie still hasn't done it."

You look aghast like he'd slapped you in the face with a large baguette. 

"What?!"

"He hasn't put in your suggestion from 10 years ago."

"Where am I supposed to get my fix?"

"Are we still talking about sweets or have you moved on to cocaine?"

"Dunno, have you tried snorting sugar?"

"No. Why- Have you?"

"...my lawyer advised against answering this question."

Jason cackles. "How am I the stupid one?"

"I-" Your scowl turns sickeningly sweet. "Yanno, the third time I tried was when-"

"OK. Stop." Jason's face lights up again. "I give." 

"Pfff." You smile, looking far too pleased with yourself.

Jason straightens up, something sly passing through his eyes. You stop. The look in his eyes makes you nervous. 

"I think I know where you can get something sweet."

You swallow nervously.

Jason leans in. He’s so close to you. You can feel his breath brush against your lips. Nothing else around you seems to exist at the moment. 

You lean in to kiss him but you freeze when you register his voice. 

“I’m taking you downtown. There’s a new bakery there and I heard the crepes were to die for.” He chuckles, turning to walk towards the exit. 

“What the hell?!” You call out falling into step with him. 

He grins down at you, arms folded behind his head. “Something wrong, princess?”

Heat rises in your cheeks and elbow him in the side. 

“I want to take you on a proper date and I sure as hell am not starting here.” He says, rubbing his side and conspicuously not looking at you.  There’s a dust of peach on his face. Your anger fades away. It gives way to a fluttering in your chest. 

“Where?”

He looks at you then, brow furrowed. 

“Why don’t I take you to the fair, princess? There’s plenty of sweet treats there that’ll tickle your fancy.”

Your mouth waters when you think about all the cotton candy they have. 

“I heard there’s a kissing booth too, so if you’re lucky,” Jason continues, winking at you. Predictably, you blanch at him. You knock your knuckles against his chest. Jason chuckles, rubbing his chest. “Sorry princess, I mean if I’m lucky enough to get a kiss from you.”

The temerity. 

The gall. 

“As long as you get me something sweet.” You huff, exiting the building. 

Jason stops on the steps, turning to you with a sly smile. Crossing your arms, you pause bracing for whatever trick is up his sleeve. Jason tilts his head. He says something but the little noises of the city make the words hard to discern. You lean closer to hear him better. Jason steps closer to close the distance, his lips warm against yours. You’re stunned. Your entire body divided on how to react, some parts stiffen while others turn to jelly. 

He pulls away, wolfish grin unwavering. "That sweet enough for you sweetheart?"

@batarella​, @anothertimdrakestan​, @lucy-roo​, @multifandomgirl-us​, @bungunz​, @birdy-bat-writes​,  @boosyboo9206​, @americasmarauders​ , @l-inkage​, @arestorationofbalance​ , @cloudie-skay​, @wunderstell​   @hyp-oh-critical​ @glorified-red​

[synmorite]

Good Girl, Bad Boy

Characters: F!Reader, Jared, Jensen

Pairing: J2 x F!Reader

Summary: Jared can't follow Jensen's rules, so Jensen uses Y/N to punish him.

Word Count: 2.2k+

Warnings: polyamory, orgasm denial, cock cages, dom/sub relationships, daddy!kink, dom!jensen, switch!reader, switch!jared, M/M sex, anal play, anal sex, oral (m/f receiving), a miniscule dash of fluff. Y'all this smut from the onset!

A/N: So @hoboal87 and I absolutely LOVE to discuss and theorize fics on Bee's Discord server. We work so well together that @writethelifeyouwant challenged us to collaborate on a fic. @negans-lucille-tblr provided the prompt, "Jensen needs to punish Jared, and he's using Y/N to do it." This was written through a series of reblogs, with Alex and I only writing one part at a time with no discussions about what the other was going to do. The original post is here.

Special thanks to @hoboal87 for putting all of the reblogs together, creating such an awesome graphic, and for finishing the fic when I had to tap out to go to sleep. 😂 This was so fun and I'm excited for the next time we do it. (I also highly recommend checking out Alex's masterlist. She has got some amazing fics on there.🥰)

My Masterlist

Alex's Masterlist

“Since you can’t do as you’re told, we’ll have to use this instead,” Jensen grunts as he fastens the cage around Jared’s now softening cock.

Y/N leaned forward and pulled Jared’s wrists up to hook them into the handcuffs attached to the headboard. Jared whined as Jensen grinned and said, “No touching now, baby boy.”

Y/N moves onto Jared thigh, positioning her bare pussy on top of him as Jensen ties Jared's ankles, keeping him spread eagle. Slowly, Y/N starts to rock forward on Jared’s thigh, spreading her slick along his skin. Jared’s gaze zeroed in on his shiny flesh as he let out a low moan at the sight.

"Nuh-uh, babygirl," Jensen scolds you, letting his voice drop. You were already tense from a day full of teasing and you both know its not going to take much for the coil to snap. "If you're gonna get off, you'd better have my cock in you."

Y/N stopped moving immediately with a small whimper.

“Remember that we’re punishing Jared for coming without permission. You don’t want to be punished too, do you? Now you know what to do next.” Y/N nodded as she ran her hand down Jared’s caged cock, to his balls, to his still gaping hole.

Slowly, Y/N started to tease Jared hole. Jensen had instructed him to keep a plug in him while he was in quarantine, edge himself over and over again, but no cumming. Jared, the brat, of course couldn't help himself, sending you a video of him jerking off, spilling himself onto his tan and taut stomach. He'd begged you not to show Jensen, but you knew better than to hide this from him, lest you get your own punishment.

Part of you just wanted to help Jensen punish Jared though. It was one of the few times that Jensen gave you some control. You still had the rules to follow, of course, but it meant that you could play with Jared and watch him become desperate underneath your hands, your fingers. You smiled as you teased a finger into Jared’s hole to press against his prostate as he jerked beneath you. Jensen laughed, “Better hold on tight if you’re gonna play that game Y/N.”

Your mouth waters as you watch Jared's cock twitch in its cage, and he lets out another whimper as you hit his prostate again. Jensen moves behind you, his hand connecting with the bare flesh of your ass. It's not enough to leave a mark, only to remind you that you might be currently domming Jared, but Jensen was the alpha in the room. You let out a low moan when Jensen's fingers run through your slick, and you can practically see the smirk on his face.

"My two perfect little cock-sluts," Jensen works his thumb over your tightest hole. "Whaddya think I'll be the best way to show Jare that he should always follow Daddy's orders?"

You shivered as you pressed back against Jensen’s finger. You worked another finger into Jared and pressed against his prostate again without letting up. Jared’s back arch and he let out such a delicious whine that had goosebumps rising all over your bare skin. Jensen slowly pushed his own thumb through the tight ring of muscles at your hole and you let out your own gasp. You worked yourself back and forth on his thumb before turning your head and asking Jensen, “Can I pick something from the toy box to use on him, Daddy?”

"I dunno, babygirl," Jensen tsks, slipping two fingers into your dripping pussy, causing you to gasp out. You'd been under the same orders as Jared; two weeks without cumming, and the feel of his thick digits inside of you almost sends you over the edge. "Our baby boy wants to be fucked, and I don't think it'll be much of a punishment" -- Jensen slides a third finger into you -- "if we give 'im what he wants."

Jensen twists and pumps his fingers inside you, searching until he finds that spot inside you. You pull your fingers from Jared’s hole unable to continue playing with him as you moan out. You lean forward draping yourself over Jared’s sweat slick skin as Jensen thrusts his fingers in and out, faster and faster. “No coming yet, baby girl. ‘Member what I said? Can’t come till it’s my cock in you.” You whined and nodded before pressing your mouth against Jared’s chest. After Jensen hit that spot again, you bit down into Jared’s chest leaving teeth marks as Jared gasped out and his cock twitched in its cage.

Jared tugs against his restraints, "please, Jen," he begs, "lemme touch." You love seeing Jared like this, desperate and needy, giving all control up to you and Jensen. You want to have his hands on you as well, but you'll have to wait until Jensen's done doling out Jared's punishment. The most you can settle for at the moment, is a rough and sloppy kiss from Jared. You run your hands into his hair, giving it a tug as your tongue licks into his mouth.

“No, no baby boy. Y/N was a good girl, she waited like she was supposed to. You were bad. You don’t get to touch. You don’t get to decide.” Jensen taunted. He came around the side of the bed closest to Jared. Jared looked up at him as you ran your fingertips down his chest, sucking dark marks into the tan skin as you went. Jared whined at Jensen again. “Please Daddy? I can be good!” Jared pulled involuntarily at the restraints again as you tugged a nipple between your teeth. Jensen smirked down at you both before leaning down taking Jared’s mouth hungrily with his own. You watched the kiss, feeling the wetness pooling even more between your thighs. Jensen pulled away and Jared chased his lips, but Jensen stayed just out of reach. “Why don’t you prove it, baby boy?” Jensen said with another smirk.

Jared nodded eagerly, and Jensen let out a barely audible good boy. Jensen brought his lips to yours and smacked your ass again with a command of ‘up.’ You lift your ass into the air, straddling your body over Jared’s, letting your breasts just barely touch his chest. The sound of Jensen removing his belt is like music to your ears, and you can feel yourself getting wetter by the second. Jensen wastes no time, swiftly entering you and burying himself to the root. You’re glad he started to open you up with his fingers, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to enjoy this nearly as much. He holds himself there for a moment, before grabbing you by the nape of your neck, bringing your back flush to his chest. “Bet it won’ take ya long to cum, will it, slut?” he grunts as he starts thrusting into you.

You reach your hands down and grip onto Jared’s hips to hold on as Jensen thrusts grow harder and deeper. You can feel the coil tightening and tightening in your belly as Jensen’s hand slides around the front of your throat gripping just tight enough. His other hand slides down over your breasts and belly to start circling your clit harshly. You close your eyes and lean your head back on Jensen’s shoulder, panting. You feel Jensen bite at your neck before whispering into your ear, “Open your eyes baby girl. Look at what we’re doing to our boy.” You open your eyes and look down at Jared. His knuckles are white as his large hands are wrapped around the chain of the handcuffs and his hips are jerking up softly as his cock leaks precum onto his beautiful stomach. He’s making soft whines and whimpers that immediately make you remember the video he sent to you. The one that got him in trouble. Your gaze moves up from his cock and belly over all the little marks you left on his chest, and over his throat that is tensed as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down with each deep swallow. Finally, your hungry gaze meets his and you cum with a scream as you meet his lust black eyes.

“See?” Jensen grunts, moving one of his hands down your belly and over your clit. He starts rubbing you, working you through your orgasm and straight into another. You’ve barely come down before the coil snaps again and you sag against Jensen’s body.

“Those who follow the rules get rewarded.” If you weren’t on cloud nine, you’d feel bad for Jared, his cock straining against the cage. “Whaddya want now, babygirl?” Jensen groans as he slows his hips. You’re too orgasm drunk to form any coherent thoughts, all you want now is Jared’s mouth, and Jensen seems to notice when your eyes fall on them and you lick your lips. “You wan’ Jared to eat my cum out of you?” Jensen taunts, and you nod your head.

“Okay, baby, because you’ve been such a good girl, we’ll let Jared use his perfect mouth.” Jared hums in approval, and Jensen speeds up his thrusts, and after a few moments, he’s cumming hot and sticky inside you. He pulls out quickly, and you can feel him dripping down your thighs as you crawl back over Jared, placing your pussy above his mouth.

You grip the headboard next to the handcuffs and lower yourself down. Jared leans forward and licks up your inner thighs collecting the cum that escaped your pussy. He hums happily at the taste as he makes his way to your still dripping hole. The chain rattled as Jared pulled against them again. His long tongue dipped into your hole as you pushed down onto him more.

“Would you like me to remove the handcuffs?” Jensen asked from behind you. Jared pulled back a little as you moved your hips to follow his mouth and said “Yes, Daddy.” Jensen chuckled.

“Oh, baby boy, I wasn’t asking you. I was asking Y/N. Do you want Jared to be able to hold you still? While he eats every last drop of my cum?”

“Yes, please daddy. Please let him touch me.” You whined out.

“Ok, baby girl. For you.” Jensen reached forward and opened the cuffs, releasing Jared’s wrists. His hands immediately flew to your hips and yanked you further down onto his mouth. You let out a gasp as Jensen warned, “That’s the only place you can touch for now, baby boy. No where else.”

Jared agrees happily against your pussy, humming as his tongue moves frantically through your folds. His grip on your thighs tighten, and you’re sure that there will be imprints of his hands bruised on you tomorrow, not that you mind. You grind your pussy against his face harder, chasing one final orgasm, but you wanted to be able to see Jensen when you came-- another punishment for Jared. His name, not Jared’s, is the one you’re going to scream out. As you feel your third orgasm start to crest, you stop, and reach behind you for Jensen, you don’t feel him there, and you let out a needy whine. You turn your head and see Jensen on his belly, tonguing Jared’s hole, and slowly stroking his now-released cock. You reach out and tug on his short strands, not enough to elicit a punishment, but just to get his attention.

“What’s a-matter, baby?” Jensen pulls up, and Jared groans at the loss of Jensen.

“Need you, Daddy,” you moan. “Wanna see you when I cum.”

You turn yourself around so that you’re now facing Jensen, who starts working his cock into Jared. You lean forward, so that Jared’s cock is right under you, you look up at Jensen with wide eyes, asking silent permission to take his cock in your mouth.

“You don’t cum until I say so,” Jensen places his hand on Jared’s thigh, and you know he’s talking to both of you. “If you do, I’ll only be using those slutty mouths of yours for the next two weeks, and you won’t be able to cum that whole time, is that understood?”

You lift off of Jared slightly so that Jensen can hear a “Yes, Daddy,” from each of you.

You work Jared into your mouth, swirling your tongue around him, hollowing your cheeks and taking him as deep as you can. One of Jared’s hands disappears from your thigh as starts teasing your hole, working you into a frenzy. Jensen either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, but you’re sure that he’ll make Jared pay for his disobedience later. When Jensen gives him permission, Jared cums with a groan, hot and salty down your throat, and you greedily swallow every drop.

Jensen then pulls out of Jared, stroking himself as his spills over Jared’s stomach. “If you’re good, next time I’ll cum in this tight little ass of yours,” he scolds. “Now, since Y/N is the only one who can be a good girl, you’ve got 30 seconds to make her cum, or you’ll be wearing that cock cage for another week.”

Jensen scoops up his cum with his fingers, and brings them to your mouth, where you eagerly suck them dry. It only takes another moment before you cum a final time on Jared’s face. You take a moment to catch your breath before crawling off of Jared, and lay down next to him, Jensen appearing at your other side, sandwiching you between the boys.

“Y’all miss me?” Jensen breaks the silence.

“You know it’s not the same when you’re not here,” Jared speaks over you. “Now that The Boys is done, you can have a role on Walker. Come home to us every night.”

[princekirijo]

If you'd like a fic recommendation (if not I'm sorry for the random ask) may I suggest P5R chat fic I guess? It's really funny. It has the thieves being idiots, akeshu being oblivious piners, three pairings of beautiful lesbians and plenty of references to previous persona games (I think you'll like one of the P3 references) fair warning it has major spoilers for royal and minor vague spoilers for scramble.

Oh cool thank you!!!!! That sounds really interesting actually I'll definitely check it out. I mean I haven't played Royal yet but tbh I'm tired of avoiding spoilers and I know a few major ones already so I might just bite the bullet and read it anyway. Same for the minor scramble spoilers. Also THREE beautiful lesbians I am DOWN. Not too mention the p3 references that's always good to see 👀. And akeshu is great too!!

Also just for future reference I guess I am ALWAYS down for fic recommendations so if anyone has any please fire away I'm all ears (this is great too because I have been looking for more p5 fics to read).