#anyway. enough word barfing

[lordsardine]

.

[kthologue]

will they wont they – dick grayson

synopsis. he had one job. but when it comes to you, dick grayson has never been good at following the rules.

contents. fluff, (implied) exes to lovers, catwoman!reader, batcat dynamic, theyre in love your honor

notes. i wanted a bruce and selina parallel except these two finally give in. this concept has been plaguing my for far too long. everyone thank blair for the idea + part 2

“And under no condition should you flirt with her,” Barbara’s voice crackles through his comms, sharp with warning. “This is a quick intel mission. You’re in and out, Nightwing.”

Dick chuckles. “Got it. Best behavior.”

Word had gotten back to the Batcave that, after Catwoman’s arrest, Catgirl was making moves to finish what her predecessor started. Even worse, there were rumors of Catwoman’s involvement in the riots of Blackgate Penitentiary. Usually, Gotham’s affairs stayed strictly in Bruce’s hands, but Dick had fought hard for this case. Maybe too hard.

“Nightwing,” Oracle’s voice falters as the group watches the hidden camera feed from his suit. “Did you… style your hair?”

Dick freezes mid-motion, his fingers still carding through his dark locks in the reflection of a nearby window.

“Dunno what you’re talking about.” He clears his throat, schooling his expression. Jason’s laughter bursts through the comms like a gunshot.

“Oh, this is priceless,” Jason wheezes. “Loverboy's got it bad.”

Dick exhales through his nose, shaking his head as he continues forward. “Can’t believe you guys planted a camera on me. Have you no trust?”

“It’s not about trust, Dick,” Bruce finally speaks, his voice cool and measured. “It’s about intelligence gathering.”

Of course. Ever the pragmatist.

Dick rolls his shoulders, trying to shake the unease creeping in. “Nah. My girl would never do anything to hurt me.” His voice dips. “Nothing I wouldn’t enjoy, anyway.”

Jason groans. “Barf.”

Oracle sighs. “Loverboy, focus.”

Dick lifts his hands in mock surrender, but his smirk lingers, betraying him. “Alright, alright.”

By the time Dick reaches the coordinates he was sent, the abandoned building seemed to be empty. Devoid of any criminal activity that was suspected.

Or at least, that’s how it looks.

Nightwing lands silently on the rooftop, scanning the darkened windows. No movement. No heat signatures. Just the city humming below, a steady pulse against the quiet.

Any amateur would enter the building to start his investigation, but Dick knew you better than that.

A slow smirk tugs at his lips.

You’re here. Somewhere. Watching.

His lips twitch. “Y’know, most people say hello first.”

Silence. 

A shift in the shadows, a whisper of movement, too fast for anyone else to catch.

He’s airborne for half a second before his back slams against the rooftop. His breath escapes in a sharp huff, and before he can fully register what was happening, a warmth presses close, your weight against him, a knee braced against his ribs, gloved fingers skimming the hollow of his throat. Light. Barely there. A tease, not a threat.

“Thought I’d mix it up,” you murmur.

The moonlight frames you in silver, your mask casting half your face in shadow. He watches the way your lips quirk, the way your breath fans against his jaw, closer than necessary. Closer than you should be.

He should move. Counter. Flip you.

Instead, his fingers curl around your wrist, his thumb ghosting over your pulse point.

Dick blinks up at you, the city lights outlining the curve of your smirk.

“Well,” he breathes, grin unfazed. “You sure know how to make a guy feel wanted.”

You hum, tilting your head. “I’d say sorry, but you walked right into it.”

Your knee eases up just enough for him to shift. It’s all he needs.

With a twist, he sweeps your leg from under you, flipping them. Now you’re the one pinned, but your expression doesn’t change—if anything, your smirk deepens.

“Better,” you muse. “Almost had me there.”

“Almost?” He tuts. “You wound me.”

Then, without hesitation, you hook your leg around his waist and throw your weight into a roll. The two of you tumble, shifting control back and forth, dodging and countering, neither ever fully committing to an actual strike.

It’s a dance. One you both know by heart.

You feint left and he dodges too slow. Your fist brushes his jaw, not a real hit, just enough to make him feel it.

“You’re distracted,” you observe, eyes glinting.

He exhales, grip tightening around your wrist just enough to keep you close. “Maybe I just like having you this close.”

“Always the flatterer.”

For a moment, neither moves. Your breaths mix, city lights reflecting in your masked gaze.

Then, you blow him a kiss, fingers ghost over his lips before twisting free.

A quick, effortless slip, like smoke through his fingers. By the time he blinks, you’re already a few feet away, perched on the edge of the rooftop, ready to make your exit. 

His comm buzzes. Jason’s voice, laced with amusement: “Tell me you’re at least trying to win.”

Dick ignores him.

Instead, his eyes flick toward the shadows. "C’mon, sweetheart, you really want it to end so soon?" He calls, the playful edge to his voice betraying the pulse of something more intense. “I’m starting to have fun.”

“Yeah?” You step into the moonlight, half a step in front of him. “You’re losing, horribly.”

You paused.

“But I’ve always liked how optimistic you were, Grayson. It’s cute.”

He can’t help but smile at the sound of his last name leaving your lips with a casualness that does something to him. He’s heard it from everyone, whether it be taunts or flirty whispers, but from you, it lands differently.

“I’m losing?” He raises an eyebrow, a challenge in his voice, but his heart pounds just a little faster. “I don’t think I feel like a loser.” In fact, he feels more alive than ever, adrenaline coursing through him, sparks erupting with every quip you exchanged. 

You let out a laugh, the sound light and effortless. “I’ve transported all of the artifacts from the Gotham Museum hours before you even got here.”

His eyes narrow slightly, but he stays relaxed. He’ll deal with that later. “You know that’s not why I’m here.”

You tilt your head, smirking. “No?”

He steps closer. Slowly. “No,” he repeats, his voice dropping to a softer tone, low enough that it’s just for you.

You watch him, waiting.

He stops when you’re chest to chest, both of you breathing a little heavier now. The proximity is too close. Too much. And yet, neither of you move away.

“Then, what are you here for?”

For a heartbeat, the world slows, and he sees it, something soft in your eyes, hidden behind the mask. Something more than the game you’ve been playing.

“You know,” his voice softens.

But it’s fleeting. Gone before he can fully grasp it, and it hits him harder than he expects.

For a moment, he sees your own eyes underneath the black eye mask softening as they flicker between his own. But it’s gone as soon as it comes and Dick mourns it.

You break the moment first, pulling back just slightly, the warmth of your body still lingering as you glance away. “I’m not… involved with that and you know it,” you say, tone sharp but steady.

You’re not naive. He knows you’ve heard of the rumors circulating about Blackgate and Selina’s growing influence in the prison.

He catches your hand when you try to push him away, his fingers wrapping around your wrist. It’s the same dance they’ve done for years—one step forward, then the pull.

“Yeah, I know,” he murmurs.

“Obviously not.” Your eyes flash as you look away, trying to hide the strain in your voice. “You don’t trust me.”

His thumb brushes over your knuckles. “You know I do, sweetheart.” His voice softens, and he steps even closer, bringing his other hand to your jaw, his fingers gently guiding your gaze back to his.

“I just needed to confirm.” His breath catches in his chest as he leans in, his lips almost brushing yours. “You know. B and his procedures.”

He doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches. You’re not backing away, but you’re holding yourself together with that quiet strength of yours.

“Dick,” Oracle warns him through the comm. He can feel Bruce’s silent warning echoing through his mind. He’s overstepped.

But Dick doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care about the mission anymore. Not when you’re standing there, eyes locked on his, body close enough that all he can think about is what it would be like to not fight this anymore.

With a quiet resolve, he reaches for his comm, deactivating it, then rips the camera from his suit, crushing it under his foot. The sound of the camera breaking echoes through the silent night, and he watches as surprise flickers in your eyes.

“You’re insane,” you murmur, the disbelief in your voice mixing with relief.

Dick steps even closer, no words now, just the steady thrum of his pulse and the way his body wants to close the distance. “Mission completed anyway,” he mutters, his lips curving into a grin, but it’s softer now.

“As always,” you whisper, your eyes flicking to the shattered camera. There’s a quiet moment where everything feels like it’s teetering on the edge.

Then, without another word, he pulls you in, his lips crashing into yours, soft but insistent. It’s everything he’s wanted, everything you’ve been dancing around for far too long.

Your hands slide up his chest, fingers curling into his suit as he deepens the kiss, his body pressing into yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The kiss is slow, almost agonizing in its sweetness. No more games, no more hesitating. Just the two of you, finally letting go. His hand rests on the back of your neck, fingers tracing down every curve.

“That,” he says, voice husky, “was a mission well done.”

Your eyes twinkle, and you don’t pull away. “You know you’re never going to hear the end of this, right?”

“Worth it,” he grins. “Every second.”

thank you for reading! reblogs n comments are appreciated :3

[asapeveryday]

noctuary #7 - p.b x tlou au

noc·​tu·​ary ˈnäkchəˌwerē:

a collection of a single night's events, thoughts or dreams

pairing: Paige Bueckers x reader AU: The Last of Us 2 x Wbb crossover warnings: canon typical violence, veryyyyy brief mention of violent physical relationships synopsis: you meet her on the brink of giving up. she’s suspicious, too nice, too charismatic. you know you should be on guard, but you’ve got nowhere to go, and she’s eager to have nobody to be notes: why did I take 20 days to write this…life hit hard. Anyways, we’re nearing the end!!!! Woohoo!

Prev. Chap Here

THE NEXT TIME you see her, it’s the hottest day of the year.

You can feel it the moment you wake up. Your pyjamas are thrown across your room, limbs sticky with midnight sweat, hairline damp.

You begrudgingly slip out of your sheets, bare legs meeting the humid air.

Days were slow in Jackson. No more bonfires, or late night smokes. You worked, you came home. Nika had gone on patrol for a day or two with Aubrey, and ran errands while she was back.

Paige had been incredibly busy helping around the camp, and you’d barely said a word to her since she’d barfed on your lawn and slept over.

The stagnancy brought some good things too. Like your house, for one, that was finally starting to feel like home. You grew to appreciate the way the wood creaked beneath your feet, the way sun shone through your bedroom window.

Bare with the exception of a worn out tank and even more worn, lacy white underwear you managed to snag, you hum as you walk to your kitchen, taking your time as you drink your morning water and prep a quick breakfast.

The house is so quiet all the time, aside from the noises it makes on its own. Sometimes you find yourself thinking about the sound of another pair of feet on your floorboards, or another body under the running water of your shower. You’d heard the noise once, and never forgot it.

It should’ve unnerved you more that day, but it didn’t. You can’t quite forget that either.

How right it felt.

You shake your head in hopes of banishing the thoughts, walking to your couch with your breakfast in hand, when there’s a knock on the door.

Your eyes narrow.

It’s six-thirty in the morning, you don’t have to be at the barn till seven-thirty. There isn’t any reason for someone to be at your door.

Quietly, you approach the door, grasping the knife off of your plate for good measure. On your tip toes, you peek out of the peephole in the wood.

She’s standing there, hands in her pockets, head cocked, lip between her teeth in wait. Blonde hair messy, un-brushed and in scraggly waves that end past her shoulders.

You’re about to turn away when she opens her mouth.

“I know you’re there, horse girl.” She taunts, eyes staring down. “I can see your feet through the cracks.”

You let a groan out. “Isn’t it a little early, Paige?”

“You’re up anyways.” She smiles. “You gonna open the door?”

“Can you come back later?” You sigh, staring between your un-eaten breakfast and bare-naked legs.

“I’ll be fast.” She pushes. “Real quick.”

You consider. If it were anyone else, you’d tell them to fuck off. But for whatever reason, she makes all the difference. The knife in your free hand doesn’t hurt either.

Carefully, you creak the door open, twisting a little awkwardly to keep most of your lower half behind the door. She doesn’t so much as drag her eyes down there.

“You look a lot nicer when you’re not puking on my front lawn.” You snort. It’s true, she does look nice. Baggy, blue jeans held up by a thick brown leather belt. White tank, tucked in. Blue flannel, sleeves rolled up. Proper farm girl, enough to give you a run for your money.

“Moment of weakness.” She hums, smile still on her face. It’s mischievous, goading, even.

“What do you want?” You frown.

“I remembered I told you we’d patrol,” she shrugs. “So, let’s go.”

“Today?”

“You busy?” Paige grins.

“I might be.” You smile in return.

Paige raises a brow, arms crossing over her chest. “Doing what? Braiding Sue for the fortieth time and bartering with Nika for lingerie?”

“Careful.” Your eyes narrow.

Her cheeks turn pink the moment you say it, eyes breaking from yours like a nervous teenager. “I’ll give you like, twenty minutes to eat and change.” She mutters.

“Forty-five.”

“Twenty-five.”

“Forty.”

“It takes you forty minutes to eat and change?” She laughs incredulously.

“I take advantage of the fact that I get to enjoy my mornings now.” You huff.

“Well, if you’re gonna take that long I might as well wait inside with you.” She says. Her face is casual, no hint of emotion. Her only tell is her eyes, which sneakily dart downwards, glancing over the lacy trim of your underwear, and the bare expanse of your legs.

“Nice try.” You snort, slamming the door shut in her face. “I’ll take thirty.”

You hear her chuckle behind the door, and immediately shiver.

Despite how hot it is outside, your legs are covered in goosebumps.

You eat standing up, scarfing down your meal in 10 minutes flat before running to the bathroom to wash up, throwing your hair into a style that keeps it out of your face and freshening up.

Then you’re rushing around your room, frantically plucking things to throw in your backpack. It’s already mostly packed with essentials—hunting knifes, old rags, flasks of alcohol, extra clothes—you rush to add some fresh water and emergency food, before running back downstairs to get changed.

What should you wear? It’s sweltering outside, you’re sweating even with just your tank and panties. You can’t wear shorts, so you settle for worn out jeans that hang a little too low, and a breathable cotton top that shows some midriff when you stretch your arms—just for extra ventilation.

You’re double checking your bag for the tenth time when you pause by your bedside table, considering something in particular.

You slide open the table drawer, eyes meeting the plastic baggy you kept for company, four pre-rolled joints sitting in wait inside the clear film.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Twenty-five, let’s go!” You hear Paige call, muffled from the distance

You grab the plastic baggy and stuff it in your backpack, running up the stairs and hurriedly slipping your shoes on as you open the front door again.

“I said thirty.” You huff, finally managing with your shoes and stepping out beside her.

“See how good you are when you push yourself?” Paige grins. “You can be fast when you want to be.”

You just roll your eyes at her.

“Don’t be salty.” She hums. “Five minutes is almost nothing.”

“A lot can happen in five minutes, Paige.” You glance at her slyly. She just shakes her head with a suppressed smile, shoving past you slightly as she begins to walk out of your lawn.

You follow close behind her.

YOU FOREGO RIDING horseback—you don’t know how, and she doesn’t like it much anyways.

Instead you leave with nothing but the weight of your backpack, and her stare on your shoulders.

“We won’t be going far without horses.” You hum.

“We could if we wanted to take up a few days.” Paige chirps.

“Right.” You slow down, waiting for her to walk beside you. “I can’t believe you walked that far when you found me.”

She just shrugs.

The run is blazing, hot and bright on your skin as you and Paige walk further and further from Jackson’s massive gates. The grassy ground stretches for miles on miles, green and healthy from rainfall a few days prior.

The air smells like dirt and cedar as you let her take the lead, boots crunching on the ground beneath you with every step.

You don’t force any conversation, instead allowing the day to take its course. It’s like you have a billion things to say to her, but no way to articulate each point.

You want to ask her questions, you want to pry. You want to know what she’s like when she’s not being Jackson’s-Lifesaver-Paige, hear it from her mouth—why she leaves for days like it’s just a few hours—and you want to know why she likes you enough to take her with her.

When the grass grows less barren, and the trees start to cover your sight, you settle with, “Where are we going?”

She’s still beside you, eyes straight ahead. “There’s a camp a little father out that needs some maintenance.”

“Camp?”

Her eyes meet yours, bright blue and slightly squinted due to the sun. “Jackson has these small camps near the city, they’re like checkpoints or emergency stops for people coming in or out.”

“Is this one far?” You ask.

“Not really.” She shrugs. “If we were on horses we’d almost be there.”

You nod, returning your gaze to the trees and the grassy path you’re following. The sun shines between every leaf, speckling the ground with golden spots against the green.

She’s still looking at you, you can feel it on your face. She stares subtly, eyes glancing down every now and then.

Finally, you have enough, and you turn to catch her staring.

You raise a brow. “What?”

“Nothing.” She purses her lips. “Just thinking.”

Now it’s your turn to stare, watching curiously as she peels her eyes from you slow as molasses, like it’s hard for her to pull away. You can see it on her face, she is thinking.

You fight the urge to ask her what it is that she’s got her mind on.

“What kind of maintenance do we have to do when we get there?” You ask.

“Basic restock.” She hums, tapping her backpack. “Stuff like medical supplies, non-perishable food. Essential stuff.”

You nod.

“Basic clean up too.” Paige adds, half glancing at you. “People leave those places looking like a crime scene. Plus, sometimes the odd straggler gets in.”

“Human? Or infected.”

Paige shoots you a serious look. “Both.”

“And when you say clean up…” you frown.

“Nobody can live in those camps.” She says. “Either they leave or come to Jackson. Infected aren’t so lucky.”

You nod.

“The camps can be really nice.” She adds. “The one we’re going to is. You’ll like it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Paige nods.

“S’too bad we won’t be there to long then.” You hum.

There’s a glint in her eye as she smiles. “We can take as long as we want.”

“Paige,” You snort, “really? Geno knows where he sent us, we can’t take too long if it’s that close by.”

“He won’t know if we take a little detour on the way back.” Paige shrugs. “Or maybe the place is a shitshow, and we need to stay longer.”

“Paige.”

She glances at you, tongue darting out to wet her lips. The sun makes her skin shine, she looks brighter than she did before.

“You won’t get in trouble.” Paige says, her tone serious, sure. “And if you do, which you won’t by the way, I’ll take the blame.”

You can’t help but blanch a little at the statement, at the way she affirms your worries without you even having to say anything. “Why would you do that?”

“Because it’s not your fault.” Paige huffs, but you feel something beneath her words, “because it’s what I do.”

You stare at her a little too long, thinking about her. About her life. You footsteps are in sync with here on the grassy path.

“Are we almost there?” You ask.

She bites her lip to hold a laugh.

“Easy.” She hums lowly. “You’ll know.”

You snort. She smiles.

You both keep walking.

The path is long, a perfect clearing between densely packed cedar trees that fill the air with a fresh scent. You’re sweating your ass off even with your breathable clothes. Paige must be sopping under her flannel and tank.

“Aren’t you hot?” You pant.

“I’ve been told that.” She shrugs, before promptly yelling when you nudge her.

“I’m serious.” You frown. “It’s too hot out to be wearing layers.”

“Yeah.” She sighs, shoving her backpack off and rolling her shoulders back as she slips off the flannel. “You right.”

“See?” You stop to wait. “You’re sweaty as hell.”

“Just say you want me to lose the layers.” She scoffs, shooting you a cheeky look, which you ignore.

She slides the fabric off of her shoulders and down her arms, folding the material and shoving it into her bag. Her biceps pop against the thin white tank. Normally that would deter you, but your eye has been caught by something else.

“Paige, what the fuck.”

“What?” She asks, glancing up at you confused before following your line of vision. She peeks at her forearm.

Against the white of her skin, there’s a large, spindly gash. It’s still raw, just barely starting to scab at the corners.

“Oh.” She hums. “Yeah, that.”

The wound twists as she shoulders her backpack again. She looks at you plainly.

“Hello?” You grit your teeth. “Where’s that from?”

“Last patrol I went on.” Paige shrugs. “S’not a big deal.”

“Paige, that looks painful.” You frown, grabbing her arm. Her eyes widen in surprise, watching you intently as you inspect the wound.

“How did I not notice this?” You mumble, thinking back to when you last saw her. She had slept over at your house, worn your clothes, sat beside you on your front yard, and you hadn’t noticed.

“I didn’t notice it either.” She says, still surprised by your worry. “It only started bothering me when I went home after your place. Must’ve been the adrenaline. Or the weed.”

“You should cover this up.” You bite your lip, sucking in a breath at the thought of her leaving this uncared for.

“That was the point of the flannel.” She deadpans.

“Not what I meant.” You frown.

“It’s not a big deal!”

“Paige—“ you start, but you stop just as fast. There’s a crackle in the distance, familiar enough to make your stomach drop.

Paige stiffens, sliding her arm from your grasp to grip the pistol in her waistband without a word. You similarly grapple the knife Paige lended you for the patrol.

“Can’t use this right away.” She mutters. “If there’s a lot of em then the noise will attract them to us.”

“You don’t have a silencer?”

“It does a shit job.”

You nod tightly, eyes trained ahead. You can hear them clearer now, up ahead. There must be a few.

“Keep walking.” Paige hushes.

You raise a brow in question.

“We have to go that way. The camp is just up ahead.” She adds.

Carefully, you follow her lead. The trees don’t lower in density, bright green leaves at every turn, but you see it the closer you get. Dark wooden logs, stacked against each other. Old windows, pointed roof.

Two clickers on the front lawn.

“Ready!” She calls out to you, but they’re already running, jaws slung open, saliva flying from their rotten lips.

One reaches Paige first, growling as it lunges for her. You try your best to stab it, but the other knocks you off your feet, straight to the grassy floor.

“Fuck!” You groan, scrambling to get up before it mounts you. You hear a similar struggle close by, the sound of grass under Paige’s body as she grunts against the infected. It’s on top of her, mouth open, ready to bite.

You’re torn back to your own fight in an instant. The clicker flies at you mouth first, teeth bared scarily close.

You swing with all your might, slashing its neck and splattering blood all over you in the process. You try your best to keep your mouth closed despite your staggering breathing.

A little ways beside you, Paige flips atop the clicker, slapping its face with the barrel of her gun. Its jaw cracks on impact, the noise echoing through the woods.

There’s another click as she points the gun to the flailing creatures temple, safety off, eyes wild, lips spitting stray hairs out of her mouth,

You run over frantically before her finger can pull the trigger, stabbing the clicker in the heart. The blade makes a squelching noise as it pierces through the rotting flesh. It stops fighting in an instant, reduced to faint twitches and groans.

Paige loosens, exhaling through her mouth with relief as she lowers her armed hand. She blows a strand of blonde away from her face.

“I had that.” She mutters.

“Would’ve attracted god-knows-what else with the noise.” You mutter. “Fuck, look at your arm!”

She glances down at the arm that holds the gun. The long, scabbing wound from before has reopened from the fight, and deep red blood trickles down her elbow.

“It’s fine.” She scoffs, eyeing you up and down. “You look worse than I do.”

“Aren’t you gonna ask if it bit me?” You raise a brow, glancing down at your bloody state. You can feel it on you, covering at least half of your face and neck, drenching your shirt.

“I know it didn’t.” Paige sighs, getting off of the clicker. “I watched you.”

Your stomach dips a little at the comment, at how simply she says it. You say nothing, opting to stare at your surrounds instead.

“I’m gonna patch you up.” You say.

“I can do it.” She snorts. “You need a shower. C’mon, let’s head in.”

“Is that it?” You ask.

“If there were more, they would’ve heard us by now.” Paige mutters, stepping forward towards the camp.

You can see it clearer now without the distractions. It’s big, and beautiful. Deep, rich wood. Wraparound porch. Old, sun-stained windows. Nothing like what you had in mind for a camp.

“C’mon!” Paige calls out, and you realize she’s waiting by the front door.

Wordlessly, you hurry after her.

THE CAMP IS like something out of a story book, fully furnished, lights yellowed but working, water running and warm.

Most of all, the place is clean.

You’d expected a crime scene. The place was guarded by clickers after all, and you know these camps were checkpoints of safe houses for travellers or people on patrol who may need to hide out. You figured there may be a mess, some sign of struggle or injury, maybe.

But no, there’s nothing. The floors are clean. There’s no garbage around. No gauze, used and strewn. Not a chair out of place at the table.

Paige speaks first.

“This is so weird.” She mutters, mostly to herself, as she steps into the house. The wooden floors creak under her feet. “Huh.” She says as she surveys the place the same way you did.

“It’s really nice.’ You breathe. “Like nobody has been here.”

‘I’ve never done maintenance on a safe house where there wasn’t a mess.” Paige swallows. You follow her into the house, gawking at the sheer beauty of the place.

You let you finger trail on the kitchen counter as you pass it. Not even a spec of dust comes up.

Paige’s backpack falls limply to the ground as she steps past the beautiful, long, wooden dinner table, and begins to step downstairs.

“Wait here.” She says. “Gonna see if this place needs a restock.”

You nod, watching her disappear down the staircase. When she leaves, you take the chance to turn around and take in the place. The windows are huge, one is almost floor to ceiling with a sliding door that leads to a massive, wooden balcony.

“Whoa.” You whisper to yourself, approaching the glass carefully.

Just past the porch is another staircase that leads to a dock. And the dock leads to a small, but beautiful lake.

This camp is a lake house.

“What the fuck!” You hear from downstairs, and you immediately jump in surprise.

“Paige?” You call out.

She comes running up in a split second, brows furrowed.

“This place is fully fucking stocked!” She huffs with exasperation.

“Really?”

“Yes!” She groans. “What a fuckin’ waste.”

“You sure this place is a safe house?” You cut in, glancing back outside.

She starts to say something else, but softens at your expression. Carefully, she steps to stand beside you in front of the window.

“It’s nice, right?”

“Too nice.” You mumble. “You guys made this?”

She just shakes her head. “Not this one, no. This place existed before Jackson. Before the infected did, too.”

“Really?” Your eyes widen.

“Yeah.” She hums. “Geno said it was a vacation house.”

“Vacation.” You snort, glancing between Paige and the lake. “Forgot people back then could do stuff like that.”

“Well, people who stay here can too.” Paige grins, holding your eye.

You bite your lip in thought. She stares at you, and then your clothes.

“You got another shirt to wear?” She winces. “There might be clothes here if not.”

“I brought stuff.” You mumble, cowering slightly from her gaze. “Should I wash off..or do you…your arm. Let me—“

“Go.” She laughs, pushing you slightly. “You can clean me off after, since you’re so desperate. Just—wash off first.”

“Okay.” You frown. “Where do I..”

“Right, you haven’t been here before,” she snorts, “down that hall, door on the left.”

You send her a grateful nod, shouldering your backpack down the dim-lit hall and through the left door. The bathroom is unlike one you’ve ever seen. The light crackles on with some effort, but the water from the shower runs warm. The bathroom fills with a slight fog as you peel your bloody clothes off of you, thankful that your jeans and undergarments stayed un-stained.

You step into the hot shower, sighing in relief as the water hits your skin and rinses off the blood and sweat. You’re still a little self conscious—the shower is only blocked off by clear glass, but it’s soon covered by fog. It’s not like Paige would come in anyways.

By the time you’re finished, you feel much better. You step out of the shower and towel yourself dry, before stepping toward the sink.

You swipe at the mirror to clear some of the condensation, peering at your face, your damp hair and skin, every blemish and pore. It’s the weirdest thing, that you suddenly feel the need to look nice. To look clean.

Those things never mattered before, you didn’t have time for it to matter. Somewhere between your banishment from your old camp, and your introduction to Jackson, that had changed.

And here you were, leisurely taking hot showers in a lake house, taking your time in the mornings, and wearing lace underwear.

And feeling warm at the attention that all of those things attract.

You feel your face getting hot like a little kid. Shaking the thought off, you shimmy yourself into fresh clothes and leave the bathroom.

As you walk to the living room, you see Paige crouched behind the kitchen counter. She stands up at the noise of your feet on the floorboards, her skin flushed red and her hair wet, soaking through her white tank.

“You took a shower too?” You ask, tossing your backpack as you sit on the counter.

“Yeah.” she says, eyes darting from your thighs spread on the kitchen counter to your face. “There’s two washrooms.”

You scoff. “This is insane.”

“If anyone asks, we had to hide out for the night.” Paige grins, kneeling back down to reach the cabinets under the counter.

You watch as she takes things from her backpack—gauze, disinfectant, sutures, bandages—and packs them neatly into first aid kids before storing them in the cabinets.

“They’re all stocked on food.” Paige grumbles from beneath you. “But a little low on this shit.”

“Good we came then.” You shrug.

“Nah.” She hums. “Would’ve been fine without the restock to be honest. No clue what Nika was on.”

“Nika?” You tune in, brain snagging on her name. “What about her?”

Paige glances up at you for a moment. From her stance on the ground, her eyes look so wide, peering at you like you’ve never seen before. She glances back at her hands before you can compute it.

“She told Geno that she passed by the place when she last went on patrol, and that it was a total mess.” Paige snorts. “Got him to put me on it. She even said it was so bad that I’d need help.”

You almost blanch at the statement. Nika, that sneaky little shit. She’d been egging on something between you and Paige, and here she was interfering in any way she could.

“Right.” Is all you say. Paige glances up at you again, curiously, before her hand grasps your calf.

“Uh—“

“Scooch.” She says, lifting your dangling leg so she can slide under. She’s still working at the cabinets, but now she’s between your legs under the counter.

You almost choke on your breath. She doesn’t even look up.

Your heart beats a little harder, you can feel it in your fingertips.

“Almost done.” She mumbles. “Then we can relax. You know, you don’t even need a vacation. You braid hair everyday.”

“Oh, shut up.” You squeak out, trying to get ahold of yourself. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“I was hoping to get your adrenaline going, you know.” She smirks. “I thought a little action might be a good introduction to patrol.”

“I’m fine with this too.” You say, a little too low, too sultry. She just smiles.

“Is it, though?” Paige says. “You’re an adrenaline junkie. Nothing’s had your heart racing since you got to Jackson.”

“Not true.” You shoot back. She looks up at this, one brow raised, lips parted. Daring you to say something that toes the line.

“Oh yeah?”

“We just had a fight outside.” You shrug. “That got my heart racing.”

She drops her gaze, shaking her head with a grin, knowing you got her. “That was nothing.”

“Yeah, could’ve been better.” You nod.

Without warning, she rises up to her full height between your legs.

“All done.” She smiles.

“Mhm…” you trail off. “Uhm, your arm.”

“Oh yeah.” Paige says, holding out her arm. “I showered, so that washed the mess away.”

“Pass me one of those kits.”

She grabs one from below and hands it to you. You grab the disinfectant spray and bandages, taking her arm with your hand.

“This might sting.” You smile. She just nods, eyes not even on your hands, but rather your face. Your lips.

You ignore it, spraying the alcohol, biting your lip as she winces. Her other hand leaves her side and grips your thigh—briefly—before finding the counter edge and opting for that instead.

“Sorry.” She bites out.

“S’fine.” You choke, dabbing the excess disinfectant before starting with the bandages. Still grasping her arm, you carefully wrap the bandage around the wound before safety pinning it securely.

Every time you glance at her, she’s already looking at you.

“Done.” You whisper, letting go of her.

She looks at her arm, then you again.

“Thank you.” Paige says.

She stays between your legs for a moment, and you feel your chest heave. Breathing seems harder, heavier, when she’s close like this.

She finally steps back.

“I’m gonna sit outside before it gets too dark.” She mutters, blue eyes barely dancing around you. “Are you…gonna…”

“Yeah.” You tut, a little too fast, “I’ll be there.”

“Cool.” She grunts.

You just try and relax before you embarrass yourself.

EVENING IS FINALLY SETTLING by the time you make it out. It took a lot of mental strength and effort, honestly. You were a little shaken after the debacle in the kitchen.

But weirdly enough, it felt wrong to leave her outside alone. And the view from the house’s dock is magical.

The sun begins to set on the water, docile and only rippling when the odd fish swims too close to the top. Orange and pink paints the sky, dark blue just chasing after it. May flies hoard random spots in the sky. Bull frogs croak from the cattails near the edges of the lake.

She doesn’t turn to look at you when you sit next to her on the dock, legs dangling just short of the water.

“Fuck, it’s not out here.” You groan.

“Thought you weren’t gonna come.” Paige hums.

“I wasn’t.” You shrug. “Changed my mind though.”

She sneaks a look at you, then. At your face, and at your hands which hold your plastic baggy of joints and a lighter.

“You gonna smoke?”

“I dunno.” You say. “I will if you will.”

Paige takes a deep breath in, and you see the cogs turn in her head before she says. “Nah. I won’t.”

You’re a little taken aback, stung, even, at the rejection.

“You going sober on me?” You half laugh, poorly disguising your surprise.

“No.” She chuckles dryly. “I just feel like we always high when we’re talking seriously.”

“And you wanna see if it holds when we’re not?” You finish her thought.

“Just curious.” She mutters, but you know this is more serious than she’s letting on.

After a moment of silence, you toss the lighter and baggy behind you, further up the dock.

“Fine by me.” You shrug. “That was my stash for when I can’t sleep, anyways.”

She doesn’t respond, and you don’t keep talking. Silence fills the air, but it’s not thick or uncomfortable. It’s careful. You watch the water. She pretends to.

Finally, she decides to break. “How’s your leg?”

“My leg?”

“Your calf.” She nods. “Remember? You got cut?”

“Oh.” You nod, swallowing at the memory. “Yeah. When we met.”

You bring one leg up, touching the obvious valley of skin that scars you. Paige’s eyes follow those movements.

“It’s good.” You nod. “Much better, after I got help in Jackson. Just left a nasty mark.”

“Does that bother you?” She asks.

“I dunno. It’s not my worst scar. Just my most recent.”

She nods, glancing at her arm. “I guess this one’ll scar pretty bad too.”

“Only if you keep opening it up.” You scoff.

Paige smiles slightly.

“Do the scars bother you?” You ask.

“No.” She hums. “Everyone’s got ‘em. Sometimes it’s the way you get them that hurts more.”

“Don’t I know it.” You scoff.

She pauses at that, looking at you.

“Can I ask you something?” She asks.

“You already are.”

“About…how things were before Jackson.” Paige mumbles.

You look at her, heart dipping at how careful she’s being.

“Okay.” You nod.

“How did you…” she swallows, “how did it find you? Were you born into it?”

“No.” You shrug. “Basic story, honestly. I dunno where my dad’s at, my mom n’ me were alone. She owed someone a big favour, ended up paying it off to that community. Eventually she couldn’t keep up with the work. When she died I was collateral. They took me in, and I started where she left off.”

Paige nods tightly.

“My turn.” You blink. “Were you always in Jackson?”

She shakes her head. “Most of my life, yeah. I was born in Minnesota, actually. My mom and I lived there for a while in this commune, but she heard from a friend of a friend that there was an actual functioning city in Wyoming.”

“Big trip.”

“Oh, yeah.” She laughs. “Lost mom along the way. Met Azzi. We made it together.”

“Cute.” You mumble.

“Cute?” She raises a brow.

“Fuck.” You straighten. “Not—not your mom…I’m sorry about that. I meant the Azzi part…sorry.”

She laughs. “It’s fine, I know.” Her knee nudges yours, and doesn’t move back. Your legs immediately cover in goosebumps.

“So…Azzi.” You swallow.

“What about her?” Paige snorts.

“I dunno. She’s your only ex. It’s still shocking to me that you only have one, I guess.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why.” Paige frowns. “Let’s not talk about this.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” She shrugs. “Just…no point in thinking about the past.”

“Yeah.” You nod.

It’s quiet again. You curse yourself for the word vomit.

“On the topic of future,” Paige goes on, “what’d you see for yourself in a Jackson?”

You scoff. “No idea. I’ve been on survival mode for so long, it’s weird to imagine the future at all.”

Paige nods. “Yeah, lots of people are like that.”

“You’re not?”

“I try not to.” She shrugs. “But I dunno what the future holds, so we’ll see.”

“What do you imagine for yourself?” You ask.

“If all goes well, I’ll take over running the place when Geno and Dawn are gone. I’ll be away a lot, though. Expanding Jackson, making it bigger. And I’ll get married in the old theatre.”

“Married?” You gape.

“We have weddings all the time in Jackson.” Paige smiles.

“Wow.” You blink. “I totally forgot that was something…people did.”

Paige turns to you now, mouth agape. “You’re telling me nobody was together at your camp?”

“Well—people were together.” You snort. “But married? Like, exchanging rings and/or had a celebration married? Hell no. I mean, everyone our age barely even dated.”

“The fuck does that mean.” Paige gawks.

“Like…most of the younger ones. Like, our age, weren’t really committing to shit.”

“So you just…hooked up with whoever?”

“Yeah, basically.” You shrug. “I mean, most of us had favourites. But nobody was exclusive.”

“That is the weirdest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.” Paige’s eyes screw together. She’s truly confused by this. You realize she must be the insanely loyal type.

“Is it?”

“Yeah?” She huffs. “Like…why?”

“Some thing that I just talked about…not thinking of the future.” You mutter, a little embarrassed now. “I guess…none of us really expected to live as long as we were. Every assignment was like a chance, you know? Everyone just wanted to take shit out on each other, live through each other.”

“Well.” Paige swallows. She’s really trying to understand for you. “Was it…fun? At least?”

“No.”

“No?”

You smile at her sadly. “No. It was toxic. Competitive. Aggressive, most of the time. Fucking was supposed to be an escape, but it ended up being an outlet, and then another way for us to hurt each other. Physically and mentally.”

Paige’s eyes are as wide as saucers.

“Like…there were certain people you knew to stay away from.” You huff. “The…violent ones. Everything else was like a game, you know? The person you’re hooking up with is doing it to hurt the last person, and you’re doing it to forget the next person. Or to forget you almost died the day before. Or to feel like you’re still in control.”

“Nobody fucked for love?” Paige mumbles.

“I’m sure people did.” You sigh, playing with your hands. “But I don’t think it ever lasted long.”

Paige opens her mouth then closes it.

“What?” You ask.

“I just…” she stutters, “did you?”

“Fuck for love?” You raise a brow.

“Love anyone.” She says. “In general.”

“I don’t know.” You say honestly. “Really, I don’t know.”

Paige searches your face, taking in your body language, the way you talk about it all like it’s nothing. She looks sad, so sad.

“It’s fine.” You wave her off. “Things are different in Jackson. I dunno if I’ll ever get married, but it’s nice to know people do.”

“Why wouldn’t you get married?” Paige asks.

You bite your lip. The answer is stuck in your throat, itching like a virus that burns your airways.

“I dunno.” You choke out. “I dunno if I’m…like…”

Ready? Able? Deserving? Easy?

“You’re a lot easier to love than you think.” Paige interrupts.

Now it’s your turn to gape.

“Sorry—“ she looks away from you. “Just…the shit you’re used to is so fucked up. You…love isn’t supposed to be impossible. Hard, yeah. But everyone deserves it.”

Your heart is hammering, and your throat honestly goes dry at her words.

“You deserve it.” Paige urges. Her hand is so close to yours on the dock. Too close. Not close enough.

“I hope so.” Is all you can mutter.

Her eyes meet you again, soft as a feather.

“I think you’re easy to love too.” You offer.

She scoffs. “I’m not.”

“Really?”

“I’ve got problems.” Paige snorts.

“Shit, Paige, everyone does.” You laugh in return.

“Really, though.” She says seriously. “I wanna be with someone for the rest of my life. But I dunno if anyone can handle me.”

“What is there to handle? You raise a brow.

She stalls for a moment. You let her consider.

The sky is darker now, blue against the deep water. Stars begin to speckle the sky.

“I’m…” Paige begins. “Everyone sees me one way. I see myself another way.”

You nod, giving her time to elaborate. Whatever it is she’s about to say, you have a feeling it’s what you’ve noticed all along.

“I just feel like—“ Paige groans, hands covering her face briefly, “fucking crazy sometimes. Like I’m about to break. It’s why I’m always on patrol.”

She rubs her eyes harshly, unable to meet your gaze. “Everyone thinks I’m some fucking hero because I’m always out, killing infected, bringing supplies, running errands for anyone who asks. But it’s more selfish than that. I’m just a coward, I leave because my head goes quiet when I’m away from it all. And then people just expect more.”

You can see how this has been weighing on her, you see it in the way her eyes squint and her brows furrow, how her lips quiver but her eyes don’t well with tears.

“I feel like a fraud, you know?” She laughs shakily. “I leave when things get tough, and everyone calls me a hero. Raises their drinks to me. Talks me up.”

“You think nobody will love you because of that?” You ask.

“I think nobody knows me because of that.” She urges. “And you can’t love someone you don’t know.”

“And you can’t tell anyone? You can’t say what you just told me?” You continue.

“I don’t know.” Paige says honestly, meeting your eye. “I don’t know. I don’t know why it’s easier with you, either. It just is. Shit spills out of me, weed or no weed. It’s pathetic, honestly.”

“I don’t think you’re pathetic at all.” You frown. “And you’re certainly not a coward.”

“Don’t lie.” She scoffs. “You noticed it before I even said it.”

“I noticed how accommodating you are.” You frown, leaning closer towards her, legs bumping hers.

“I noticed how much you cared for a total stranger with a chopped leg and a shitty attitude. I noticed how much you noticed me. How much you thought about me. How much effort you put into everything.”

“You hated me for it.” Paige scoffs.

“I hated being cared about.” You correct her. “And you understand now, why I felt that way. Why it felt wrong to me. But somewhere along the way I realized if it was coming from you, it was real.”

You hold her stare, those bullet-blue eyes against yours.

“Was all of that because of pressure?” You ask. “Or was it because it’s who you are?”

“Okay.” Paige whispers. “Quit talkin’ me up.”

“I don’t do that.” You smile. “I just tell the truth.”

“Don’t I know it.” She grins, and you smile back, heart skipping a beat.

“I mean it.” You nod.

“Mhm.” She mumbles. “You know, I really hate how I end up spilling my guts to you every time we’re alone.”

“Yeah, well. I hate how you always try. Even when I act like I don’t want you to.”

“You make it obvious.” Paige smirks.

“Make what obvious?” You hum, feigning obliviousness.

Her eyes part from yours and steer towards your lips again. You find yourself doing the same, glancing at the white of her teeth between her parted mouth. Soft, pink lips, slightly chapped, plumped from the dryness. Her tongue slips out to wet them, as if she can read your mind.

She’s too close for comfort. Somewhere between the staring she leans forward, slowly, like she’s afraid of what you’ll do. You don’t do anything. You let it happen.

Her pinky grazes over yours: careful, curious, soft.

Your nose brushes against hers. She tilts her head slightly.

Her blonde hair grazes your cheek. Paige’s blue eyes disappear, fluttering shut between closed lids.

The moment your mouth does so much as graze hers, your stomach drops. You pull away in an instant, and her eyes fly open.

“I’m exhausted.” You say shakily, getting up from the dock. “Can we sleep?”

Paige swallows, and you see her disappointment simmer in her expression.

“Yeah.” She coughs out. “Yeah, you go ahead. I’ll be right there.”

Your heart dips, unsurprised but hurt nonetheless. You simply nod, grabbing your stuff and walking up the dock towards the house.

Paige turns back to the water.

THE BEDROOM IS huge, wooden floor to ceiling, old windows covered by ugly curtains. You watch Paige’s back from the glass, before shutting them and darkening the room.

You didn’t see another bedroom upstairs, just one. The bed is kingsized, enough room for two people. It’ll have to do. You just hope you’re asleep before she gets here.

You shakily get under the covers, curling up into a ball on the left side of the bed, back to the door, face in your hands.

You don’t know why it’s so hard, why after all the conversation, you just can’t allow yourself to let go any more than you already have. You will yourself not to cry into your pillow.

Instead you lie awake for what feels like hours. After a while you assume she’s found somewhere else to sleep. The thought makes you feel even worse.

And then you hear footsteps behind the bedroom door. And the shadows they make against the crack of light.

You quickly turn away from the door. It creaks open a moment later, and you hear her steps come closer.

There’s a shuffle, a sigh. Then a dip in the bed, on the right side. A good distance from you.

You hear her breathing. It’s uneven. Off beat to yours.

It doesn’t slow in the minutes that pass. She’s just as awake as you are.

You inhale, exhale, will yourself to be okay.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble against the pillow. You feel her stiffen on her side of the bed.

“You don’t have to be.” Paige croaks, just as quiet. “I shouldn’t have…especially after what we talked about…it just…I was being selfish again.”

“It’s okay.” You whisper.

“Okay.” She mumbles.

A beat passes. Then two, then three, there’s no noise except for her breathing and yours, and the sound of the house. And the cicadas outside.

“Can I be selfish too?” You whisper softly.

Paige shifts, sitting up a little.

“Can you…” you start shakily. “Uhm…”

Paige doesn’t say a word. She just knows, exactly the way you were afraid of all this time. Wordlessly, she shifts over to your side of the bed.

You feel her knees behind yours, her head on your pillow, her arm carefully resting over your body. Her warmth stretching over yours.

Eventually, you fall asleep.

You hope she does too.

next chap - here

tagsˏˋ°•*⁀➷

@juumecca @cowboybueckers @sweetbcgs @rishofkf @yailtsv @bueckers2fudd @syraxsbigfanfr @azziswrld @hellokittyfeenie @lively-blues @surferandskater5

[rhadamanthes]

Private show. JeanxreaderxEren

word count : 4,7k

warnings : modern au, arranged marriage but reader still has a boyfriend on the side, jealousy, boys kissing, lots of praises and pet names, handjob, cum eating oral sex fem receiving, fingering, squirting, slight overstimulation, double penetration same hole, nipple play, after care, non protected sex.

author's note : had this fic on my mind for a while now i have a full lore for it, not very detailed here but maybe i'll write more, it's my first time wrting smut in a while so a threesome was not really a smart choice but i'm kind of proud with how it turned out let me know what you think about it and enjoy!

Part 2

There is no place like home you think, as you finally inhale the familiar scent of incense in your apartment.

Not that the honeymoon was bad but you wished it was with someone you actually loved.

"Eren! No airport clothes on the couch, are you crazy ?" you squeak ushering him to stand up

"You know for someone who's not my real wife you sure do nag me like one"

"Very funny just go clean yourself up then you can sprawl all you want, anywhere you want "

His answer is drowned by the ringing of the door bell. Who could that even be when you landed just a few hours ago. Exchanging a look with Eren you plead him to take care of it. As the good husband he is, he makes his way to the entrance mumbling in the process of course what you can only imagine is curse on your name.

The ajar door  reveals the man you wished you were married to, the man you wished  you had spent the last two weeks with... Jean. You heart start beating faster at the sight of him and you rush to the door, trapping him in a tight hug

"Ew just let me get out the way at least" Eren protest but it doesn't matter you are finally reunited with Jean you missed his scent and the way his body feels against yours,

"Hi baby" you smile, giving him a quick peck. He smiles back, hiding his face in your neck, inhaling deeply.

"Jean ! I haven't showered yet!"

"Who cares?" he groans, pressing harder in your skin. You giggle at the muffled sound of his voice.

"Anyways, I got something for you, come on in" you turn making your way to the luggage you left near the couch. You only notice now that Eren left the room, in the distance you can hear the water running good, 

"A gift from your honeymoon just for me ? That is way to kind"

You shake your head not even bothering to look back at him. 

"I brought gifts for everyone. I'm just cool like that, you know ?" 

You tap the floor next to you inviting him to sit and help you find the package in the mess that are your multiple suitcases.

At the same time Eren re enters the living room a towel around his waist as he dries his wet hair with a smaller one.

"Your gift for ponyboy is in my suitcase, remember how you bought so much it wouldn't fit anymore ?" he chuckles sitting on your other side, working down the zip of the said suitcase,

Both of you exchange a look at the first item displayed, one of his shirts is rolled up in a very distinct wine glass shape. 

Upon your first night of the trip you went to a restaurant, finding yourself obsessed with the glasses they used for the drinks : cut in the form of a seashell . Eren went to the staff  asking if you could bring a pair back to the hotel as a newlyweds gift; it didn't work but they agreed on giving you one single piece in exchange for a couple bills. You laugh at the memory and so does he.

From his spot Jean feels nothing but pure jealousy, of course he knows this is not a love marriage. Both your dad's made an agreement for an arranged marriage showing an united front as their companies are going through a crisis. 

But still, seeing you laugh with another man, exchanging knowing looks and private jokes makes his eyebrow knit a bit. There is nothing funny about a shirt in a suitcase. You're wearing another man last name for god's sake. Mrs Yeager-Smith enough to make him barf. On top of that the bastard is shaped like a god.

If anything Jean wishes this wedding could be over in a few months and not a year like your father mentioned. A wave of relief hits Jean as your husband leaves, announcing he'll be napping for the rest of the day. 

You dig a little velvet box from the suitcase, giving it to Jean with a shy smile. The content reveals a gold ring with your initials engraved on the inner part.

"I figured you might as well have one" you laugh, second thinking about the choice of your gift.

Jean's lips crashes into yours in a deep kiss, ushering you closer.

"I love it, thank you" he murmurs after breaking the kiss.

You caress the stubble on his chin, eyes locked with his. "I love you."

A warm sensation spreads through his chest.

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

A few weeks have passed since you got back from your honeymoon. Your life came back to normal, well almost. You jungle between your public relationship and the private one, it is hard at times, you wish you could hold Jean hand whenever you want, not second guess every one of your actions. Part of your consolation is that you get to see your friends all you want. 

Right now, you are at practice with Annie, the two of you go back to kindergarten. You've been doing ballet with her ever since. Needless to say she's not happy with your current condition, you haven't stretched the whole time you were travelling, you're a bit stiff and it shows.

"I can't believe you had all this free time and didn't even take advantage of it" she exclaims, pushing your leg deeper on the wooden bar.

"It was a honeymoon Annie not a bootcamp" you wince, muscle crying under her assault. 

"Yeah yeah  I know, a very romantic trip"

You're about to snap back at her when you hear your boyfriend's voice coming from the netrane of the room.

"My savior" you dramatically says rushing to meet him in a hug.  "You came at the right time, she was about to kill me."

Annie shakes her head left to right, greeting Jean with a wave of her hand. 

"Just come earlier on monday and tuesday we will stretch together you should come to normal quick."

"Okay boss I'll do that, Bertholdt not here yet ? Want us to drop you off ?" 

"He'll be there in five he made a detour for Reiner"

"What a gentleman picking up his boyfriend and girlfriend" you feel Jean's shoulder shake with laughter next to you and you can't help but follow him. 

Annie is giving you a death stare, you wrap your arm around Jean'susing him as a human shield. "Well we better be on our way see you " blowing kisses her way tou rush to the elevator. 

The ride back to your place goes smoothly, you tell Jean about practice and the gossip Annie filled you in with while you were away. Soon enough you find yourself walking to your doorstep. In the distance you can see Eren sitting on the floor. 

"Forgot your keys again ?" you extend your hand for him to stand up. 

"Yeah we really need to give the concierge a spare." you laugh, the three of you entering the duplex. Eren hand on the small of your back.

You and Jean are in the kitchen, cooking up a meal for tonight he's been quiet ever since you guys got back. 

"You know the honeymoon really got me to know Eren better, I think you two would get along well" 

"Why would I want to befriend your husband ?" His tone is harsh.

"Come on Jean, it'll make everyone's life easier and you're bond to see him anyway"

"What do you propose ? me and him flying out to the Maldives ? "

"Hmmm I was thinking about a threesome actually" 

A beat of silence fills the room.

"You're serious ?"

"Deadly, and don't tell me you didn't think about it. I saw the way you looked at him the other day" his cheeks glow pink at your words: got him. "This could be an icebreaker and then you two go on friendly dates. What do you think" you say tracing his arms through the clothes. "Once we've seen each other naked we won't have a lot of secrets left, but if you're not down for it I'll understand"

You're treading on thin ice. Jean expressed his desire to experience new things some time ago. This seems like the perfect occasion.

"Ok, but you tell him that this is a one time thing I don't want to share you for the rest of my life"

"Roget that" you seal the deal with a kiss. 

After Jean left you went to Eren with your offer, needless to say it didn't take a lot of convincing for him to agree.

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

The day has come, Jean is sitting on the edge of the bed farther away from you and Eren. He wants this you know it, he must be uncomfortable that's all, so you take matters in your hands. Approaching him, from up close you can see a faint pink glow on his cheeks. 

 Ever the embarrassed boy.

 The thought makes you smile.

"Looks like someone here needs to relax," you whisper, running your lips horizontally on his ear. 

He's been your boyfriend for as long as you remember, you know everything about him, weak spot included.

"Come on baby don't you want to loosen up so we can have fun ?" As you speak Eren's hand starts to feel Jean hips slowly unbuckling his belt.

"Y-yeah i'll do that "  he answer lifting his hips slightly so his pant can come completely off 

"Good" Eren mumbles, as he explores Jean's penis through his boxer. You take it as a cue to intensifie the torture, sucking his lobe into your mouth.

The strained moan he lets out tell you everything you need to know. 

Jean feels like he's levitating, Eren's hands are not as delicate as yours but the roughness adds something to the  up and down motion applied on his cock. Combined to the way you're feasting on his ear he can't help but-

"God that feels good" he feels your lips curl in a smile against his skin you must enjoy that too.

"I understand why she likes torturing you so much now, you are pretty when you squirm" Eren's words add to the fuel.

"Shut up" not very convincing, his cheeks are burning now

"Gladly, I do not want to miss a pretty moan out of you Jean "

Fuck is it so obvious that he runs on praises ? All this attention gets to his head. When you first proposed the three-way he wanted the focus to be on you, there is nothing he enjoys more than pleasing you, being at your service, but he can't deny that this feels pretty good . His head falls back, closing his eyes with a deep groan. You move from his ear to his neck sucking and biting while one of your hands rolls his nipple between soft fingers. The two of you are going to kill him.

His hips start to move on their own, thrusting into Eren's hand as his release approaches. With every stroke the sensitivity increases and makes his mind go blank a little bit more. The tingling sensation rises from his balls and through the cock. 

"That's right Jean, let it all out"  And he does, spilling his seed all over Eren's hand as your saccharine voice guides him through the edge. 

Feeling Eren's hand unwrapping from his dick, Jean opens his eyes again and straightens his head. On the right time he might add, You're licking the semen off Eren's skin while staring at the long haired boy in his eyes. Eren is staring right back at you with a devilish smirk on his lips.

"Dirty girl" you snicker at his remark reducing the space between your bodies, you kiss him languorously, you want him to taste Jean, after this night is all about sharing. He's hesitant at first but soon enough his hand locks you in place by your hair, tongue invading your mouth licking all over. Spit is drooling at your chin. The whole deal feels dirty but it feels good.

The kiss is needy and full of frustrations.  It is a long awaited relief. You two never had physical contact with each other over the four months you lived under the same roof. Apart from the public apparition of course but this is nothing like the fake affection you show the tabloids.  You break the kiss scared to get lost in the way it makes you feel.

"Alright my turn" you say excitedly sitting on the edge of the bed you kick your panty off quickly, the cold air of the room hitting your cunt makes you realise how excited you already are. Eren waste no time spreading your knees to be able to sit between your legs on the floor. You turn to Jean, who looks like he is still coming down from his high, 

"Get to work" You nudge him with your foot.

"Yes ma'am" 

The two men are now on their knees between your legs. On the left Eren's head is resting on your thigh, biting softly while your flesh as he observes absently minded your pussy. Jean lifts your right leg to rest it on his shoulder, kissing it tenderly. 

"What a sight" you exclaim. "Come on, don't be shy guys, I'm all ready for you."

As the reactive dog he is, Eren dive face first in your cunt lapping at your clitoris. Jean scoffs at his behaviour.the reaction makes you laugh." What ? you're going to let him steal your food ?" the words come out strained  due to Eren's ministrations, he sure knows how to use his tongue. And fuck, he's skilled with his fingers too. They are not as long as Jean's but he is curling them at the perfect angle . Not trusting your body to hold you anymore you lean back on your forearm appreciating the spectacle from afar.

Jean has entered the dance, getting into Eren's rhythm so that your bundle of nerves is never left unattended. their eyes are boring into yours, feasting on  your every reaction. You can't take it anymore, laying completely flat on the mattress you let out a breathy moan, eyes shut in pleasure. This is what heaven must feel like. 

The new position gives them more access to your body, the slenders fingers of your boyfriend travel down to the rim of your anus. his index circling slowly the puffy flesh.

"Please" you hum, arching your back of the bed, gentle perspiration starts forming on your lower back "Please my love"

"You want it inside, doll ?" you nod your head hoping he'll get the message."There you go" he purrs against your skin. Entering your tight rim prodding at your spongy walls. As he resumes his assault on your clit.

Jean and you never went as far as anal penetration but from time to time you enjoy his finger wandering there. 

You barely control the moans you let out anymore, it all feels too good, your brain is getting mushy from all the pleasure you feel, you know your orgasm is approaching. You take a fistul of whoever hair you can ,grinding your hips against their faces.

"Guys, i'm gonna cum"  you feel beads of sweat on your forehead.

They hum against your wet cunt, the soft  vibration it gives is too much for you to handle. Electricity courses your  clitoris, spreads  through your whole body, down to your toes and fingertips in sweet, sweet relief. 

Kisses are left on your slit, fingers retriving from your holes. A lazy smile creeps on your face. The bed dips on your left a large hand pet on your forehead and the crown of your hair. "You've done good" it's Jean's voice. You open your eyes to kiss him and you realise, it's the first time you feel his lips against yours since the beginning of the night.  

Slowly, your thighs close on themselves sore to have been spread so wide for both of them to fit in between. Eren is still sitting on the ground, he places your legs over his shoulders before suctioning his lips to your clitoris. Still sensitive from your orgasm, you jolt straightening up.

"Eren!"

"Just a bit more i want her all to myself" 

You don't have enough energy to fight him so you let him do as he pleases, back colliding with the mattress. Lewd noise comes from his spot, he wasn't lying when he said he wanted it all for him, when he was sharing with Jean their tongues were flat against your mound, he is now full on slurping on it pointy tongue flicking over it. The rapid motion makes you twitch,  hips lifting off the mattress. Your nerves are on fire and you already know that you won't last long this time.

"God Eren" you moan gripping Jean's forearm for support. 

Jean's lips trace your jaw up to your temple.

"Come on princess on more so we can fuck you properly yeah ? "he croons searching for your eyes, you nod your head absent mindly. You need to be stuffed soon or you'll go crazy The thought of having their cocks inside of you makes you whine out loud. "You're making me hard again baby"

"I am? "Taking your right hand Jean makes you feel his erected cock. "Jean I need it" your eyes start to tear up in frustration.

"I know love, just a bit more i'm ready for you" he englobe your hand, making you squeeze his penis lightly. 

The sweet talk makes you want to grant his wish, he's been sex deprived for a while now, between the honeymoon and your new life, you two haven't had the time to see each other as much as you usually do. You call his name, feeling a new orgasm approaching. 

Eren must feel it too, encasing his face deeper in your cunt. Your eyes close shut and the familiar sensation runs through your veins. the knot in your belly snaps once more tonight, legs thrashing around your tormentor's head. The saccade moans coming out of your mouth makes you sound like a broken record. 

"Good job baby, good girl" Jean praises, as you feel eren collecting the arousal that has been leaking down your inner thigh the loud slurping noise coming from him gives you no doubt on what he did with it. 

"I think she's ready now" you can hear the smile in his voice, you open your eyes, drowsy from your second orgasm of the night. Eren is standing on his feet licking at the remnant of your cum on his digits. You kick him playfully, what an arrogant bastard he is. Eyes roaming down his figure, you notice the tent in his pants, god, it must be painful for him, you and Jean came at least once but not him, you feel bad. 

"Come here Eren" you straighten back up tapping the empty side of the mattress, he obliges.

Fishing down his pant you start to stroke his cock slowly but he grabs your wrist

" I want to cum inside of you not in my pants like a teeanger"  taking his word in action he positions himself in the middle of the bed, head resting on your silk pillow. A sigh of relief escaping his lips. "Mind if I take the spot from under Jean ? I want to see your girlfriend tits bounce in my face"

"Suit yourself, I can have this view all I want"  you scoff at their childish bickering. Turning around, you extend your arm in front of you to stretch your back in a cat like manner before crawling to straddle Eren's legs. 

"I hope you're not only about barking, I'm very needy tonight" you taunt getting rid of his pants, his cock spring free taping against his lower abs. 

"Is it to your liking my pretty wife ?" He takes it in his hand, rubbing it along your belly. At the same time you feel Jean positioning himself behind you, his warmth seeping into your skin.

"Hm not bad " you say, running a finger on his already wet tip "What do you think Jean ?" 

"I've seen better" you giggle, grabbing his chin to steal a quick kiss. Jean pushes your back slowly, until you're flat against Eren's chest. "Now let's have some fun."

Jean rubs his cock against your entrance, you put your hands on Eren's shoulder in anticipation. You feel the familiar stretch of Jean's dick inside your pussy and  let a relieved sigh.

"Lift your hips for me baby hm ?" you do as you're told knowing what is about to come..

Jean grabs Eren cock by the base, running it down your slit until he finds his own cock, pushing against it. Your jaw goes slack at the pressure you feel, nails digging in eren's skin.

"Look at me, baby you can take it" Eren pets your hair to get your attention, locking your eyes with his, you nod, digging deeper in his shoulders. 

 You feel every inch of his dick filling you up and gasp once it is fully inside of you.

"Good girl" he plants a kiss on your forehead 

"You're feeling alright ? " Jean asks hugging your mid section to get you closer to him again 

"Hmm I don't remember ever been this stretched before but... it kind of feel nice" you giggle 

"Coming from a ballerina I'm flattered," Eren laughs, caressing your thigh in a soothing manner.

Both you and Jean huff at his remark. The moment you have waited all night is here you start to rock your hips back and forth in search of an easing feeling. Soon enough you find your pace, and pleasure in the process as wetness produces salacious squelching sounds against their skin. Eren hands are clenched around your hips now, calling your name in soft moan. Jean is slowly thrusting into you, seating himself deeper and deeper inside of you.

Leaning down on your husband you bite his jaw.

"Come on Eren fuck me, I'm asking " you beg in the most sultry voice you can muster kissing his lips softly. You want, no you need to feel them ramming inside of you at the same time. 

He opens his mouth and closes it, deciding he'll show you instead of talking.You balance your weight on your knees giving him enough space to move his hips. The grip on your hips intensifies as he starts fucking his cock inside your cunt.

"Like that ?" you nod, biting your lips. The sensation is unmatched. while Eren is pumping in, Jean stops remaining inside, stretching you wide. You feel yourself losing control, hips going still. as your head falls back on Jean's shoulder, moaning out loud you leave it to them to make you feel good.  "Do you like how her pussy feels, Eren ?" he can only grunt in response, brow tight on his face."Come here" confusion can be read on his face but he nevertheless obliges.  Jean grabs the back of his head, locking him in a heated kiss. 

Fuck that's so hot, out of them two you wouldn't think that Jean would be the one to iniciate the kiss but it makes you smile. He's really getting into it, you whine being left out. Eren breaks the kiss, redirecting his attention to your neck biting and mumbling all sorts of praises, while Jean pinches your nipple. All of this care makes you feel like your brain is melting.

They start to go back and forth, Two different temperatures, two different sizes, two different rhythms sometimes simultaneously pumping.  It is the first time you acquire this feeling of fullness. 

You're a squealing mess at this point, letting them use you as they see fit. Their penises heads are grinding up against your g spot you're close to cumming but there is something else. You feel  like you need to pee.  

"W-wait I feel weird" you don't have the courage to say it out loud.

"Fuck, I knew it from when I was eating that pussy, you're gonna make a mess baby?" you hide your face in the crook of Eren's neck too ashamed to answer. "Come on doll, all over me make me yours" he starts to thrust faster, almost pistoning inside of you.

From behind Jean calls your name, hands travelling south to your clitoris applying circular motion on the abused bud "You heard him ? we'll cum with you, just make the call" his motion intensifies building up even more tension in your body then you thought was possible. Another wave of heat crashes over you. 

You cum till I'm numb like a rag doll, your warm juices squirting everywhere between your bodies, even on the mattress. The force of your orgasm makes you collapse on top of Eren, bodies crashing on the bed.

"That's my girl, I'm so proud of you" he chants peppering kisses on your lips "We're gonna come inside of you yeah I don't want you to waste a drop baby" you can only nod, feeling sleep taking you away. 

True to his word a few seconds later the two men empty themselves, coating your walls with their semen. Their breaths are heavy, Jean hovers on top of you kissing and rubbing at your sweaty back. Inches by inches Jean pulls out, laying next to your nested bodies. 

"Took it so well darling, you're the best"  a weak smile crawls on your face,  Jean lifst your body from Eren's positioning you on his lap as he covers your face in kisses.

You wish you could feel this state of bliss all the time, loved warm and totally fucked out but the sweat drying out on your body makes you feel a bit gross.

"Hm, can we go shower ?" you ask, locking your arms behind his neck. As an answer he clamps your thigh around his waist making his way to the bathroom.

"You weren't so bad yourself Jean" you hear Eren's voice trailing behind him then give Jean's bare ass a spank. Your chest shakes with laughter as Jean grumble curses in your hair.

The hot water dripping on your sore body feels like a resurrection, the three of you are standing under the ceiling faucet  taking a moment to appreciate the relaxing sound. Your trio starts to clean themselves and each other.

"Can you wash my hair ?" Eren inquiries, you nod smiling at his tired voice.

"Well you two braid each other's hair I'm going to change the sheets" Jean steals a kiss from you. He visibly hesitates to kiss Eren but he hands up slapping the back of his head. A faint groan leaves his lips.

"My poor baby come here" you giggle, starting to massage the soapy liquid on his scalp. 

Once cleaned and dried, Eren carries you back to the bedroom. Your body hit the soft mattress and the scent of lavender floods your nose, you hum in bliss. 

"Here" Jean says, offering one of his t-shirts for you to sleep in. He throws one at Eren too and you climb under the sheets, eager to fall asleep squeezed between your husband and your boyfriend. 

The room is dark and you bid them goodnight when an idea crosses your mind.

"Wait guys there is one last thing i want to try" Eren flick the light on giving you a curious look. 

"Anal ?" you roll your eyes hitting his shoulder. You lift your shirt revealing your breasts.

"Come on each of you got one" Jean laughs, happily sucking a nipple into his warm mouth, following suit, Eren does the same. You close your eyes feeling them hardening in their mouth. The tugging sensation relaxing you deeper in the mattress You could easily fall asleep like that. You really do have it all tonight.

[endwersed]

Snippet Sunday ☀

So! I'm currently working on the edits for my divorcee Derek/hot-for-older-men Stiles AU, and, whilst it unfortunately isn't as ready to post today as I had originally hoped, I do have a li'l snippet I can share until it is fully edited (fingers crossed, that'll be next weekend!) 🤗

-

“So, class,” Professor Boyd continues, “I’d like you all to meet – Mr Derek Hale.”

A man walks through the open doorway along with the introduction. Stiles’ jaw drops all the way down to the freaking floor.

What he was saying earlier, about his thing for older men? Well, this guy – this Mr Derek Hale – is every-fucking-thing that has made Stiles’ dick hard since pretty much he was old enough to know what to do with it.

Short, dark, soft-looking hair that is patched with spots of grey, his sharp jaw covered in a beard that is thick and coarse and close to being more salt than pepper. Even from where Stiles is sitting, even from this row way at the back of the room, he can still see the lines of age that show on his face, the faint wrinkles in his forehead, the creases around his pale eyes.

He is wearing a dark green sweater, tight across the strength of his broad shoulders, the fabric an expensive cashmere to Stiles’ inexperienced eye. Underneath it sits a crisp, white shirt, its starchy collar folded neatly along the line of his clavicle and a tie knotted snugly just below the prominence of his Adam’s apple. His legs are draped in the dark material of his slacks, skimming close enough to the muscle to reveal the definition of his thighs, and Stiles cannot fight back the thought that he kind of really wants to bury his face between them.

This guy is well into his forties, easily, and he is also, to put it bluntly, the middle-aged man of Stiles’ wettest fucking dreams.

There is no ring on that left hand, either. Interesting. Very, very interesting.

From her place next to him, Stiles can feel the searing heat of the side-eye that Lydia throws him the moment Derek steps into the room. If he cared even one lick about her judgement, he might be cowed into at least trying to hide the raging heart-eyes he probably has going on right about now.

Unfortunately for her, he lost any shame long, long ago – and that’s if he ever truly even had any in the first place.

She wouldn’t get it, anyway. Her taste in men has always been much more mainstream than Stiles’. Has been, barf, Scott, all the way since high school. She likes a nice boy her age, and she found that boy back when they were still stumbling their way through the awkward years of puberty. He is happy for them, of course, but that does not change the fact that his preferences have always taken him well, well beyond those years.

“Hello, everyone.”

The sound of Derek’s voice snaps every fibre of Stiles’ focus back up to the front of the class. The cadence of it isn’t as deep and as growly as his appearance might suggest, those thick eyebrows and that bushy beard, but it’s – nice. Really nice, actually. Stiles is, perhaps, more than a little bit interested in learning how it might pant and grunt and moan when a mouth is wrapped around his cock.

Pausing after just those two words, Derek slides a hand into the pocket of his pants, knuckles visible through the fabric as he rummages around. Eventually, he retrieves a long, rectangular box, flipping it open and pulling out –

Oh, fuck. Pulling out a pair of dark-framed glasses that he slips onto his face, sitting them low across the strong slope of his nose, peering over the top of them with that light, captivating gaze. Stiles thinks he may actually be fucking drooling. He dazedly ignores Lydia’s knee digging pointedly into the side of his thigh.

“Thank you for having me,” Derek carries on, both hands now tucked into his pockets. “As Professor Boyd said, my name is Derek Hale and I’m new to town. I hope you don’t all find me being here today as boring as I told your professor you definitely would.”

A light ripple of laughter filters around the class. Stiles is too entranced to join in with anything but a faint uptick at one corner of his mouth. Like anyone could find being in the presence of someone this freakishly hot boring. Stiles is growing less and less certain with each passing moment that he will even make it out of this class alive.

Stiles’ eyes are wide, his eyelashes fluttering ticklishly against the height of his cheekbones with his rapid blinks, and he leans forwards, pressing closer for more, more, as much as he can get. He rests the bend of his elbow against the solid plane of the table in front of him, his palm flat and open for him to lay his cheek against. It is the best position for gazing dreamily at the aging hunk gracing the next hour of his life, after all.

“I thought I’d start by talking about my years as an associate,” Derek says, light eyes sweeping slowly across the room. “I started with Pearson and Howe straight out of law school, and I –”

His words cut abruptly off. Quicker than a heartbeat, his entire body freezes, a visible tension in the square of his shoulders, a stunned-slack parting of his mouth as he stops, and stills, and stares out ahead of him, stares out at… something. It takes Stiles a few seconds of blinking confusion to figure out what the hell he is staring at, what the hell has made him react like some deer about to caught up in somebody’s bumper.

A grin spreads wickedly across Stiles’ mouth as soon as the realisation lands.

It’s him; it’s Stiles. He is what Derek is staring at, he is what has made Derek apparently lose control of his ability to speak, he is what has Derek gaping like a fish in front of a whole room of law students. Derek’s gaze is snagged with his and Stiles’ heart is kicking up into overdrive inside of his chest.

Lifting his face from his palm, he makes sure to hold Derek’s eye, sure and steady and still smiling stupidly. The room around him murmurs in confusion, and Professor Boyd has an eyebrow quirked that looks more amused than anything else, and Lydia is scoffing a quiet laugh beside him, but the only thing Stiles has the attention span for right now is Derek’s eyes, locked with his.

Heat pools around the flutter of his stomach. He bites his bottom lip and dares to throw out a wink. The tips of Derek’s ears burn brightly as he closes his eyes and shakes his head.

“Sorry,” Derek says, the word coming out low, a little choked, raw until the pointed clearing of his throat. “Sorry, I just, uh… I lost my train of thought there for a second. But anyway, uh – as I was saying.”

-

No pressure tags! @dear-massacre @heavensenthale @like-lazarus @myrrhhymns @renmackree

[f1nalboys]

OMG. I love the tod headcannons. Would you ever do ian sleepover headcannons?

HELLOOOO ANON sorry this has taken so long, i do apologize and i hope its fun to read!!!!

WORD COUNT: 916

WARNINGS: not proofread, weed mention, ians a perv on occassion, mostly fluff

ok number one i need a sleepover with this guy NOWWWWWW

ian refuses to call it a sleepover. you two are hanging out, chilling, that’s all. if he spends the night then thats just what happens, it totally wasn't his end goal

i truly believe ian sleeps better in anyone elses bed than he does his own not for any particular reason he just loves the feeling of being on vacation and being in a different bed counts to him fr

he comes over with nothing. like deadass the clothes on his back and maybe some weed IF UR LUCKY 

he also tends to show up ‘just for a bit’ and makes a big show about sighing at the time and being like man…. i wish i didn’t have to leave but its almost time for bed……..

like girl just ask to sleep over who cares

anyways he really hates Planned Sleepover Activities

no pillow fights, no truth or dare, no spin the bottle (this can and has been done before with him, he just has to be in the mood,) no bloody mary, etc

now, of course, if he really really really loves you, he’ll do all those things and more. he is going to COMPLAIN though. like, to the point where it’s almost unenjoyable. 

he does love a good spa day though…. you ask him to put on a fuzzy robe so you can put a face mask and cucumbers on him and he’s jumping for joy lowkey

and he lets you paint his nails and stuff and he doesnt care if its messy or bumpy or if you don’t put a top coat on it, he just loves that youre doing it for ihm

ANDDDD its the quietest he’ll be. youll look up at his face and hes staring down at you with such a sickeningly sweet love sick grin that its almost enough to make you barf and he won't say a single word until youre done

and even then he’ll just go “its great baby, thank you.” heheh

like 3 hours later he’ll go “you got a lot of nail polish on my skin, god damn.” and you’ll look over and hes very methodically picking it off of his skin lol

anyways. when hes over he just wants to chill genuinely 

ian is interested in getting chinese food or pizza, getting super fucking high, and having movies or music in the background while you guys talk

and he really only does one on one sleepovers, siblings or family excluded. if you invited another friend to sleepover at the same time hes gonna be in the corner like ugh…..sigh……eyeroll…..ugh…..what no im fine its whatever……sigh…..

ian is super handsy as is but when he gets tired hes worse

you’ll know hes ready for you two to go to sleep when hes suddenly attached to your back, arms around your waist and head in your shoulder

ian loves sleepovers that are simply for you two to get shit done

like ian has to rework an art piece? hes coming over and youre finally gonna clean your room.

he tries to sleep in his regular clothes all the time (he does it at home i fear to say) so if youre against that you HAVE to have some spare clothes for him. or let him sleep in his underwear but then he’s gonna get that dumb stupid sexy grin on his face and ask if youre trying to get him naked 

which like yes ian i am but not like that….yet

waking up with ian is great if you get up before him because hes all cuddly and sweet and murmuring in his sleep and you can just stare and admire him

if he gets up first hes waking you up but hes also fucking with you

he shakes you awake and is like BABE YOU OVERSLEPT FOR XYZ!!!!! and you jump out of bed and hes like haha got you just kidding

or he draws on your face or arms if youre a heavy sleeper and he can get away with it

AND he takes photos of you sleeping all the time on his shitty little flip phone and he never tells you about it

until like weeks later when youre hanging with him in the car eating food and he laughs and turns his phone around to show you a picture of you slumped over, mouth open, drooling.

but hes a menace

hes like well im up so i need you up to????

like god bless erin for dealing with him 

but you dont have to worry about it much, he normally sleeps in if hes able to but depending on when he went to bed, he could get up before you

and good luck trying to go back to sleep because hes hitting you with pillows and squashing you and talking until you just roll your eyes and sit up

and then hed smile and go omgggg good morning sleepyhead LIKE SHUT UP

overall, ian is a fun guy to have a sleepover with if you just want to chill, not if you want to do activities if that makes sense

but hes never going to ASK to spend the night (unless youre in the car with him about to get dropped off and hes kissing you and get handsy and THEN he’ll be like babe…. cant i just hang out :((( like sigh…. of course you can bae

[justwinginglife]

After All This Time

Have yall seen the gorgeous man that is Howl Jenkins Pendragon? I had to make it NSFW, I just had to.

Howl leads Sophie out to the balcony for yet another romantic kiss, awash in moonlight.

You think you might barf. That, or claw out your own heart. You can’t tell what’s more distracting, the acid threatening to rumble up your throat or the aching in your chest threatening to consume you whole. You almost feel guilty for just how heartbroken you feel whenever you see them together.

They’re a cute couple. Much cuter than you would ever be with him. The whole time you’d known him, he’d been searching for her. He would repeat to you the same story about how she had appeared to him, almost like in a dream, asking him to come find her. She was all he’d ever wanted, even before he’d even known her. And why wouldn’t she be? She was kind, even to you. Made your favorite foods whenever you were down, taught you how to tie bows in your hair. And yet, all you could do was despise her. You felt like shit.

But some part of you, some wretched part you’d hidden deep inside your darkness, though apparently not deep enough, felt like Howl belonged to you. He’d met her first, but only for a few seconds before she’d vanished into thin air. It hardly counted as a meeting, in your opinion. You met him soon after; you’d run away to get lost in the meadows and the mountains after your family had renounced you, and that’s when you caught sight of his raven black hair fluttering in the wind as he picked flowers without a care in the world. That was honestly probably the moment you fell in love with him, though you denied it until it was too late.

You remember you laid in the field with him for hours that day, plucking petals, talking secrets and aspirations. You didn’t care that he was some stranger you’d just met, you were a kid, and he was your savior. He offered you a home and you offered him your life, said you’d help him find the girl he was searching for. Really, you would’ve done anything just to stay by his side.

Your most comfortable nights were when he snuggled in bed beside you, keeping your nightmares at bay with his sweet words and intoxicating scent. He’d read you stories to pass the time, and you’d fall asleep in his arms, listening to the familiar rumble of his voice in his chest as you snuggled up against it. Sometimes he’d tell you stories about his own life. Your favorite one was the day he met you. You’d beg him to tell you that story over and over, and though he’d laugh and tease you because you already knew the story having lived it, he’d cave in and humor you anyway, each and every time, without fail. He could never resist you (though sometimes he tried, because he thought it was cute when you pouted.) When he’d finally start telling the story, you’d smile the biggest smile and he’d wonder why he ever stalled in the first place, when he had such a sight to look forward to. Sometimes he’d change up details of the story just to make you laugh, say you flew in on a spaceship, say he was 10 feet tall the day you’d met. It wasn’t hard to make you laugh. Howl loved your laugh and you loved to make him happy. You gave every part of yourself freely.

You weren’t always the best influence on him, but you were his perfect match. One weekend, the two of you didn’t have enough money for food, so he stole a loaf of bread from a merchant he hated. When he sheepishly admitted his crime to you, ready to defend himself with his growling stomach as hard evidence, you smirked and uncovered a basket full of pastries you’d stolen from the same baker. He laughed so hard he fell into the fireplace and you had to rinse ashes from his hair. The two of you toasted your loaves of bread and munched on them together, giggling and nudging each other the rest of the night.

The “partner in crime” act continued when you decided to pursue magic together. You almost got yourselves kicked out of your training because the two of you would play pranks on the rest of the class. Sometimes they were justified and sometimes they were not, but they were fun either way. One time, a bully jeered at Howl’s jet black hair and you turned him into a worm. Unfortunately, that was also the day Howl had started to dye his hair blonde, though he claimed it was unrelated. You made every effort to tell him you adored the way he looked before, and it broke your heart that he wouldn’t listen. He’d say you were just like his sister and it was your job to lie to him and tell him he looked good. You didn’t have the guts to tell him that you’d always loved the way he looked, that you’d always loved him. You didn’t have the guts to beg him to see you as something different, to beg him to see you as something more.

When your first Christmas with him started quickly approaching, you used the only skills at your disposal to make him a pink coat with blue diamonds patched onto it. He loved it so much that he wore it everywhere, and when he finally started to outgrow it, he begged you to make him the same jacket a size larger. And then another size larger. And another, until he was fully grown, fully handsome, and still wrapped in the evidence of your secret love for him.

For the longest time, it was just you, Howl, and Calcifer in his castle. And for the longest time, you wondered if he could just let go of the Sophie thing. You were happy the way things were, why couldn’t he be happy too?

You even thought he might have started to love you back at some point. He’d blush when your shirt would ride up. He’d freeze when you’d brush up against him, even though you had spent many nights sleeping in each other's arms when you were kids. He’d compliment you more, every word carefully handpicked, like he’d spent time thinking about all the ways he adored you.

But then he found her. And he remembered the one thing he wanted.

He’d spent so long looking for her, it didn’t seem right to quit now, though you would’ve happily persuaded him otherwise.

And when you met her, when she was talented, when she was generous, when she was spunky, your heart crumbled to pieces. She was the perfect woman. His perfect woman. And suddenly the weight of your hopes, of your dreams, of your love, came crashing down on you, leaving you devastated in the aftermath.

So tonight, you choke back more “what if’s” as you gaze into the glow of the fire, wondering if you can just feed yourself to Calcifer. Of course, he’d never do that. He was rooting for you. He was the only one; you’d given up on having Howl, at this point.

You hear the door open but don't move from your spot. You think you vaguely hear Sophie mumble a shaky “goodnight” to you, but it’s in between panted breaths, and you almost puke again thinking about just how much oxygen he must’ve sucked from her lungs with that kiss. You say nothing, biting your lip until it bleeds. She goes to bed.

You hear the door open again, and find yourself increasingly more interested in the embers, not wanting to look over at him, not wanting to see his love-drunk expression.

He plops down beside you, sighing happily. There’s that puking feeling again.

You don’t say a word and he nudges you with his shoulder. “Can’t sleep?”

You shake your head.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “And can I ask why you can’t sleep?”

You shake your head again.

“Can I at least ask why I can’t ask?”

“Nope.”

He rolls his eyes. “C’mon. It’s me. You know you can tell me anything.”

“No, thanks.”

He sighs, exasperated. “You barely talk to me and when you do, it’s not more than two words. What is going on with you tonight?”

“Nothing. Just can’t sleep.” Then you smirk. “See- I said more than two words that time.”

He laughs, glad you’re back to joking with him again. “Gods, you’re stubborn, you know that? And a bit of a jackass.”

You laugh at that. “It’s a good thing you love me anyway.”

He blushes. “Bold of you to assume I love you.”

You nudge him with your shoulder. “You better love me at least a little, we are best friends, you know.” You hope he can’t hear the tone in which you say the word love, like you’re not holding your breath, waiting for a confession after he’s just sent his girlfriend to bed.

“Right. Yeah. We are best friends. I do love you, of course I love you. Because we’re friends.” He stumbles on his words and you have the audacity to find it cute. His girlfriend is waiting for him to come to bed, and you’re sitting here, coaxing the word love from him, like you’re not going to purposely misinterpret it later, like you’re not going to go lie in bed after this, staring at the ceiling for hours, just dreaming about the way he says he loves you. You thought you knew better than this.

Apparently you don’t. You answer like an idiot. “And I love you too. As a best friend.”

The blush crawls up his face and tinges his ears red. “Yup. Friends. Best friends.”

The sight makes you choke on your laughter, and for a minute you almost forget just how serious this moment is. “Howl, why are you being weird?”

He scoffs at you. “I’m not being weird. I’m being normal.”

You pinch his cheek. “You’re being so awkward, what gives? It’s just me.” You nudge his shoulder as platonically as you can, but you know it’s just because you’re dying to touch him somewhere, anywhere.

He makes a strangled noise. “You’re being embarrassing, that’s all.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, ignoring the thumping in your chest. “And how am I embarrassing you, Howl?

He sighs, your close proximity to him somehow relaxing him and making him tense up at the same time. “You’re being so touchy… and you say you love me… but as a best friend.”

“And are we not best friends?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yes, we are. But somehow I get the feeling that you mean something else when you say that. When you say you… love me.”

“And what do you want it to mean?” You know this is a mess of your own making. You know you’re just daring him to confess. But you can’t stop now.

“Well. Just tell me what you mean when you say it.”

You go back to shaking your head and he groans.

“Why won’t you just tell me? I want, I need to know your answer. It’s driving me crazy.”

“What’s the issue? You have Sophie. You don’t need me.”

He rolls his eyes. “Sophie has nothing to do with this. Right now, this is just about you and me.”

All your nerve leaves you when you think you might finally have to confess. “Howl. I’m going to bed.” You get up to leave.

He grabs your wrist. “No. You can’t. I’m not done.”

You yank your wrist away. “I’m done. Goodnight, Howl.”

You lock the door to your room thinking the conversation has ended, thinking you can finally let the depression swallow you whole. But he bangs on the door over and over, so much so that you start to feel guilty for Sophie who’s sleeping soundly a couple rooms away. You yank the door open and tug him inside, closing the door behind him. He had wanted to come in, but now that he’s standing alone in your room with you, he’s suddenly silent, the weight of this intimate moment sinking in.

You sigh and drag him over to the bed, pulling him down beside you, and snuggling up against him.

He freezes up.

“Stop acting like a stranger, we used to sleep together all the time.”

He coughs. “Yeah, when we were kids. It’s been awhile since we’ve done this.” He says that, but he slowly puts his arms around you anyway, resuming his usual position on your bed.

“Yeah well, that’s cuz you went and got yourself a girlfriend.” And maybe it’s because it was the middle of the night and you’re sleep deprived -if he asks, that’s what you’ll blame it on- but you suddenly blurt out, “And I’m offended, by the way.”

He huffs, amused. “You’re so dramatic, you know that?”

“Well you know what, maybe I should go get a boyfriend then.”

He tenses up again. “Wh-why’s that?”

You shrug. “You have a girlfriend, why can’t I have a boyfriend?”

“B-because! You don’t know what men are like. They might take advantage of you.”

“So who should I date then?”

He swallows. “No one.”

You don’t actually intend to get a boyfriend, you’re too far gone for Howl, but suddenly his words stir some fire in you that you didn’t know existed. He has the audacity to not love you and then claim you can’t love anyone else? The balls on him.

He can feel the air shift because he suddenly tries to make light of the situation. “Besides, I don’t like sharing my best friend with anyone anyway.”

You glare at him. “Well that’s bullshit because I have to share you with Sophie. It used to be just the two of us, don’t you remember?”

He sighs, guilt creasing his face. “I know, I know. But you’re still important to me. She’s just… she’s my everything.”

You wince and pull yourself out of his arms, turning to face the opposite direction.

He groans. “Come on, don’t be like this. Talk to me. I don’t like when you’re upset.”

“I’m not upset, I’m just tired, I want to go to bed. Go to your girlfriend, Howl.”

“Please. Please just talk to me.” He begs, desperation staining his voice.

Suddenly you snap. “She’s your everything, but that used to be me.” You hadn’t intended the words to sound bitter, but they leave a sour taste in your mouth on the way out.

He winces. “I… yeah, I know. I know things are different now, but the way I feel about you hasn’t changed.”

“That’s the problem.” You whisper to yourself so quietly he’s left straining to hear. When he doesn’t answer, you realize he didn’t hear you after all, and you don’t have the energy to say it again. You wrap yourself up tightly in the blankets. “Your girlfriend is going to worry if you keep her waiting much longer. Go to her.”

He sighs. He wants to keep talking with you but he knows you’re right. He doesn’t want to worry Sophie. He promises he’ll talk with you in the morning and takes his leave.

In the morning, he finds that all of your things are missing and you’re nowhere to be found. He panics and races outside in his pajamas, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. He sees your head bobbing down the street, bags in your hands. He almost collapses a lung trying to chase after you.

“What are you doing??” He yells as he runs.

You flinch at his voice, recognizing it instantly, but you keep walking.

He catches up to you and wrenches your arm backwards. You drop a bag and he quickly picks it up but holds onto it.

“Why do you have all your things? Where are you going? Why are you going? You can’t just leave me like this!” His words are rushed, like they’re flooding out, like he doesn’t even know what he wants to say, just that he wants to say something, just that he needs to make you acknowledge him, to make you stay.

You reach for your bag and he yanks it back. “Howl-”

“You- you can’t leave me, damnit!” He snaps and you realize it’s been a long time since he was this mad at you. You almost smile at the thought that your departure causes him so much displeasure. It’s sweet.

“Howl, I need to go.”

“No, no, you don’t. You need to stay with me. What ever happened to best friends? What ever happened to I love you?”

“Howl.”

He doesn’t listen. He keeps rambling.

“Howl. Howl!”

His eyes snap up to yours.

“I love you, Howl.”

He shuts the fuck up.

“I’m in love with you.” You say again, letting the words sink in. He’s still reeling from the shock of it all.

You continue, “I love you, so I can’t stay. I can’t be close to you like this. I can’t keep third wheeling, I can’t keep lying awake at night, dreaming about you, listening to you sleep next door. I can’t. It’s time, I need to go.” You muster up your best smile for him. It’s much easier to grab the bag from his hands now that he’s frozen in place.

You hear him weakly mumbling things like “But I still need you” and “But you can’t leave me” and you wince, but you turn to leave anyway. He weakly grabs onto your arm again, but he’s so shaken, it’s easy to slip out of his grip.

You sigh as you take in the sad sight of him in this miserable state. “You don’t need me. You’ll be fine. You have Sophie. Everything will be fine. I wish you both happiness.” You don’t, but you say it anyway, you reassure him, because that’s what you do when you love him.

When he continues fumbling for you, his words a jumbled mess, you realize he’ll just keep coming after you, even in this weakened state, so you speak up again, “Old friend. Will you do me a favor?”

Life slowly flickers back into his eyes, as he thinks of how he can be of use to you. “Yes, anything. Anything for you.”

“Close your eyes.”

He bites his lip but hesitantly closes his eyes anyway.

You want to leave now. You want to bolt while he’s not looking. But your greed gets the better of you. You hesitate before finally making the decision to kiss him on the cheek, and you know you’ll keep that moment with you forever. You’ll hold on to the feeling of his cheek on your lips until the day you die, because you know you’ll love him until the day you die.

Then you walk away, picking up the pace as you continue down the street, hoping he doesn’t open his eyes, hoping you saved him the pain of having to watch you leave.

Many years later, you’re running errands, walking down the street at a leisurely pace, just enjoying the sun on your skin. You look up at the sky, taking in the fresh air and basking in the sunlight.

Not watching where you’re going, you crash into someone. You immediately think to apologize, but your words get swallowed down when you catch a glimpse of jet black hair.

“H-Howl?”

He blinks. And then he blinks again, this time trying to hold back tears. “Is…is it really… really you?”

A smile spreads across your face. “Hi.”

He reaches out to touch you and then he stops. You intertwine your fingers with his before he can pull his hand away. His fingers lock into place as he draws closer to you, sinking into your touch.

“You’re here.” He whispers.

You ruffle his hair. “You went back to your natural color. I like it.”

He blushes and he absentmindedly reaches up to touch the place where your hand just grazed his hair. “You… you always said you liked it better.”

You smile again. Then you let his hand go, much to his disappointment, and start looking around, looking for her. Your brows furrow in confusion when you don’t see anyone nearby. “Where’s Sofie?”

He swallows, looking down. “She, uh, she’s not… not here.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“She… we…um. We broke up. Awhile ago. Wasn’t meant to be, I guess.”

You choke on your spit. “You what? Oh you poor thing, let me get you a drink.” You start dragging him away before he can properly process what’s going on.

He thinks you’re taking him to a bar, and he’s surprised when you lead him into your house, ushering him onto one of your bar stools. He looks around while you mix up a drink for him. He realizes this place looks oddly familiar, even though he’s never been here before.

You realize he’s trying to piece together where he’s seen this place. You crack a smile. “I modeled it after that house we stayed at, in the countryside. Seems you remember it well. You like it?”

He nods, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Before he can make any proper commentary on the house, a child runs up to you and throws his arms around your leg.

You laugh and ruffle his hair. “Hey, sweetie. What’re you doing down there?”

Howl swallows, watching this interaction with bated breath. He wonders if that’s your kid. It has to be, it’s your house.

You hand Howl the freshly mixed drink and he takes a sip.

He’s about to comment on how good it is when he hears the kid say, “Mom! Up!” and he chokes on his drink.

You pick the kid up, resting him on your hip before giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Silly. What would your mother say if she heard you calling me mom? It’s auntie, remember? Now go run along and help your mom out with the laundry, okay baby?” You set the kid down and he nods before running to the backroom.

When the kid is gone, you burst into laughter. “You should’ve seen your face. I thought I was gonna die, you looked like you just had a stroke. You thought he was my kid, huh?” You turn to Howl and poke him on the nose.

He rolls his eyes and swats your hand away, seemingly unfrozen now. “Well, can you blame me?”

“He doesn’t look a thing like me,” You tease, nudging him with your elbow.

“Well he could’ve taken after your husband!” He exclaimed defensively.

“Well I don’t have a husband.”

Howl blinks. “No husband.” He repeats.

“And… no boyfriend either.” You say slowly, watching him process this information.

“And no boyfriend either.” He repeats, each word softer than the next.

Suddenly you’re interrupted by your sister waving at you as she takes her kid and her freshly done laundry out the door with her. You wave back and when you catch Howl’s shocked expression, you explain to him that you reconnected with some of your family. He’s happy for you. He always is. Your wins were always his wins. You always loved that about him.You wonder if you can dare to love him some more. If you can dare to dream.

“So… do you have anywhere to stay tonight?” You ask nonchalantly.

He bites his lip. “N-no. Just kind of been… wandering aimlessly.”

You perk up. “Well perfect, I have spare rooms.”

He blushes. “You’d let me stay here? Even after all this time?

You hop into a seat next to him. “Well yeah, aren’t we best friends? That doesn’t just go away, you know.” You nudge his shoulder. Then you dare to rest your head on it.

He freezes but then he relaxes. “This drink is pretty good, by the way.”

“Better be. I put your favorite flavors in it.”

He sits up straighter. “You remember?”

“I remember everything.”

He goes silent, lost in his thoughts.

You want to cheer him up. “Bet I can drink you under the table.”

He snorts. “Like hell you can.”

You spend the next few hours chugging drinks, laughing, catching each other up on everything non-Sofie related. She’s not important right now. Part of you hopes she’ll never come up again. Actually, most of you hopes that.

Eventually it’s time to retire, and you say you’ll draw him up a bath with his favorite scents. He smiles at you, “I’ll toast to that!” and he lifts his cup to you as you disappear into the bathroom.

You reappear to tell him it’s ready and he flushes bright red when you tell him you’ll just be right next door, taking your bath, if he needs you. He begins to soak in the tub, his mind swimming with thoughts of you. He can’t stand you being so close and yet so far away. And taking a bath. Naked, no less. Just behind that wall. He gulps and sinks deeper into the tub, trying to drown out his thoughts.

Then you call out to him and he snaps out of it. “Howl. I forgot my towel in there. Could you bring it to me?”

His eyes widen and his heart thumps in his chest. Is this what cardiac arrest feels like? He pulls himself out of the bath and shakily grabs your towel before making the trip next door.

You think he’ll just leave it outside so you get up to grab it but then he opens the door right as you step out of the bath, the water dripping down your fully naked body.

His eyes rake all over your body and he almost drops the towel in shock. But he can’t stop looking. His blood is burning in his veins, but he can’t stop looking. His lungs feel like they’re ablaze, but he can’t stop looking. You look so perfect, so heavenly.

You break the silence. “I-I thought y-you’d leave the towel outside the door.” Your cheeks flood with red.

He lets out a strangled chuckle, as his eyes continue to roam. “I… yeah, I was just… I’ll just…”

You bite your lip and it shoots his heart straight into the stratosphere.

He takes a hesitant step towards you.

You swallow.

He takes another step, taking in every inch of you.

You can’t help but do the same, admiring his bare body.

He takes another step, finally finding himself directly in front of you. “I just…” He continues and then trails off.

“Yes?” You lean in closer to him, but that’s all you do.

You’re so close to him, your breaths begin to mingle with each other.

“J-just…” He finds himself staring at your lips. Of all the parts of you to be staring at, that’s what he’s settled on. He swallows. “Just… can I…?”

“Yes.”

It only takes a second for him to swallow up all the tension between you, closing the distance, and claiming your lips in a desperate kiss. His hands wander the smooth expanse of your body, memorizing every curve. His kisses are possessive, like he needs to make his mark on you before he wakes up and finds this all a dream. His tongue moves urgently through your mouth, like he might find heaven in the back of your throat.

“Howl…” You whine.

He groans at the sound, gripping your hips tighter and pulling you flush up against him.

“Fuck. Howl, don’t stop.”

Lust flares in his eyes at your words. “I wouldn’t dream of it, I can’t get enough of you,” He pants, eager to claim your lips again.

After a couple more dizzying kisses, you murmur in a daze, “You taste better than I imagined.”

He sucks in a sharp breath. “Fuck. You imagined me?”

You trace the length of his bare back, your slender fingers eliciting shivers from him. “All the time. All the damn time.”

He pushes you against the wall and you gasp at the cold tile on your back. “Howl, that’s cold!”

He smirks. “I promise I’ll warm you up.” He traces hot kisses down your neck, down your breasts, stopping to suck on a peaked nipple, before trailing his kisses further down your abdomen. He kneels in front of you, eyeing your dripping cunt. He’s waiting for permission.

“Are you gonna gawk all day or are you going to taste me?”

He chuckles at your bold words. “I’ve never heard you talk like this before. I like it.” And without another word, he brings his head in between your legs, hungrily lapping at your wet heat. Every whimper and every whine he coaxes from your lips makes him eager to taste more of you. The rough strokes of his tongue dragging itself up and down your slit overwhelms you and you think you might just come on his face. Then he jams his tongue inside you, moaning as your depths envelop him, your slick drizzling down his throat as he swallows. And you do come on his face, fist in his hair, as you moan his name.

He groans as your orgasm floods into his mouth.

You’ve not even finished all the way, the evidence of your desire still trickling down your legs, when suddenly he pulls away from you; before you can complain about his absence, he shoves his bulging erection deep inside your swollen cunt, gasping as your slick coats his cock.

“Howl!” You dig your nails into his back as you adjust to the new sensation.

He sighs, the sound filled with ecstasy. “If you keep saying my name like that, I won’t be able to last much longer.”

“I don’t have a problem with that,” You gasp out.

He shakes his head, grunting as he thrusts into you. “I do. I want to enjoy every second of this.”

His fingers carve canyons into your hips as he steadies himself against your skin.

“Howl…” You groan again, letting your head fall back against the wall. “I want you. I need you.”

His eyes darken as he soaks in the sound of your whines. “I’m right here, darling.” He picks up the pace, though still restraining himself.

“And you feel so good inside me,” You bite your lip, “I bet you’d feel even better pumping your seed into me.”

He swears under his breath, but he can’t muster up the strength for anymore words, all his strength has been poured into resisting you, into resisting the urge to let go. But his strength dwindles quickly at the sight of you flushed beneath him, at the sounds of your moans echoing against the tiled walls. He slams his cock deeper and then finds his release with his tongue in your mouth, swallowing down your pleasure as he fills you up.

You both don’t move for a moment. You just stand there, shuddering, panting, holding each other for support.

Then you start to laugh and he laughs with you.

“You may as well take a bath with me since you’ve already seen me naked,” You tease, jerking a thumb towards the tub.

He grins widely. “Well, if you insist.”

“Oh, I do.” You say devilishly, leading him towards the bath.

You both slide into the tub, sighs escaping your lips, as the warm water envelops both your bodies. You snuggle up against him, soaking in the beauty of the moment.

“You know,” He says thoughtfully, “I think I’ve been waiting my whole life for you.”

You lift your chin up to meet his gaze, raising an eyebrow at him. “Don’t you mean Sophie?”

He shakes his head. “I thought that’s what I wanted, but you were right there, right in front of me the whole time. I’ve only ever needed you. I…” He hesitates, but the feeling of you snug against him gives him courage, “I love you.” Then he grins. “And not just like a best friend.”

You laugh and kiss his chest. “Well how about that? I love you too.”

He beams. “Even after all this time?”

You kiss his cheek. You kiss his forehead. You kiss his lips. He sighs, savoring the feeling of your lips on his skin.

You nuzzle up against his ear and murmur, “Especially after all this time.”

[graylinesspam]

Nightstar filled into the airlock with the two other metas.

Her period had been kicking her ass all day. She muscled through it, helping with repairs to the watch tower. But the lack of gravity was not helping. They were breaking for lunch but honestly she just wanted to curl up in a ball. Or maybe puke.

She leaned again the wall of the airlock and tried not to barf as gravity suddenly grabbed hold of her. The other junior members wandered towards the cafeteria but the smell, even from this distance only made her feel more sick.

She turned in the opposite direction. Maybe she could curl up in uncle Vic's lab, in a dark quiet corner. The halls were mostly empty this high up. Most didn't have clearance for these levels. Perks of being related to the guy that built the building.

The lab was locked when she happened by. And a conference room nearby smelled like sandwhiches in a way that turned her stomach. She needed some painkillers that would work with her biology. And a nap.

Down the opposite end of the hall was the council chambers. The doors were open, john john and Barry talking outside.

Mari peaked inside. No one seemed to be tense. They were all relaxing and chatting. No planning or anything confidential seemed to be going on. Just a few higher ups getting together.

Only a handful of members were present anyways. Not even Supes or Diana. Wally was here though and smiled at her when he glanced over.

At the very head of the table was B. His mouth curled down in his 'dealing with the league scowl'. He was squinting at his tablet looking so much like an old man that had forgotten his glasses.

She shuffled into the room passing green arrow who raised his brow at her. B clearly saw her since grunted once as she approached. He was tapping at the screen with one finger, only minorly frustrated.

He didn't look up when she stopped at his side, always more focused on his screens.

Overwealmed with a cramp Mari leaned over. Bracing herself with one hand on the back of his chair and resting her forehead on his shoulder. He tapped away at the screen several more times as she rode out the waves. When she'd relaxed a little, no longer squeezing her eyes shut against the pain he grunted out one word "sit" and kicked the adjacent chair out for her.

She sat. head resting on the table by his elbow. Jeez, would these cramps ever let up?

"Are you injured?"

wow a whole sentence, he does care. "No, just bleeding." She mumbled against the linoleum table top.

There was a pause. "Your monthly?"

"Yeah, do you have any of my painkillers?"

"hmm"

He tapped away at his screen again and though it could have been a dismissal, Mari knew it wasn't. B would take care of something this simple for her.

She dozed, or maybe just zoned out. The pain wouldn't really let her get near unconsciousness, but she zoned out enough for her breathing to even and her senses to relax around the edges.

It was warn in the space between her arm and the table. Her breath making her face flush. Or maybe she was developing a low grade fever.

She was brought back by the touch of a hand on her back. B's wide palm smoothing over the space between her shoulder blades.

She lifted her head and felt briefly embarrassed by the condensation that had accumulated on the table's surface and her cheek, from her warm breaths.

On the table beside her was a cup of water and a pill, the little star shape pressed into it told her that it was one of the ones specially formulated for her.

She pinched it between two fingers and popped it in her mouth, chasing it with the cup of water.

"Express meds delivery?" Wally commented. "Pampered princess."

Donna, who Mar'i only just realized was standing beside her chair giggled. "Bat privileges I guess."

Mar'i snorted through her nose and leaned her head back into B's side, his forearm turning and becoming a reasonably resting place as he twisted the angular parts of his armor away from her.

"Wait, she's a bat?" Ollie's tone was bewildered.

Mari shook her head and pointed to her chest where the eight pointed star spread wide. "I don't wear a bat." She mumbled into the table top.

Doesn't make you immune to the perks though does it?" Donna joked.

"ermmgh" mari hummed into the table top. Already bored of this conversation.

"Just how many damn bats are there now?" Hal groused.

"Like four right?" Wally guessed.

Donna hummed, "depends on what you count as a bat."

"What's the criteria for that? Wears a bat symbol? Was a Robin?" Dinah took a seat next to Ollie, joining the discussion.

"Well this one has way too high access for a recruit." Hawkman growled.

"How about allowed in Gotham, for the criteria?" Clark's smooth voice joined the others. He must have only arrived. He pulled a chair out on the other side of Mari, which gave her the impression that she might be in his seat.

She peaked an eye over her arm and Clark smiled warmly at her as he set down the tablet in his hand and adjusted his cape.

"Guess that disqualifies you huh?" Dinah jabbed.

"Anyone allowed in Gotham? What is he just picking them up off the street now?" Hal must have leaned back in his chair since it creak and scrapped in a way that made her head stink.

"Now??" Wally asked with an appropriate level of disbelief.

"I'm pretty sure that's his whole modus operandi," Dinah quipped.

"There appears to be a level of familiarity that the young heroes have with Batman that the elder do not, I have suspected this is a result of their familiarity with his side kicks." Jon Jon stated.

"That's because Batman is way better at keeping secrets that a couple of someones I know." Wally mused.

"Wait wait, so Batman and Robin, there's been a couple of them I think. And then there's a girl too right?" Ollie tried to piece things together.

"Don't try too hard to figure it out, He'll sabotage you on purpose. He's a private guy like that." Wally joked.

"This presents a serious security risk. We cannot have recruits and who know who else wandering around restricted areas of the watch tower." Hawkman asserted. "The authority must know who is allowed where to maintain the hierarchy."

"I am the authority." B spoke up for the first time, using his intimidating Batman voice. "I am the only authority that decides who is authorized where in my facility. My agents are permitted wherever I deem necessary. "

"Wait, I thought she was related to Starfire." Barry cut the silence that followed Batman's reprimand.

Wally sighed auidibly. "Nice observation there Bare. A few more and you might catch up to the rest of us."

"No one can keep up with the relationship drama in this place. People changing names and costumes as often as they do partners. How's he supposed to know whose kid is whose?" Donna jumped to Barry's defense.

"woah, kid? now i'm way lost," Barry said.

"Well don't think your gonna get any answers here, this whole batfamily thing is something you have to be brought into the fold about, and I doubt B's gonna bring you in," Wally laughed.

"So you get higher clearance?" Hawkman demanded, more angry than before, "You are the youngest initiate to the higher ranks!"

"It's not about rank," Donna defended, "It's about who you know."

"And you don't know," Wally finished.

"I have no idea what's going on." Barry said.

They probably could have gone on that way for days but Diana's arrival quieted everyone as she strode into the room.

"Are we all present?" She asked, heels clicking across the floor as the made her way the their side of the room. Her hand slid across Mari's back as she passed and Mari worried that maybe it was her seat that she'd taken.

She leaned in close to B and spoke quietly "Is she well?"

B grunted his affirmative grunt and Diana sounded like she sat down.

"Diana gets to know." Ollie complained under his breath.

Mari was starting to drift away for real this time. The medication, her temperature and general exhaustion lulling her. She didn't want to stay awake listening to them bicker anymore. She was tired.

[silver-queen]

Man, I really like that last sentence. I agree that, as captain, Curly is responsible for his crew. He said so himself. However i have to disagree with the notion that Curly is entirely responsible and that jimmy is entirely a monster; Jimmy was already on his way to the cockpit when Anya confronted him about her pregnancy, and jimmy's instability was caused by the news of them being laid off on top of having to contend with the fact that he (nonconsensually) impregnated Anya. Curly didn't turn a blind eye: his mistake was both taking too long to act "You should've waited for me" and being too soft/didn't take the problem seriously enough "We can fix this". Even if he had taken action, some problems would still persists. Anya would be safer but still be pregnant, the tulpar will be down to one pilot, i doubt that he could train Daisuke soon enough for him to take over, and no matter how he'd have dealt with jimmy, crew morale would've drop lower than what it was.

The problem of thinking of jimmy as a monster paints him as being horrible because he inherently is, rather than someone horrible because he chose to do what he did, to actively suppress his guilt, to not acknowledge his mistakes and culpability on every turn, something I'm sure most of us have done at one point. Having a black-and-white thinking about rapists is probably what caused Curly to placate jimmy instead of holding him accountable, and it's why irl friends and family of rapists struggle to believe when their loved ones did what they'd done. In their head, rapists are these horrible boogeymens and not thinking, feeling people that could be their friend or relative.

Jimmy constantly feeds the whims of his insecurity and superiority complex, and it's what drives most of his actions. Perhaps there are some people who doesn't struggle with these emotions, but I know a lot of us do, including me, and I believe jimmy is a commentary on what we could become if we feed those emotions. That is why jimmy is the POV character of the post-crash section. Why the game have us do what he did, manually prompting to crash the ship, having us brew the cocktail step-by-step to knock out Swansea, having him be controllable as Daisuke crawls through the vent, and putting Curly in the cryopod while he takes the easy way out. Perhaps this design choice was intentional on part of the developer, to have us ask why would he do something so horrible.

(We never have any direct prompt with Anya aside from talking to her to progress the plot, but that is also a testament to how little he thinks of Anya as nothing but an objective-giver and a nuance.)

Had he acknowledged his shortcomings, things wouldn't have gone better, but it wouldn't have gone worse. If he hadn't raped Anya, he would've got nothing worse than unemployment. If he had come to terms with his unemployment and what he did to Anya, everyone would've been able to go home. Had he viewed his coworker as equals and listened to their warnings and criticism as acting captain, especially from Anya, the ship's nurse, the crew wouldn't have suffered horrible deaths.

In every step of the way, jimmy could've stopped and acknowledged his fuck-ups. The events of the game happened because he actively refused to take responsibility. The text flashes more often during his segment, whereas for Curly it flashes when he made the fatal mistake of leaving Jimmy to his own devices when he clearly was about to do something reckless. To boil jimmy down as an irredeemable monster and Curly to be the one responsible for everything bad that has happened both dehumanizes jimmy and undermines the horror of their (in)actions and what the devs are trying to say.

Tldr; the game has amazingly written characters and to ignore the nuance of their actions and characterization would be a disservice to the game's writing.

I usually dont make posts about medias but idk man i think people criticizes curly so much to the point that makes it seem like his wrongdoings eclipses jimmy's, the preperator of most everything that goes wrong on the tulpar, when part of the game's point is that curly is paying for everything jimmy has done in his place

[yume-writes]

HIIII its me again, here to share some TFP x MCB stuff. Im the anon who wrote the 'OP and Blue cop bonding/Adoption' I've got more stuff for today yipee :)

Okkk i have a lot of notes for today so get ready huehuehue. I'm just gonna barf it all here and wait for your humble reply. First up, What would be the TFP bots and the MCB bots first reaction/meet be like? Lets say its the MCB season 1 crew that landed into the TFP world, and to me i like to think that they all appear in different locations from each other, maybe some in pairs or groups like Jun, Blue Cop and perhaps Mega Trucker? Black Hook and his crew. Crest and Wild Guardy. (Honestly its for the fanfic writers to have more chapters for their fics instead of a whole grp appearing together and make it very crowded. But who's to say?) ohh and maybe Heavy Iron near the Decepticons lmao. Here the thing that gets me thinking, the MCB crew, they are kinda terrible in being discreet, they are gonna reveal themselves the minute they appear. But lets say (again) that they have braincells and they know that they aren't in their world anymore and decided to go into their alt mode.

However, if you compare the cybertronians alt modes, human vehicles and the cardbots, you can see that the Cardbots are quite futuristic i.e their eyes on the window shied or the internal structure of of their insides. They are also quite expressive anyways.

Im gonna use Blue Cop and Knockout to state some examples.

When you see the cybertronians scan their alt modes, they can replicate exactly what they are scanning. Interior and all. KO's alt mode is an Aston Martin (?) and we get to see his interior in the episodes "Speed Metal" and "Plus One" and tbh it looks like an exact replica of the car he scanned (at least close enough to fool humans as it actually looks like a earth vehicle interior)

Now looking at the Blue cop, his alt mode to me just screams 'not this era', futuristic even. Window eyes? Making them quite expressive even in their alt modes. Blue Cops interior, from the first episode where Jun first meet him, it already looks quite alien and different from a standard cop car. (maybe its the different show styles but i digress) It would kinda raise some flags to people, especially in a small town in Jasper Nevada where word gets around fast. Seeing an unknown, unlicenced and morden looking cop car driving around and only a child that is in the car would raise some questions (especially if they got a peak inside). And comparing their own law enforcement cars to Blue cop? That is not their town cop or any cop for that matter cause he would look sooo different.

Generally, the cardbots would just give off a vibe that just makes people look at them like "tf is that vehicle? never in my life have i seen that kind off vehicle before." Agent Fowler would get calls from his superiors saying there are 'interesting' vehicles roaming around Jasper (ahem, the cardbots) with children and would send team prime to handle it or their own scanners picked up unusual activity somewhere. Que the meet ups where the autobots and cardbots meet or the decepticons taking the cardbots in. Just that the cardbots are gonna get discovered pretty quick. Seeing a flying pirate ship is wild ngl.

Would it be peaceful meetings or would a fight go down? Perchance. Second, Heavy Iron looks like MEGOP love child. OMG the i saw a post on tiktok and another on here, i can't get rid off that image. Miko would deff see the resemblance and now Team Prime can't get it out of their head. Third, TFP has this called the uhhh cortical psychic patch. Do you think it will work on the cardbots? If it does, maybe Megs or Soundwave could like kidnapped Blue cop or something and try to use this patch on him to learn more about the cardbots yk since he is the equivalent of a prime. I know the patch thing can lead to serious consequences (i think, correct me if im wrong) perhaps Blue cop could go through an amnesia arc? or like in an episode in TFP similar to when Megs possessed Bee but its Blue cop.

Lastly, I just want more Blue Cop angst cause he is my pookie and i wanna see my babygirl cry. (sorry not sorry) Let's say the Con's manages to find an iacon artifact/relic or smth (If shockwave is in this maybe he would create it?) that is able to like control someone, bend them to the user's will. Megatron would get it and use it in Blue cop (other cardbots like Fleta Z and Black Hook's crew too?) as like a Star Guardian is like equivalent to a Prime and like Blue cop is quite powerful in his own right so Megs would use him against his own team. It also showcases Blue Cop's actual skills when he is not holding back (He is so smol but soooo vicious when fights, i mean he is a guardian for a reason right?)

The relic/creation could be like a head gear (matching crowns?) or something similar to a broach that magnetizes itself to their chest plate? And the best part, it interferes with the Metal Breath so Blue Cop can't be sealed and the others basically can't do anything but to get the relic/creation off Blue. TADA!!!! I AM DONE YIPPEEE apologies for all that info dumped into one ask. Take your time for the reply! this is like one of my longest asks.

MCB x TFP crossover

Never apologized for info dumping!! I love getting long asks like this!!! Also thank you for sending more asks!!

I know that in the MCB universe, earth vehicles are based on the cardbots alt modes so they are similar. I mean, if I remember correctly, the police use the same model of police car as Blue Cop. So in their universe they can blend in well. But that's in their universe, they would stick out like a sore thumb in the tfp universe

Like you said, they have more futuristic and modern alt modes, so people would pay more attention to them. Along with that Jasper, Nevada is a small town, everyone knows each other there, there would be a very small number of cops in the town, they would know all the police in town. So seeing this cop car, that doesn't look like any in town, would bring up suspicion

Also that whole thing about the cardbots alt mode looking different just reminds me of Mega Ambler's alt mode. Forget Blue Cop being found out first, Mega Ambler has his scope on his alt mode, what ambulance has that?! Also this is all considering that Black Hook doesn't show up, which would be highly unlikely considering he showed up above Jun's neighborhood

The MCB bots getting split up would be very interesting because of the different ways they would interact. Blue Cop and Jun could meet the tfp kids first and their guardians because of them driving through the town trying to figure out where they are. And the kids see this and realize that they have to be a bot, and taking them out of town to talk

They wouldn't fight each other, but the same can't be said for the others. In the fic, Metal Card-Autobot by Hunterhummingbird on ao3, they had Mega Ambler and Ratchet fight each other. Mega Ambler would, probably, be one of the ones to be more likely to fight. Phoenix Fire would be paranoid, extremely so, being in another universe. Dexter would be on edge as well, I kinda want him to end up near MECH, just because of his previous distrust of humans. Listen I love putting all my favorite characters through trauma

I know that in a previous ask someone said something about Heavy Iron ending up near the cons, like you said, and I want him to end up near Megatron. All the cons would be on edge and would try fighting him, of course the vehicons are destroyed which leads to Megatron coming to see what is happening, who is this strange bot. Megatron could see how strong Heavy Iron is and plan to use him, telling him to join the cons. Heavy Iron tells him to frag off and they start fighting. The amount of fighting and the numerous cannon shots tips off the Bot and the cardbots they have with them. So they show up and take Heavy Iron with them

So many people have said that Heavy Iron is MegOp's child, and I agree with that. All the bots and cons see that as well but never really say anything, that would be extremely awkward to mention so they just don't. Miko takes one look at him and blurts it out, Heavy Iron just side eyes her and doesn't answer

I do think that the patch could work on the Cardbots, I mean even if it doesn't work this is Shockwave we're talking about, he'll find a way to make it work. I don't know much about the consequences of the patch, the wiki doesn't really say anything, but one thing I see is that the victim can remember all their memories at once, and that includes all the traumatic ones. Also in Cyberverse it can cause extreme pain for them, not sure if it's the same in tfp

But during Tfp Megatron can get into Bee's mind and even take over his body due to the patch, so it wouldn't be weird to imagine it can cause Blue Cop to lose his memories. The poor guy still believes that Machina is alive and that the Star Guardians are still alive as well. No one wants to tell him the truth, but they do, and he just goes through denial for a long time. He can't believe his home is gone and that his friends are dead. The knowledge they're in another universe is insane to him as well. They do eventually get his memories back, but it's concerning seeing him grieving

Also I have had so many thoughts about Blue Cop being controlled and forced to fight his friends. I know I've talked about it in a previous ask but the knowledge that Blue Cop has been holding back, to not hurt them, would scare them. Blue Cop is beating them up like it's nothing, even Heavy Iron and Black Hook are having trouble keeping up with him. It really puts into perspective what a Star Guardian is, someone who was chosen to protect Deus Maxhina

Maybe the relic would be similar to a broach, like the ones used in Earthspark, like the one to control Hashtag. Also how about Blue Cop knowing and seeing everything he's doing while being controlled, but he can't do anything about it. Just crying and begging him to stop, to stop attacking his family, trying to take control but he can't, and begging the others to stop him, to make sure he doesn't hurt anymore, especially Jun.

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Do you have more of " Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot"? It's so good that I'd like to read more about it <3

Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot pt 10

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 2,963

You hitch a ride with the Twins. 

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse, Dragons: Defenders of Berk, The Night and The Fury, unedited

<Previous - Next>

“Okay, seriously, who’s going to watch the dragons?” Came the muffled voice of Hiccup from outside. 

You shifted around, arms pulled tightly, together, rubbing against rough, frayed, grainy fabric, too busy trying to reorient yourself to pay any real attention. You were certain this was going to give you a rash.

You ignored the ruckus going on outside, a dragon attack or something, trying to shift so that you weren’t curled completely around, feet pressed against the knot holding your sack closed. 

This wasn’t necessarily what you expected when the Thorston Twins said they had a job for you. You wished you had more time to react before they’d shoved you into the sack. At least enough time to ask for some air holes.

You puffed hot air against your hands, blinking roughly before, all of a sudden, you dropped. You winced as your shoulders met sand, tumbling onto the floor, tumbling out of the sack.

“Yeah, we knew you were going to make us do something stupid like this-”

You landed half on your back and stayed there, staring up at the sky for a good minute as you made an effort to blink away the vertigo.

“-That’s why we brought someone else to take my place.” 

Then, you dug shaky hands into the ground, feeling sand catch under your nails with discomfort. 

“Hey,” You heard the indignant voice of Ruffnut grumble, “What about me?”

“You snooze, you lose, sister.”

You pushed yourself up by your hands, making out the faces of Berk’s Dragon Riders by the dim light of their lanterns, and hoped with a vague suspicion that you hadn’t stumbled your way into another television episode.

“Hi,” You said, swiveling your head slowly in order to get a good view of all of the riders. For some reason, your eyes landed fixedly on Hiccup, who was very notably refusing to look you in the eye.

You furrowed your brows, wondering where the dragon was.

“Tuffnut,” Astrid reprimanded.

They all held simple box lanterns.

Hiccup had his shield, made of Gronckle Iron, on one arm. It reflected dim light, shining silver and white. Pristine, well taken care of and very, very new. And soon-to-be sullied, probably, too.

“Why doesn’t she stay behind and take care of the dragons?” Fishlegs suggested, “Or-or she could take my place instead.”

Their dragons convened behind them. Toothless snuffled at Stormfly as Barf tried to nip at him from behind. His scales were chipped and a dull green and turquoise. He’d probably need a wash soon. 

“We’ve already been over this, Fishlegs.” Hiccup suggested, turning and squinting at him.

You shrugged and turned your eyes to the coast, listening to the sound of claws digging into sand and boots kicking it up. You kept a careful eye on cooling glass, sand red and melted into a small crater, and made a point to stay carefully positioned away from it.

You wondered how difficult it would be to swim back to Berk on your own. Not that you wanted to, anyhow.

“Do you know how to take care of the dragons?” Astrid asked, “We can’t just fly back now.”

“No idea,” You said, just as Tuffnut suggested that they did. Besides that one time during Snoggletog with Hiccup, you weren’t sure you’d ever ridden a one. 

“See?” Fishlegs protested, as they quickly fell into chaos, “I didn’t want to do the exercise much anyways.”

“Well, she-she could always come with me?” Hiccup suggested uneasily, as you dug the toes of your boots into the sand, scooting back slightly as the tides swelled, “I could fly her back and meet up with you guys after you finish the exercise. Or I could go and try to find her a dragon. To fly back on.”

You hoped not. That seemed like a lot of responsibility.

“Dude.”

You sighed, completely disconnected as you stared off at the horizon line. The sea was eerily black this late at night. You wondered how things were doing back where you came from, and whether the ocean back in your world was just as cold.

“Hiccup. Really? Now isn’t the time for that.”

“She’s coming with me,” He said, tapping His prosthetic soundlessly into the sand, as if resisting the urge to shuffle.

“For what?” You asked finally, turning around as you pulled yourself from your musings.

“Do you ever wonder what goes on at the breeding ground when the dragons aren’t there? Is it just one big hunk of rock? Or do you think some of them stick around?” You walked alongside Hiccup, trying not to let your feet drag as you walked alongside him.

“Actually, I’m not sure.” Hiccup nodded shiftily, still not able to look you in the eye. His mouth opened and closed once or twice, as if he wanted to say something but thought better of it.

Your hands rubbed at your arms through your thin tunic as you very much wished you were back on Berk, in your bed. But your landlords had just started taking rent.

You wrinkled your nose, trying not to chatter your teeth.

“Do you want my, ah, coat?” Hiccup asked, eventually, before trying awkwardly to pull it off. It was a bit hard considering his hands were full, and so you held out your hand in an offer to hold the lantern.

“No, it’s okay. I mean I wouldn’t want to- take it from you. It’s cold. You can keep it. I can carry- oh.”

Hiccup had settled down his shield and pulled off his coat, offering it to you. You took it with unsure hands, your knuckle brushing gently across his fingertip.

“It’s fine, I have plenty more.” Hiccup said, picking up his shield. It looked like he was about to try and dust it off but thought better of it.

“Really?” You asked. You sniffed it suspiciously, feeling the fur in hand. It was a lot shorter than it had been before, nearly down to the leather and definitely singed in some parts, but it was still just as cozy.

“Well, no, but I was outgrowing it anyways.” Hiccup shrugged with false casualty, head facing away but his eyes looking back at you, just in his green tunic. 

You couldn’t make out much else, especially not just by lamplight. He didn’t look like he was outgrowing it.

The fur was incredibly soft between your fingertips, though even without leaning your head in close you could smell the heavy scent of smoke and metal. Hiccup had probably left it in the forge overnight or something. You had heard the Chief complaining about it before.

“Wait, you mean you’re giving it to me? Like, giving it, giving it?” Hiccup flushed under the scrutiny. You decided to dial it back.

“Well yeah, the red-” He stammered.

“-Tunic. Right. Well, I promise I’ll return it to you after.”

“No, you won’t.” He insisted stubbornly, metaphorically digging his heels in. You wondered how neither he nor any of the other Vikings on Berk were ever cold at all. 

“I will,” You stared stubbornly back, the two of you locked in a sort of staring contest until you saw Hiccup’s eyes focus on something behind you.

Mournfully, you broke eye contact, and turned to look behind you where, just over a ledge were the smoky beginnings of a fire.

“...Great.” Hiccup sighed, taking the first few steps around you.

You weren’t even sure how they got so far ahead of you two and had the time to put up a fire, but that was just as fine. As long as there was something warm.

“Oh, cool.” You said, tossing Hiccup’s coat back at him as you quickly sped your way out of his range, “A fire. Are we allowed to even have fires?”

“I don’t- you’d have to ask Astrid…”

“What happened to only dragons being able to find Dragon Island?” You mumbled to yourself drowsily, though you were sure you already knew the answer. 

A lot of the smoke around the island had cleared since most of the dragons fled it, and it was a lot more accessible now that it didn’t have an armada of scales to defend it.

You wondered if coming back was at all traumatizing for the dragons. Honestly, you were surprised the island had any shrubbery at all, though you supposed that the Timberjacks might need it. 

You wondered how the Berserkers discovered this island, if at all an island suddenly appearing from the mist was startling to them. Or if they were too unfamiliar with the area to notice or care. The island was in Hooligan Territory, after all.

You stood at the edge of the treeline as Dagur lifted Hiccup into the air, angrily recounting their last meeting on the island. You had a small dagger clutched in hand, though kept it vaguely out of view, waiting for either Hiccup to signal you, though he was currently enthusiastically shaking his head ‘no,’ or for Dagur to start acting just a little bit too deranged.

“And then you kicked me off!” Dagur grit out angrily, “Why are you here? Are you planning to steal my kill, again?” 

Dagur ended the last bit slowly, holding out his sword, the tip of it pointing threateningly towards Hiccup. 

“What am I doing here?” Hiccup asked nervously, and irritatedly, somehow, looking back and forth between you and Dagur.

You had to resist the urge to back away as your heart picked up speed.

You asked yourself what in the world had happened between the two the last time they were on Berk together; if this was supposed to happen.

You mouthed a nervous ‘What do I do?’ back at him as you took a hasty step past what looked to be the flayed skin of a Gronkle.

“You know what? I know exactly what you’re doing he-...” Dagur paused, following Hiccup's line of sight. His face scrunched up as if he had only just realized you were there. In all fairness, he probably had.

“You.”

You tried to pull your dagger- well, Hiccup’s, really- further behind you so that he wouldn’t see it, though you had very little hope as his eyes caught it, probably glinting back the light of the fire.

“Nothing! We’re doing nothing.” Hiccup said, laughing nervously and pushing Dagur’s sword down with his fingertips by the flat end as dread coiled in your gut.

“You…” Dagur began with a sneer, shoulders high. Then, suddenly, like the sky after a heavy rain, his face cleared, “You’re on a date!”

You let out a heavy sigh, which morphed into mildly hysterical laughter as the aggressive lines of his face smoothed itself out into a false, strained grim. Then you grimaced, certain you’d missed something in between then and the last time you encountered Dagur.

“A date?!” Hiccup asked, as you attempted to smother your confusion. You weren’t quite sure where he got that idea. You wondered next when his mood would flip.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you!” Dagur finished, opening his arms wide and taking the first steps forward into your direction, “I’m going to enjoy tearing the both of you apart!”

“I wish you had.” You grumbled sourly, very pointedly ignoring the last bit, afraid to poke the proverbial dragon.

You kept a safe distance from the swords and other various weaponry buried into the ground everywhere in sight around the campfire. You took a moment to stare wide-eyed at a skull, a Nadder, presumably, sticking out from a branch hanging over the clearing.

“A firecracker, that one.” The orange firelight flickered menacingly across Dagur’s face, whose eyes were narrowing again. You could see a vein on the corner of his forehead beating. You imagined it might be very easy for him to over take you with an axe, and even easier to hide your remains somewhere on the island.

“No, not really,” You mumbled, wincing, relaxing the hand holding the borrowed knife. You really did need to get one of your own. 

“The two of you! Like two elements! Fire and,” Dagur looked over Hiccup, “Something else just as… Ferocious.”

You grimaced as he turned around, shifting away as best you could without being noticed.

“Fire isn’t an element.” You muttered under your breath as Hiccup shuffled his way uncomfortably back towards you. You wondered if it was too soon for you and Hiccup to leave and get the heck out of dodge.

Dagur laughed erratically, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Though, to be fair, you preferred this version of him a lot more to the version you met on Berk. He was much less aggressive this way. Or, at least, purposefully aggressive. Towards you.

“Huh?” Hiccup asked disconcertedly.

“Fire isn’t an element. It’s a reaction. I think,” You stared blankly at Dagur’s retreating back.

“So, what are you here for?” Hiccup asked Dagur as your shoulders bumped into each other. He pulled his dusty shield higher in front of you and further to his left to it covered some of you both as Dagur pulled up an especially wicked serrated blade from the dirt.

Scouring through your memories, you tried to look for something, anything to get you out of this situation. You glanced at Hiccup guiltily. You felt a little bad sometimes, for keeping all these future things to yourself. But you weren’t sure who would believe you, and it had been a whole year and you realized with alarm that you were beginning to lose a few things. 

You tried not to think too much about it. The concept was frightening to say the least.

“The only thing worth being out for,” Dagur paused, “Dragon hunting.”

“What happened?” You asked under your breath, leaning sideways closer to Hiccup. You felt the tips of a tuft of his hair scratch the side of your face as you searched Dagur’s, loathe to look away as if it might tell you the answer.

You were half inclined to believe it was your little tussle back on Berk that caused it, but you were sure that wasn’t enough to inspire manslaughter, at least not to any sane mind. 

“Oh, well, I said somethings, he said some things, a few words were exchanged-Most of which I probably should have kept to myself-” Hiccup mumbled hurriedly and ruefully back, speaking just above a whisper, “We really need to get out of here.”

“Tell me why I shouldn’t cut you down where you stand?” Dagur scowled, turning back to you.

You felt a bead of sweat slide down your neck, noting from the corner of your eye Hiccup forming the beginning of an answer.

“We’ve got somewhere else to be!” You grinned testily, answering before Hiccup could, “Supposed to meet up with, uh, the rest of our group. A large amount of people. Training exercise. Everyone knows about it, really.”

“What a coincidence. I didn’t come alone either. You’ll have fun explaining where you and your little friends are to my armada.” Dagur stalked up to the two of you, pulling weapons from the ground as he strode. 

“Gods, what is it with you and your armada?” Hiccup exclaimed, gesturing with his shield. 

As Dagur approached and Hiccup’s shield became less and less of an obstacle between the two of you, you took the opportunity to kick up between his legs, not at all taking the time to watch as Dagur folded over, voice wrought with anger, “Now, that was a little-”

Hiccup engaged his shield partially, dropping it hard so that he delivered a heavy blow to Dagur’s head, and dropped his lantern right by the fire, its metal skeleton bouncing against wood and stone.

Hiccup was smart, sometimes. More mechanically inclined than booksmart, at least outright. You found that to be one of the most intelligent decisions Hiccup ever made.

“Come on!” You began, just as Hiccup began shouting for Toothless.

Hiccup sprinted slightly ahead, collapsed shield in hand as he jumped fully onto Toothless’ saddle. 

You followed with a nervous laugh, a skid and a kick of dirt as you stumbled, nearly tripping as you slung your leg over Toothless’ saddle and slid close to Hiccup’s back.

Hiccup was bent forward with the ghost of a fright and a shade of awkward confidence in his voice as he urged you forwards and Toothless into the sky.

Said dragon launched very soon after, making a quick effort to catch up to the rest of the Rider’s dragons, Dagur storming behind you across the clifftops.

You turned to look back quickly, bringing your hand up to Hiccup’s shoulder in an attempt to stay stable even as Toothless flew like a rocket, splitting through the air.

Your heart pounding, adrenaline doing numbers. You felt Hiccup’s heart through his back, like some sort of war drum. You worried he might actually have a heart attack.

You felt his torso stiffening as you wrapped your arms around his middle, though he remained razor focused on the sky in front of him. On the gently curved horizon line in the distance.

Hiccup’s shoulders jumped under your hands as you moved your hands onto his shoulders. Quickly, you pressed up close to his back, so close your upper thighs were pressed to the back of Hiccup’s, in an effort to fight against the pushing wind, and brought your head over his shoulder, resisting the urge to bury your wind-bitten nose into the collar of your tunic. 

Being in the sky gave you the perfect opportunity to say it. It was probably inappropriate timing, but as you found Dragon island becoming more and more of a speck in the distance, you found that you didn’t care.

“See? The Earth is round!”

[thedragon-and-hisboy]

For the Whumpy Words list... Stockholm Syndrome and Deprived :P

Ok i'm gonna be a pedant about Stockholm Syndrome for a second: it was coined bc the hostages felt sympathy towards the bank robbers, but ACTUALLY it was bc the robbers treated the hostages better than the police did, whereas the police were just trying to bust in and didn't care if the hostages got hurt. acab. anyway:

The arrow thudded into the wall next to Hiccup's head, forcing him to freeze instead of running right into it. Viggo cursed and dropped the rope he had tied to Hiccup's bound hands. "That was too close, Krogan!"

The hunter in question laughed from the back of his Singetail and hefted his crossbow. "What do you care? Johann sent me to bring him back to the base, right now. Give him to me!"

Hiccup's heart sank; the last time Krogan had captured a rider, in this case Snotlout, he'd tortured a hatchling Changewing to death in front of him.

"Don't," he said to Viggo. "I'll stay with your ship." It wasn't like Viggo was a saint. Nowhere close; but at least he only wanted to do terrible things to Hiccup, not to dragons. He wasn't the sadist Krogan was proud to be.

Viggo raised an incredulous eyebrow. "You know I am loath to let you out of my company, my dear," he replied with a wink. Hiccup ground his teeth and ignored it. Krogran growled incomprehensibly and soared off.

Ruffnut lowered her head and let it hang. She was too tired to hold it up anymore, and besides, what was there to see in the ugly cell that she hadn't seen already? A full canteen of water certainly wouldn't have materialized since the last time she'd scanned the stained stone walls.

Water... she took it for granted so often, of course: using bucketfuls to slosh over Barf and Belch when they got dirty, putting Snotlout's hand into a warm cup of it when he slept, washing in it (though that was as infrequent as she could), even pouring it out or watching her rain-barrel overflow.

Now, of course, she was cursing herself for every drop she'd let fall through her fingers. If she got out of here, she'd never take it for granted again.

If; she'd said "if" that time, not when. Vaguely, she remembered one of Fishlegs' safety lectures about how long a body could go without water or food, and that it had been significantly less on the matter of water. A week? Mere days?

The door to the cell creaked open. It wasn't even locked; the chains holding her up were restraint enough. Her visitor laughed nastily.

"Ready to tell us where you hid the Dragon Eye, dragon rider?" Ryker asked. He'd brought something with him: Ruffnut's eyes widened. it was a full canteen of water. He noticed her staring and proffered it. She couldn't reach, of course. "You'll get all the water you like when you tell us where it is," he said.

Loyalty fought with self-preservation. If she told him, she'd be betraying the gang. But... if she didn't she would almost certainly die a gruesome death. Self-preservation kicked loyalty in the face.

"It's on Berk," she lied, eyes locked on the canteen. "Hidden in the Great Hall. Mural of a dragon, carved out a nook and stuffed it in there."

The canteen landed at her feet. Ryker withdrew some keys, unlocked one of her wrists, then marched out without another word.

"Ha," Ruffnut muttered. "Idiot."

The water was even better than she could have hoped for.

[httpsglitch]

fun ask,

Isaiah with a y2k or very colorful love/obsession who loves to take pictures and a florist?

He needs a soft life too. Chubby and curvy anon

Opposites attract trope has my life in a chokehold omg-

The pop music grained in Isaiah's ears as he stared lifeless across the record store, his chipped nails drumming at the counter.

The clock across the room ticked away second by second.

Just ten more minutes.

Ten more minutes, then Isaiah can have his lunch break, and head over to the floral shop across the street.

Ten minutes until Isaiah can see Y/N again.

The fact that Isaiah "Everyone can go to Hell" Holmes, was actually looking forward to seeing someone, let alone someone as... Bright as Y/N seems to be most of the time.

Once the clock hit one p.m, Isaiah will waste no time ditching this damn store and visiting the floral shop as if he were a devoted customer. And... Well, he may as well be with Y/N working there.

He can see them outside, through the stores display window. See them right outside the floral shop, taking pictures of some of the pots of flowers and bouquets on display.

His eyes were trained on them. On the way they moved, the way they arranged various flowers differently for different shots, the way their fingers brushed against the stems and petals, the way they would adjust their camera every now and then. Hell, he even noted how their outfit today had different bedazzled accessories he hadn't seen on them before.

God, if Isaiah saw how sappy his brain was right now, he'd barf.

But he was snapped out of lala land with a POP of bubble gum.

Isaiah gave a sharp growl, his gaze instantly hardening when he faced away from Y/N's direction, and towards his coworker, Kevin.

"Didn' they teach you to chew with your mouth closed?" Isaiah could feel his muscles tense, the noise of sloppy gum chewing more grating than the stupid pop music playing in the background.

Kevin ignored Isaiah, blowing another obnoxious pink bubble from his lips, letting it pop again as he flipped through a magazine, "'s not a big deal man." he huffed.

Just a few more minutes... Just a few more...

The ticks of the clock tick on and on, taunting Isaiah with how slow it's going, knowing damn well Isaiah just wants to have his break already.

"Dude, your leg is shakin' the counter." Kevin tsk'ed, throwing his magazine up.

Isaiah looked down, and... Yup. His leg was bouncing up and down faster than a jackrabbit. Isaiah groaned, looking back out the window, "Jus' shut up."

"What're you lookin' at anyway?" Kevin hummed, leaning up from his seat, trying to gaze over Isaiah's shoulder.

"None of your business." Isaiah grumbled, trying to still his leg, only for it to kick back up again.

Kevin, as always, ignored Isaiah and kept looking, only for a noise between a scoff and a laugh to leave his throat, "Jesus man, them again?"

"Are you too fuckin' dumb to understand what 'none of your business' means?" Isaiah slammed his fist to the counter, only for Kevin to throw his hands up in a mockingly placating gesture.

Damn bastard never took him seriously...

"Hey, man, I'm all for weird tastes, but..." Kevin whistled, his baby blue eyes twitching back towards the floral shop across the street, "But c'mon..."

Isaiah's hand twitches.

"Your idea of 'weird taste' is a girl weighing over one-fifteen with acne, shut the fuck up."

Kevin scoffs, going back to his magazine and his sloppy chewing, "Christ man, no need to get so worked up..."

The hour hand finally reaching one couldn't have come sooner.

Without another word, Isaiah sat up from his seat, and walked out the records store, nearly slamming the door hard enough to shatter the glass.

. . . ♡

"Isaiah!" Isaiah's shoulders instantly relax as soon as he hears their voice over the jingle of the welcome bell.

"Hey." his tone was dry, but that's just to be expected from the guy in any situation.

Y/N shuffled around the counter, rushing towards Isaiah, arms open wide for a hug. Poor guy nearly had the wind knocked out of him once he was in their hold, but he didn't mind.

"Oof... You're excited..." Isaiah breathed out, his hand rubbing circles on Y/N's shoulder, "Moreso than usual, anyway."

Y/N nodded, stepping back from Isaiah just a bit to look (up/down/at) him, smile wide and possibly brighter than their outfit, if that was possible, "Sorry! I just-" Y/N broke out into a fit of giggles, and Isaiah felt the corner of his lips twitch up, "I made you something!"

Isaiah paused, his finger dumbly pointing to himself, "You... Made something for me?"

Y/N nodded, jerking their head to the side, their hand tugging at his arm, "Come with me." they urge, dragging a dumbfounded Isaiah toward the back of the shop.

Behind what looked like a wall of bouquets, Y/N rummaged through them, and pulled out a different bouquet, this one much more voluminous and colorful than the others.

Isaiah's eyes widen, his arms holding the surprisingly hefty arrangement as Y/N looked up at him with stars in their eyes.

"I know flowers aren't really your... Thing... But! I just wanted to thank you for... Tolerating me, I guess?" their normally bright demeanor slowly dimmed to a timid shuffle, "I know I can be a lot sometimes. And I know you're not a big fan of people. And... Well I wanted to show you my appreciation some way."

Isaiah was silent, his eyes ping ponging to Y/N and the bouquet, "You... You really didn' have to."

"I wanted to."

Silence hung between the two. Not suffocating, though.

What should he say? Saying "Thank you" to a thank you felt a but weird. Would it be bad to offer to pay for the bouquet? Would it be weird to just take it for free!?

He just stared at the bouquet, various different colors and flowers packed in one intricate bundle. The petals were soft.

"I... I can learn to dry them... Keep 'em longer." was all he could mutter out, his cheeks flushing pink.

Y/N's smile was softer now, and they brought Isaiah back in for a hug, being mindful of the bouquet in Isaiah's arms, "I can teach you."

AAAAAAAA IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME FOR-FUCKING-EVER TO ANSWER I AM THE BIGGEST PROCASTINATOR I SWEAR-

Anyway, thank you for the ask, I was too tired/burnt out to draw a piece for it, and I wanted to do more than just a few sentenced answer, so I decided to write out a small one shot of it! And I wanted to flesh out Isaiah a tiny tiny bit.

Hopefully y'all like it! And if y'all have any writing tips, tricks, constructive criticisms, lemme know! I wanna add writing to my hobby list! :)

[vulpiximisa]

the ceo of ooneko over on Twitter probably already said this but I’m just going to word barf my own thoughts about anime vs game ooneko

so it’s been known that the anime and game depictions of the characters have changed a bit. Mostly Osoto’s depiction, which in turn changes his dynamic with Neko.

as I said before, Osoto’s presence in the anime feels like a constant threat. The inclusion of ep4 along with how graphic it is (imo) hits the point of him being someone who can kill without lifting a finger. I initially thought that they downplayed his crimes because they called it assault rather than rape (for his past victims not ep4) but maybe it’s just a censorship for television. (Same with when Neko had a flashback about a school teacher “hurting” a student. It was SA.)

in the games, I used “Loki in the Avengers Tower” to describe Osoto and honestly, Neko just treats him like A Guy and knowing he’s a criminal just feels like an inside joke between them. Or something. Like she’d go over and ask him banal questions, info dumps her love for idols, when she proposes the game to get him to play piano it’s in good humor.

The thing about chapter 6 is Neko goes to Osoto to ask if there were any records of her name showing up after her stabbing. Osoto was the one to give her good news, that she’s Not Dead. She was in such a good mood. So discovering that he was the one that stabbed her was more of a shock and more betrayal.

(Also forgot to mention if Osoto getting cut by Kyoko in chap4 was anything. Neko being worried about him and having him patched up by Atori and then the three “bonding” over romance talk. Maybe Neko establishing her ideal poly romance really meant for OsoAtoNeko to be real.)

The pool scene in the anime apparently is a reference to Sherlock and Moriarty, which, I wouldn’t know because the only Moriarty I know is voiced by Saito Soma. Anyway, I guess the anime was trying to play up that scene but make it Not Entirely Serious with the guests walking in like “what the fuck are they talking about”.

But in a way, having that scene just makes it all the difference because in the game, after Neko finds out, she wasn’t sure how she would face Osoto. When she does, she’s surprised that they’re still talking like normal. “Not like a baddy vs a goody”, which the anime is trying to depict.

Someone’s post on tumblr said that Osoto shoehorning Holmes and Moriarty is lame but I think it’s supposed to be ironic because Neko wouldn’t call herself Holmes, it’s Osoto doing that. I don’t know exactly what kind of rivalry the actual characters had, but we’ve been know that Osoto is a criminal so it’s not like he’s someone we have to chase down and catch.

The same post also said they weren’t developed enough in the past episodes. I can’t say for ep 6-7 because those aren’t chapters in the game that I can compare, but Osoto shows up enough to make Neko go “ugh this guy again” and that was pretty much kind of their relationship, so I don’t really see how you can’t say it’s not developed, it’s just more like it’s not supposed to be the typical Detective vs Criminal relation.

Ep 6-7 were weaker in terms of interaction, ep 5 has Osoto “actively” helping Neko “solve” a case and ep 8 she calls on him for medical help and challenges him for a favor. I guess ep 10 having him help her with the schedule was a scene, but I think they needed a segue for Neko to go “we could be friends in the real world”.

Anyway, I’m an anime enjoyer, so I like a lot of the things they did so spruce it up for non game players, which is what it should be, I think an anime Should be watchable stand-alone for people who have never seen the original source. It’s just a matter of if it still connects, if they’d still make sense, but since I’ve already played the games it’s hard for me to judge.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Sorry for being gone for so long, I haven't been feeling great both physically and mentally, so that was awesome...anyway:

Look, Eddie wasn't that picky when it came to companions. He wasn't much of a catch either - as a bard, it was already expected of him to cause chaos, but with his choice of songs, the result was less of a bardic inspiration and more of a "turn everyone against each other" or "make everyone extremely horny". Which...actually worked when they needed to avoid combat, but by ancient gods, he didn't need to see that group of orcs going at it.

Anyways. Eddie wasn't picky, but Steven Harrington was becoming a bit too much for him.

First: he was a rich kid. Eddie was a proud trash raised in a cottage that barely held together and he had no patience for people who never washed their own laundry (not that Eddie did, well, not too often, but still).

Second: he was effortlessly handsome. Annoyingly handsome. Bad hair day? Steven fucking Harrington didn't know those. His moles were placed in perfect places. Eddie had nearly invisible freckles and his only moles were - embarrassingly enough - near his groin and if you squinted hard enough, looked like a daisy petal. So uncool. But uncool was a word Steven Harrington apparently lacked in his vocabulary.

And third...this. Just...all of this.

Eddie didn't want to think of himself as a prejudiced person, he really didn't. But there were two things he didn't like in this world: lawyers and necromancers.

And Steven somehow managed to blend both of those into a horrible combination that just. Fucking. Worked.

Eddie was strumming on his lute and watched Steven open a bag full of old bones, yet another unlucky trader, adventurer or whoever had died in the woods before them. He placed them carefully on the ground, arranging them - admirable knowledge of anatomy, Eddie would give him that - and muttered an incantation. Green light, weird whooshing, some sparkles, yadda yadda and the skeleton reassembled itself. It sat in front of Steven and they started working in hushed tones over a pre-prepared contract. Eddie could only make out phrases as "a work opportunity," "being dead must be boring," "do you have any family that could use a percentage of the spoils from this quest" and the best of all, "no pressure, if you'd rather be left alone, just say the word." From what Eddie had seen in last few weeks, very few of them did say the word, and if they did, Steven would honor his word and bury their remains where they desired.

It was a really decent thing to do and Eddie hated himself for even admitting it.

One discussion about details ("do you want to be only reassembled when needed or would you like to accompany us the whole time?") and a bony signature later, Steven carefully stuffed the newest party helper (Arthur, Steven made sure to remember all of their names, another fucking decent thing!) in the bag and stretched himself next to the fire.

Eddie couldn't help but glare. That fucking guy. Built like a fighter from carrying half of a cemetery on his back, pretty, rich and for some reason also awfully nice and moral. Eddie wanted to barf.

"You know," smiled Steven and Eddie's traitorous stomach did a triple flip with a botched landing, "I love seeing you like this. Calm. Strumming those slow melodies. You look really pretty, too." He laughed to himself and turned onto his back, staring at the stars. "Well, you look really pretty all the time, especially when you're trying not to be bitchy, but these times you look the prettiest."

Eddie almost dropped the lute. Almost swallowed his own tongue as well. "Are you trying to kill me, Harrington?" he sputtered. "Don't you have enough to resurrect?"

Steven just shook his head, smirking. "That's a thought. But no. Breach of ethics - I'm pretty sure killing someone to resurrect them wouldn't make them want to join me. Plus, I was thinking less of a "fight for me" and more like "fuck me, possibly date me" - interested?"

Eddie stared at him with large eyes, moving his lips without any sound. "Uh...well, sounds good to me," he said, not very intelligently, but his brain was chanting kiss those moles pull that hair shut him up kiss him like right now maybe. "Do you...have a contract for that?"

Grinning, Steven - no, Steve, he asked to be called that several times and maybe this was the right time to give in to his wish - pulled Eddie to the ground with him. "For you? I'm sure I can draft something."

When Gareth, Robin and Chrissy arrived back from their supply run the next morning, they found Eddie and Steve curled against each other, fully clothed but very obviously satisfied. Robin just snickered and whispered to Steve that she wanted details, all the dirty, sticky and scandalous details, but Gareth just rolled his eyes. "And here I thought you disliked the guy when you said "Fuck him," he nudged Eddie as he unpacked healing potions.

Eddie closed his eyes and hummed a new melody that came to him with Steve's touches and gentle words. "It was open for interpretation," he laughed and reached for his lute.

[subzeroparade]

What's a ballet with real snazzy costume work, in your humble and/or professional opinion? c:

Oh, you’ve activated my trap card - asking about costume design and ballet and not expecting me to barf up the entirety of my PhD. I’ve also done work on the ballet blancs costumes (Giselle and La Sylphide specifically) but they are interesting on a theoretical level and not so much visually, so I’ll skip that.

So here are some personal favs of mine - the highlights, if you will. Caveat: long post, and mostly limited to the work of the Ballets Russes, because they are my longtime obsession and I think (and have argued) for their role in fundamentally changing stage and costume design (to say nothing of dance, and George Balanchine can sit the fuck down). I didn’t put that in my thesis but I wanted to.

Anyway tldr in the first decade of the 20th century a troupe of dancers from the Russian Imperial Ballet (later the Mariinsky) travelled through Europe under impresario Serge Diaghilev, for what became known as the Saisons Russes, or Russian Seasons. They performed both opera and ballet, and are probably best remembered today (if at all) as the troupe that danced the premier of Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring and caused a riot at the Theatre des Champs Elysées. The eminent artists that worked with them include Debussy, Cocteau, Picasso, Chanel - and these are only a few recognisable names. But my focus was primarily on the Russian roots of the ballet, in their visual language and presentation of gender and nationality, more precisely around the work of artist Leon Bakst and dancer Vaslav Nijinsky. 

Second image of Nijinsky from Le Dieu Bleu, and Bakst’s set design from Scheherazade (1911). These are mainly photos and scans I have from the year I spent in the archives of the Palais Garnier (the Paris Opera) where all the good stuff is.

The crux of why these costumes are insanely interesting to me is because they are very specific to their time - they are a product of a resurgence in nationalist interests in Russian art (Diaghilev ran Mir Isskustva and worked with Savva Mamontov before he organised the BR) as well as a carefully crafted, highly artificial presentation of Otherness, expressly destined for export to the west. French audiences in the first decade of the 20th century (because there is a stark cut-off at the beginning of WW1) still had an appetite for Orientalism, despite their flagging colonial power. What the Russians brought them was compelling mix of performative Orientalism just vague enough to be appealing and fantastical, visually intriguing, and refreshing to a society that had otherwise come to recognise itself as decadent, fallen “victim” to modernity. In the athletic virtuosity of Russian bodies, Bakst’s exotic visual language and the soaring music of Rimsky-Korsakov and Stravinsky, the French devoured what they deemed a sort of noble savagery (yes, that kind). Despite the oversaturation of Orientalism in painting throughout the 19th century, the French identified a kind of masculine vigour and freedom in these live performances they found they themselves lacked, and longed for. Primitivism, as demonstrated in myriad ways by the BR, was for them a way to reconnect with a virility that they felt modernity had stolen, or at the very least, weakened. If you think this sounds eerily akin to the discourse around mounting desire for war to “cleanse” or “reset” Europe during that same period, you are right. 

A few of Bakst’s lesser known designs from the archive, for context (including a reprod by Barbier which I don’t have the OG of but is saved in my Bakst folder so please take my word for it). I have a thousand more of these but tumblr has an image limit per post 😤

Tamara Karsavina, who often performed with Nijinsky, and one of my most beloved historical figures. The existence of a strong classical ballet cirruculumin the UK today is in part thanks to her. 

One of her most famous roles, as the Firebird:

Nijinsky is by far the most interesting figure to come out of the BR. He combined virtuosity and strength (that most audiences identified as masculine) with a glittering, joyful, and expressive queerness on stage (and off). Some of his greatest roles are expressly feminine in their costume design: Le Spectre de La Rose, for example.

There’s a colorised version of this out there where you can see every pink rose petal on him.

While others are much more decorative but still markedly Orientalist (or Russian-Orientalist): Le Dieu Bleu, La Peri, Les Orientales, L’Oiseaux de Feu. 

This last image above is not, the last I saw it, in a private collection. It hangs above the vestibule of the Palais Garnier archives (also Napoleon’s private hangout room) where it faces the sort of “diptych” version that features Karsavina, and on occasion I would stand below them and weep quietly).

Either way, there is an argument to be made about Nijinsky’s physicality and, more importantly nationality as a kind of avenue of permission through which the French could admire both his beauty and athleticism and even, to a degree, imagine themselves in his place while still maintaining that safe distance of Otherness.  

But I would argue that his greatest role was the Golden Slave in Scheherazade, a wild, erotic orientalist fantasy that has little to nothing to do with the actual tale of Scheherazade. In it, Nijinsky - bejewelled, wild, ecstatic, (and yeah often in blackface) - cavorts with Zobeide, the Sultan’s favourite, in a very sexually explicit storyline. Both characters are equally decorative in their costumes, and both, in real life, were recognisably queer(ed) figures. It’s Scheherazade in particular that helped accelerate an obsessive trend in fashion (Paul Poiret was at the centre) for Orientalist design. Bakst himself did some silhouettes that are hard to distinguish from his costume design, and through the remarkable illustrations by Paul Iribe, Georges Lepape and Georges Barbier, we can see some of the blatant repetition of motif and silhouette in these ensembles that are designed, among other things, to be worn to the theatre. 

3rd and 5th are depictions of costumes of the Firebird and Zobeide respectively; the rest are fashion plates. This doesn’t even include the lampshade dress - which I don’t have a handy picture of, but have seen in real life - that is a pretty blatant melange of the Firebird and Zobeide, as designed by Poiret. Below is one of my favourite examples: A woman in a lampshade-style dress, standing against a backdrop not unlike Bakst’s set design above, attended by a archetypal oriental servant wearing Nijinsky’s Golden Slave costume.

These motifs also proliferated in advertisements and in all kinds of other consumer products (perfumes, for example, and decorative objects). Thus, there’s a performative aim in wearing these designs that I read as a sort of pseudo-kinetic empathy (and can funnnily enough probably be compared to cosplay). There is an attempt here to channel what is being presented onstage, to reenact it, to physically embody it, in the way that fashion is, at its core, a tool through which to construct identity. That the French pulled inspiration from an openly queer man leaping across the stage dripping in jewels, and from femme fatal-style odalisques, says a lot about the visual and cultural impact the BR had on the theatre-going public at the time.

You can see in these fan designs by Paquin some pretty obvious references to the BR aesthetic: L’apres-midi d’un faune, Daphnis et Chloe, Scheherazade, even a little Le Pavillon d’Armide in that first one. 

Nijinsky was not the only one to queer the stage: despite not being a dancer trained to the level of the BR troupe, Ida Rubinstein, no doubt purposefully channelling Sarah Bernhardt, was also a beloved stage presence, whether as the sly harem favourite Zobeide or as the strikingly androgynous St Sebastian, gayest of saints. 

This is not to say there haven’t been wonderful and brilliant costume designs since - and quite a few known fashion designers working alongside dance companies, to great success or otherwise. I will, however, shoutout my favourite contemporary work: Akram Khan’s Giselle, which has everything and yet nothing to do with Adolph Adam’s 1842 piece. I don’t even want to post pictures because the costumes of the nobles (the landowners, in this very apocalyptically late-stage capitalist version) are so fucking breathtaking in relation to the overall design, and their entrance itself is probably one of the most spectacular parts of the ballet, that all I can say is just see it. Or buy the dvd. What Khan does gesturally is beyond words, what Vincenzo Lamagna does with Adam’s original score is visceral and haunting and churns my insides. I make a point to see it live at least once a season when it’s touring with the ENB, and I will do so until it leaves the repertory or until I die. It’s my contemporary Scheherazade. It’s a gesamtkunstwerk. 

Tldr Leon Bakst is one of the greatest costume designers of the 19th and 20th century and criminally underrated. 

It’s not ballet, and it’s not the sumptuous costumes from Boris Godunov, but as a bonus here’s my favourite image of opera star Fedor Chaliapine as Ivan the Terrible.