#but I don’t have it and the likelihood is VERY small

[the-sappho-of-lesbos]

I know having a gf won’t fix anything and I know I’m probably not in the best headspace to have a relationship anyway so I shouldn’t be thinking about it

But I’m just so lonely

I really just want I lay next to someone I love in comfy clothes while I do my thing and she does her thing and then we makeout

I want to snuggle. Not just with anyone. I want to snuggle with a woman I have feelings for who also has feelings for me

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Alucard finding his s/o drunkenly bragging about how awesome he is to the point he has to step in?

Alucard hated the smell of stale beer and body sweat. It was why he hardly ever frequented taverns and the like. If he had his choice now, he would not be in this one either. Sadly, he had no choice as you hadn’t come back to the inn yet, and with a town this small there was only one place you could be.

You were easy enough to find. Even with the small crowd. Again, the town was small. All there was for folks to do with their evening was drink, pray, or stay cloistered away in their homes. Judging by the crowd here, these men would rather do anything than stay at home with their wives and children. Drunkenly rambling on and one about the lives they could have had if they left their small town and not married young.

“Adrian!” You greet him with a drunken smile. A tankard of ale in front of you. Lord knew how many you had had before that, but it was clear you weren’t making it out of here on your own. “What are you doing here?”

“We need to leave.” He told you. “I’ve come to take you home.”

“Home? We’re going back to Belgraves?”

“No, [Y/N],” Alucard said with a sigh. “We’re going back to the inn.”

“Oh….that makes more sense….” You took another sip of beer. Which was exactly what you needed in his situation.

“What if they don’t want to leave?” Another drunk at the table asked him.

“Yeah! They can make their own choices!”

“They can.” Alucard agreed. “But I think it’s best if everyone calls it a night.”

“You’re telling me what to do now?! Pretty boy.” The man poked two fingers in his chest after he stumbled to his feet. It didn’t hurt, of course. And Alucard didn’t even move when he touched him. It was more annoying than anything to be touched by him. He’d have to wash this coat now.

“Hey! Don’t talk to him like that!” You argue in his defense. “Adrian is a very pretty boy, but you don’t have to say it like that.”

“This is not helping.” Alucard told you.

The man doesn’t even seem to register his comment as he turned to you. “Pretty boys like this don’t ever amount to anything. They don’t know hard work. They don’t know nothin’!”

“Adrian is super smart and a hard worker!” You snap back. “He’s way stronger than you!”

“Oh yeah? Well let’s put it to the test then, pretty boy!”

“I would rather not.” Alucard replied with a dull expression.

“Yes! No gumption at all! He’s a coward too! I bet he doesn’t want to get those pretty blonde locks of him mussed by a real man.” The drunk took a swing at him then. A bad one.

The likelihood of him connecting with Alucard, if he hadn’t caught his hand, was very slim. Nevertheless he did catch it, twisted his arm until there was a sickening crack heard over his scream, and dropped him. He was sure he hadn’t broken it, but he was definitely going to have to wear a sling for a while. “May we please go now?”

You stood up from the table and went to Alucard’s side as the men all stared, dumbfounded, before they found their voices again. They all started shouting at the couple like they had pulled some kind of trick and cheated. Not helped by you shouting back at them while Alucard pulled you from the tavern by the arm out into the street.

“Why don’t you want to go back and fight those guys?” You asked him. “You could easily take them!”

“I’m not going to get into a bar fight like some two-bit thug.” He told you ask you head for the inn. A flash of Trevor Belmonts smug face flickering in his mind.

“But the things they were saying…”

“Every slight doesn’t need a response.” He replied. Opening the door to their room when you both arrived and letting you in first. “Verbal or physical.”

You sit down on the bed with a heavy flop of all your weight. Letting out a drunken huff. “I guess. I just didn’t like what they were saying to you.”

“And I appreciate your call to my honor. But next time, let’s just leave.”

“Ok.” You told him. Reaching out your arms towards him with a drunken smile.

Alucard smiled slightly back and fell to his knees between yours to be wrapped in your requested hug. “You’re not mad at me then?”

“No.” He said. “I could never be mad at you.” Especially when they had the best of intentions. Even if they were misguided. He would just blame the alcohol.

[sprite-writes-fanfic]

When the ‘03 Turtles are in love!

🐢💙❤️2003 TMNT x Reader💜🧡🐢

Word Count: 889

CW: Gender-neutral reader as always, referred to as ‘you’, my underrated beloveds ong, (especially Donnie 💜), nothing but fluff! Turtles realizing they’re in love with you and how they act around you!! (+ confessions because yes <3)

🐢💙Leonardo💙🐢

💙 With Leo, it takes him a good while to realize he’s in love with you. It just randomly hits him when he’s meditating, the comfort you bring, the way he can lean on you, the way he’s always seemingly drawn to you! It hits him like a bus.

💙 He gets a little shy and distant with you, but don’t give up! Continue coming to him and acting like yourself, he’ll feel a bit guilty for avoiding you, but you still coming to him makes his heart flips and he’s feeling those butterflies.

💙 That’s when Leo can’t take it anymore and finally confides in Master Splinter, (which we both know that man knows when his sons are in love). Splinter is pleasantly surprised! But he’s happy to help his son sort out his feelings and even devise ways to confess to you.

💙 Finally, Leo works up the courage and asks you to go to the training dojo with him alone, to train. You two do train and by the end of it, Leo finally spills it, confessing his love to you, but also expressing his understanding if you didn’t feel the same.

💙 Pleasantly surprised when you admit to feeling the same way! Man is fist-pumping the air mentally when you confess. After that, you two spent more time together in the dojo, just talking things out and making it official with a hug, (a kiss will come later, Leo’s not ready to make that quick of a step!)

🐢❤️Raphael❤️🐢

❤️ With this emotional turtle, Raph is quick to realize, unlike his brothers, and at first; he’s frustrated. He didn’t NEED feelings, especially not towards a family friend, a human… A very beautiful human at that—

❤️ Okay, he gives up and comes to terms with the fact, Raph, the tough guy with anger issues, has soft feelings for YOU. (Bro went through the 5 stages of grief because of this/j)

❤️ And after coming to that conclusion, man is always trying to impress you, he gets closer to you, wants you to depend on him because he wants to be that someone for you! It strokes his ego quite a bit too.

❤️ It’s when he finally realizes he wants to be with you he shoots his shot. What’s the worst they could say? No? So, one night when you join him on patrol and you two are chilling on a roof, he finally confesses. And he’s straight to the point like, “Look uh, this is gonna sound weird, but I have feelings for you.”

❤️ Dude is so hyped when you say you feel the same way too. Raph isn’t the type to wait around either like Leo, on that rooftop was where you two shared (his) your first kiss.

🐢💜Donatello💜🐢

💜 When Donnie realizes, he panics a little actually. YOU are his best friend, and he’s completely shocked when he realizes that his heart thunders in his chest and his palms get sweaty when YOU are around, (*slow fade-in of the demi-romantic flag*).

💜 He tries to shut down these feelings as best as he can by working on his technology more and being distant with everyone, and I mean EVERYONE.

💜 Even then he can’t stay away for too long, he’s back to ranting and rambling about his inventions to you, and his breath hitches whenever you smile at and tell him, “Go on”, whenever he pauses and apologizes for rambling again.

💜 Donnie has to tell you, if he gets rejected now, hopefully these feelings will go away, right? He didn’t even consider the fact that you could possibly like him back, according to his statistics, the likelihood of a mutant and a human together is low!

💜 Well, when he sat you down for a serious conversation, going on to admit his feelings and saying he wouldn’t be hurt if you said no— Wait what? You were quick to interrupt him and tell him you liked him back?? He had to process a moment before he would shyly ask if you wanted to go for a small ride in the Battle Shell around town. (You two held hands while he drove. <3)

🐢🧡Michelangelo🧡🐢

🧡 Woof, Mikey on the other hand is a bit of a wild card, at first he confuses platonic with romance, but when his brothers point out to him the obvious, he’s all for it!

🧡 Mikey is the type to start reading comics and watch movies that involve romance so he has an idea of what to do, (and yes, he kicks his feet all giddy-like when he’s doing this).

🧡 After he’s obtained his knowledge, he’s quick to try and impress you and reenact some moments from the movies he’s watched, always saying quotes you probably wouldn’t understand. And when you don’t get it at first, thinking he’s just being Mikey, he’s a little bummed…

🧡 Then Raph has to point it out to him why his advances aren’t working, because he’s not really acting any different, and just tells Mikey to grow a pair and to tell you honestly. And that’s when Mikey’s new plan is sent into action, operation confession is a go!

🧡 Still a little confusing because he’s still making references but he’s got the spirit. Eventually he ends up forgetting the movie references and out-right tells you. And it’s safe to say, you guys have a roof-top date coming up here soon.

Gaaah, I’ve been obsessing over TMNT good lord. I wanted to write about them, and I’ll probably write more about them too 😭💙 Love turtle pookies ong, hope you enjoyed, and yes I posted the same day, I am motivated to write. ✍️

[bratphilia]

grasp (w. afton x reader)

request: "I don’t really have a coherent story (just some thots) but i’d kill for some sort of smuttyyy ficlet that has the reader who is very short as in 4 foot 10 and has petite features (just like me 😵‍💫) being picked up and slung over Matthew Lillard!William Afton’s shoulder 🥴🥴 Include reader being scared and trying to wriggle free??? (due to her seeing or knowing something she shouldn’t have about Raglan) and some name-calling like ‘little one’, ‘good girl’ & ‘atta girl’ 🤤 - 🧸"

note: hi nonniebear!! i'm sorry if this fic is a little rushed but i tried to stay true to what you requested! hope you enjoy and feel free to keep sending in more ideas :)

pairing: steve raglan / william afton x reader

tags: bondage, praise kink, fingering, squirting, begging

fuck. you're really in for it now. 

this yellowish, decaying rabbit stalks towards you, and there are four, sentient and bloodthirsty animatronics behind you. 

you're stuck. 

even worse, the rabbit came from the entrance, so if you were to try to make your escape that way there was a likelihood of you running into his knife.

"please," you find yourself pleading. "please don't kill me."

the rabbit laughs menacingly and bends down to your level. "how about this? i'll give you a head start." 

without any further questions you bolt through the maze of halls and towards the office. you crouch down in front of the vent the rabbit was referring to and unscrew the bolts barricading it. thank god you're small enough to fit in the vents. this might actually work.

then you hear unmistakeable, thumping footsteps coming towards you. 

it only hurries your actions. your heart rate rapidly increases. the screws are so aged with rust that it's hard to—

the door opens with a loud thud. you scream at the noise, and again when you're being lifted off the ground. it's the yellow rabbit. 

it slings you over its shoulder with unmatched strength. you wail incoherent words and pleas as you pound the back of the suit with balled fists. 

"help me!" you scream out to no one. "somebody help!" 

the rabbit wordlessly carries you down the hall, to one of the locked doors you dared not to venture into during your shifts. it carried you down a couple stairs and then set you on a dentist-office-style chair. 

at this point tears are rolling down your face. eyes are shut in fear of looking your captor in the eyes. uncontrollable sobs escape your mouth, praying that these aren't your final moments. then the rabbit wraps both hands (paws?) around your wrists and holds them to the arm handles so that restraints can bolt around them. 

"oh, save it," he says, clearly annoyed with your crying. "i've heard it all before, you don't deserve to die, and all that."

your eyes shoot open. the rabbit's voice no longer sounds robotic and you realize you actually recognize it. 

in a very dramatic fashion, it's steve raglan. your career counsellor, a.k.a the man who got you this job in the first place. 

he almost looks ridiculous in the rabbit suit, which admittedly doesn't add much to his already sizeable frame, but you can't find the humor in the situation in which you could be seconds away from dying in. 

"why?" you find yourself asking, suddenly more curious than hysteric. "why give me this job if you were just going to kill me in the end?" 

"because you got a little too close to the truth, and for some reason, those brats up there were unable to take care of the job themselves," he snarls resentfully. he must be referencing the animatronics. it makes sense now— the kids in the drawings with the yellow rabbit on the wall. 

"it was you. you killed those kids."

steve gives you a horrible smile. one that almost makes you weak, with that dimple you recognize from many conversations in his office. "you finally figured it out."

he walks behind you, shuffling around in the suit, and you crane your neck around to see him taking it off. he's wearing a white tee and dark purple slacks. he's not particularly muscular, but not thin either. it's a build specific to middle aged men. you hate to admit it, but your face flushes when you notice how large his hands are. 

he catches you looking at him and smiles, cocking his head curiously. "see something you like, little night guard?" instantly you whip your head back around. your head is at a moral war with itself, with you being disappointed in yourself that you were actually checking out a child serial killer. 

but steve doesn't leave it alone. once he abandons the suit, he swiftly strides over you. he places both hands on your restraints, caging you in. you shrink into yourself. 

"i think," he says lowly, "i might have a different use for you, little one. one that we can both enjoy." 

you swallow, not saying anything. steve reaches a hand up to slide down your face then cup your jaw. his hands are cold to the touch and it sends shivers down your spine. 

you find your voice. "don't touch me."

"don't touch you? are you sure?" he says cockily and you can only glare at him in response. 

"what if i just..." he trails off, sliding the hands on his face down your neck, your chest, abdomen, and eventually your core. he presses his hand there hard, making you jolt upwards and whimper. "so you don't want me to touch you, is what i'm hearing?"

fuck. this undeniably hot serial killer has you at his disposal and you can't help but feel turned on. if you're going to die, and your chances really aren't looking good for you, maybe you should just...

"please," you murmur, closing your legs so they trap his hand there.

"please, what?"

you swallow. "please fuck me." 

"'atta girl." he grins from ear to ear. "y'know, all that begging you did earlier really did a number on me, but i must say i love this change of heart."

steve starts to undo the buttons of your slacks and begins to pull them down, leaving you bare in your underwear. it's at this point you realize how wet you are, and you try to relieve the tension in your core by squeezing your thighs together but he grabs your legs and presses them to your stomach. you're just so malleable to him.

he tugs off your panties and discards them mindlessly. "look at that," he marvels at your bare skin, "so pretty, little one."

you squirm against the restraints a little. at this point the anticipation will kill you faster than he will. you wish he would just touch you already, but you had to admit all his praises were only adding to your arousal.

steve decides to sit a little further down the chair and wordlessly plunges a finger inside your pussy. he goes deliberately slow, clearly gaging your reaction. "fuck," you mutter, and it takes all your strength to not buck your hips into his movements.

"you need this, don't you, sweet girl?" he muses, stopping the thrusting of his fingers, but still keeping them inside. "tell me."

"please, please, please..." tears coat your lashes from all the teasing. "'need it so bad."

he gives you a kind smile, one you haven't seen since you were back in his office. "good girls get what they ask for. "

steve slides in a second finger and begins to pump faster. it's an improvement but you find yourself needing more. you buck your hips up hoping he would get the message and he simply laughs lowly as he adds a third finger into the mix.

his pace gets progressively faster over time to your delight. the noises coming from your center is absolutely obscene. you can feel your juices dripping down onto the seat.

"ah — ah!" you cry out, feeling your orgasm nearing. "i'm coming — please, slow down—"

you squeeze your eyes shut. all the sudden the chair is abnormally wetter than you would have expected and— oh.

your face burns bright red. "i-i'm sorry..."

he's shocked, mouth agape and eyes slightly widened. then a wolfish grin spreads across his face. "don't you dare apologize, little one, let's try that again."

[drdemonprince]

Hi Dr. Price,

I’m a huge fan of your work and I’ve found it immensely helpful in figuring out who I am.

In recent years I’ve discovered I am both AuDHD and Bi. My partner is also Bi and very supportive. However we have been together for over a decade and I’m struggling a lot lately with the fact that I’ve never actually been with anyone else. I’ve been spending a lot of time in queer spaces online and finding myself wishing I could at least experience some of what they do.

I love her more than anything and would never do anything to hurt her. She’s not interested in opening things up in any way, which I completely respect and to be fair I’m not even sure that’s truly something I would want either.

I guess I’m just asking if you have any advice on these overwhelming feelings of missing out on aspects of life I never knew I even missed? Other than using porn to get it out of my mind as I’m worried that’s affecting our relationship sexually, which is another issue. Should I find a dating sim game or something to push all of these thoughts on to? It’s kind of messed up but I feel like if I was allowed to flirt online and not actually act on it that might satisfy me? I don’t know.

If nothing else thank you so much for your work and giving me a space to get this off my chest. ❤️

Because I am of the mind that most longings for queer expression/recognition/community cannot and should not be met with media consumption, I'm not going to tell you that there is any kind of game that can simulate queer erotic contact in a way that will be remotely satisfying for you.

You and your partner's desires for your relationship and its boundaries are important and matter, but alongside that, I would also encourage you to listen to that urge that tells you that you'd love to flirt online with a sexy queer stranger as a way to let a little of the steam off.

The wants you are feeling are real, and when disregarded or left unattended they can spiral out in all kinds of unpleasant ways, from just regular garden variety frustration, to resentment, to conducting years long emotional affairs with agoraphobic instagram thot boys you met online (not that I know anything about that).

You want to be recognized by another queer person as a sexually desirable, available person, you want to feel the rush of a developing romance, you want the future to be filled with possibility and excitement, you want to know that your life is not over and that there's still more to learn about yourself and more experiences to enjoy -- these are all good things. These are important things, and I promise you that it is very unlikely that you won't get to experience more desire, attraction, sexual contact, romance, and heartbreak in the years to come.

Most relationships end. Those that last more than a couple of years undergo dramatic shifts over the course of their tenure. And so, it is very likely that you and your partner will either eventually split, or your various desires and capacities will become incompatible in certain ways, and you will contemplate some kind of change to the relationship dynamic (or someone will fail to communicate this and cheat. hopefully not that one. But if it does happen, well. It's very common and not the end of the world or even necessarily the end of the bond).

How does it feel to confront this information? That in all likelihood, this relationship will either end, open up in some way, change dramatically in its dynamic, or be marked by one or both parties stepping out in some way, however small, be it an online flirtation or a kiss at a party or a sexual affair? I think your feelings in response to that information is important too. And that regardless of what you and your partner decide for the time being, it is an important series of potentialities to reflect on and emotionally prepare oneself for. Also worth asking: are these potential futures ones that you can speak to your partner about? One of them will likely be headed for you in time, not through any fault of your own or due to lack of love, but simply because people change and relationships develop, just like a person develops. Whether or not these are subjects that can be broached is itself valuable information, too.

Now personally, I am very biased, but I think there is very little harm in having some virtual sex with a consenting stranger, roleplaying sexy interactions online, even getting on a dating or cruising app and posting a few anonymized photos and seeing what kind of attention you get and enjoying the rush. I think that kind of thing is all within the realm of the harmless and forgivable, but hey, my sister just ended an engagement over her fiance doing that kind of thing, so not everyone agrees with me clearly.

But I think it is worth at least contemplating the full, long continuum of infidelity that exists, from having a whole secret other marriage and family and keeping a partner in the dark about it on one end, say, and making bedroom eyes with a cute person at the bar and fantasizing about what if what if what if, on the other. If your partner did anything along that whole continuum, you might be hurt, and likewise they might be if you do.

You say you love your partner more than anything and would never do anything to hurt her. But you can't really promise yourself that. Every partner hurts one another in some way or another, sometimes even intentionally, over the course of a long relationship. But hurting one another in a relationship is, also, not the end of the world. We all make mistakes, say things we regret, lose control of our faculties at times, or are simply forced to reconcile that what we need conflicts with what another person does. And sometimes we put our needs first, even though it's uncomfortable.

I don't regret the times I cheated. I regret the lack of communication and cowardice that brought me to that half-formed, unarticulated decision. But I don't regret ever having chosen to listen to needs that had been powerfully screaming inside of me, typically for years before I attended to them.

I think you and your partner should continue having very frank conversations about these topics, and do your best to regulate your own anxieties and feelings of relationship threat when the other party brings up an activity or an idea that makes the other feel scared. The choice isn't to remain monogamous or to become fully polyamorous with no hierarchy. There are a lot of activities you can both decide are either okay or not okay, and conditions under which you will engage in them.

Even what counts as "monogamy" is subject to fierce debate, that's part of why so many jealous straight people destroy one another so easily. Is texting someone you think is cute in a flirtatious but ultimately just friendly way cheating? Is dancing with someone else cheating? What kind of dancing is okay and is not? Is cuddling on the couch? Working on erotica together? Kissing? Is watching porn with someone else cheating? Is masturbating to a video they sent you?

You might have a very visceral response to these questions, but those are just like, your opinions. They are not set in stone and you can easily find another monogamous person who is just as adamant about completely opposing rules and definitions of what monogamy means to them. And so, it's worth talking with your partner and really being honest with yourself about what it is you want to do, what is decidedly off the table, and what the hell it even is that you two are talking about when you discuss your relationship and its limits.

If it were me, and if I could wave a wand and make you and your partner feel okay about and agree to a set of relationship limits, I think you should consider flirting with actual queer people online. But I can't control other people's behavior or emotions, as much as I have tried. But you can at least contemplate (and then discuss) alternate ways of getting the kind of attention that you desire.

There are lots of things you can do to scratch your itch that are not having sex or dating someone else: LARPing (there is larping that has a sexual or romantic component!). Tabletop games. Acting or improv that incorporates romantic or sexual elements. Going to a sex party and just WATCHING people do stuff. Going to a gay bar and just hanging out and socializing. Going to a cruising bar and watching people fuck. Going to a dungeon for a class or a demo. Going on gay speed dating but secretly agreeing that you're not actually going to take anybody home, you're just gonna see how it feels. Wearing a slutty outfit to pride and waving and winking at people. Exchanging heartfelt letters with a queer friend who you have chemistry with but who respects your relationship.

These are just some ideas, but the possibilities are limitless. One day, you and your partner might agree that you are open to having sex with other people, or flirting, but not to them having other lasting relationships. maybe you'll have threesomes together or one partner will watch the other fuck casual hook-ups. Or maybe you'll just break up. Who knows what the future holds! No matter what it is, you can figure it out with both love and commitment to your partner, but also the courage to name what you are feeling and to honor your desires. None of those things have to be incompatible, and monogamy doesn't have to be incompatible with getting a little thrill here and there either.

Good luck!

[tumbleweed-run]

A Perfect Date With Gale

@arachnethebard perhaps not what you intended but this is what happened

Since you got to Waterdeep with Gale he's been insistent that the two of you go on a 'perfect' first day... despite the fact that the two of you are already engaged.

Perfection is such a difficult thing to achieve.

1600 words because I'm physically incapable of brevity.

PG (for once)

Gale has been talking about giving you a “proper first date” for entire month you two have been in Waterdeep. Never mind the fact that you two are engaged. He’s been focusing on it near daily. Every time he brings it up you smile and nod. It’s not that you wouldn’t enjoy a nice night out exploring the city, but it’s not about that. 

“Tomorrow night,” he announces one night as he enters the study.  You’re petting Tara, tactfully ignoring a light smear of blood around her mouth… the tower is always miraculously free of rodents. 

You find new clothes draped over a bench in the bedroom the following afternoon. You admire them for a moment, almost hesitant to touch them. They’re finer than anything you’ve worn in years, possibly ever. But despite your mild apprehension over the likelihood of destroying them before you step foot out of the tower, you don them. Gale did go through the trouble, and expense, procuring them for you. 

Gale greets you outside the room, looking as though he’s been waiting the entire time you’ve been inside. You chuckle to yourself at the thought, given that it was once just his room. 

He’s wearing almost traditional wizard’s robes but these are new, a deep maroon with gold accents. He’s begun to stray from the purple he wore almost exclusively when you first met him. There might be something deeper behind that if you dared to think about it for a moment. You know there’s some meaning behind the gold and emerald earring he has in. Your hand instinctively goes to it’s other half, resting around your neck.

“Shall we?” He offers you his arm, eyes sweeping over your form. His smile tells you he’s pleased with the way you look in what he’s selected. 

You spend much of the walk taking in the city at dusk. Waterdeep is so different from Baldur’s Gate, and yet so very similar. Gale happily talks for the both of you. 

The building you stopped in front of was beautiful to say the least, all the street facing windows were stained glass in the shape of the city’s crest. The two large heavy doors were opened and a rather bored looking man in fine clothes stood just inside them. The braziers over the steps was brightly polished brass throwing the light far into the road as if beckoning people in. 

You were busy, once again, marvelling at the building you at first missed Gale’s eyebrows knitting together. He was speaking to the man in the door way, both in hushed tones. The man seemed simply uninterested in whatever Gale was telling him. 

“Now I’m positive I’ve reserved a table,” Gale’s voice had pitched upwards giving away his apparent distress. “I came down myself a tenday ago and booked it.”

You saw a light go on in the bored man’s eyes. “Ah,” he said nodding, “I see the error. The table you booked is for next year. All our bookings are.”

Gale’s mouth simply hands open, a light red brushing just above his beard on his cheeks. 

“Gale,” you say softly, hand going to his arm, “It’s fine we’ll find something else for tonight and come back… next year.”

You resolutely, do not laugh.

Gale, still flabbergasted into silence, looks between you and the other man. For a moment he looks like he wants to argue with one of you but wisely, wisely, nods to you instead. You lead this time as you turn away from the lovely building.

Gale seems over his shock sometime later and sighs heavily. “It’s unlikely we’ll find something worthy of our first date tonight.”

He sounds so put down your heart breaks for a moment. You don’t give into the feeling and instead hook your arm through his. “Whatever we find will be perfect,” you assure him.

He offers you a small, but doubtful smile. 

You two wander, arm in arm, in the cool evening air. Gale doesn’t really seem to be looking for a new option but you are. And it appears down a dirt-packed road, you grasp his arm and point. 

Gale sputters again, “The Yawning Portal?” 

He seems incredulous that you would even suggest it. 

“Well they’re not likely to turn us away,” you risk a tease, “and besides you’ve spoken if it dozens of times. Let’s go!”

Gale relents almost immediately when you turn to him with pleading eyes, and as soon as he does you nearly drag him down the road. You laugh, out loud this time, when Gale shuffles his coin purse further beneath his robes. 

The proprietor barely spares you an eye roll as you two enter in your finery, he’s too busy to care. You run directly up to the dry well first and peer down, you can’t see anything but darkness. Gale gently redirects you to a table in the corner with an exasperated smile. Once he deems you safely secured into a relatively unoccupied corner he disappears towards the bar. Immediately you love this tavern with its rowdy clientele and atmosphere similar to many you had frequented in Baldur’s Gate. 

Gale returns with two mugs full of ale. “Food will be out in a moment,” he assures you, near shouting to be heard over the noise. 

You beam at him and reluctantly, he grins widely back.

One thing for Waterdeep is even in it’s most questionable of places the food is mouthwatering, a testament to Waterdeep’s reputation for the finest food on the coast. The two of you huddle together to hear each other without yelling as you eat. Gale surreptitiously points out some of the notable patrons that are there tonight. He lets you watch in rapt interest as a few bold adventurers lower themselves into the dry well, making for the Undermountain. Only once they disappeared did he launch into an explanation of the dungeon they were entering. 

Seemingly too soon the food is gone and your mugs empty. You don’t want the evening out to end just yet, you realize you miss your own little adventure (perhaps not the constant near-death aspect) and this place helps easy some of the sadness. Besides, as Gale’s mugs drained he leaned closer to you, words breathed against your ear and neck as he filled you in on everything he knew. 

You offer to get another round, immediately missing the warmth of his body pressed to yours as you stand. 

As you return you spot him watching you. The look on his face is openly dreamy, even when he realizes your watching him. 

The widening of his eyes is the only warning you receive before you trip into a rather stout dwarf you had somehow missed in your path. Your stumble sends the ale spilling down your front and most unfortunately directly over the dwarf’s head. 

In an instant he’s got both hands wrapped around your arms, the mugs falling to the floor. “Now, what in the hell is wrong with you,” he snarls yanking you forward nearly bending you in half so you’re closer to his level. 

You haven’t even fully registered what’s happened when just as quickly as he’d grabbed you, the dwarf is gone. 

Not gone, you realize. Instead, he’s now pinned against a table by Gale. He’s got one hand on the dwarf’s collar holding him and in the other he has a small spark of flame dancing in his palm. His face is dark, both literally and figuratively. Hair loosed by his sudden movements, falling forward and shielding his eyes from you.

This…

is new.

“... made a mistake, no need to get rough,” Gale is speaking and you suddenly realize the room’s gone quiet enough that you can hear him perfectly well despite the distance between you. 

In opposition to what he’s saying, the flame grows against his palm. 

The smell of beer hits you first, your front completely soaked in it. Then the realization that the dwarf is similarly covered sinks in. Gale is more likely to accidentally set the man ablaze than he is to diffuse the situation. 

That is what he’s trying to do, you hope. 

“Gale,” you speak just above a whisper, hand coming to rest on his back gently. 

You don’t want to cause the flame to catch. 

“It’s alright,” You assure him, hand rubbing in a soothing pattern, “We’re alright. Right?” The last is aimed at the dwarf who is glancing nervously between the flame and you now.

“Yeah,” He nods almost imperceptibly, “no harm done.”

Whatever had come over him abruptly left Gale, in one movement he both released the dwarf and extinguished the flame. 

“Well then,” you nod with an over-enthusiastic smile, “a round for everyone!” The coin pouch you hold up is Gale’s. 

Everyone is instantly merry, the volume once again rising so you can no longer hear those around you. 

“That’s not how I wanted our first date to go,” Gale says much later in the evening as you two are in the bath. 

You’re seated between his legs, leaning back against his chest, hand lazily drawing patterns on his knee in the water. Your ruined clothes are discarded on the floor somewhere near. The scent of rosewater is diluted only slightly by the smell of a tavern 

The laughter that bursts out of you is unexpected but after a beat even Gale joins in, head dipping back against the edge as he does. 

“It was perfect,” you insist turning your head to look at him.

Both of his eyebrows go up. “For us,” you amend. You twist just far enough to press a kiss to his lips. 

He hums against your mouth. “You still smell like you bathed in ale,” he teases, nose wrinkling.

[faithisyours]

Something to Tell

Azriel x Ace Fem!reader

Summary: You and Azriel are recently mated. You decide to take things slow, but you have something personal to tell Az.

Warnings: coming out, fluff

Word Count: 965

A/N: Sup y’all. Sorry I’ve been absent, a lot of shit happened. Anyways, I really just wrote this one for me. I think the topic of asexuality is really left out of this book series and fandom, understandably so, but I think it would be an interesting subject to discuss, so I’m here to fulfill my own wishes. Given the lore and rules around mates, I don't even know if this could be considered a thing, but I’m gonna try my hardest to make it a thing for my ace baddies out there. IDK if I’m gonna make this a series or not (probably won’t), but maybe see how people like it before making decisions. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to tell me. As always, minors gtfo. Adults, you enjoy!

You’re just finishing up bottling an allergy tonic for your neighbor’s son when the door to your apothecary opens, the bell above ringing out. You know exactly who it is, and you are simultaneously filled with dread and relief. Azriel, your freshly bonded mate, walks into the back room where you are working, his big Illarian boots creaking the floorboards wherever he steps. When you look up to greet him he gives you a soft smile, a smile you return.

You’ve known Azriel for a little over a year now, ever since Mor begged him to come pick up her sleeping tonic from you because she had been busy. But the bond haden’t snapped for either of you until roughly a month ago, when you were out drinking at Rita’s with the inner circle, per Nesta’s invite. Over the years you had grown close with the inner circle, specifically Mor and Nesta. What had started out as small talk when they came to pick up a tonic had blossomed into a beautiful friendship.

But the last thing in the world you had wanted to happen was to form a bond with someone, especially someone as good and sweet and caring as Azriel. Sure, he is beautiful, you of all people can see that, but the physical attraction stops there, like it always does. Emotionally you two are very compatible, sharing similar interests in books, music, and dancing. After the bond had snapped you both decided to take things slowly, moreso for your sake than his. Every day you grow more and more in love with him; you’re just terrified to see the disappointment and confusion in his eyes after you tell him you’re ace.

“Almost ready to go, Love?” Azriel asks, his eyes following the skilled movements of your hands.

“Almost done,” you respond, screwing the cap and writing the label onto the bottle quickly. You buss your wok table, putting away ingredients and empty bottles. You look over everything twice more, checking for anything out of place, but also as a means to stall. You are dreading this conversation.

“Looks good, Love. Want me to grab your coat?” You turn to him, a small smile on your lips, and grab his hand, gently cradling it in yours.

“Actually… Can I talk to you for a minute before we leave? I need to tell you something.”

“Ya, of course,” he squeezes your hand gently, reassuringly. “What’s up?” You take a deep breath and guide him to sit in one of the chairs at your work table, then pull one towards yourself so you're sitting in front of him. You take both his hands in yours. You don’t make eye contact but instead stare at your hands intertwined.

“There’s something I need to tell you about myself and I need you to listen and let me explain before you say anything,” you look up to see him nodding, a look of concern and confusion on his face. The knot in your stomach is twisting. Your anxiety is through the roof, but you take a deep, albeit shaky, breath to steady yourself.

“Okay. I don’t really know how to go about saying this so I’m just gonna say it. I’m asexual, which means I form little to no sexual attraction, in my case none at all, to anyone. Which means the likelihood of me wanting to have sex with you is basically zero. I know it’s kind of a thing for mates to do it all the time, and so I thought since I am the way I am that I would never form a bond with anyone, but I guess I was wrong. And I know you're probably thinking, “well, didn’t the bond snapping make you feel anything like that?” and the answer would be no. Umm…I guess I just want to add and say that I’m not broken, and that life will be a little different with me, and that I know my boundaries, but I’m also willing to try things with you because I love you and trust you… And this doesn’t mean I don't find you attractive, because I do, I think you're really pretty, but it's more in a ‘I want to paint you’ sort of way instead of an ‘I want to fuck you’ sort of way. And I’m rambling so I’m going to stop now.”

Your leg is bouncing up and down, gaze still glued to your entwined hand. A beat of silence passes, and then he squeezes your hands, which in turn makes you look up at him. His eyes are full of understanding and love, emotions you were not expecting to see. You exhale the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, feeling some of your anxiety fade away.

“You think I’m pretty?” he asks, a cheeky grin plastered on his face. You roll your eyes at him, the last of your anxiety washing away. He stands and pulls you up to do the same. He releases one of your hands, using his to brush a rouge strand of hair behind your ear, then pulls you into a tight embrace. You’re taken off guard, but you melt into him, breathing in his crisp, piny scent.

“Thank you for telling me,” he squeezes you tighter. “And I know you said life will be different with you and I want to let you know I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love you, and I know we can work through any problems we may face. You are perfect. Cauldron boil me if I ever so much as think to change a single thing about you.”

And with that, he releases you from his embrace, you wipe the few tears that had welled at his words, and you go home.

[silverzoomies]

Alone

peter maximoff x reader fluff

warnings: fluff, humor, first meetings, pining, female reader

word count: 3,461

a/n: just a drabble i spent way too long on. based on something i used to daydream about a lot. happy late valentine's day !!

tag list: @dewberryobssesed @violetharmonscupcake @kaismanwich @jellyluvr @icannot3 @taintandviolent @ahoyladiesz @scene-and-dandylover @quickandsilvers @luttic @billielourdslays

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Peter sits, slouched on the floor against the foot of a sofa. Glimmers of light flicker in his eyes, as he indulges in some mind numbing television. Reruns of Frasier play stereotypical laugh tracks, droning through the basement. He can’t help but follow suit. Chuckling along in quiet huffs, he shakes his head.

Upstairs, the house rests in silence. Dead quiet. Magda snores softly in her room. Lorna’s probably conked out too. And Wanda? She’s gone. Somewhere. He could never guess. She doesn’t tell anyone where she goes on weeknights. But hey, what’s it matter to him? So long as she’s playing it safe.

Peter snickers at another corny, sitcom joke. He guzzles down handfuls of Reese's pieces. The candies rustle in their small box. But with the rustle, his ears catch something else. Distant and faint. Outside the realm of television laugh tracks and candy clicks.

It’s a lyrical melody, playing with romantic cadence from outside the basement window. Peter tilts his head back, drinking a glass bottle Pepsi. Fizzy sweetness mildly irritates his throat. Raising a brow, he guides his gaze to the window. One more chug of his soda, and he snatches the remote.

The roar of sitcom television falls into stillness.

And sure enough, a tune whispers from beyond the window’s glass. Like the call of a sea siren through the neighborhood. But it’s 10pm on a Tuesday night. And the likelihood of a smokin’ hot siren crawling from the ocean - to a house in middle class suburbia - is beyond impossible. Unless Peter’s dreaming again.

In which case; wait for him, nautical dames. He'll grab his trunks and be out flash.

And the night goes by so very slow

Oh I hope that it won’t end though

Alone

Peter narrows his eyes at the window, scoffing to himself. Woah, now. Is he warped in the head? Or is the mantra of Heart crying out from beyond the shadows? Peter appears at the window in a zip. Raising himself on his toes, he launches his body upward. Through smudged glass, Peter’s black hues scan the world outside. A shadowy mass looms in the grass, imposing and somewhat terrifying.

Until he realizes, it’s someone holding a giant boombox over their head. Phew .

Til now I always got by on my own

I never really cared until I met you

And now it chills me to the bone

How do I get you alone

Peter’s silver brows furrow again.

“What the hell?” He mutters under his breath.

He unlatches the window, pushing it open. Allowing that unmistakable tune to come through much clearer. Peter watches the mysterious, boombox stranger for a moment longer. A beat passes, and Peter sighs. He could just as easily zip out there, confront the culprit, and return to his basement lickety split. Instead, he opts for the casual approach.

Peter pushes himself through the window, his bare feet scuffing the basement wall. He accidentally kicks over a set of speakers. Some he stole five years ago and forgot about. They tumble off a wall shelf and crash hard onto the floor. Knocking down a bunch of stolen street signs in their wake. If Maximoffs weren’t such deep sleepers, he’d be in for it now. Big time.

As soon as Peter’s out, he stumbles in the grass. Mumbling a hushed - Shit.

You don’t know how long I have wanted

To touch your lips and hold you tight

You don’t know how long I have waited

And I was going to tell you tonight

Crawling through the dry, winter grass, Peter finally stands. With an exhale, he wipes dirt from his grey sweatpants. The rando in his yard doesn’t react, but they lower the boombox a little. Peter waits at a distance, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“Who are you? Whaddya wannnnnt?” He shouts.

Til now I always got by on my own

I never really cared until I met you

And now it chills me to the bone

How do I get you alone?

No response from the rando. With a simple gesture, they tap the speaker of the boombox. Whatever that means. Rolling his eyes, Peter strides across the cold grass. Shirtless in the brisk, February air. He raises a hand to scratch his messy, silver bedhead. As he moves in closer, the neighborhood street lights illuminate the figure’s features.

Up until now, he thought some weirdo guy snuck out to pine for Wanda’s attention. Peter’s ready to kick his ass if he needs to. Poor Wanda’s always got dudes falling to her feet on Valentine's day. But she usually does the ass kicking. More power to her.

Guess he won’t have to this time. Turns out, it’s just some weirdo girl.

How do I get you alone?

How do I get you alone?

Peter puts a stop to the song before it reaches its end. Extending a hand in a quick blur, he abruptly clicks a button on the box. The neighborhood drowns itself in late night silence all over again. Interrupted only by the occasional car passing in the distance. Peter’s vascular arms cross over his chest. Lidded eyes leer straight at the mystery woman.

“Sooooooooo…” He tilts his head to the side, “Who are you? And why are you playing Heart outside my house at, like, ass-o-clock at night?” Peter pauses, eyes narrowing in suspicious slits, “Are you tryna pick up my sister? ‘Cuz you kinda look the type. And I know she’s been ‘tryin’ new things’ lately.” He gestures with air quotes, “If you catch my drift. Not that it’s any of my business. Point is , she’s not here.”

Boombox girl lowers said boombox down into the grass. She shakes her head, reaching into the pocket of her oversized cardigan.

“Pick up your sis- hah! ” She snickers with a snort, dawning a bashful smile. Boombox girl runs her other hand through her hair, “No! Noooo, it’s not like that! Uhm…I was actually playing Alone for you, silly.”

Peter drops his arms to his sides, and his heart skips a speedy beat. Scrunching his nose, he curls his lip.

“Youplayedwhatforwhonow?” He slides his hands into his sweatpants pockets, awkwardly rocking back and forth on his heels. The apples of his cheeks burn, and Peter clears his throat, “Uhhhh. Okay. Thanks? That’s…sweet, I guess. But, I-I’m sorry, do I know you?”

Her smile’s kind of adorable. Especially as she rubs her neck, displaying timid hesitance. Whatever confidence she had, she must’ve maxed out on 80’s romance cliches.

“Not really? I mean, I’ve seen you around. A lot. But you’ve never really noticed me, so…”

Alrighty then. That makes this interaction even weirder. But Peter’s pulled equally weird - if not more desperate stops to win some hearts in the past. And he may or may not be guilty of the same technique she’s using now.

Give him a break, okay? So what if he took a chance on it once? Back when he was eighteen and leagues more naive. It’s a little cheesy, sure. But it’s also the story of how he lost his v-card. And not the Valentine’s kind.

Case in point, it worked for him. So, he’ll bite.

“And you thought crashin’ outside my house, blastin’ some corny song while my family’s asleep - that’s a smoother move than…oh, I dunno…just talkin’ to me?”

She shrugs again, her guilty eyes looking down at the grass. Boombox girl raises a foot, tapping the ground with the tip of her boot. God, she’s obviously so nervous. And he's not gonna lie, it's a little charming. The corners of Peter’s lips turn up in a grin.

“I thought it might get your attention. You just…you move so fast all the time. And I’m really slow when it comes to these kinds of things. You were always gone before I ever got the chance.”

“How’d you know where I live?” Peter throws her a nod of his head, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek.

Pulling her hand from her pocket, she fixes her attention on the plastic case of a cassette tape.

“My uncle tried to arrest you once.” She grins, “He was out on patrol. Saw you steal a speed limit sign. Your mom paid him to let you off the hook.”

Peter’s brows fly up under his bangs. His cheeky smile spreads into his dimples.

“Your unc-...seriously? Whoa. No kiddin’?” He laughs, “Wish I could say I remember. But that sorta thing used to happen to me all the time.”

Not like he wasn’t asking for it back then. But to be fair, Peter’s made some drastic improvements. When it comes to his klepto compulsions, anyway. Excluding the influx of junk food and Garbage Pail Kid cards he snags on a daily basis. From nation-wide chain stores. Totally ethical.

“Yeah, I know.” She giggles, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. This way, he actually gets a good look at her. Soft lips. Pretty eyes, “You used to be the talk of the station, where he worked. Those guys never shut up about you.”

Reaching forward, she passes Peter the cassette in her hand.

“What’s this?” He gently takes it, inspecting the hand-made label inside the case. Decorated in little, lightning bolt doodles. Even some hearts. Aw. Cute. Scratched across it in messy handwriting, are the words - For the kleptomaniac. In exchange for my heart. You stole it forever ago.

Come on. Could she be any more corny?

“It’s a mixtape.” She bites her lip like she’s terrified to keep talking, “It’s cool if you don’t listen to it. I dunno if you’ll even like what’s on it. But I know you carry around that Walkman all the time.”

Uh huh. Did her uncle tell her that too? Get outta here.

“Does it have Heart on it?” Peter flips the case over in his hand, pursing his lips.

“Of course it has Heart on it.”

“Awww. Givin’ me Heart for your heart.” He snickers, turning pinker in his cheeks, “This is legit the cheesiest thing a girl’s ever done for me. I’m kinda buggin’ out right now.”

“Oh yeah? I mean, I can always take it back, if you-” She teases, like she thinks he’s being sarcastic.

She reaches for the tape. But as her fingers brush the case, Peter raises it above his head. The motion happens quickly, before she can even keep up. Boombox girl wasn’t foolin’. She is slow. Slower than a turtle on tranquilizers. As she makes another attempt, Peter drops his hand in a speedy blur.

“Hey, hey, hey. Nuh uh. No takesie-backsies.” He teases, waving a finger, “A trades a trade, babe.”

Her hands rest at her hips, and she flutters her long lashes. So shamelessly flirtatious, but still not enough to win him over. Not just yet. Even if her bedroom eyes offer a tempting invite. Like, seriously, so tempting.

Mama didn't raise him like that, though. Peter has somewhat of a delinquent track record, sure. But he's still a good hearted gentleman. He'll take her out on a few dates first. Treat her to a little arcade romance, before he tries some no pants dancing.

If she's not playing him for a complete jackass, that is. Really, it’s almost too good to be true.

No chick has ever pined for him this hard in his life. And Peter’s never had the chance to play hard to get. He bets dollars to donuts, boombox babe probably isn't a mutie either. Talk about some major role reversal. How often does a human girl beg and plead for mutant man's love? She knows he's a total shut in, right? Or did her uncle not fill her in on that?

“You still have my heart, though.” She coos, gazing at Peter with those eyes.

Those - embrace me, o’ speedster man of my dreams - eyes.

Yeah. Her uncle most definitely didn't break the news. Peter hisses, teasing her again with a click of his teeth.

“Ooooh. Yeah. Well, finders keepers. Good luck shakin’ that silver lovebug.”

He flirts back and forth with her naturally. Kinda like high school sweethearts. It goes on for a few more minutes. Until he's pestered her enough, she just up and quits. Her car's parked down the street. A Volkswagen bug. Hah. And there she goes. Peter's secret admirer stomps off. Boombox swinging at her side. A wave of guilt almost pulls him under, and Peter starts to regret teasing her so much.

She laughs as she walks away. And the call of her giggle brings him back to the surface, much like a song. Seems like the sirens really did come out tonight.

So, she likes playing games too, huh?

You don’t know how long I have waited

And I was going to tell you tonight

Peter’s not even that much of a Heart fan.

He looks down at the cassette case in his hands. Rolling a thumb over a scratch in the plastic. A beat passes. In a flash, he appears in front of her. Peter walks backwards, padding barefoot along the side of the road.

“So, are you gonna ask me out ‘er what? C'mon, don't be chicken shit. I know you got it in you!” He jokes.

Boombox girl giggles so hard, she breaks out in dorky snorts. Ah, the sexiest, siren song. Too bad that's not a track on the mixtape. He’s willing to slip her some loose change for a raw recording.

By happenstance, another car slows to a stop. Right in the middle of the empty neighborhood street. Colored a familiar shade of scarlet, the vehicle looms for a beat or two. Peter comes to halt, watching as the passenger side window rolls down. Boombox girl crashes right into him.

Shit. Peter just now realized, he doesn't know her name yet.

He grabs her hips on instinct, catching her in case she falls over or something. Her free hand clutches his arm, right over the ‘mom’ tattoo etched into his skin. Naturally, Peter radiates enough warmth to act as a heater. He’s a godsend on cold, lonesome nights. Boombox girl presses her body closer to his, seeking his heat.

Peter knows she does it without thinking, since she whimpers a soft, “ Oh god. I’m so sorry. ”

“It’s cool. You okay?” Peter’s hands linger on her hips.

“What’s going on over there?” Wanda grills playfully from her car. She flits her eyes between her doofus brother, and boombox girl. When Wanda purses her lips, she does so in a way identical to Peter, “Is he giving you any trouble?” She asks what's-her-name.

Peter zips to the passenger side door, crossing his arms over it. Leaning against Wanda’s car through the window, he makes a pfffbbbbtt noise.

“Hey, don’t sweat it, Wands. I’m just walkin’ my future wife to her car.” He raises one of his hands, waving the cassette case, “Check it out, ah? She made me a mixtape! Cute, right?”

Wanda’s knits her brows as she tilts her head. The long, scarlet locks of her hair bounce with the motion. At the side of the road, boombox girl makes an adorable squeal. She covers her blistering face with her hands, mewling silent pleas.

“Oh my god stop. I’m sorry I even said anything. Oh my god. ” What's-her-name whimpers.

Which really isn’t helping the whole suspicious sister situation. Wanda leans back in her seat, peering over Peter’s shoulder at boombox girl. Narrowing her eyes, Wanda looks back at him. And before she can call Peter out on his bullshit, he lowers his arms from the door. Peter drops his chin to it, his tapioca eyes gazing up at Wanda innocently.

He chews his lip. In that ‘ I’m obviously up to no good’ kind of way.

“Y’wanna know what that cutie over there told me?” He purrs, talking loud enough for what’s-her-name to hear, "She said I stole her-"

Boombox girl shrieks, “MAXIMOFF! Please! That was a secret! I’m serious! You’re killing me here, dude!”

Maximoff?

Ohhhhh. She doesn’t actually know his name. Seriously? Didn’t what's-her-name say she’s pined after Peter for a while now? How long is a while? Long enough to know his address, apparently. And to know he likes listening to his tunes. And to know he’s a mutant with a rep for thieving. But not long enough for anyone to drop his name? Did the feds never bother learning it? Ouch. Figures.

“Piet.” Wanda leers at Peter, holding him at gunpoint with her eyes, “Leave that poor girl alone. Look at her! She’s had enough.”

Rolling his eyes, Peter stands up straight. Lazily, he smirks, waving a hand, signaling Wanda to drive off.

“Naaaah! You shoulda seen her back at the house. She’s hopelessly in love with me. Played songs outside my window. Y'know, like they do in the movies? I’m serious! You can ask her yourself if you don’t believe me.”

Once more, Wanda shifts her skeptical gaze to what’s-her-name. The mystery girl carries her boombox to her car. With her head dipped and a free hand over her face. She looks like she’s doing the walk of shame. As if Peter stole a little something else from her and-w hoops. That's also not helping his case at all. Wanda hums, doubtful of Peter’s unlikely story.

He cheeses a toothy grin, looking guilty.

“Really?” Wanda adjusts in her seat, reaching for the radio dial, “Well, you might wanna tell her goodnight. For a girl who’s totally in love with you , she seems in a heck of a hurry to leave.”

And with that, Wanda drives off. Peter stumbles back, his calloused heels scuffing concrete. Wanda’s car rolls all the way down the road and into the driveway. Whipping around, Peter catches what’s-her-name opening the trunk of her love bug. As she lifts the boombox into it, Peter zips up next to her. Latching his arms around the boombox, he gives her an aloof grin.

“Can I borrow this for a sec? Thanks, cutie.” He throws her a wink.

She doesn’t get the chance to ask why. Peter zips back to his spot on the side of the road, clicking a button on the boombox. He raises it over his head, letting Heart roar obnoxiously across the neighborhood. Disrupting the late night peace. Out the corner of his eye, Peter notices a few neighborhood lights come on. The song plays just as Wanda hops out of her car. She stops in the middle of her stride to the front door. Her bags hang from her arms and her keys dangle on her finger.

Wanda squints, eyebrows turned inward.

How do I get you alone?

How do I get you alone?

“I TOLD YOU! SHE’S TOTALLY IN LOVE WITH ME!” Peter yells.

A faint, red glow emanates from Wanda’s hand, as she delicately swipes it in the air. The boombox’s tape player pops open with an click, and Peter lowers the box down in front of him. He playfully pouts, muttering a soft booooooo to himself. Abrupt silence fills the entire neighborhood again, save for the local dogs barking in their yards.

“Say goodnight, Pietro.” Wanda’s voice calls from the driveway, before she disappears into the house.

Peter doesn’t even realize what’s-her-name is standing next to him, until she speaks.

“Pietro’s a beautiful name.”

Peter snickers, feeling heat rise in his cheeks again. Popping open the case she gave him, he swaps the tape for the one in the boombox. Rapidly clicking the volume button, Peter huffs a soft laugh, hooded eyes blinking.

"Thanks. I'd say the same about yours, but I don't even know it." He teases. A little shy, Peter keeps his eyes on the boombox, "I go by Peter, actually."

"Peter. Pietro. Whatever your name is, you embarrassed the shit outta me, man." What's-her-name scoffs. Peter kinda likes the sound of both names in her voice, "You're lucky you're gorgeous."

Gorgeous? Whoa. That's a helluva word. Shit, this really is too good to be true. Peter's heart skips another beat, and he shakes his head. "Y'know, if you still what your heart back, you're shit outta luck, babe." Peter clicks the play button on the boombox, only after some tension heavy beats pass, "Like I said, finders kee-"

An all too familiar melody pours from the boombox speakers, softer now.

I hear the ticking of the clock

I’m lying here the room’s pitch dark

“Seriously?” Peter laughs, slinging an arm over boombox girl's shoulders.

“Yeah, seriously. I told you it had Heart.” She blushes profusely, averting her innocent gaze.

Maybe there really is something to these 80's romance cliches. Peter's almost willing to give up his own heart. Just as compensation for hers.

[flawlessflesh]

at arm's length

CW: Discussion of CSA and trafficking

I originally wrote this meta in response to a retrospring anon - These are my thoughts on the impact of child abuse on Thistle's ability to form relationships or feel attraction.

Keep in mind as you read that this is based on my personal interpretation of Thistle as a present-day teen who was trafficked for several years before being taken to the golden kingdom. This meta is canon-adjacent, not canon, and can be considered supplementary info for my fics.

-

Thistle has a heaping pile of trauma centered on interpersonal relationships and intimacy. This, along with his lifespan, inhibits him from forming equal relationships with others, and outside of his very small family group he doesn’t feel safe or capable of reaching out to people or letting people in.

He can feel attraction towards others but he shuts it down and doesn’t act on it because it feels like something bad will happen if he does. I consider him to be more comfortable around men than he is with women because he thinks he knows what he can expect from men (men were the main perpetrators of his abuse, but men like Freinag and Delgal are also the most important relationships in his life), but he has no idea what to expect from women. Best to avoid them. Most of his attraction is towards men as well and that complicates things due to the likelihood that these historical fantasy tall-man societies are homophobic - and Thistle isn’t treated like a man but he also isn’t a woman, so is it allowed? Is there something wrong with him for feeling this way? He doesn’t know. It isn't safe. So he keeps it all to himself.

In my timeline, Thistle doesn’t start puberty until a few years before the kingdom is turned into a dungeon. He never has the typical experience of crushes and childhood romance because he has no peers to engage in them with - his slower aging and his race isolate him. Everyone sees the silly little elf jester first and not the person. All he has is the royal family. Delgal goes through puberty, fools around, gets married, and through it all Thistle only understands that behavior like it’s something he’s read about in a book. He's disturbed by it too, having only had negative experiences with human sexuality, as little as he remembers of it. As an aside, I think when Thistle was brought to the castle he briefly had a crush on the king, but it was a child’s harmless emotion directed towards someone safe who he perceived as having saved him. If you’ve ever had a strong attachment towards a teacher or mentor growing up it was like that, and Freinag wasn’t aware of it and did not encourage it.

This is going deep into headcanon territory now. Thistle was trafficked by the troupe master of the traveling performers who had him before he was given to King Freinag. Thistle has suppressed the entire thing and can’t clearly recall the last twenty years of his life before Freinag. The information he has about that time is what people later told him (“your parents abandoned you”, “you were part of a traveling troupe”, “you already knew how to play the flute and follow instructions well”, etc). Freinag unintentionally replicates the emotional abuse that Thistle suffered — he calls Thistle his child but treats him more like a pet who has to perform for approval, and he is overly physically affectionate while neglecting the very real parental needs Thistle has as a young child. Thistle's hurt is like a barely scabbed over wound that keeps being picked at until it bleeds again.

Thistle grows up with an incorrect idea of how adults are allowed to treat him which leads to wariness towards everyone who is not the immediate royal family. They’re safe, they don’t do anything bad, but he can’t trust anyone else. Plus - he doesn’t like when strangers single him out for being an elf. He wants to fit in so badly and instead they invade his space and point out how he’s different and are always reaching for his ears. The few times he feels attraction he suppresses it on instinct without trying to understanding what it is or what prompted it. He doesn’t want to feel drawn to anyone he isn’t already close to. It’s a self-preservation mechanism and a reaction to the abuse he suffered, and after a while the curiosity is blocked off altogether.

In a post-canon future where he’s found a will to live and is healed to the point where he is interested in meeting new people, I still think he wouldn’t want to have an intimate relationship. It’s like a chasm, a frightening abyss of possibility for new experiences but also for getting hurt, and he has been hurt too many times already. Friendship would be daunting enough - I genuinely think he’d struggle with it - but anything more is equivalent with ruinous loss of control in his mind. Things can get better with time, conscious work, and understanding, but this mindset is where I see him staying for a long while. Thistle doesn’t do well with change or admitting truths to himself that he’s worked very, very hard to suppress.

[snarky-art]

Chimera and Cassandra!

In my rewrite, they’re both Lunarian , aka Deliosians (the actual name that most of them use to refer to themselves as)

Cassandra does indeed use Valtor’s influence to get them a higher ranking, in fact, the highest ranking one could get under Solarian rule.

Chimera is just a pawn in that, and although isn’t enthusiastic, is non the less shunned into obedience by their mother.

Info on their general storyline, content within my lore, and why I drew them Cassandra with a different skin tone and Chimera with a different hair texture below!

Cassandra ends up tanning to pass as more Solarian since they have an ethnic ancestry from those who stayed underground on Lunaria, which in my thing, results in them tending to have a paler complexion as well as increasing the likelihood for a paler hair color. Blond is considered a Solarian trait by those from Solaria, although the lightness of it would be considered Lunarian. Cassandra can just pass it off as being the result of some “impure Ancestry” though and that she’s mainly Solarian because,, the color of her hair, you see? Blond! And her iris color (also Lunarian, but she can claim the paleness is because of the small Lunarian part “tainting” it and resulting in phenotypic traits being less intense in hue) and that combined with her tan, she can prove she is Mostly Solarian,, right????

Spoiler alert: she’s totally 100% Lunarian.

In my thing, Stella will realize fairly quickly that Chimera is not someone who has much choice in this. On top of not being a willful participant, they hate pretty much everything about it. They straighten their hair because it’s easier than curling it to the 3c and various 4 texture curls that Solarian’s can have, but they still hate it. They refuse to tan or add glimmers or contacts to change their eyes. They don’t want to. Why should they?

Cassandra allows it, VERY begrudgingly. She can blame it all on Chimera’s father anyway (he had an ancestry from those who lived above ground hilariously enough, meaning his skin tone and hair color were darker overall, and he could’ve passed better as Solarian if he wanted to ((he didn’t for obvious reasons. Fuck Solarian Imperial rule.)) but shhhh he’s not in the political sphere there’s no reason for that information to pop up ever).

Even with all of this though, when all of this stuff is said and done, Stella can’t even really blame Cassandra.

For Cassandra, yes it is an attempt at a power grab, but, Stella also kind of Gets It.

“Well,, I can’t really blame her for this at the end of it all. I understand why she would want that power. How else would she get it? She’s Lunarian.”

She’s still pissed at her for doing what she could to get rid of her obviously and she thinks she’s a shitty mom, but the actual goal of trying to get on the throne? Stella goes, “well I think it’s fair to see why she would want more power. It’s not like they have much compared to me. To Solarians.”

And people are pissed she’s saying this, it was cute she was trying to play Dress Up and shit (how they referred to her connecting to her heritage from her mother, wearing actual Deliosian garb and paying respect to the Moons equally as much as the Suns). But she’s taking this seriously? Cassandra was just another power hungry Lunarian trying to get into court in a higher position. They’ve always wanted more than they have, say the Solarians in power.

Stella’s response? It’s because what they have isn’t equal.

The rest of the panel she’s speaking to during the court session: well,, I mean, that’s not the same as wanting equality-

Stella: why not? Because you’ve refused to give them independence. This wouldn’t be an issue if you did that. Or are you actually going to concede and give them equal representation?

The panel:…..

Stella ends it by pointing out she’s just as much Lunarian as she is Solarian. The panel hates it.

Stella and Chimera end up as sisters when everything is done, with Stella and Chimera referring to each other as such, and Chimera becomes one of the loudest people and a head representative for the Delios Independence Movement.

Cassandra is still in court sessions as a political figure, but is given shit for being such an ass to Stella and being seen as a shitty mom, forcing her daughter into this and using her mainly for a political pawn. It’s too soon to let her continue to hold influence though after the Valtor incident the others present decide, and she’s kicked out for a while. She’s still shit talked for the reasons previously mentioned, and for being a Lunarian that dared to want power, according to the Solarian Imperialists in court.

Stella invites her back after a time. Stella appreciates her thoughts on how to make things better for those of Delios because she knows Cassandra will never hold back on her real thoughts and feelings. Chimera and Cassandra don’t really talk after everything for a while, but eventually things do get better, and they do resume regular correspondence and communication. They’ll never be super close, but they know they can rely on each other when it counts.

[band--psycho]

Harvey Specter x Reader- "The Cool Boss"

Thank you Anon for this request - I really enjoyed writing this!

I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

Warnings: One swear word

Merde - Shit

“Merde,” Y/n sighed, rubbing her temples in an attempt to sooth her growing headache as she stared at her computer screen.

Today has just been one of those days that just seemed to be getting worse. 

And it wasn’t even midday yet so she had very little hope for how the rest of the day was going to play out. 

“So,” Harvey began, dragging her attention away from the computer screen and towards him. 

‘Here we go,’ she thought to herself, noticing the small little smirk that sat on the corner of his mouth as he leaned against the doorframe of her office. 

She tried to ignore how handsome he looked; Harvey was a good looking man and he knew it, but seeing him leaning against the doorframe of her office made a small amount of butterflies erupt in her stomach. 

And that smirk. That damn smirk. It should have been illegal to have a smirk so damn attractive. 

But she knew Harvey smirking was never a good thing; quite often it meant the opposite, it meant he had either found something out or was scheming about something; she knew the look well. 

Despite only working at the firm for a little under six months, she’d grown quite close to Harvey and had gotten very good at telling his signs of scheming.

Normally she was all for joining in on his (and usually Mike's) plans but today that was the last thing she wanted to do. 

She just wanted to get on with her growlingly more complicated case and then go to bed. 

Why clients couldn’t just never tell the truth, baffled her; now she had to rework her entire defense by tomorrow morning.

“So?” She countered with raised eyebrows, awaiting the rest of his sentence. 

“Do you always swear in French?”

Of all the things she thought he’d say, that was not one of them. 

Swearing in French was great, seeing as barely anyone in the office spoke French, it was the perfect way to swear without getting a lecture from her bosses if they ever overheard her. 

Until now. 

“What are you talking about?” She questioned with a hint of annoyance in her voice as she tried to act like she had no idea what he was talking about. 

“You swear in French,” 

It wasn’t a question; it was a statement. 

He knew. 

He was no longer leaning against the doorframe of her office; no, he has since closed the door to her office and was standing on the opposite side of the desk to where she was sitting.

“How do you know?”

As far as Y/n was concerned, Harvey didn’t speak a word of French except for the basics that everyone knew like bonjour etc.

“I’m Harvey Specter, I know everything,” he boasted, the smirk he was once wearing turning into a cocky grin which just made Y/n roll her eyes. 

“You don’t know French,” she pointed out quickly. 

“I do not,” he confessed, slowly making his way around the desk until he was practically infront of her, “But I do know how to use google translate.”

“Are you going to lecture me about it? Because if so, can it just wait until tomorrow? I've got too much to do today. ”

Sure Y/n would say her and Harvey were friends, but he was still her boss. Which meant that the likelihood of her getting a lecture from him was high, and  that was the last thing she needed today.

“Who do you take me for?” He asked, the offense clear in his voice.

“My boss…”

“Yes, I am,” he answered , a small chuckle fell from his lips as he leaned against her desk, looking out at the view from her office, “But I’m the cool boss.”

His words made a small laugh slip from Y/ns lips and he swore it was one of the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard.

If only she knew; Harvey thought, before his eyes glanced at Y/n. 

If only she knew the effect she had on him….

They made a good team; he knew it and he was certain that she did too; and that was both the reason for his feelings and the reason he kept them a secret.

“So no lecture?” Y/n clarified only for Harvey to nod. 

“No lecture,” he confirmed, his voice soft as he watched the relief flood into her beautiful Y/e/c eyes before standing up from the desk, “But I’ve got a free afternoon if you wanted any help with that case you’ve been working on.”

Normally Y/n would’ve said no, her pride would’ve taken over and she wouldn’t want any help from anyone. 

But today was no normal day; so she simply smiled and said, “I’d appreciate it,” once again trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach that fluttered around at the thought of spending the rest of the afternoon with Harvey.

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Hope, you are having a good day/night?

I don't know if this is your thing or not?

BAU Team x Male reader (who is hiding a pretty big secret) they get a case where people are killed either with silver bullets or wolf's bane but only some are different like the unsub took trophies the way a hunter would (teeth,claws, some even skinned which was even weirder) reader is the only one who knows what's going on because he's been on the run from people like them hunter! What happened when the team find out his secret? Does he get captured by the people he's been running from? The people that have caused him so much pain/anger/anxiety over the years?

Hiya! This has been in my inbox for so long, I'm so sorry! I took it in a slightly different direction but hope you like it nonetheless!

Also, disclaimer, werewolf knowledge is from the tv show teen wolf lol

Warnings: mentions of murder and taking trophies

This wasn’t good. Not good at all. It was clearly the work of a hunter. A dozen werewolves had been killed in less than two weeks. You had spent your life trying to run from people like them, and here they were. The team could sense your unease, but no one commented.

Each victim was missing a tooth, a canine. Each victim had been killed with a silver bullet to the heart. The teeth were removed after death, the only wound on their bodies being that of the bullet wound. It meant the hunter was mission oriented. It was unnerving. It wasn’t like these people had killed anyone – werewolves very rarely do.

And now, instead of running, you had to go towards the danger. You knew it would probably be fine, the likelihood of the hunter finding out you were also a werewolf was slim to none, but that did little to soothe the anxiety. You couldn’t exactly tell the team – one, they would think you were actually insane, and two, it would just put them in danger.

It wasn’t until the next body that turned up, that Hotch took you to the side. “Whatever you know, you need to tell me.”

“Hotch-“

“(Y/N). I’m sure you have your reasons for keeping it to yourself, but we need to know.”

You study Hotch closely for a moment. “The unsub’s a hunter.”

“We know he hunts his victims like a hunter-“

“No, Hotch. An actual hunter.” You said. “You’re going to think I’m insane for this, but he’s hunting werewolves.”

“Werewolves?”

“Yeah.” You said, watching him closely, waiting for him to laugh, brush you off, or tell you to get a psych eval.

“Prove it.” Is all he says, which you were obviously expecting him to.

You debate internally for a few seconds, trying to figure out if this was really something you wanted to reveal about yourself. You sigh, looking at Hotch, concentrating for a moment and letting your eyes flash yellow

“Holy-“ Hotch takes a step closer, getting a better look at your eyes. “You’re a-?”

“Yeah.” You said.

“Wow…” He said, “For how long?”

“Birth,” You said, giving a small shrug. “For the most part, it runs in families.”

“How so?”

You pause, trying to think of the best way of putting it, letting your eyes return to normal. “It just is. Either you get bitten or your born with it. But one of your parents have to be one.”

“Which one of yours?”

“Both.” You said with a small grin.

“So this hunter, he’s not the only one?”

“No, there’s a lot of them. Hundreds, at least.” You said, “Using silver to get the job done.”

“The silver thing’s actually true?”

You nod, “Yep, and wolf’s bane.” You paused, “You’re not going to try and kill me now, are you?”

Hotch gave a small snort, “No, don’t worry.” He rolled his eyes slightly, “Wait, is that why we found wolf hairs on the bodies?”

“Yeah.” You answer, watching him debate asking a question. “Go for it.”

“If this hunter shoots you with a silver bullet…”

“Oh, I’m gone for.” You said, “Like gone, gone.”

Rolling his eyes slightly, Hotch asked his next question: “Do you, like, turn into a wolf every full moon?”

“That’s a complicated question. It can technically happen any time emotions are high if I don’t, like, control it or whatever. But it’s harder to control on full moons, like I’ll get snappy and agitated. But it always feels better to turn on a full moon – even if it’s just for a little bit.”

“So when Morgan won that arm wrestle…”

“I had to let him have something,” You grinned.

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐓 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐒 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Vash the Stampede x f!reader x Millions Knives [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] This is like an unholy mix of the manga and Stampede because I could not stick to one continuity. I took a big old shit on the timeline and decided to have Vash and Knives wander around No Man's Land together well into adulthood. Oh, and Vash still has his arm. [ SYNOPSIS ] After years of isolation two weary vagabonds turn your life upside down. [ WORD COUNT ] 8k [ CONTENT ] DARK CONTENT, canon AU, threesome (mmf), plantcest/incest, handjob, biting, nipple play, jealousy, dubcon, facesitting, oral sex (m + f receiving), degradation, humiliation, snowballing, everyone is emotionally damaged, everyone is HELLA dramatic, angst, voyeurism, exhibitionism, teasing, creampie, bittersweet ending.

It was the tail end of a blisteringly hot day. You sat in a rickety wooden dining chair, its straight back forcing you to remain upright. It was impossible to relax, the chair causing moderate discomfort. Granted it beat sitting in the sweltering hell that was your home. Your porch always came in handy on hellacious days like this, ones where it felt time was moving slower than usual.

It was rare you ever saw another soul around these parts. You lived on the outskirts of a well off town with three plants. Your home was a comfortable distance from the feral hostility everyone seemed to exude there. You could go days without seeing someone. Occasionally a drunk would get lost and end up banging at your door, an issue you remedied with a rifle, but other than you led a rather lonesome existence.

That’s why it was such a shock to see two figures on the horizon. Initially you thought your eyes were playing a trick on you, that maybe your brain was so desperate for company that it conjured up these humanoid mirages. As they got closer you noticed they weren’t a trick of the eye.

You sprung out of your chair to get your rifle and a few rounds. The heat inside was oppressive; you felt like you were going to collapse under the weight of it. You grabbed what you needed and practically threw yourself out the door.

The figures were in plain view now. It was two men, their features mostly obscured by tattered cloaks. You loaded your rifle and pointed it at them, not wanting to take any chances. The likelihood of them being harbingers of devastation was too high. 

Once they were within earshot you called out, “Stay back! I don’t want any trouble!”

They stopped dead in their tracks. One of the men swayed and struggled to find his balance. The other quickly reached out, grabbing him by the waist. He continued making his way over to you, dragging the other man along with him.

You cleared your throat. “I’ll shoot if I have to!”

This didn’t seem to deter the conscious one. Your hands were clammy and starting to tremble. Usually threats were enough to ward strangers off. You’d never actually had to shoot anyone before.

“I—I mean it!” you shouted, trying to convince yourself.

You finally got a view of his face. He was pale, eyes a striking blue-green with long blonde lashes. They seemed to bore holes into your very being. It was an intensity that was frightening yet intriguing. In any other situation you would run inside and hope he wouldn’t breach the door, but you were stuck. Transfixed by his unflinching determination.

“I’m serious!”

You backed up, nearly tripping over yourself. Your rifle was loose in your grip. You felt small, vulnerable. You could picture your demise, your blood spilling and turning the sand around you a hideous red.

“Stop!” you shrieked.

The man winced.

“Stop screaming,” he replied gruffly.

“Stop coming closer then!”

The unconscious man was roused by your lively discussion.

“We don’t mean you any harm,” he said, slowly lifting his head.

His cloak no longer obscured his face. He looked exactly like the other one, but warmer. His skin was sun-kissed. His fluffy hair was golden blonde and cut close at the sides. His eyebrows were dark and his eyes a soft blue. He lacked the otherworldly nature of the other man. His presence was disarming, more human.

“We need he—”

“Don’t waste your energy,” the other replied.

“Then ask if we can stay already,” he laughed.

“Vash!”

“What? I’m tired. I’m hungry. My feet hurt. All I wanna do is sit down,” he whined.

You held your rifle by your side. The whiny one wasn’t looking too good. For all his warmness, he looked like he was being trailed by death.

“My brother… He needs help,” one said through gritted teeth.

“There’s a town not too far off from here. They got a doctor. I bet she could help your brother.”

“He might not make it,” he replied, tone growing more frustrated.

“That sounds like a personal problem.”

He stepped forward, dragging Vash along with him. Your feet were locked in place. The urge to run was strong, but where the fuck would even go? Running out into the dunes would be a death sentence. And quite frankly that sounded unappealing.

When he came to the front of  your porch he laid down his brother in the shade. He had lost consciousness again. He looked so frail on the ground, a pitiful existence. You made eye contact with the desperate man standing in front of you. He didn’t seem as intimidating up close, the worry in his eyes settling your nerves.

“Look at him.”

Vash’s breathing was labored, each inhale getting caught in his lungs. He did look terrible, but you weren’t sure what you could do other than give them a little water and send them on their way.

“Please,” he said, removing his cloak from his head. His hair was a pale ashy blonde, it almost seemed iridescent under the suns’ dying rays.

Vash snickered. “Di—did you just say please,” he said weakly.

“I’m doing this for you!”

The three of you went silent. The sky slowly turned from orange and pink to a muted purple.

“You guys can come in. It’s pretty stuffy inside though,” you said, gesturing towards your home. “I gotta open the windows… There should be a breeze coming through about now.”

“Thank you,” Vash said. He tried to stand, but couldn’t get up, his body too heavy for him to bear.

You hated to see anyone struggle and went to assist him. As you held out your hand, the other one slapped away your hand.

“Don’t touch him.”

“Nai, it’s alright,” Vash replied, taking your hand.

For someone looking so fragile, he was pretty heavy. You led him inside with Nai close behind.

“Sit here,” you said, guiding him to your plush sofa. It was the most luxurious thing you owned, a comfort you fought for at an illegal auction.

You went to open the windows, letting the cool breeze blow through the house. You lit your lanterns, filling your living room with a soft, yellow light.

“You can sit down too, y’know.”

Nai stood uncomfortably by the door.

“I’d rather not.”

“Suit yourself,” you said. You stood in front of him, wondering if he’d take a hint and move. “I need to get something from outside.”

He cocked an eyebrow.

“Beyond the door. The thing you’re blocking.”

He blushed and moved out of the way.

“Thank you,” you said, brushing past him.

There was nothing from outside you needed but they didn’t know that. Both suns had set below the horizon. The heat had tempered itself, now only a pleasant warmth paired with the cool breeze you longed for all day.

When you returned you found that Nai had finally made himself comfortable on the couch with Vash’s head in his lap. He was stroking his hair, a look of pure worry on his face. It contorted into disdain the second he registered your presence.

You passed by them briskly, pretending you had grabbed something. While in the kitchen you filled two glasses with water.

“Here,” you said, handing Vash a glass.

He eagerly took it and drank it all in one gulp. He let out a sigh of relief, one that softened your heart. You attempted to hand one to Nai but he recoiled.

“You sure?”

“I don’t need it.”

Vash grabbed the second glass from your hand without any hesitation and slammed the contents. His relieved smile had awakened something in you, a need to baby him, to take care of him.

“Do you have any food?” he asked, eyes sparkling.

You nodded and fetched some bread and dried worm meat. It was the only food you were willing to part with. Vash didn’t seem to mind, his face a pinnacle of gratefulness. It was refreshing. Such softness was hard to come by in No Man’s Land.

“Thank you,” he said with a mouthful of food.

You took a seat on the floor, keeping a safe distance from them. Vash seemed sweet, but Nai’s hostility remained. It kept you on edge.

“There’s a hotel in town. You could probably get a ro—”

“No. I’d like to avoid other humans as much as possible.”

Humans. The way Nai said it made it seem like he was spitting out poison.

“You two on the run or something?”

“No,” Vash yawned. “Just lazy.”

“You’re not lazy. You’re weak,” Nai muttered.

Vash sighed and rested his head on Nai’s shoulder. “Would you mind if we stayed?”

Nai flared his nostrils and stared out one of the windows. It was probably against your better judgment to house them, but you felt compelled. It wasn’t as if you didn’t have space. You had a spare room, one with a small but comfortable bed. And it wasn’t as if you ever used it.

“No. There’s a room upstairs you can stay in. Only one bed though. Hope that’s not a problem.”

Nai got up, hoisting Vash to his feet.

“Uh, it’s the one on the left. It gets a lot of sun in the morning so you might wake up sweaty. The blankets aren’t that heavy though.”

Nai led Vash up the stairs. Vash turned his head, making eye contact with you. His eyes were kind and beautiful, like the midday sky. He gave you a smile.

“Thank you,” he said as he disappeared.

You sighed, wondering what you got yourself into. Maybe they would leave in the morning before you woke up, their presence a mere fever dream. There’d be no complaints from you. They were rather odd, their actions unpredictable. You did feel a twinge of affection for the pitiful one, but you told yourself it would fade as fast as it came.

You woke up just before daybreak, stretching your arms above your head. Despite the circumstances you managed to sleep well. You assumed it was a good omen. It was rare you slept through the night without tossing and turning.

You made your way down the hall and heard muted voices coming from the spare room. Vash and Nai had stayed. Though maybe they were planning to leave once the suns breached the horizon.

The door was open enough for you to take a peek and maybe hear more of their conversation. You crept closer and shielded yourself behind it. You looked inside.

They were facing one another, wrapped up in each other’s arms. Their clothes were in little piles on the floor. Listening in on their conversation was the last thing on your mind. You couldn’t stop watching them. You assumed they were brothers because they looked nearly identical, but maybe that was a coincidence. Maybe they were lovers. You couldn’t think of any families that would lie in bed together completely nude. Let alone as tangled up as Vash and Nai were.

Just as you were about to sneak downstairs, your body betrayed you and you let out a bellowing sneeze.

“Shit,” you said, hauling ass downstairs.

You hoped neither had caught you spying. You usually weren’t that kind of person and you wished you could show them that. But pleading your case wouldn’t do you any good, and if you had any semblance of luck on your side, they would’ve thought you were just passing by innocently.

You paced around the kitchen. Your brain felt like it was on fire. They must have known you were there. They seemed perceptive enough. If they were wandering around the dunes, they must have sharpened instincts, better senses. How else would they have survived out there?

A distraction. That was what you needed. You open your cupboards and pulled out some of your more prized foods. A jar of fruit preserves, cinnamon bread, coffee, smoked meat from an animal you couldn’t remember, and a few peaches. It hurt to part with those. You had to talk to three different merchants before they’d even admit to having them. The townspeople were stingy when it came to anything that was fresh.

You set the table for three people even though you suspected Nai wouldn’t eat. You boiled some water, brewing some coffee once it reached the right temperature.

In the midst of your cooking you didn’t hear Vash and Nai come down the stairs. You were too caught up in licking peach juice off your knife.

“G’morning,” Vash said, yawning.

You looked over at them, your tongue still touching the blade. Nai looked at you wide-eyed, a blush blossoming on the apples of his cheeks. It was strange and endearing.

“Uh… hey,” you said, putting the knife down. “Food’s on the table.”

The two men took a seat. You set a plate down of sliced peaches and poured coffee into the mugs. When you went to serve Nai, he quickly covered the mug with his hand, letting a trickle of hot coffee coat his skin. His eye twitched briefly.

“Oops. My bad,” you said, using your sleeve to clean up the mess. It was an automatic response, one you immediately regretted.

Vash laughed with a mouthful of peaches. “Don’t apologize to him.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Nai hissed.

You didn’t like the tension that was building. When you went to change the subject Vash gave you a swift, hard kick to the leg.

“Ow! What is wrong with you?!”

Vash leaned across the table and grabbed your hand. “I’m sorry! I meant to kick him!”

You tried to ignore the throbbing pain in your leg by spreading preserves on a piece of bread, tears flooding your eyes. You shoved it in your mouth, hoping it would stop you from crying.

“I can’t believe you’d kick a poor, defenseless human,” Nai said with an impish smile.

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Vash said, glancing at Nai.

You swallowed and pulled your hand from his grasp.

“It’s fine,” you choked out. “I’m sturdy.”

“You could have fooled me.”

“Nai!” Vash chastised while he ate a spoonful of preserves. You wondered if he realized that was for the bread, or if he simply didn’t care.

The air in the room was thick, oppressively so.

“So how are you feeling?” you asked in an attempt to remedy that weight.

Vash plucked a peach slice off the plate. “Better, but I’m still pretty tired.” He shoved the peach slice into his mouth, muffling his voice. “If you need us to leave though, I get it.”

When you woke up this morning you hoped they would have disappeared into the night, but now you couldn’t bear sending them back out into the desert. It would be one thing if Vash was in good shape, but he still looked worn out.

“I don’t mind as long as you don’t kick me again.”

“Hm,” he said, stroking his chin as if deep in thought. “I don’t know if I can promise that.”

You pointed at the door. “Get out. Go die in the desert.”

“Make me.” He took a sip of coffee.

Nai stood up abruptly.

“I’ll be outside.”

“There’s not much to do out there… Actually there isn’t jackshit to do out there,” you said.

“I’ll figure something out,” he said gruffly.

He slammed the door as he made his dramatic exit.

“Don’t take it personally,” Vash said, eyeing the smoked meat you had put out.

“He’s your brother, right?” you asked.

He nodded.

“Ah, so you’re used to it then.”

“Yeah…” He looked outside the window. “He wasn’t always like that though.”

You didn’t know what to say so you opted to stay silent. You and Vash ate the rest of the food, not uttering a single word.

The brothers ended up staying for another day, and another after that… and another after that. Nai would disappear into the desert during the day while Vash was essentially up your ass. He followed you around the house like a puppy. He would always offer to help when you’d be cleaning or doing maintenance. Initially you rebuked him, telling him he needed to rest. But after a while you opted to take him up on it. You couldn’t deny that it was nice to have an extra pair of hands, and someone to talk to. It wasn’t until you had company that you realized how much you hated being completely alone all the time.

“How often do you go into town?” Vash asked, sweeping your bedroom floor.

You tucked your sheets under your mattress. “I try to avoid it as much as possible… I only ever go there when I need food.”

“Like those peaches?” he asked, voice full of longing.

You laughed. “Yeah, like those peaches.”

As you were smoothing out your blanket, he came up behind you. His body was pressed up against your back.

“Do you have any more?”

His tone seemed flirtatious but you didn’t want to assume anything. Plus maybe he realized that peaches weren’t cheap and thought he needed to butter you up to score another.

“Hmm?” he asked, his face practically buried in your neck.

You sighed. “You’re lucky I like you. C’mon.”

You brushed him off and led him downstairs. The second you handed him a peach took a bite out of it. You had never noticed how sharp some of his teeth were. You watched him intently, unable to stop yourself. 

“I wonder what your brother is up to.” You didn’t actually care, but you needed to distract yourself.

Peach juice made it way down his hand all the way to his forearm. Without any hesitation, he lapped it up, staring deep into your eyes.

“He’s probably just wandering around,” he said before taking another bite.

“Really? I feel like that’d get old after a couple days,” you replied, trying to ignore the throbbing sensation between your legs.

He shrugged and licked the part of the peach he had just bit. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was doing it on purpose. You tried to act as unaffected as possible.

Thankfully Nai walked through the door, covered in sand and tracking it in the house. You groaned and contemplated why you even bothered cleaning.

“What happened to you?” Vash asked.

“Did you almost get swallowed by the sand pit?”

“... I might have.”

“Been there,” you said. “Want to eat a peach about it?”

“No.”

He looked less intimidating coated in rust-colored sand, more boyish. It was kind of cute.

“I’ll be upstairs,” he muttered.

He turned away, posture rounded, and made his way up the stairs. Vash frowned and followed him, leaving his half-eaten peach on the table. You snatched it and bit into it, savoring the juices. You thought about how it would feel to lick it off his chest. You felt feral as you devoured it.

Holding the peach pit in your hand was humiliating. You hated yourself for eating it. You wanted to stay in control and not lose yourself to your carnal urges. But Vash was making that increasingly difficult. You decided to sleep it off on the couch. A nap would do you some good.

When you woke up it was nighttime. Darkness had settled in your house. You carefully got up and lit a lantern. You had no concept of what time it was. All you knew was that you were still tired and you still couldn’t stop thinking about Vash eating that fucking peach. It haunted you. He must have known what he was doing. He could not be that naive, that innocent.

Your plan was to go straight to your bedroom, but the awful morning breath that had settled in your mouth was too much. Brushing your teeth was of the utmost importance. You hip checked the bathroom door only to find it occupied.

“Oh fuck!” you said, quickly shutting the door.

“Did you need something?” Vash asked.

You pressed your forehead against the door.

“I wanted to brush my teeth.”

“Well don’t be a stranger,” he laughed.

You let out a muted groan and opened the door. You kept your eyes on your sink, careful not to look over at Vash and Nai. You put your lantern down and brushed your teeth.

“Did you have a good nap?” Vash asked.

You spat into the sink. “I don’t know. I hate napping that long. Not seeing the suns set is—” You made the mistake of looking over at them and lost your train of thought. “... disorienting.”

They were in your tub. Vash sat on one side hugging his knees to his chest, taking up as little space as possible. Nai was on the other fully reclined with his brother in between his toned legs.

“That’s understandable. Hopefully you can sleep tonight,” he replied.

“I’ll be fucking miserable if I don’t.”

“Worst comes to worst you can always come hang out with us.”

Nai looked like someone stabbed him in the heart. He went to say something but shut his mouth, opting to toss his head back with his eyes closed. For once he decided to ignore the two of you instead of saying something hostile.

You felt like you were going crazy. You briefly looked at Nai’s cock. It was of average length, but definitely on the thicker side. It was framed by a patch of pale blonde pubic hair.

“Uh… Nai,” you said, trying to think of a reason to speak to him. “You okay after falling in the, uh, sand pit?”

“I’m fine.”

“That’s good…”

“Yeah,” he said. He opened his eyes and got out of the tub. Droplets of water traveled down his body, leaving a puddle on the floor. “Hand me a towel.”

“Say please at least,” Vash quipped, sinking deeper into the tub.

“It’s fine,” you laughed.

You grabbed a towel and tried to pass it off to Nai. The only problem was your hand refused to loosen its grip. Perhaps it was an unconscious effort to have an excuse to be so close to him. His impatience got the best of him and he pulled it away from you. He wrapped it around his waist and stomped away.

“Sorry about him,” Vash sighed.

“It’s fine,” you repeated.

“Why are you so far away? I don’t bite.” He sat back up. “Unless you want me to.”

“What?!”

“I’m kidding.”

You were incapable of speech.

“... Unless.”

Nothing but silence on your part.

He sighed. “You gotta gimme something to work with.”

You decided to give in, to embrace hedonism just once. “Okay. Sure.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” you said, pulling your pants off. “Fuck it.”

You took your shirt off and unhooked your bra letting it fall to your feet.

“Um. I didn't think you’d actually—” You took off your underwear. “—oh wow—I mean, shit. I’m ruining the moment,” he whined, holding his hand to his forehead like he had a headache.

You stepped into the tub and crawled on top of Vash, pressing your chest up against his. You were eternally thankful that the water was still warm. He ran his hands down your back, stopping at the small of it. Everything about the situation felt surreal. He was a stranger that you couldn’t get a full read on. Vash was friendly but still rather opaque, especially in regards to his brother. Anytime you asked about him Vash gave you bullshit answers that created more questions.

“Why doesn’t he ever eat?”

Vash nervously scratched the base of his skull. “He does! He, uh, eats bugs while he's out there.”

You knew damn well Nai wasn’t out in the desert, skulking around and eating bugs like a little creature.

But that didn’t matter. What mattered was how Vash’s lips felt brushing up against yours, how it felt when he held your bottom lip between his teeth. The world around you meant nothing. You were consumed by your lust, driven by your oppressive loneliness.

His kiss was hungry and needy. He kissed you like you could disappear at any moment. He held onto you tight, his fingers digging into your back. You cradled his face in your hands. His skin was so soft which was unusual. Most men that wandered the desert had leathery faces.

He broke the kiss, leaving a trail of them from your jaw bone down to your neck. You tangled your fingers in his damp blonde hair. He smelled like your soap with a strange musky, floral undercurrent.

You were feeling bold so you started stroking his semi-hard cock. He bit down on your neck, driving his teeth into your skin. You winced, but the pain was intoxicating. You gave his cock a squeeze before rubbing your thumb around his sensitive tip.

“You like that?” you purred.

“Uh-huh,” he said, planting a kiss on your chest.

He held one of your nipples between his teeth and began sucking on it. You kept stroking his cock which was now fully erect in your hand. The sensation of his tongue against your nipple felt incredible.  All the moans you had been holding back sprung forth. You tried to lock your jaw shut as he went back to toying with your nipples, pinching one between his fingers and the other between his lips.

You squeezed the length of his cock again. This and your moaning seemed to inspire something in him. The most heavenly moans erupted out of him. Your touch was becoming too distracting for him to do anything except buck his hips against your fist.

“What are you doing to him?”

Nai had returned and he looked absolutely disgusted.

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know,” you chanted like a prayer.

“It’s fine,” Vash said nervously. “I wanted it.”

You jumped out of the tub and grabbed a towel as fast as you could. You pushed past Nai and sprinted to your bedroom, slamming the door behind you.

You paced around your room, trying to process what had happened and what the potential consequences would be. But it’s a fruitless task. You were too frazzled and still in the throes of arousal. You took a deep breath and dried your body off. As you crawled into bed you thought about how it felt when Vash buried his teeth in your neck. You ran your fingers down your folds, coating them with your fluids. You rubbed your clit, desperate to come. You covered your mouth to quiet your moans as your body writhed in pleasure. Once your body had calmed itself you drifted off to sleep.

The next morning you were startled awake by a series of knocks on your door. You stumbled out of bed and threw on a nightgown. You opened the door only to be greeted by Nai’s overwhelming presence.

“We need to talk.”

“We—we actually don't, which is the great thing.”

He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. He was gradually invading your space, leaving almost no room between the two of you.

“Was that the first time you defiled my brother?”

“What?”

He grabbed you by the chin. “I said, was that the first time you de—”

“Yes!”

He gritted his teeth. “The last thing he needs is one you clinging to him.”

You were like an animal with its foot caught in a trap, too scared to do anything. He seemed so incensed. You didn’t know what he was capable of, how far his anger would go. He could kill you with his bare hands with ease, a fact that was equally terrifying and riveting.

“I’m sorry.”

He got closer to your face. “You’re sorry?”

“I shouldn’t…” You were at a loss for words. You weren’t sorry at all.

“Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

“What do you want me to say?!”

“That you will leave him alone.”

“You’re in my fucking house. How am I supposed to even—”

“Oh? I didn’t realize that gave you free reign to humiliate him. I heard the way you were making him sound last night.”

“If you’re that bothered, you can leave.”

“I’ve been trying to, but he won’t come with me. Because of you.”

“I—”

“Did you think I wanted to be here this entire time? Every second has been torture.”

“Then just go. Leave him behind if he wants to stay that bad.”

“I won’t let you take him away from me!”

Your hair was standing on end. A single drop of arousal made its way down your thigh. Nai seemed to take pride in frightening you. He stroked your jaw with his fingers before forcing them into mouth. You didn’t even bother fighting back. He pushed them in deeper, savoring the sound of you gagging. Tears welled up in your eyes and trickled down your cheeks.

He pulled them out and smirked. You looked so pathetic, so pliable. His eyes darkened and he leaned in to kiss you. For all his threatening demeanor, his kiss was timid and uncertain. You decided to take initiative and slipped your tongue into his mouth.

This seemed to anger him, or turn him on, you weren’t sure. He shoved you onto the bed, the force of his hands leaving an ache in their wake. He still needed your guidance though. You rolled your tongue up against his. His sloppiness was undeniable, but he was eager which was enough for you.

You reached down and grabbed his cock, cradling it in your palm. He broke the kiss and groaned. You gave it long, languid strokes. He rutted against your hand just like Vash had. The room was overflowing with his moans. You kissed his neck, pressing your lips against his soft skin.

“You sound so cute,” you cooed in between kisses.

He froze, muscles suspended in tension. You rubbed his back, hoping to quell whatever was torturing him.

“Are you alright?”

“Don’t touch me,” he said, pushing himself off of you. His cheeks were flushed and his cock was fighting against his pants. “Ju—just leave me alone.”

There was no hint of forcefulness in his voice, just dismay. And you were flooded with guilt.

That night, Vash sneaked into your room with a blanket wrapped around him. He dropped it, revealing he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. It hardly phased you. He got into your bed and snuggled up next to you. You tried your best to ignore his presence, but his arms were wrapped around you.

You were still caught up in what had happened earlier in the day between you and Nai. Having Vash so close put you on edge. He’d never given you any reason to fear him, but you wondered if a similar darkness resided in him. Maybe he was just better at hiding it. You couldn’t stop your thoughts, each one painting Vash in a more insidious light.

“Is everything okay? I feel like you were avoiding us.”

“I usually try to avoid your brother.”

“But why meeeee?” he asked.

You turned to face him. His eyes were wide and innocent, like a blue-eyed baby deer. His face turned you into putty. It wasn’t right to effectively punish him for his brother’s actions.

“I don’t have a good answer.”

He pouted. “You can be honest with me.”

“I barely know you,” you said, staring at his lips.

“That didn’t stop you from getting in the tub with me.”

That was a completely different situation under extremely different circumstances. Fucking someone was nowhere near as intimate or taxing as opening yourself up to them. That was like pulling teeth. You never talked to anyone about your feelings, granted you never had an opportunity to. Even in the presence of others, you compulsively closed yourself off. It was second nature.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to feel close to him. You just didn’t know where to begin. You struggled to believe it would spill forth from you naturally once you started. You couldn’t even articulate the hopeless isolation you immersed yourself in.

He looked a little sad, an expression that tortured you to no end. You needed to show him that you wanted to be close to him. Being honest about your feelings was out of the question so you’d have to do it the only way you seemingly knew how.

You held his face in your hands and kissed him. Your passion was steeped in anguish. You hoped he felt your affinity for him, your desire to tell him everything eventually. Your desperation made you sloppy, drool dribbling from your mouth.

Vash pulled away. “Wait.”

He guided you onto your back and tossed your sheet to the side before getting on top of you. He helped you pull your nightgown up and over your head. He rubbed your cunt through your underwear, his fingers pressing against your clit.

“I wanna know what you taste like.”

Your body was practically vibrating. You gently pushed down on his shoulders, an act he was more than happy to comply with.

He positioned himself between your legs and peeled off your underwear. He kissed the inside of your thighs before biting them, sending his pointy teeth into your tender flesh. He used his tongue to spread apart your folds. He rolled it against your clit and waves of pleasure washed over you. Your breathing became increasingly more audible, each exhale sounding more and more like a moan.

“Tell me I’m good,” he growled.

“You’re such a good boy,” you whimpered.

He let out a pleased hum and arched his back, sending his ass into the air. He was relentless, focusing all of his attention on your aching clit. Both of you were incapable of being quiet.

The sound of the door being flung open swiftly annihilated the lusty haze you had been lost in. It was Nai. His eyes were half-lidded, sleep still clinging to them. He was half-dressed, his pants sloppily pulled on. They weren’t even buttoned.

“Why do you keep doing this to me?”

You tried to push Vash away, but kept eating your cunt, disregarding Nai’s presence. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire. You folded your arms across your chest, a hopeless attempt at  shielding yourself from Nai’s gaze.

Vash stared up at you. “Call me a good boy again,” he demanded.

“Yo—you’re such a good boy,” you whimpered once more.

“I can’t believe you keep degrading yourself like this.”

Vash relaxed his back and began to drive his cock into the mattress. His neediness had you reeling. You covered your mouth, trying to hold back your moans. It was bad enough that Nai could see you like this; you didn’t need him hearing you as well.

Your stomach dropped as he approached the bed.

“I’ll help you shut up,” Nai growled.

He got on the bed and gave you a forceful kiss as you came. Once you had settled he pulled away and sat on the edge of your bed with his back towards you.

You tapped on Vash’s head. “Want me to suck your cock?”

“Yes,” he exhaled. “Please.”

Vash sat up only for Nai to grab him by the shoulders.

“I should do it.”

“What? Why?”

“I know your body better than anyone else. Better than she ever could,” he pleaded. Nai sounded so softhearted. You wondered if this was the tone of voice he used when you weren’t around. “Let me show you how much I love you.”

Vash sighed and ultimately agreed. He pushed Nai’s head down, guiding his brother’s mouth onto his erect cock. You watched in shock. You weren’t surprised in the least, but you never thought you’d see it. Your clit felt like it had a heartbeat.

You slipped two of your fingers into your slick cunt. The longer you watched them, the less you cared about the moral implications. You stopped letting your brain do the thinking. You gleefully watched as Vash laced his fingers through Nai’s hair, giving him better leverage as he forced his cock in deeper.

Every so often Nai would gag, but it didn’t deter him. If anything he seemed to enjoy it. He was furiously fucking his fist. You wished it was yours. You practically drooled at the thought. You kept fingering yourself, not taking your eyes off of him.

Vash bucked his hips against his brother’s face. He held his brother’s head close to his body. Nai struggled to keep it together, the sound of his gagging overtaking the room. You let out a dreamy sigh, grabbing Vash’s attention

“What?” you asked breathily.

“I need to fuck you,” he whined.

Vash pulled Nai off of his cock by his hair. His brother erupted into a series of violent coughs as he tried to compose himself. He had a bewildered look in his now dull eyes. You felt a little bad for him, but your pity melted away as Vash hoisted you onto his cock. He laid back, resting his head on your pillow.

You rolled your hips against his, sending his cock deeper inside. You couldn’t deny how good it felt.

“Na—Nai,” you stuttered. “Come here.”

Nai seemed to ignore you at first, but soon enough he was by your side, sitting on his knees.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to suck on my tits.”

He scoffed but still leaned in and started to suck. He swirled his tongue around your nipple. You rubbed the tip of his cock and started to stroke it.

“You’re lucky I’m letting something as inferior as you touch me,” Nai murmured before flicking his tongue against your nipple.

You tried to ignore him, but he continued.

“I still don’t see what he sees in you,” he hissed.

You squeezed his cock. “I bet you wish that was your brother’s hand, huh? Or maybe his mouth?”

Nai was briefly stunned, but recovered in record time. “It would be more satisfying than whatever it is you’re doing to me right now.”

“Your cock seems to like it,” you taunted. Precum had been leaking from his cocktip the entire time you were jerking him off.

“Can you pl—please stop? I’m trying to focus,” Vash whimpered.

“Tell her to behave herself then!”

Vash groaned. “Nai, just come here. You can use my mouth.”

Nai’s eyes lit up and he pulled his pants off. He crawled over to his brother and straddled his face. He started rutting against it. You missed your view of Vash’s angelic face. Nai’s muscled back while beautiful wasn’t nearly as interesting. You felt excluded.

Vash’s thrusts gradually grew uninspired. His focus seemed to be on his brother. You leaned forward and draped your arms over Nai’s shoulders.

“St—stop,” he sighed. “You’re ruining it.”

You ran your hands down his arms and snaked them around his waist. You stroked his abs before moving up to his chest. You pinched his nipple, relishing in the small yelp he let out.

“Am I humiliating you?”

Nai ignored you. You kept rubbing his nipples, taking in his pained whimpers.

“Aw, are you gonna come?”

“Yes,” he said in between his panting.

Nai’s body tensed up as he came in Vash’s mouth. He caught his breath and laid down beside his brother.

You slid Vash’s cock back inside you. He beckoned you near and you leaned forward. His body felt so warm underneath you. His chest was dappled with sweat. He held the back of your head and kissed you, passing Nai’s cum into your mouth. You swallowed it, savoring the sweet taste. Nai exhaled sharply, clearly offended. Neither of you paid him any mind.

Vash held onto your hips as you rode him. As he dug his fingers into your flesh your body was consumed by ecstasy. You felt like you were ascending to a higher plane of existence. You saw white and you could have sworn you were getting blessed by gods.

He continued to thrust until his cock released a deluge of cum inside your cunt. You loved how he sounded whining beneath you. You needed to hear him moan again and again. He couldn’t leave. You wouldn’t let him. You’d even put up with Nai’s hostility.

“That was amazing,” Vash said. There was nothing going behind his eyes; he was utterly fucked out.

You draped yourself on top of him, burying your face in his neck. “It really was.”

You felt around, trying to find Nai’s body next to you on the mattress. Before you even had the chance to touch him, he grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t.”

“Sorry,” you said somberly. “Uh… I had fun… with you.” You hated how hard it was to talk to Nai. Unless you were taunting him sexually you were at a loss for words.

“That’s nice,” he said softly. It lacked the venom he usually infused his words with.

For a while the only sound was the three of you breathing. The reality of what happened sinking into your pores. You didn’t know what to say and it seemed like the brothers were on the same page.

Nai was the one to break the silence. “We really have drifted apart… Haven’t we?”

“Don’t say stuff like that,” Vash mumbled.

“It’s true though.”

“Nai—”

“I was… hoping I would feel closer to you. But I don’t.” He got up and headed towards your door. “I don’t understand you at all.”

Vash gently rolled you off of him and he got up.

“Let’s go to bed.” He grabbed Nai’s pants off the floor. “You’ll feel better by tomorrow.” He rubbed the space between Nai’s shoulder blades and kissed the side of his head. “I’m sure of it.”

You could tell Vash was smiling when he said the last part. The brothers left, leaving you alone in your bed. You gathered your sheet and blanket and wrapped yourself up in them. You held yourself tight and hoped sleep would envelope you.

Instead you tossed and turned. You had been lying in bed for a few hours with your eyes shut and nothing more. Your thoughts wouldn’t stop racing; your actions were on loop in your head. Every moan, every touch, every overwhelming emotion weighed you down.

Vash calling out your name was enough to pull you out of this sleepless daze. You threw on a nightgown and rushed into the hall. Your eyes darted around, trying to figure out where he was. He called your name again. He was downstairs. You tore down the staircase and saw a very distressed Vash pulling his boots on.

“He’s gone. I gotta go after him.”

“He’s gone?”

“We fell asleep right by each other. I don’t know how I didn’t feel him getting up.”

He ran outside, yelling Nai’s name. You stumbled after him barefoot. The sand was unforgiving. Little, sharp rocks wedged themselves between your toes. You struggled to keep up. He was practically sprinting. There was no way you’d reach him.

“Fuck. He’s so fast. What the fuck,” you said in between wheezing. “Vash! Wait—”

Before you could even register it, your ankle gave out and sent you crashing into the sand.

“Shit,” you seethed, body writhing into a fetal position.

The pain was immense. You wanted to fight through it, to keep chasing after Vash. But you’d never catch up. He was as good as gone. Tears welled up in your eyes. You kicked yourself for getting so attached to them so fast. You hated that despite it all you still cared about Nai and wanted to win him over. You had let yourself get carried away by delusions. It wasn’t as if the three of you could live out your days in blissful harmony, no matter how badly you wanted it.

You stared up at the night sky. The moons loomed over you painting the desert in their ethereal light. You felt hopeless and dreaded having to drag yourself back home.

Luckily you heard Vash running back towards you.

“Are you alright?” he said, tripping as his foot got stuck in the sand.

“No… Are you alright?”

He popped up like he never fell in the first place. “Yeah.”

He walked over to you and squatted by your dejected form.

“Why are you crying?” he asked.

You looked up at him. His red rimmed eyes made them look intensely blue.

“I hurt my ankle.”

He held out his hand and hoisted you up.

“Let’s go home,” you said, grabbing onto his shoulder to steady yourself.

“I can’t. I have to find him. I… I promised I’d take care of him.”

“Maybe he went into town,” you suggested.

Vash’s face fell.

“All those people…” he muttered to himself. “I have to go after him, but I can take you back at least.”

He had you hop on his back for a piggyback ride. All you could do was whimper as your tears kept falling. You didn’t even bother speaking. Vash’s mind was elsewhere, unavailable to you. Once you reached home, he put you down and hugged you tightly.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you lied. “I’ll be alright.”

You turned away and walked into your house. You refused to watch him leave. It would’ve made everything feel a hundred times worse.

You awoke the next morning feeling hungover. You stretched your arms over your head and got up out of bed. You tried not to think about Vash and Nai, but everything reminded you of them. They had only been around for a short while, but they left their mark everywhere. When you opened your cupboard for coffee, you nearly started sobbing when you saw your last peach.

“Ugh. What’s wrong with me?” you wailed.

You boiled water for coffee and spread some preserves on a piece of cinnamon bread. It tasted ambrosial. At least one thing in your life remained sweet and unproblematic. Once your coffee was done, you poured yourself a cup and made your way to your front door. Sitting on your porch before the suns scorched the earth would do you some good.

As you went to open your door, you hit something on the other side of it.

“Oof.”

You would recognize that pained voice anywhere.

“Vash?”

He moved away from the front of your door and stood up. He looked exhausted.

“I didn’t… I didn’t think you’d come back.”

“Aw. I was hoping you’d think more highly of me.”

You laughed. “I take it you didn’t find him.”

He cast his gaze to the side, staring at the ground.

“Yeah. I even went to town. A group of drunks said they saw a ‘weird guy that looked just like me’ but that was all they said. I’m just glad no one was hurt.”

You wondered why he would be concerned about people getting hurt in regards to his brother, but you didn’t want to pry.

“How’s your ankle?”

“It’s sore, but I can walk on it. Serves me right for running around barefoot.”

He smiled and it warmed your soul. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah! I just made coffee. You should have some. You look like shit.”

He ran his fingers through his windblown hair. “I can’t look that bad.”

“You do. And you’re stinky.”

“What are you gonna do? Give me a bath?”

“I might.”

You led him inside and had him sit at your kitchen table. You poured him a cup of coffee and beamed while he took a sip and burned his tongue.

“You’re so mean to me,” he whined.

“What can I do to make it up to you?”

“Do you have any more of those peaches?”

“I have one left.”

He gazed at you, eyes sparkling. He was like a cheerful vampire glamoring you. You grabbed him a peach and handed it to him. He held it and looked down lovingly at it, like it was a newborn baby.

“How long will you be staying?” you asked, expecting him to give you a short time frame. One that would be wholly unsatisfying.

He looked up from his peach. “Indefinitely assuming you can keep giving me these.”

“I think I can manage that.”

[ragingadhd]

I’ve had a very small handful of people tell me something along the lines of “personally, I don’t think Will is trans, but it’s not because I’m transphobic, it’s because _____”. I know it’s only been like 3 people who’ve said this but still, I hope everyone knows you don’t need to say this.

I like to think he’s trans. I enjoy and understand his character more that way. But I am also fully aware he is canonically cis (in all likelihood, at least. I highly doubt Flanagan is going to jump out any time soon like “hey guys I have a surprise for you”).

You are not transphobic for thinking a canonically cisgender character is cisgender. I cannot believe I have to say that. If you were to think a canonically/heavily implied trans character were cis, then we’d be having a different conversation, but that’s not what’s happening right now.

And the funniest part? The reasoning they give always ends up being kind of transphobic. “It’s a medieval setting, and transitioning was a lot harder back then” ok??? Do you think?? Trans people only started existing when HRT was invented?? Also you can believe wargals and sorcery, but not a medieval trans person? “He’s too masculine” ok just straight up transphobia. Saying trans men can’t be “really” masculine. Ok.

It’s ok to just say “idk, he just doesn’t strike me that way” or “I relate/understand his character more this way” or to not say anything at all. I promise you, you are not a bad person for that.

[moodymisty]

Sanguinius being secretly guiltily down bad for you, Horus’ beloved??? Now that’s a very fun scenario. Especially considering how Horus starts behaving during the heresy. Don’t you think that Sanguinius would feel the need to rescue you from such a terrible situation? Keep you somewhere where you’re completely safe and far away from the forces of chaos (somewhere right by his side)?

He’s aware of his feelings towards you but would never want to burden you with them, considering the emotional pain you’re in right now. But that doesn’t mean he can’t hold you for a little longer than usual, or linger around you for more than is necessary, or wrap a wing of his around you as a loving friendly gesture. He lets himself indulge in these feelings sometimes, just a small amount, because if he doesn’t he feels like he might explode. The guilt hasn’t gone away, in fact it’s even gotten stronger. You see him as a friend and a confidant, but nothing more, and it’s obvious to him that your heart still belongs to Horus (why should it? Why not him??). And if you weren’t under his protection there’s a high likelihood that you’d probably get assassinated, so he can’t be taking advantage of you like that (despite how badly he wants you to love him as much as he loves you.). He’s content with just being close to you, he’s okay with just being your friend, if he starts getting too emotional about it he’ll cry in the shower about it. He’s fine. He won’t try anything but he also won’t let anyone else near you. He’s normal about it, he’s sooo normal

I love this plotline so much, I'm so excited people like the Horus/Reader/Sanguinius idea. This is really good and I really like this particular idea, so here's a little thang separate from the main fic i'm making.

No warnings other than Horus falling to chaos obv

"She is very lucky."

Jaghatai Khan speaks plainly, looking to Sanguinius.

"A few days longer travel, and Horus would've beaten you there."

Sanguinius brushes a piece of his hair away from his face that had fallen from his crown braids. He was glad they managed to make haste so quickly. The Red Tear had burned almost everything it had just to make it there in time to defend the planet before Horus and his Black Legion desecrated it all.

"We have the planet's surface until control. We'll need it's infrastructure for the coming battles." Jaghatai gives him a look, and Sanguinius knows why.

All the talk about strategy, infrastructure; They both know Sanguinius went there for you.

He still avoids mentioning it, wings tucked firmly against his back. It hangs between both primarchs as true intentions left unsaid. Jaghatai was one of the only three primarchs keen on how Sanguinius felt about Horus' lover. It's obvious in the way he's looked at you since you first entered Horus' life. But Jaghatai doesn't bring it up.

"Then I wish you good fortune in the coming battles."

Jaghatai leaves Sanguinius alone, and it isn't long after he can no longer hear the warhawk's footsteps that he rushes to return to you. Air whistles in his feathers as he briskly walks, hearing the clanking of his armor pieces striking against each other.

He has an entire squad of Blood Angels guarding the room you're in, of which he passes with gentle acknowledgement. They have taken to you just as much as he had; And voiced no complaints about protecting you from what once was your lover's legion.

Once Sanguinius sees you, the room dark and cast in privacy, he watches you rub the corner of your eye as you turn his way. You must've been crying, though you do a remarkable job of hiding it.

"Oh, Sanguinius; Do you need something?"

You speak to him so formally still, the way you did when you were still on Horus' arm. He so desperately wishes you wouldn't.

"I wanted to come see how you were doing. I don't wish to leave you alone in here for so long."

He comes closer, gently lowering himself onto the edge of the bed to sit beside you. Your hands fall into your lap as you look down at them, trying to find the words. It's then he finally hears the cracking in your voice, as you can no longer hold back your grief.

"How... How couldn't I have seen what was wrong with him?" You look up at him, tears welling at the bottom of your eyes just about to break and stream down your cheeks. "Am I really that blind?"

Sanguinius unfurls one of his wings, it wrapping behind you. It's not close enough to touch other than the light brush of his primary feathers, but it's close.

But most of all he wants to cup your face in his hands and kiss away your tears, to be there for you as you grieve the loss of a lover who is something worse than dead. Sanguinius dreads to hear the things you saw as Horus fell to ruinous powers, but he wants to be the one you come to; To protect you from everything.

But he can't. The love you have for Horus hasn't faded, and you're with the Blood Angels for as long as this war wages. Sanguinius will protect you, but his love for you just can't override the guilt he would feel if he swept in to kiss you as you cried for someone else. No amount of yearning desire is enough for him to take advantage of you in such a way, as you technically sit here indebted to him for rescuing you.

"He hid it from us all. We were all blind, same as you."

You sigh, and your posture seems to soften with his reassurance. His wing inches closer, daring to take just a bit more as it gently cradles you. It's only to make you feel better. One of your hands reaches to brush along one of his long primary feathers for a moment, and he bites the inside of his cheek.

Sanguinius reaches a armoured hand towards you and instinctively he wants to set it on your knee, to pull your towards him, but he hesitates- and moves to your shoulder instead. You lean into it, and hold the necklace that Horus had once given you in your hands. You clear your throat and blink your eyes, a few tears dripping down your face that you haphazardly wipe away with your palm. He wishes to wick them away with his knuckle, to brush his fingers across your skin, but he can't.

"Thank you, Sanguinius. For all of this. I appreciate you being so friendly to me."

Sanguinus softly smiles down at you, and attempts to ignore the way your words stab him directly in the heart; Bleeding all over your hands.

"Of course."

[sxnshxnxxnddxxsxxs]

how poor are the weasley’s?

i think this question really just encapsulates jkr’s shitty world building because there are so many interconnected elements.

oh and as always fuck jkr for the antisemitism, transphobia, racism, holocaust denial, barely veiled misogyny and the rest of her sins.

why is there poverty in the first place?

in a world with magic where you can create practically anything but food out of nothing why are people poor. especially when the you can’t create food rule has the caveat if you already have food you can just duplicate it. moreover in a world where theoretically you can get everything you need with the right spell why do you need money? the answer in all likelihood is probably convenience because most people don’t have time to find the spell for this that and the other. but if you don’t have money theoretically there is still a away to provide for yourself. also i’m pretty sure there’s no lore against just conjuring gold so theoretically there’s no reason to be without money.

the weasleys and mismanaging their money

in harry and ron’s first train ride we get the introduction to the weasleys poverty and the frankly ludicrous mismanagement of their funds. first of all we get that percy got brand new robes not because he had grown out of his old ones but because he was made a prefect and that he also got a new owl. then we get ron who has bill’s old robes, charlie’s old wand and percy’s old rat and no money for the trolley just his least favourite sandwiches. now i’ll come back to my thoughts on the robes in a bit. now charlie’s old wand is a known plot hole but still why did he get a new wand especially considering that charlie graduated from hogwarts in the summer of 1991 if you have money to buy a wand at that point in time surely it should go to the child who needs a wand and doesn’t yet have one. but say charlie just really needed a new wand then use the spare cash you spent on percy’s robes and owl. like it just gives irresponsible to not dedicate money to the kid that needs it the most.

what are the indicators of the weasleys poverty?

i ask this because while poverty certainly manifests differently in different situations i find that the way the weasley finances are described and how they are portrayed to live don’t quite match up. now the big one is when they go to gringotts in CoS when all that’s in the weasley vault is a small pile of sickles and one galleon. but i’d also say that that is the only real indicator of the weasleys being poor because the two main other factors are the hand me down clothes and books. now i personally don’t find this to be an indicator of poverty at all i actually find it entirely normal. as some who had a school uniform (i went to state school in the uk) they are not cheap one full set of my uniform (blazer, jumper, shirt, kilt and socks) cost upwards of £200 and in a pair of shoes that will last at least the year and that’s at least another £50 or so. so it was the unquestionable norm in my school that if you had an older sibling who had spare uniform because they were graduated or had grown out of it then you would wear it (provided it was in good nick) and it was the same with textbooks the syllabus barely changed unless the entire national curriculum was updated so if you could inherit a textbook or set text you would, in fact you were at an advantage if it was for something like english lit because the annotations would already be there. and even if you didn’t have an older sibling in my school we were actively encouraged to buy second hand books. like i’m sorry but i just don’t accept hand me downs especially in this context as being a sign of poverty. now there are very big indicators of poverty that the weasleys don’t have (and obviously irl you can still be poor and not have these apply to you i just think it’s worth mentioning) which are food insecurity and housing insecurity.

now i would like to make it clear that i don’t think that the weasleys are particularly well off i just don’t think that they’re destitute in the way jkr wants the audience to believe (possibly because she’s never interacted with poverty on a significant level) which leads me into my next point.

comparative poverty

most of the times that the weasleys poverty is being examined it’s in the context of a comparison to either harry or the malfoys who are all significantly wealthy (the malfoys more so than harry) which provides a very skewed perspective of how poor the weasleys are because i’d wager that hermione (who is implied to be upper middle class considering her parents are dentists) would look poor certainly next to the malfoys. with harry it’s harder to say just because we really have no clue how rich harry actually is.

class vs money

now this is both related and unrelated but partially because of jkr’s very inconsistent writing of the weasleys being poor and her world building or lack there of but the weasleys very much come off to me like an upper class family. and this is a reminder that in the uk money and class are very different and that one does not inform the other. money can help you present your class but that’s about it. it is more than possible to be upper class and not have a pot to piss in (or in the forever iconic words of beverly: not have a pot in which to piss). and i think that the weasleys being an upper class family that lost their fortune at some point really informs some of their decisions like the fact that they are a single income household when after ginny goes to hogwarts i don’t really see why molly wouldn’t get a job. and the fact that when when arthur and lucius fight it’s generally about money and arthur being jealous of lucius’s fortune which would make even more sense if at one point the pair were equals in the social hierarchy. not to mention that the weasleys are part of the sacred twenty eight and class and blood status are very closely linked in the narrative.

all this to say that when you examine the nature of poverty in the wizarding world especially when your case study is the weasleys it makes very little sense. not only the first question of why is there poverty in the first place (and why the hell is there inflation i could write a whole separate think piece on this tapped fucking money system). but since it does exist how does it manifest itself? like bills aren’t really a thing because houses are powered by magic and rent isn’t really mentioned i don’t think, the weasleys own their house (another class indicator). it just really doesn’t make sense to me. also i haven’t really included ron being bullied for being poor by draco because the majority of people are poor compared to draco and draco is a dickhead eleven year old like i doubt he even knows how money works.