#but i don't WANT that. i want to curl up in my own quiet cozy safe space n put my glasses where i always do & go to sleep at 10pm.... guh.

[intertexts]

sorry for complaining so much about my current situation however it's kind of like my personally tailored saw trap or something

[tini5]

In Paris, With You...

Pairing : Drew Starkey x Reader

Summary : What starts as a playful tease from your best friend, Timothée about a crush quickly turns into an unforgettable night. Being invited to the Loewe fashion show in Paris, leads you to get tangled in your sheets with Drew.

Themes : Fluff/Smut

Word Count : 4346

Note : I am apologizing in advance bc it's my first time writing a fic that long, along with first attempt at writing smut and for drew in general!!! I tried my best, even tho i think i wrote more about timmys and taylors relationship i hope you enjoy!! Not proofreaded!!

"I wish you would get invited to Loewe’s fashion show in Paris,” Timothée said, his lips curling into a playful smile as he picked at a piece of sushi on his plate. The familiar hum of the restaurant around you made the moment feel even more personal, like the world outside was a distant dream, a comfortable quiet between you, only interrupted by the clinking of plates as the waiter brought over a fresh round of sushi. 

Your place—our place, you thought—was a small, hidden sushi restaurant in New York, a cozy spot where you two came to unwind, laugh, and share stories you couldn’t share with anyone else. It was a place you and Timothée had claimed as your own since your careers first took off. A lot has changed since then. Starring in Luca Guadagnino’s movie “Challengers” and seeing your career take off at just 22, was truly amazing.  

He leaned in with a mischievous glint in his eyes, narrowing them at you like he was about to reveal a grand secret. “That way, you could meet your lover boy,” he teased, adding a dramatic hand movements with his chopsticks.

You rolled your eyes, but there was no hiding the flush creeping up your neck. “You want me to go to Loewe’s show just because of Drew starkey? I don’t even like him like that.”

Timmy raised an eyebrow, the smirk widening. “Lies, lies, lies,” he sang, his voice dripping with mock accusation. You hated how well he knew you—sometimes better than you knew yourself.

“Whatever,” you muttered, stabbing at your own sushi defensively as you put down your chopsticks. “Do you know who’s the brand ambassador of Loewe?”

The shift in Timothée’s expression was instant, his face scrunching up in a mix of guilt and annoyance, as if he knew exactly where this conversation was heading. He sighed dramatically, but before he could stop you…-

“The most gorgeous woman you fumbled because of you know who – the one who shall not be named,” you said, letting the word her hang in the air, dripping with emphasis.

There was no need to explain further. He knew exactly who you meant. You watched as his shoulders sagged slightly, but the smirk stayed on his face, though now it was more resigned than mischievous.

“Low blow,” he muttered, and you both burst into laughter, the memory of his ill-fated relationship hanging between you like a shared joke.

Who knew that Timothée’s big mouth could sense the future? But here you were, sitting in a car, watching the skyline of Paris blur past as you headed toward Loewe’s fashion show. It was almost too surreal, the memory of that sushi restaurant conversation lingering in the back of your mind.

You glanced over at Timmy, who was typing something on his phone, his thumb moving in rapid, practiced motions. He looked up for a second and grinned. "See? I told you. Here we are, ready for your lover boy," he teased, leaning back in his seat, eyes glinting with mischief.

You couldn’t stop the eye roll that followed. "I swear, you have an obsession with that phrase. But we don't even know if he'll be there."

"You hope he’ll be there," Timmy quipped, nudging your shoulder playfullly.

You tried to suppress a smile, but it was useless. Yes, you hoped. Drew Starkey had become a quiet fixation in your mind—there was something about him that you couldn’t shake off. Maybe it was his blue eyes, his charisma, his –

Your hands smoothed over the fabric of your dress, custom-made by Loewe, every stitch and detail meticulously crafted to perfection. Jonathan Anderson had made sure it reflected not only the brand’s style but also you—soft yet bold, striking but elegant. You looked stunning, and you knew it. 

The car ride felt both too long and too short, your mind spinning with what-ifs. Timmy, noticing your quiet, serious for once, put his phone away and turned to face you. "Hey," he said gently. "We can ditch it if you want. No fashion show and no boy is worth you eating your nerves over."

You smiled softly at him. That was the thing about Timothée—he knew when to be playful, and he knew when to be serious. He knew you. "I know," you said, your voice quiet but steady. "But I’ll be fine. Besides, you’d be miserable if you missed the after party later.”

Timmy shrugged with a grin. "Yeah, you’re probably right. But seriously, if you want to go, we’ll go. If you want to leave, we’ll leave."

You appreciated that more than you could say, but instead of responding, you looked out the window. The car slowed to a stop, and the reality of the situation hit you. The cameras, the people, the flashing lights—it was all waiting just outside.

"Ready?" Timmy asked, holding out his hand like a knight in shining armor.

You took a deep breath and nodded, slipping your hand into his. "As ready as I'll ever be."

The fashion show itself was a whirlwind. Lights, camera flashes, the hum of conversation blending with the soft music in the background. But amidst the glamour, you were determined to keep your distance from Drew. Every time you caught a glimpse of his tall frame, you did your best to blend into the crowd and focus on the runway.

Timothée, couldn’t resist teasing you about Drew, his playful remarks making it even harder to stay composed. Despite your heart fluttering every time you heard his soft laugh, you managed to keep your cool, or at least you hoped you did.

The show itself was a visual feast, with stunning outfits by Loewe that left everyone in awe. Timothée was in his element, charming everyone he spoke to, effortlessly gliding through the crowd. Yet, you could tell he was also trying hard to avoid running into Taylor Russell. 

You couldn’t miss how his eyes flickered toward her now and then, a flash of something in his expression that only you could read. But you gave him space, knowing that whatever was going on between them was its own delicate web.

You exchanged polite smiles and laughed at jokes, did your best to keep up but your thoughts always circled back to one thing: Drew Starkey.

You both succeeded in your mission during the show. But as the show came to a close and the after-party beckoned, the sense of triumph was short-lived. 

The after-party was a different beast altogether. And there, at the heart of it, was Drew Starkey, mingling with his entourage and catching your eye from time to time. Despite your best efforts, you felt the electric pull of his gaze, the gravity of his presence impossible to ignore.

Timmy noticed, of course. "We can leave, you know, get a take out" he offered again as you both stepped into the car. But you shook your head, determined now. “Then stop worrying. He is not going to eat you.” Teased Timmy. 

Then it happened. As you sat at the table with Timothee, you saw Taylor Russell make her way through crowd. 

You quickly turned to Timothée, a note of urgency in your voice. “Timmy, don’t panic, but she’s coming over.”

Timothée’s eyes widened slightly as he turned to look at Taylor. His usual nonchalance faded into a look of mild panic. “You’re kidding,” he muttered, trying to keep his cool. “Why does she have to pick now to come over?”

And before you knew… - “Hello” – Tension shifted as Taylor greeted you with her ever the sweetest voice. 

“I’m going to grab a drink. I’ll catch up with you later.” you said, your voice carrying a light, reassuring tone. You shot him a quick look, raising an eyebrow. "I’ll kill you if you screw it up," you mouthed playfully, earning a quick smirk from him before you excused yourself to give them some privacy.

Making your way to the bar, you tried not to let your nerves overwhelm you. Just a drink, you thought. Just a quick drink, then I can blend into the background.

“One Cosmopolitan, please,” you told the bartender, just as a familiar voice from beside you made your heart skip a beat.

“It’s on me.”

You turned, and there he was—Drew Starkey, leaning against the bar with a whiskey in hand, looking as effortlessly cool as ever.

Your pulse quickened at the sound of Drew’s voice. He stood next to you, casually leaning on the bar like he belonged there—like he belonged everywhere. His tailored jacket hung off his broad shoulders as though it was designed for him alone. His eyes, that piercing blue you couldn’t forget, caught yours as he smiled—a lazy, confident grin that made your stomach do a flip.

“It’s on me,” he repeated, a little softer, his voice low enough to feel intimate despite the crowd around you.

Your heart stuttered, and for a split second, you forgot how to respond. All those times you’d fantasized about running into Drew Starkey in moments like this and now-  He was right there, buying you a drink, and you felt like a teenager all over again.

“Thank you” you finally managed, forcing the word out without sounding too flustered. But your face betrayed you, the warmth creeping up your neck and settling in your cheeks. You prayed the dim lighting would hide the blush.

The bartender slid your drink in front of you, and you lifted it to your lips, hoping the cool liquid would calm your nerves. But Drew was watching you—really watching you—and that made it impossible to relax. His eyes never left yours, and there was something about his gaze that made you feel both exposed and flattered at the same time.

“You look stunning, by the way,” Drew added, his voice velvety smooth, the compliment slipping out so easily it nearly disarmed you.

You blinked, trying to play it cool, but the way he said it made your heart race. "Thanks," you said again, "You’re not so bad yourself."

Drew chuckled, a deep sound that seemed to ripple through the air between you. His presence was intoxicating, almost as much as the drink in your hand. “I’ve been told,” he joked, his smile widening just enough to show a hint of mischief. Your lips tugged into a grin despite yourself. 

“So," he said, leaning in a little closer, his elbow brushing lightly against your arm as if testing your boundaries, "how are you enjoying Paris?”

A warm smile spread across your face, and you took a moment to gather your thoughts. “Paris is... well, it’s like coming home in a way,” you began, your voice tinged with affection. “Even though I grew up in the States, there’s something about this city that just feels incredibly familiar and comforting.”

You took a sip of your cosmopolitan, letting the flavors mingle with your emotions. “It’s the little things, you know? The way the light changes on the Seine, the scent of freshly baked pastries through the streets, It all feels so...Parisian. It’s like stepping into a world that’s both new and deeply personal at the same time.”

Drew’s smile widened, his expression softening, a genuine appreciation in his eyes. “I can see how much this city means to you. It sounds like you’re really embracing the magic of Paris.”

You nodded, a playful smile tugging at your lips“So the Queer, huh?” you asked, your tone light and teasing. Drew’s chuckle was light and warm, making you smile even more. “So the Challengers, huh?”

You both laughed, the easy banter between you making the moment feel effortless and natural. 

“So, how was working with Luca? I know how he gets sometimes.” 

His eyes lit up at the mention of Luca’s name, and you couldn’t help but smile warmly. “Luca is incredible. He’s not just a director; he’s like a creative force of nature. it’s like he has this unique ability to bring out the best in everyone he works with.”

You leaned in slightly, enjoying the conversation. “Oh, absolutely. Luca has this way of making you feel like you’re part of something truly special. I’ve learned so much from him. He’s like a father figure to me.”

Drew’s gaze was warm and appreciative, “Its sweet how full of love you are.”

You felt your cheeks warm at his compliment, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, is that so? But enough about Luca. What about you, Drew? What’s your creative magic like?”

Drew’s smile widened, a playful glint in his eyes. “My magic? Well, I’d say it’s more about finding the right moments to create something special. And right now, I think the real magic is happening here.” He gestured between the two of you with a teasing grin.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And what makes you say that?”

Drew leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “Well, I have to say, talking to you is a highlight of my night. You’ve got this incredible energy that’s hard to resist. And I’m not just talking about your career.”

A soft laugh escaped you, and you could feel the flirtatious tension between you growing. “Is that so? I must admit,you’ve got a way of making me feel special.”

Drew’s eyes met yours with a look that was both sincere and playful. “I’m glad to hear that. It’s not every day I get to chat with someone as fascinating and pretty as you”

You felt a flutter in your stomach at his words. “Well, I’m glad I could make an impression” 

Drew’s smile grew, his gaze held yours, But before either of you could continue, the moment shattered.

“Drew? What took you so long?”

Odessa’s voice sliced through the comfortable haze you and Drew had created, and the tension in the air shifted immediately. 

You didn’t have to turn around to know it was her—the sharpness in her tone was unmistakable. Drew’s shoulders stiffened slightly, and though his smile didn’t completely fade, it wasn’t as easygoing as before.

Odessa was stunning, of course—there was no denying that But there was something about her presence that felt... strange. Maybe it was the way she looked at you, her eyes flicking up and down, sizing you up in a single sweep. 

Her expression betraying a hint of impatience. “I was just about ready to head out. Are you not coming?”

Drew turned to her, his face a mixture of apology and concern. “Oh, right. I just got caught up in a conversation here. I’ll be right out in a moment, go wait outside okay?”

Odessa’s eyes flicked to you with a mixture of curiosity and something sharper—perhaps jealousy. She gave you a curt nod. “Nice to meet you.”

You offered a polite smile, trying to keep the interaction friendly despite the underlying tension. “Nice to meet you too, Odessa.”

Drew’s gaze returned to you, and there was a softness in his eyes that made your heart flutter. “I really enjoyed talking with you. I’m sorry –

You nodded, feeling a mix of disappointment and understanding. “It’s okay. I hope you both have a good night.”

Drew’s smile was tinged with regret as he leaned in slightly, his voice low and sincere. “I’ll text you.”

With a final, lingering glance, Drew turned and walked away ,leaving you with a swirl of emotions. You watched him disappear into the crowd before taking a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in your chest.

You downed the rest of your cosmopolitan in one go, hoping the drink would steady your nerves. Pulling out your phone, you quickly texted Timothée, letting him know you were heading out.

As you made your way to the Uber pickup area, you could feel the mix of excitement building inside you. Just as you settled into the backseat of the car, your phone buzzed with a new message.

It was from Drew. 

Drew: I couldn’t stop thinking about our conversation. I’d love to continue it… 

You: 44.

You: It’s my hotel room number. 

You: Don’t make me wait. 

The Uber ride back to your hotel was a blur. Your heart hadn’t stopped pounding. 

You leaned your head against the window, watching the lights of Paris blur past as the adrenaline surged through your veins. 

Stepping out of the car and you hurried your way up to your hotel room. Part of you wondered what you were getting yourself into, but the other part—the part that had been down bad for Drew Starkey since the moment you saw him—couldn’t resist the temptation.

And then, finally, not too long after you entered your room, a soft knock was heared.  You froze for a moment, staring at the door, before gathering yourself and opening it.

Drew’s eyes were dark, intense, but his smile was soft, disarming. He stepped inside, the door closing quietly behind him, and suddenly the air between you felt charged, thick with anticipation.

“You really sent me your room number,” he said, voice low, teasing, as he leaned against the wall, watching you with that same amused glint in his eyes.

You shrugged, trying to keep it light, though your heart was racing a mile a minute. “I figured you’d appreciate the direct approach.”

Drew laughed softly, stepping closer, his gaze flicking over you like he was taking in every little detail. “I do,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a near whisper as he reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I really do.”

The touch of his fingers on your skin sent a shiver through you, and before you knew it, you were standing impossibly close, the space between you shrinking with every breath.

“Do you know how hard it was to not look at you all night?” he asked, his voice warm against your skin, his lips just inches away from yours. “You were all I could think about.”

Your breath hitched as his words settled over you, your heart pounding louder in your ears. You looked up at him, eyes wide, and for a moment, all the nervous energy melted away.

“I noticed,” you whispered, barely able to keep the teasing out of your voice.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your cheek, his breath warm against your ear. “Good.”

Before you could respond, his lips found yours, soft but deliberate, like he had been waiting for this moment as long as you had. The kiss was slow at first, testing the waters, but when you kissed him back, everything else melted away. It was just you and Drew, the rest of the world fading into the background as his hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer.

Time seemed to blur as the kiss deepened, your hands instinctively finding their way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, your lips tingling from the intensity of it all.

Drew leaned his forehead against yours, his breath ragged, his hands still holding you close. "I've wanted to do that for a while," he admitted, his voice low, almost a confession.

You looked up at him, your heart swelling at the vulnerability in his words. "So have I."

Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, your lips crashing into his in a kiss that was nothing like the first—a kiss filled with longing and heat. Drew responded instantly, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you tightly against him. His lips moved over yours with urgency, as if he’d been waiting for this moment for far too long.

You moaned softly into his mouth, and that seemed to be all the encouragement he needed. He backed you toward the bed, his lips never leaving yours, his hands roaming over your body, sending sparks of desire everywhere they touched. You stumbled slightly, your legs hitting the edge of the bed, and you pulled him down with you, the both of you collapsing onto the mattress in a tangled heap of limbs.

Drew’s body hovered over yours, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. His hands, now more confident, slid up the sides of your body, teasing the hem of your shirt before pulling it up and over your head in one smooth motion. The cool air against your skin contrasted sharply with the heat radiating off his body, and you felt a rush of anticipation as his gaze darkened, his lips quirking up in appreciation.

“You’re stunning,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

Your breath hitched as his lips found your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. You arched into him, the sensation of his mouth on you sending a wave of pleasure coursing through your body. He worked his way lower, his fingers deftly unclasping your bra and tossing it aside before his lips closed around your nipple, his tongue flicking against the sensitive skin.

A soft moan escaped your lips, and Drew groaned in response, the sound vibrating against your skin. He moved with purpose now, his hands sliding down your sides, tugging at your pants until they were nothing but a heap on the floor. Every touch, every kiss, felt like fire, like he was branding you with his desire.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he whispered against your skin, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver through you.

You reached up, pulling him closer, your lips crashing into his once more. The kiss was frantic now, filled with need and desperation. 

Before you knew it, Drew had shed his own clothes, his body pressed against yours, skin on skin, the heat between you almost unbearable. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every dip, like he was trying to memorize the feel of you. And when he finally slid his hand between your thighs, teasing you, you gasped, your body arching into him, silently begging for more.

“Drew,” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, laced with need.

He smirked against your lips, his fingers dipping lower, sliding inside you with a slow, deliberate motion that had you seeing stars. You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as he worked you, his thumb circling your sensitive spot, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“God, you feel so good,” he groaned, his voice strained with restraint. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stop…”

“Then don’t”, Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body trembling beneath him, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level. And just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, he pulled his fingers away, leaving you aching and desperate for more.

You let out a frustrated whimper, but Drew silenced you with a heated kiss, his body pressing down against yours as he positioned himself between your thighs. The moment stretched out, the anticipation crackling in the air, before he finally pushed inside you, filling you completely. You gasped, your head falling back against the pillows as the sensation overwhelmed you.

Drew groaned low in his throat, his hands gripping your hips as he began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, teasing you, making you crave more. Your hands slid up his back, your nails digging into his skin as you urged him to go faster, your body meeting his with every thrust.

The pleasure built quickly, each movement sending waves of ecstasy coursing through you. Drew’s pace quickened, his breathing ragged in your ear as he drove you both closer and closer to the edge. Your body was a live wire, every nerve ending on fire as he pushed you higher, the pressure building inside you until it was almost unbearable.

“Drew,” you gasped, your voice trembling with need.

He responded with a deep groan, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate as he chased his own release. And then, with one final, powerful thrust, you shattered, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave, your body trembling beneath him as you cried out his name.

Drew followed soon after, his body tensing above you as he found his own release, a deep groan of satisfaction rumbling in his chest. He collapsed beside you, both of you panting, your bodies slick with sweat, still reeling from the intensity of it all.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the room filled only with the sound of your ragged breathing. Then Drew turned to you, a lazy, satisfied smile playing on his lips as he reached out, pulling you against his chest.

“I think I’m gonna need your room number more often,” he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion and contentment.

You laughed softly, your body still buzzing from the aftermath of everything that had just happened. “I think I can arrange that.”

With that, you curled up against him, your head resting on his chest, your heart still racing as you drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep, the feeling of Drew’s arms wrapped around you the last thing you remembered. 

And just like that, as you drifted into sleep, one thought lingered:

"Sometimes, love isn’t about chasing a fairy tale or clinging to the past. It’s about embracing the unexpected, even if it’s wrapped in a Loewe suit and a pair of smoldering eyes that see right through you."

TMZ_TV : Last night’s Loewe show was nothing short of spectacular! From jaw-dropping designs to unforgettable moments, the runway was on fire. 🔥

🌟 Y/N L/N stunned in a custom Loewe creation by Jonathan Anderson, embodying elegance and innovation. Meanwhile, Drew Starkey’s sleek Loewe suit had everyone talking.

👀 The real buzz? The chemistry between them at the afterparty! The night was filled with high fashion and even higher drama. 💫

Swipe to see the highlights and catch up on the latest fashion gossip! 💃🕺

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I am very nervous!! Hope you liked it and i did not disappoint you...

[yoichiris]

better than letting go | nagi seishiro x reader

✩ accidental sugar daddy nagi ✩ pro-player!nagi, roommates au, angst to fluff, heavy pining, miscommunication

"just go live with nagi," reo says offhandedly, "if you clean up after him, he'll let you stay there forever."

you open your mouth to refute the suggestion, because reo knows how you feel about nagi, knows you couldn't possibly stay in an enclosed space with him hours on day on end without jumping him... but before you do, nagi himself interrupts.

"i'm okay with that," he replies in his usual laid-back voice.

you glare at him because you think he sounds more excited about the cleaning part.

"you're going to be homeless," reo shrugs, "why not?"

you return your glare at reo, "why can't you just house me in one of your billion-dollar properties."

"then i'd have to ask my old man for permission," he waves you off like the asshole he is, "no thanks."

"what's wrong with living with me?" nagi wonders, and you hate him for acting like he wants to live with you so badly.

"look, just clean nagi's dirty underwear for the next year while you finish your degree and you won't have to worry about a thing," reo explains, as if there aren't other factors like your five-year infatuation with nagi, and maybe the fact that nagi lives like he doesn't know what a vacuum does.

you sigh, thinking about the end of your lease and the astronomical increase in rent incoming, and how much you don't want to work your stupid part-time job, and give in.

of course it's not that bad. all you had to do was keep your feelings to yourself.

"nagi," you hiss, "nagi, wake up, you're going to be late!"

he only stirs, covers tucked under his chin, as if he's hiding from you. you inch the door wider, stepping into his room hesitantly. he doesn't even make a move.

"nagi," you whine, crouching at the side of his bed.

he makes a sound of acknowledgment but keeps his eyes closed, so you sit cross-legged on the floor, watching his sleeping form. he's so cute like this, you think, yearning.

it's been a week since you moved in with nagi. in a lot of ways, he's exactly what you thought he would be like in private: he's rarely home, and when he is, he's quiet.

you thought he would spend more time in his room, under the covers, but you realize quickly he's furnished his couch with the coziest throw and likes to curl under there when he is home.

it makes your heart warm when you come home to see nagi, his toes sticking out from underneath the blanket, waiting for you to eat dinner.

"...what time is it?" you hear him mumble.

your heart skips a beat when he opens his eyes, groggy with sleep, and touches your arm. you sigh shakily.

"too late," you smile softly at him, "i'll prep your pre-workout so you can take it with you, okay?"

"thanks," he tells you, his voice raspy.

he smiles back at you and reaches out, poking you in the forehead. when you feel his fingers touch your skin, you think you'll drop dead right there.

"are you gonna move out after you graduate?" reo asks, nine months into your arrangement.

you've been avoiding even thinking about it. you're busy with graduation, you justify to yourself, you don't have time to look for a new place yet.

"hm?" you hum innocently, "i dunno. haven't had time to think about it."

"nagi asked me 'bout it," he mentions casually, and you freeze. is he counting the days down until you leave?

you and nagi have settled into a daily routine: you wake him up, he goes to practice, you study after class, and when he comes back late at night, he hangs out with you for an hour before he has to sleep. mostly, you and nagi sit on either end of the couch, sharing the cozy throw, and read manga.

it's lulled you into a false sense of security, you think.

"oh," is all you manage to say. maybe he finds you bothersome? maybe he wants his own space back?

reo hits you over the head, lightly. "what's that face for? it's been going good living with nagi, right?"

and it was. it was everything you had dreamed of, and it shocked you how well you got along with nagi. you think of how, in early mornings when both of you (mostly you) are rushing out the door, bumping hips in the kitchen, even then it seems like you were working together.

"yep," you reply, sipping your iced coffee, "too good."

reo takes a bite of his food, and suggests, "maybe you two should just keep living together. you can split rent or something."

"can't rely on nagi forever," you protest.

"why not?" he says, just like he did when he had first suggested this whole thing, "isn't that what you want?"

you kick him under the table, angry that he was bringing your feelings up now. yes, you want to scream, it is. but nothing has changed between you and nagi, nothing at all.

you're always trying to keep your feelings in check: when he peers over your shoulder as you're cooking, the warmth of his body hot asgainst yours. or how adorable he looks when he comes out of the shower, his shaggy hair falling over his eyes, his face shiny. those are the times your feelings want to burst.

"just talk to nagi about it," reo nudges. you're not sure if he's talking about the housing or the feelings.

you're curled up with nagi on the couch when you muster the courage to say anything. your legs are touching his under the blanket, and you feel as if that might connect you to him.

there's a month left until you graduate, which is absolutely not enough time for you to find a place to live, but you were scared. you hear the victory sounds of nagi's mobile game, so you decide now's better than never.

"so," you start, and his gaze drifts over to you, "i haven't really found a new place to live yet."

it's quiet. "s'okay," nagi mumbles, not even looking up from his phone, "you can move out whenever."

well, at least that answers your question on whether or not he wants you to move out. at least he wasn't pushing you out the door, you tell yourself.

you don't know what else to say. do you want me to leave so badly? you want to ask. can't i stay with you? you think, desperate. but those words don't leave your mouth.

"are you coming to my graduation?" you ask lightly, and regret it when you realize that you've opened yourself up again.

he shrugs. "dunno my prac schedule yet, but reo's going right?" he replies, as if reo could replace him.

you feel cold despite the blanket, and sink deeper into the couch, feeling drained. from the corner of your eye, you see nagi tapping away at his phone, signaling to you that he's still deep in his game. you take your legs away, knowing he wouldn't even notice.

"yep," you say and awkwardly crawl out of your warm spot on the couch. "i'm gonna go to bed first, nagi."

"g'night," he replies, finally looking up as you pass him with your head bowed. he watches you walk back to your room, and doesn't take his eyes off of you until you close the door behind you.

you eventually begged reo to find you an empty unit in one of his father's rental properties.

he had been insistent you just talk to nagi, as if he knew something you didn't, but you had to explain that you did, and nagi had no objections to you moving out, and you weren't going to wait until he shoved you out the door to move on.

it has been so awkward since that small conversation you'd had with nagi. maybe it was you, feeling out of place, like you had reached a point of no return.

waking him up in the mornings were now rushed, gently pushing him awake and scurrying off before he was fully awake. leaving his pre-workout on the counter instead of handing it to him. sitting at the kitchen table under the guise of studying instead of curling up on the couch with him.

it's not that he'd changed, you knew, it's that you couldn't keep playing pretend with your feelings anymore.

you hear the front door click as nagi walks into the apartment.

"hey," he says, pushing open the door to your room, "i'm home."

you turn from your position at the front of your closet, where you were just about to take out your suitcase. "oh, hey," you reply lamely, "welcome home."

he hovers, something he's never really done, as if he knows you have something to say, as if he had something to say. the words were stuck in your throat.

"reo told me you're moving out," nagi finally tells you.

traitor, you curse at reo. "uh, yeah," you smile tightly, "i didn't want to keep bothering you, so..."

"you're not bothering me," he replies, maybe a little too quickly, but you don't notice.

there's another silence. what else can you say?

"you don't have to leave," nagi continues, "i don't mind if you stay here."

but do you want me to stay? you want to ask. the way he says it so casually, as if it didn't matter whether you stayed or not, only solidified your decision to be away from him. at least then you could just be his friend without delusions of sharing a life with him so intimately.

"nah," you try to keep your voice steady, "it's probably better this way."

"i like living with you, though," nagi shuffles his hair uncomfortably as he says it.

you laugh, maybe a little bitterly, "because i cook and clean for you?"

"no," he says quickly, looking flustered, "no, i just like it when you're here."

but why? you want to scream. your heart pounds, because you feel like you're close to something, but at the same time it feels so far. sometimes you're convinced that he knows about your feelings, that sometimes you two are talking about them even though the topic is unrelated.

"it was nice," you settle on saying, as if it wasn't life changing, "but i can afford living on my own now."

"i don't want you to leave," nagi almost sounds like he's whining, and your heart skips another beat.

"why not?" you say, frustrated, breathless, "we can't just keep living together forever."

"what if i want to?" he says, and you feel like the conversation has become out of control.

your mind is racing. what is happening right now, you try to breathe through your nose. what is he talking about right now, you try to ask yourself.

"nagi—" you stop yourself, trying to get a grip, "what are you saying?"

you're looking at him now and you're surprised by the determination in his eyes. it's what he looks like when he's really focused, like he is when he plays soccer.

"i want to live with you forever," he declares, sounding defiant, as if that wasn't what you wanted.

but you're not sure what it means. you only know that five years is a long time to be holding onto your feelings.

"i don't understand," you mumble, staring at the floor, quieter than before, "i love you, nagi. not as a friend. so no, i can't just live with you forever."

you feel him before you see him, his body towering over you. when you look up, he's pouting. he puts his hand on top of your head, gentle, warm.

"why do you look so sad," he wonders, as if he hadn't heard what you just said, "that's why i want to live with you forever, dummy."

you wake up to nagi wrapped around you.

"sei," you groan, turning in his arms to look at his sleeping face, "you're heavy."

he mutters, groggy, incoherent, and you can't help but press a kiss to his nose. his hair is falling all over his face, but your eyes memorize every slope. he squeezes you harder.

"why are you awake so early," he mutters, nudging your chest with his head, "it's my day off."

you soothe your hand down his bare back, feeling the tight muscles underneath your fingers. he works so hard, and his days off are so rare. you wiggle some more, to loosen his arms.

"i know," you smile, "but let me go make breakfast, kay? i'm hungry."

he shakes his head and whines. "no," he refuses, "just go back to sleep."

you relax, unable to tell him no. mornings with nagi often go like this, except that you usually have enough self-control to get him up. but sometimes, you remember what it was like wanting him so bad, that now you remind yourself to enjoy it.

as a partner, nagi is clingy, vulnerable. but he's also determined, and sometimes, the intensity with which he wants you catches you off guard.

"y/n," he calls, his breath hot against your neck, "i'm happy you're here."

you close your eyes, nodding. "me, too."

[itsfairly]

Nighttime Care // Nanami Kento x gn!reader

word count: 5.5k (ops)

cw: fluff, gender neutral!reader, established couple, petnames (sweetheart, sweetie, honey, darling, dear) not proofread (when is it?)

summary: work, work, and more work, it just seems like nanami can't catch a break from all this overtime. its exhausting, and you can see that and decide to give a helping hand.

notes: time to pass all the silly scenarios I've thought off instead of the outlines for the other fics i have on my drafts ❤

liked this? show it with a like, reblog, and/or comment. each is greatly appreciated and celebrated!

Tired.

Tired, tired, tired.

While it was a significantly better change when he quit his job as a salaryman and returned to his life as a sorcerer, Nanami hated how overtime seemed to follow him. But he hated how overtime not only meant coming home late and all tired. Now it meant coming late to you and being robbed of his time with his sweetheart.

It was way past midnight by the time he got through the front door, huffing almost too loudly as he kicked his shoes off and stepped into the quiet of your house.

No show playing on the TV with you on the couch all curled up waiting for him.

No smells coming from the kitchen with your back facing him as you hum to yourself with your attention on making tonight's dinner.

No running up to him to wrap your arms around him and pepper his face with your lips as you welcomed him home in a muffle.

No you to brighten such a shift at work.

Maybe it was better this way. It was late and you had work tomorrow, you had every right to be asleep right now. The slight disappointment from no sign of you awake quickly turns towards himself. How could he be selfish enough to expect you to wait for him at this hour? He had insisted that you should not wait for him so late, you had your own stuff outside of your relationship together and he rather that you would at least rest easy. Besides, you couldn't see him like this—dark eye bags, a deep frown, and barely standing. Nanami always wanted to be presentable before you, you deserved to see him at his best, not...not like this.

Yet, his heavy steps betrayed him. Despite his best attempts to keep you asleep, your light sleep triggered and caused you to groan awake. You turn on the bed, trying to find the source of the sound that interrupted your sleep only to see the bedroom door open as Nanami slipped between spaces. Silent mutters help you recognize Nanami's voice, your mind finally catching up to what your senses were telling you. With a squint of your eyes, you look at Nanami with your lips curling downwards. His voice sounded tired, his steps were dragging across the floor, and he simply seemed overworked to no surprise. Overtime simply wasn't anyone's choice of spending the night.

"Kento?" You called out in a groan, still feeling a bit drowsy from your interrupted sleep.

Your tired voice makes him sigh, giving him another reason to feel upset after a long shift. Not at you though, he didn't want to wake you up and he tried really hard to let you rest. With a heavy sigh, his shoulder slouched slightly as he turned to look at you, making his way to sit on the edge of the bed right in front of where you were laying down.

"Sorry, sweetie. Didn't want to wake you up." Nanami whispers, a tinge of jealousy in his voice. Seeing how cozy you looked on the bed made him want to be in your place and be able to rest as easily as you, he needed to lay down next to you and sleep. But he couldn't just yet. "I'm home..." He adds, a hand coming up his face to remove his goggles and holding him in a fist.

"Don't worry about that," You assured him, feeling the bed shift as he sat on the edge of it.

With a yawn, you sit up to try and wake yourself up now that he is back. Despite still being zoned out from sleep, it didn't take much to notice just how exhausted he was. It was a sad sight to your eyes, even sadder knowing that this wasn't new at all.

You wrap your arms around Nanami and pull him down to the bed right on top of you, feeling how he slightly jumped at this. Though he was surprised at the action, he felt himself relax when his head met your chest, realizing a groan out of how nice your body felt after such a long day.

"Welcome home, honey." You whispered, your hand rubbing circles on his back.

"S'tired, soo tired." He mumbled against you, using his hand to rub his eyes as if that would get rid of his fatigue.

However, it was hard considering how he felt like he might drift off at any moment. He couldn't fall asleep. Even if he was struggling to stay awake, he didn't want to sleep just yet when he was still in his work clothes.

It was awful how much this happened and every time you would react the same. How could you keep your lips from frowning when Nanami looked and sounded this tired? When his body practically flopped against yours so easily? Nanami was a hardworking person and you admired that. What you did not admire was how much he pulled over time despite hating it with his entire being, constantly doing it over and over again. But this time it looked like work was harsh on him. Sure, he had no injuries or anything like that. Regardless, it was later than the usual time he came back from overtime and he looked much weary than usual.

You sighed, wishing you could do more than just comfort him. For the time being, all you could do was offer soft caresses over his back. "I know, honey," you whispered.

His head peaks out of your chest, meeting your soft frown at him. Your concerned eyes, your hand on his back, your quiet whispers...you were worried for him, that much was obvious with how gentle you were rather than telling him off for coming home late yet again.

"Sorry. I had to work overtime to-" A yawn cuts him off, his hand muffling his lips while his mind tries to coax him into falling asleep by focusing on how he could rest just like this. Yet, he didn't want to seem rude by simply greeting you and falling asleep on you. You deserved more than just a tired man-

"Why are you apologizing?" You asked softly, cutting his line of thought before you even knew what he was thinking.

In your mind, you saw no reason for him to apologize. Work was work, he was providing just as much (definitely more) than you were and it was normal. What wasn't was how frequently his work would cut not only into their time together but also into his time to rest and relax. You could never hold something like this against him knowing that it wasn't his choice to stay longer at work. Stress, fatigue, soreness in his eyes alone, dark and sunken from how much this has happened as of late.

No. He had no reason to apologize.

But Nanami didn't see it that way. You deserved more than this...not eating alone or going to sleep alone. He wanted and needed to give you some time with him, he didn't want to be this exhausted, barely functioning person to you. Even if you didn't understand why he was apologizing, he still needed to apologize.

"I'm sorry for-"

Your hand took his hand, interrupting him as you wrapped your hand around his and sat up on the bed. With a sigh, you take his goggles from his hand and place them on the nightstand.

"Stop it. You have nothing to apologize for, got it?" You said gently, wanting to be as soft-spoken as you could to not disturb him, let alone let him think that you were angry at him. Why would you get angry over this? It wasn't his fault and you knew that tonight would be different had he had a say in whether he was going to pull overtime tonight.

Helping him sit up again, your hands slip underneath his blazer on his shoulders, rubbing down his arms to help him take it off and setting it on the other side of the bed. As the fabric left his arms, Nanami rested his head against your shoulder with a small groan, placing a hand on your arm to stop you. Sure, it felt nice to have you touch him like this, but he didn't feel like he deserved it. He left you alone for the evening and came home late. How could he let you do more for him than he deserved? His eyes might barely be open and he might be very, very tired, but he couldn't make you feel obligated to help him.

"Darling," he mumbled, sounding unconvincing of pushing your help away, "you don't need to. I..." He sighs, feeling that slight burn in his eyes with a blink, "...I don't want you to see me like this."

He felt very worn-out, slower than usual as if gravity weighed twice as much tonight. Even so, he didn't want you to think you had to help him. He didn't like this side of him where you couldn't lean on him, it made him feel like a burden to you when he had already interrupted your sleep.

But he was met with your head leaning against his, trying to comfort him further as you saw him frown.

If there was something everyone agreed about Nanami it's that he is a selfless person. Someone always wanting to help others, protect them, put them before himself. It was actually one of the many sides that made you fall for him. So it was easy to understand why he was so self-conscious at that moment. It was a juxtaposition of the man he usually is: capable, sufficient, and reliable. Qualities that his fatigue was preventing him from being, but that didn't mean he had to be ashamed of it.

"I wanna help you though."

"You're already doing more than enough by welcoming me home. You should be telling me off for coming so late, not comforting me like this." He explained, his eyelids heavy from the way your warm cheeks touched his temple.

You shook your head, hands coming to his neck and tracing over his tie for her fingers to quickly undo it.

"I've told you already, you have nothing to feel bad for and I have nothing to be angry about." You pulled on his tie, wrapping it around your hand until it was rolled up and then placing it close to his blazer on the bed. "You're tired and overworked. I can't let you do things on your own when I can help you, especially when I want to help my love."

Nanami lifts his head out of your shoulder, trying to straighten up in his seat as you stripped him of the many layers that weighed him down. As much as he tried to make it seem otherwise, you were right—he was tired and overworked, far more than what he could handle. With you so set on helping him, the least he could do was stop his nagging and let you help. It was a bit embarrassing that work has rendered him this weak, not from some kind of injuries but simply because of how body felt ready to shut down at any moment.

Here he was—a grown man of his age acting like a helpless child. He would've protested again had it not been for how devoted towards helping him, towards him. You might be doing what any caring spouse would do, but to him it felt like giving him a small break he didn't deserve.

His lips still find it in them to curl in the slightest as he says tiredly, "thank you, love."

"Happy to help," you answered.

And there it was, that beautiful smile that melted away your frown once he gave in to your aid.

It was silent for a few moments in the room except from the click-click sound after you unclasped his suspenders from his trousers, setting them on the side. There was little to no light, only the nightstand lamp and whatever else managed to slip in from the window, with him tired and you undressing him as your hands slid to his shirt.

Careful to not startle him, your fingers undo his buttons and reveal more and more of his skin with each. Once they were all undone, you slipped your hands underneath his shirt, feeling a few bumps in the way that made you pinch your brows together confused. It wasn't until you started to slide the shirt off his arms that the bumps made sense—they were actually dents that ran front to back on his torso. Though they didn't seem serious, it makes your lips pout.

"I didn't know you had these."

Nanami's eyes look away from you and down to his own chest where your eyes focused on. In all honesty, he rarely acknowledged these—they were just marks left by his suspenders, a small price to pay from his daily attire. Sure, they were tight enough, restrictive enough to leave a mark on his body, but he didn't see any reason to mention them.

"It's nothing, love. They don't hurt at all."

Despite his assurance, your eyes seemed glued to his body. They were just a result of constantly wearing suspenders to a pretty physical job, no pain would come from them. Yet, seeing these marks meant more than just that. It was about the amount of time for these marks to set in the first place, making you realize just how long and much his workday was. Hours that, if they left this kind of mark in his body, were enough to lead to this exhaustion you could see in him.

That's when your fingers begin to think on their own. Your hand comes back up to his shoulder, but rather than resting your palm over it, your fingers graze over the marks and delicately follow down the path on his chest.

As your mind lets your hands do as you wish, Nanami could feel how worried you were from your touch alone. It was gentle but it had that hint of caution, as if too much pressure would make it uncomfortable for him. It made him feel vulnerable. He could see your mind running with all these thoughts from his marks alone. You knew he hated overtime, you knew he was stubborn to work despite his better judgment, and you both knew he needed to rest.

These marks reminded him how much he worked on a day alone.

These marks showed you how hard he worked alone for the two of you.

Underneath your fingertips, Nanami allowed himself to savor your touch further by closing his eyes for a second, unable to prevent the sigh that escapes his lips that makes you snap from your trance and look up at him. Though you knew it was best to hurry up and help him get ready for bed, something within her sparked at his marks. Your free hand decides to follow the other’s steps and comes up to the other side of Nanami’s body, roaming gently down the marks his suspenders have left behind. Soft, delicate, and gentle touches, but most importantly, loving touches.

Nanami stays still, letting you graze all over his body as he swallows down his self-conscious thoughts. It tickled a little to have your hands go so slow and so lightly over his skin, making his muscles tense underneath them. Despite that, he didn’t want your hands to stop, so he doesn't make any effort to as his eyes follow how your hands move down his body and earn a ghost of a moan from him. He couldn’t help himself when his exhaustion made it hard to think much, but you were just being so patient and caring and loving and…and so many other things that made him thank whatever deity that allowed him to be with you, that allowed him to have you as his everything.

Your hands come to a halt at his moan, your heart picking up a pace. At first, you worried the touch was actually hurting or unsettling to him when his body tensed, interpreting his moan as a groan. But when you looked up and saw how his eyes were glued on you and your hands moving across his body as if he wanted to take it all in rather than push you away, you let your hands rest on him and slide back up to his shoulders. You got a little carried away and you didn’t want to tire him any more.

“You do so much for us…for me.” You start with a whisper, “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Kento.”

And see, hearing you say that makes absolute nonsense to him. It catches him off guard.

Your eyes meet, him shaking off his exhaustion for a second to open his a bit more, to actually be able to look at you. Despite how your hands and eyes roam up and down his body, Nanami feels no lust or desire under your touch. It was careful, sweet, just as he has come to expect from you whenever you caught him in this state.

This was just his spouse’s stare, you were his spouse. It wasn’t a matter of whether or not you deserved it (you did, that’s simply out of the question). He wanted to do all this, whatever he could for you. He would sacrifice so much just so you wouldn’t have to worry or work hard. As he stares back at you, eyes looking up and down at his beautiful darling before him, he smiled softly. Though your words made no sense to him, they were a reminder of how thankful he was that you worried, that you were thankful for him like he was for you. A reminder of how much he loved you and hoped that, though he didn’t say it out loud enough, you would still know that without a doubt in between the lines…

“You deserved it.” He answers back.

You chuckled. Of course he would think that and smile like this was nothing. Yet, there was something about his smile. You hated how tired it looked, how tired he looked. But when he smiled right now, softly telling her one thing to mean another…You shook your head, shifting your hands on his bare shoulders to rub circles over his skin and soothe whatever tension you could feel there.

“You’re the one working to the point of exhaustion while I fall asleep before you come home. You do much more for me than I do for you.”

“You do a lot for me,” Nanami started, his brows pinching slightly when you kept discrediting yourself, “you work around the house, keep the place nice…you’re taking care of me even right now after I woke you up. You do plenty for me. This is not up for debate.” He chuckles, not even letting you argue about how little you did for him because that wasn’t the case.

Your gaze softness as your hands come up to his jaw before running your fingers down to his chin. Even through that tension and obvious lack of energy, he still found it in him to appreciate her, to be adamant about her contributions and have her see them. Silently, your eyes flash that gratitude of him to him, admiring each feature on his face.

It was a soft touch, the kind of touch that makes you wonder if it was skin to skin or a feather to skin. It was a quiet but loud way of letting him know how much you appreciate him back. The kind of love and fondness that he needed after another shift.

“I’ll always see it that way, you know?” Nanami adds, “It’s for us, so we can be comfortable. But most of all, so I can spoil you like you deserve it.”

You smile at him, unable to keep it in yourself to kiss him so you do. You lean in to press a quick and soft peck on his lips, taking a step further to remind him of how much he meant to you. You lean back, careful to not over do your kiss when he is this tired. But rest assured, that a small kiss such as that one was enough for Nanami to feel the weight of it, making him feel loved.

“Let’s get you off of these, yeah?” You whispered, your hands sliding off the marks from his suspenders, though you made a mental note to show them some extra love when he was much more in the mood.

You kissed his cheek and readjusted how you were sitting on the bed, going back to the reality that it was quite late, he was exhausted, and you both could use the rest. Shaking off those thoughts, you were set back on your original mission to help him get ready for bed. Your hands go down to his belt, carefully undoing it and pulling it off the loops of his trousers.

But it proved to be much harder to shake off those thoughts from earlier when his body was on display like this, especially as you helped him slide off said trousers after putting his belt aside with the rest of his garments. It wasn’t just the suspenders’ marks, but also his muscles coupled with the feeling of his skin and hair against her hands that made Nanami shake his head with a chuckle as he called out your name.

“You’re doing it again, love.” He wasn’t oblivious to the effect he was having on you, how he was getting you going, as he softly mumbled your name softly.

“Doing what?” You asked with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, trying to play innocent. After all, it was merely a split second you were staring, right?

“Staring at me.” Nanami smiled wider, leaning forward now that this reaction from you gave him a small boost of energy, all just to tease you. “Are you admiring your husband, dear?”

You knew he was just teasing, especially when he was pulling such a pet name by the end of it and leaned forward towards you. You weren’t blind either, apparently you weren’t the only one enjoying a show with your spouse as the star of it, not when his eyes followed your hand and slowly drifted to other parts of you.

“If I was, I’m sure I wasn’t the only one, am I?” You teased right back, looking at him with that smirk still on your face without moving an inch away from him and in fact, deciding to double it down by resting a hand on his thighs.

“A man can’t love the person he married anymore?” Nanami chuckled, silently taking everything in. Your body, your face, your voice…nothing from you was not appealing, you were truly perfect in his eyes.

His answer makes you laugh. You took a small breath, hand sliding off his thigh and across the bed until it finds his own hand, resting yours on top of his as your gaze returns to his. A smile comes to your lips, your heart starting to feel lighter and faster with every beat. Tease or not, Nanami was a natural at making you feel like this.

“A husband can definitely love their spouse.” You replied, your voice having a slight tease in it as well.

“Especially when they are so beautiful.” Nanami adds, his smile growing soft as he leaned against your forehead and closed his eyes. He still felt tired, but he really liked this moment with you right now, feeling as if it was making up for the time he’s been away from you. So he wanted to stay in it a little longer.

“I see, so that’s why you were starting too.” You whispered, though there is the hint of a giggle in your voice that Nanami is able to pick on, going as far as being able to hear your smile.

“Yeah, that is why.” Nanami sighs, laying back on the bed and resting his head on your thighs, groaning softly once he feels his back meet the bed. He could feel how your hands immediately found his hair, gently combing his blond locks with your fingers.

It was comfortable, he didn’t want to move. He wanted to fall asleep just like this. Not yet though. He still wanted to be with you, feel you like this. Even if the two of you weren’t talking much and he was tired out of his mind, you being here and letting him be like this on your lap was enough to calm him further. You being here made him calm.

“I’ve been so busy.” Nanami mumbles, taking a deep breath as his eyes closed for a second.

“It’s okay.” You assured him. “It’s work.”

But there was something in your voice that didn’t match your words. Nanami knew what it was—how much you wanted him to cut back on overtime for his sake. But your words felt as if you were trying to let him know that you wouldn’t hold it against him how his work cuts into his time with you, that he didn’t need to feel that kind of guilt from you. He knew he needed to set a firmer boundary with work so he could put you first like he wanted to, rather than making you worry like this.

Just imagining you falling asleep, waiting for him to come back only for him to come long after, was painful. He didn’t want that for you anymore.

He shakes his head, his hand coming up to yours that was losing its fingers across his hair, stopping your movements. No matter how many times you assured him, how much you tried to be understanding, he didn’t want this to drag on. Work was work, true. But it shouldn’t be overtaking his life, be more important than you were to him. You came before that, and anything for that matter, it wasn’t up to debate. Especially when you were so patient and caring to him despite how neglectful he can be.

“I shouldn’t…” He sighed, taking some time to form over his words. He didn’t want, let alone deserve, so many passes and he wanted to own up to all those times he had to come home late. “Don’t worry so much about me, please,” it’s what he ends up saying.

His words are met with a soft squeeze of your hand after you turn your hand around to be holding his, your free hand coming down to rest around his chest. You could see what he meant with that.

Don’t wait for me.

I can handle myself.

You don’t have to forgive me so easily.

Truth be told, you knew other people would grow irritated at their husbands coming home late, scolding them for the time they finally arrive and leading to distrust. But being married to a jujutsu sorcerer like him…it was a different case. You trusted him with this job, knowing how much more fulfilling it was than working corporate; trusted him to be careful and learned the kind of things he had to deal with. It was a dangerous job, it was exhausting, and you wonder how he can even ask you to not worry. To not worry about Nanami was simply against your marriage vows. You couldn’t do that.

“You’re my husband. I’m supposed to worry about you.”

“Just trust that I’ll be fine.” Nanami said softly, a small sigh leaving his lips as he looked up at you.

He could see that concern in your eyes. Though it is nice to have someone who worries about him, there’s still that annoying part in him that makes him feel guilty for making you worry in the first place. Yet, he knew that he couldn’t blame you. No matter how many times he insisted on you not waiting up for him or on tending his wounds, he knew you would still worry about him. In a way, you both just wanted to do more for the other—you felt like he did a lot for you and he felt like he didn’t do enough for you.

“I’m tired, love,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes with his free hand, “let’s not fight…not tonight.”

“It’s not fighting,” you let go of his hand, letting it slip to his cheek. You knew better than to try and argue when he was this tired, let alone when you knew he had the best intentions even if he dismissed himself so often. “I do trust you, but I still need to care for the person I love so much..”

Nanami chuckled, looking up at you with a tired smile. As he took a deep breath, he could feel how lucky and thankful he was at this moment. Even if a part of him tried to weigh him down with this guilt over how things seemed to be in his mind, you somehow knew how to show him the reality of things. He wasn’t neglectful like his mind was telling him, not when he was trying to peel his eyes open just to spend more time with you. You weren’t forgiving because he was your husband, but because you trusted him enough with your heart. You weren’t worried over him because he came late, you worried because you loved him.

Before he can even answer, you gently pull him off your lap and lay his head back down on the bed. You stand up, patting his shoulder.

“I’ll get your pajamas.” You smile at him, the kind of smile that says don’t worry about a thing, before you turn to his dresser.

Nanami thanks you, sitting up on the bed and stretching his arms and back. The room quiets down, neither of you saying a word as you come back with his night garments and placing them by his side to let him put them on. Not yet done, you take all of his work clothes and turn back to the dresser to put his clothes away while he changes. Some are set aside for the laundry basket, others are hung back up, and others tucked away in the drawers.

Once done with that task, you turn back to head to the bed, laying down underneath the sheets like you were long before he came back for work. He was a bit slow in putting his pajamas on to no one’s surprise since he might as well fall asleep right then and there, but eventually he lays down next to you after turning off the lights, his body facing yours. You wrap an arm around him, pulling yourself closer, sighing when he does the same by rolling on his back and letting you rest your head on his chest to which you happily do.

“I’m surprised you lasted so long without dropping unconscious onto the bed.” You said softly, a tinge of a tease in your voice.

Nanami chuckles, a yawn following soon after as fatigue starts to get to him after god knows how many hours of working.

“So am I. I’ve been like that for hours, honestly.” He pulls you a bit closer, his hand gently grazing up and down your arm. A touch that made your body melt into his body. “But it was worth it. I got to spend more time with you, even if I only had half a brain to see you.”

You hummed, your head turning up to look at him before pressing a kiss on his shoulder. You decided to not say anything, wanting him to get that rest he not only needed but also deserved. That doesn’t mean his words don’t make your heart flutter, even as he says them in that hoarse voice from how tired he was, it made them feel much more softer that he pushed himself to let her know that.

You lift up the covers and let yourself get comfortable with him as your pillow and you in his arms, the two of you cuddling in the quiet and silent room. A few seconds pass, then minutes, and you were sure he had already fallen asleep as evident by his deep breath that made your head rise and fall with his chest, his heart serving as your personal lullaby. Knowing that you had done everything you could for him in this moment, you let yourself close your eyes and begin to return to your sleep from earlier.

Though before you could truly fall into slumber, you feel his head lean against yours, a soft kiss placed on the top of your head that makes your heart beat for him, feeling safe in his arms as he manages to finally answer back to you from earlier:

“I love you too, dear. Thank you…for everything you do.”

Nanami would’ve said more, he probably wanted to have it not been from how his words slurred as his body was finally claimed over by that sleep he pushed off for far too long. After all, now that he finally got his fill of you, he could now rest properly.

[lilrainbowcloud]

Pairing: Percy Jackson x Reader

Genre: Comfy cozy fluff

Word count: 567 [masterlist]

a/n: i live for soft percy fics🩵

[13:23]

Sitting during lunch period together, both leaning on the trunk of an old rain tree at the campus park, you both enjoyed the company of each other in silence. Well, not in complete silence, there was the buzzing of passing conversations of the other students and the sound of the rustling leaves from the gentle breeze of wind.

But you and Percy were in your quiet bubble together. You felt like it was your own world. Being with him, sharing earbuds as your favourite playlist played on shuffle, it felt as if the bubble was a vacuumed space, shutting out the outside world. For like, an hour.

Shoulder to shoulder, you sat sketching on your little sketch book. Determined to commit to finishing the entire book for the semester and not abandoning it like.... the last 4 times. Hey, it wasn't your fault that artist block came knocking on your dorm room's door after a couple of days. Keeping up with the motivation to do something can be challenging okay!

As your pen scratched the paper with black ink, you were sketching a portrait of a woman you saw from your trip to the flower market yesterday. Mind in deep focus as you tried to recall the angle of her face, the deep hooded brown eyes, and the dark curl of her hair. She was very pretty enough to be your subject of art.

Being deep in your creative headspace, the person who was leaning himself onto your shoulder took hold of your non dominant hand which didn't catch your attention at first, but the cold and blunt tip of a pen gliding on the skin of the back of your hand sure did.

Tilting your head down to your intertwined hands, you smiled at the sight of Percy drawing an outline of a star on your hand, matching his blacked out one.

Glancing at his face the best you can, given your position, you could see the little smile on his face as he carefully traced the star's outline, darkening it.

You thought he was done, but under the star, Percy being Percy, wrote a cliche line of "You're the star of my life." Which got an amused scoff out of you. And a proud smile on his face as he let go of your hand only to take it in his other one to hold them up beside his as he examined his 'masterpiece'.

"You're such a dork, you know that?"

"At least I'm your dork," Taking your hand in his again, he brought your knuckles to his lips, "M'lady."

Groaning, you rolled your eyes as you pushed him, making him fall to the side. His melodious laugh filled your bubble.

"Oh my god Percy, I swear on your dad I will-"

"What? You will what, hm?" Giving you a raised eyebrow in question. Sometimes, your mind can't think of a fast retort to him, you stutter, thinking of something.

"I'm telling him that his son cheated on a carnival water gun's game to win a stuffed bear." With a proud face, you crossed your arms over your chest. Feeling defeated already from your poor attempt at a clapback.

You hoped he didn't notice the change of subject matter?

"Okay, I won a stuffed bear for you!" Okay, he didn't notice, "If you don't want him, I'll kidnap him back from you."

"No! He's mine!"

[mickandmusings]

sunday kind of love

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

word count: 1.3k

summary: for six days a week, the miller household is nothing but hustle and bustle from the crack of dawn each morning until midnight each night. life is fast-paced and hectic between work and school, full of responsibilities and deadlines. but, for one day each week, all of it is forgotten for a day of pure relaxation.

or

why sunday is the best day of the week, according to joel miller.

warnings: pure fluff very little plot; reader is a housewife (not like 50's housewife don't worry, only mentioned); unmentioned but envisioned slight age gap; first piece with no y/n; I wanted it to feel like a cozy autumn morning; author is desperately in love with joel miller and wants to be his little wife; this was a random thought from my brain, so it's purely self-indulgent, enjoy :)

*this is probably the smallest and most plotless thing I've ever written, sorry friends.*

-

The air is still.

It lacks the usual chaos of a normal morning in the Miller household. Joel's alarm isn't blaring loudly enough to be heard in the hallway. Sarah's pitter-patter of footsteps down the stairs do not sound. The sound of Tommy's truck engine roaring in the driveway, and, eventually, his rattling for food in the kitchen, never reached the sound barrier. There's no bustle of Millers chattering aimlessly in the kitchen, or the clashing of various pans and plates for breakfast. The radio in the kitchen doesn't play the morning news after a Top 40 hit, and the TV hasn't been turned on since earlier the night before. The house is entirely silent, safe for the hum of the running central heating system, and the quiet clicking of the analog clock in the kitchen.

Up the stairs and through the door on the left lies one Joel Miller, weary brown eyes still closed in sleep, chest rising and falling with deep, heavy breaths. Beside him, or, more aptly, curled into his side and resting against his frame, is his wife. She's been awake for nearly fifteen minutes, simply watching her husband sleep next to her, watching his eyes twitch as he dreams, his lips parting with soft snores. She smiles, her heart warm with the thought of him finally getting the rest he deserves. She was grateful for her husband's hard-working nature. Joel's contracting business allowed her to stay at home, and she and Sarah always had everything they needed and most of what they wanted-Joel was hopelessly in love with his wife, and could easily be persuaded into almost anything by one look from his daughter. His wife did realize the toll it took on him, as much as he tried to hide all of his fatigued movements as he stumbled through the door each night. She'd pleaded and argued with him about contributing in her own way, but he'd shut her down with a sweet kiss and a stubborn refusal each time. Now, she watched him rest, the kind of deep sleep he needed.

For once in the history of possibly the entirety of its existence, the Miller house was quiet, mostly asleep, because there was nothing on the agenda. No work, no school, no after-school soccer practices or late night projects, there was simply rest, a whole day to do absolutely nothing.

She gives Joel's sleeping form one last smile before giving his bare bicep a light kiss. She slides out from under his arm as silently and stealthily as possible, not wanting to disturb his earned peace. She does so successfully, sliding the duvet back over her now empty side to keep the spot next to him warm even in her absence. She pads across the carpet, tossing one of Joel's well-worn sweatshirts over her frame to combat the chill. Autumn had finally fallen over Austin, and its bite was evident in the morning, but she welcomed it into their home like an old friend-autumn was perhaps her favorite part of the year.

Her sock-clad feet pad down the carpeted stairs with practiced ease, her arms stretching above her head, hoping to shake out the sleep still encasing her bones. She lets out a yawn, bringing her arms into her chest as she scrunches, finally releasing her sigh as she shuffles over to the kitchen. She makes quick work of starting up the coffee pot, watching as it drips for a moment before shuffling over to the living room. She greets their feline friend perched cozily in an old armchair by the window, scratching behind her ears as the furry friend nuzzles against her hand. Her hands move to push open the blinds of the windows, letting in the early morning light, which her aforementioned friend seems to enjoy, plopping into a spot where the sun shines on the carpet. She chuckles at the cat, moving over to light the fall scented candle sitting atop the tall entertainment system, she clicks the lighter and the flames flicker in a wave, as if to greet her.

The sudden quiet of the coffee pot alerts her that her morning caffeine fix is finished, and she hastily pads back into the kitchen and pours a hearty amount into an oversized mug. With the first sip, she feels her entire body sigh in content, the perfect start to her perfect day.

She finds herself gravitating back towards the dining room, plopping into one of the well-loved chairs and curling her legs up to her chest, enjoying the view out the glass of the back door. The trees had already begun to shed, the grass covered in shades of red and yellow. Joel would grumble about the mess, but she would speak highly enough of the changing scenery that he'd forget all about his complaints. She's watching a neighborhood dog make his rounds around the houses, sniffing mailboxes and greeting the morning runners, when footsteps on the stairs alert her of someone else's presence now up and awake. Judging by the heavier footfalls, she assumes it's her husband and she internally groans, she'd hoped he would get more sleep, he deserved it.

Sure enough, when she turns, she meets his big brown eyes peering back at her lovingly. He's clad in an inside-out shirt he'd likely pulled from the basket of clean clothes inside their bedroom-she hadn't got around to folding them just yet-and his gray boxers, hair sticking out in every direction, still messy from sleep. He yawns and rubs his face, rubbing sleep from his eyes as his steps draw closer and closer to her. He leans down to kiss her good morning, his mustache tickling against her skin. It's a sweet front for his real goal-quickly sliding the mug of coffee out of her hand for his own taking. She says nothing, letting him think she's fallen for his charms blindly, as if it was something he'd never pulled on her. He gives a sly grin as he brings the mug to his lips, taking a gulp before pulling a face and drawing the mug back to his wife's waiting hands.

"Should've given me a warnin', baby, that was...awful."

Joel did not much care for his wife's seasonal flavored coffee, and he particularly hated the pumpkin-infused brew he'd stolen a sip of.

"Oh boo hoo, Miller, you're the one who stole my coffee."

Joel rolls his eyes, shuffling to their kitchen to brew his own pot of coffee. He shuffles back over, quickly picking his wife up into his arms and slides into her chair before plopping her back into his lap. His wife rolls her eyes, leaning into his chest as silence falls over them. His left hand rests on her hip, his thumb rubbing small circles onto the spot, the morning sun bouncing off the gold band on his hand. The only sound between them was the dripping and soft rumbling of the coffee pot and the morning birds singing through the windows. Without a word, both halves of the couple enjoy their lazy morning, happy to have momentary bliss. Soon, Sarah would be trampling down the stairs in search of breakfast and coercing her father into taking her to the movies, but, for now, Joel sits half-awake with his wife in his arms, staring out at the beauty of an early Sunday morning in Austin. In a feeling he's only just grown accustomed to, Joel feels content, peaceful. Well, until he notes the heaps of leaves covering his front lawn.

"Damn leaves already fallin', have'ta to go buy a new rake."

His wife sighs as he plops her back into the chair, running his hands through his hair with a grumble as he fixes a steaming mug of his own coffee. So much for her lazy Sunday.

-

[emmyrosee]

MEGUMI YOU SAY????? LOML????? LITERALLY MY FAVOURITE CHARACTER IN THE WHOLE SHOW?????????? THAT MEGUMI????

he brings out his shikigami for you to play with/cuddle regularly.

also: museum/aquarium/art gallery dates <3

I’ve said this before in a drabble thing and I’ll say it again: i imagine a relationship dynamic with him is very “you wanna kiss me so bad” and “omg shut up but yes”

YES MEGUMI, THAT MEGUMI YES 🥺🥺🥺

HIS SHIKIGAMI ARE BETTER CUDDLERS THAN HIM I STG. They just curl against you to give you a warm pillow to nuzzle into, to the point even he gets a little jealous bc you look so cozy and it should be him that you're nuzzled into okay??

One time, when you fell asleep against it, he went to move you and it had the nerve, the audacity, the gumption to raise its teeth at him???? HIS OWN SHIKIGAMI??? It did not go over well with megumi for an assortment of reasons.

GOD aquarium (I’m an ocean girly shush) dates with him would be so fun, you demanding him to win you the giant penguin in the arcade, ignoring him when he tells you it would be cheaper to just by the thing but ultimately WINNING IT BC HE JUST LOVES TO WATCH YOU SMILE AND BEAM OKAY EVEN IF IT DID COST HIM AN OBSURD AMOUNT OF MONEY!!!

But just the way he’d look in the blue-hued-lights of the aquarium, casting the same hued shadows over his face, he just looks otherworldly, so pretty and when your jaw slacks to stare at him, he’s quick to use a finger to close it back up. “You’ll catch flies,” he mumbles.

"But I want to kiss you so bad," you whine.

"Later."

As if he's not more than eager to kiss you under the fluorescent lights of the fish tanks, penguin wing in your fist while your free arm wraps around his neck needily, and you rise just barely on your tiptoees to reach him, and-

You nudge him playfully, "you want to kiss me too, don't you?"

"You, stay quiet."

[eyesthatroll]

TOUCH

pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: after game care

warning(s): none i believe, didn’t really hardcore edit this, though.

word count: 1.1k

author’s note: is this cringe..? who knows. title is random, couldn’t really think of one. i kind of like this, though, i don’t know. as always, reblogs + constructive criticism are always appreciated. hope you all are doing well, thank you all for 700 followers! that is absolutely bonkers —mari <3

Jack turns the polished doorknob with a gentle, almost reverent touch. The door creaks open just wide enough for him to slip inside, his steps like whispers against the hardwood floor. He carefully eases the door closed, each inch moving with silent precision to preserve the serenity of the room.

His cautious efforts, however, seem almost futile as he enters the dimly lit space. The soft glow of a vintage lamp casts a warm, golden hue across the room, creating a cocoon of muted comfort. In the far corner of the cozy living room, there you were, curled up on the soft leather sectional, your presence barely stirring in the tranquil air. You were wrapped in a world of your own, ensnared by the allure of the latest book you had bought.

With a quiet sigh, he drops his bags by the door, kicking off his shoes, which land on the floor with a soft thud. Only then, did you finally lift your gaze, your awareness slowly dawning like the first light of day.

Pushing your glasses up to rest atop your head, your book becomes momentarily abandoned, your focus shifting toward your boyfriend. A tender smile graces your lips as you greet him, your voice carrying the warmth of affection, 'Hi, my love.'"

He offers you a small smile, his movements deliberate as he limps over to you, a testament to his eagerness to share a proper greeting despite the discomfort from his leg. Leaning in, he tilts his head downward, and his lips tenderly meet yours. He brings his calloused hands up to your face, cradling your cheeks with a delicate touch as his lips become one with yours.

The kiss lasts only for a few moments, before you're pulling away. As you draw back, a subtle frown creases your features, communicating your concern without uttering a word.

In the silent exchange of your expressions, Jack, attuned to your every nuance, shakes his head, discerning your worry. "Don't worry, I'm fine."

He attempts to offer you reassurance, but the subtle hesitation in the way he avoids putting his full weight on his left leg as he moves doesn't align with his words. "What happened to your foot?"

You had witnessed him take a harsh hit against the boards toward the end of the second period. And despite getting back up seemingly unscathed and returning for the third period, the discrepancy in his gait now raises questions.

"My knee," he clarifies, his voice gruff as he steps into the kitchen. He begins to rummage through the refrigerator until his fingers locate a chilled water bottle.

"Did you tell someone?"

Jack's stubbornness and unwavering commitment to hockey, even in the face of injuries, was well-known. He had a tendency to push himself beyond reasonable limits, insisting that he possessed an innate understanding of his body well enough to avoid serious harm. That sentiment did nothing to alleviate your persistent worry.

“No.”

Exhaling a sigh, you shake your head to yourself. “Jack, why n–”

“Leave it alone, baby, please. I’m tired, my body hurts, and I just want to go to bed.”

“Fine.” Dropping your hands in surrender, you end the conversation there. You knew that pushing the conversation any further would only fan the flames of an argument that you had no energy to occupy.

Jack trudges sluggishly upstairs, and you steal a few moments to gather wits about you, before closing your book, leaving it to rest on the coffee table, extinguishing the warm glow of the lamp before heading upstairs.

Upon entering your shared bedroom, you find Jack sitting at the edge of the bed, midway through the process of undressing. He struggles to remove his shirt, wincing in discomfort before abruptly halting.

"Your shoulder too?" You ask, closing the distance between the two of you. As you approach, he subtly spreads his legs to make room for you, and you slip into the space in between them with ease. With a gentle touch, your right hand rises, tucking away the stray, overgrown brown locks that obscure his face.

“Yeah.”

Wordlessly, you take hold of the bottom hem of his shirt, carefully drawing it up and over his head. A hiss of discomfort escapes his lips as his arms are lifted above his head, revealing the pain he had been silently enduring.

"Do you want me to run a bath for you?" you ask, your voice carrying a tender note as you tilted your head slightly at him.

He shakes his head. "Will you rub my back?"

Your teeth graze over your bottom lip.

"Of course I will. Let me grab some lotion, okay?" You assure him with a small smile, leaning in to plant a quick, reassuring kiss against his forehead. Stepping out of his grasp, you make your way to your ensuite bathroom, where you retrieve a bottle of lotion from the counter beside the sink.

Upon your return to the bedroom, you find Jack laying on his stomach, his pants discarded, leaving him clad in only his boxer shorts. Quietly, you cross over to his side of the bed, and with a gentle grace, you mount his legs, straddling him intimately with your own legs positioned on either side.

Gazing down at him, your fingers delicately traverse the landscape of overwhelming redness that adorns his back. A sympathetic ache washes over you as you thought of the pain he must be enduring.

Reaching for the lotion bottle at your side, you squeeze a generous amount into the palm of your hand. Rubbing your hands together, you diligently work the lotion into a softened lather before gingerly pressing your palms onto his back. With a mindful touch, you apply moderate pressure, your nimble fingers skillfully working to unravel the knots of tension that had taken up residence along the contours of his back.

"Are you okay? I don't wanna hurt you," you murmur, with genuine concern. In response, a soft groan escapes his lips, and his hand reaches out to give your thigh a reassuring squeeze, conveying both his appreciation and trust in your touch.

A half an hour unfolds as you devotedly work your skilled hands across his back, your focus honed on the stubborn kinks in his shoulders. Your touch becomes more assertive, a firm pressure applied to those strained areas, eliciting soft grunts of relief from Jack.

It's not until you reach for more lotion that you notice the steady rise and fall of his chest, a sign that he had drifted off to sleep.

With a slowed motion, you lean forward, your lips softly gracing the middle of his shoulder blades with a soft kiss. A sweet, wordless expression of your affection.

[dirtytomatoedwrites]

Preludes and Nocturnes - Part 3

Paring: Rafe Cameron x InnocentPogue!Reader

Summary: Rafe discovers your hidden talent and now he has seen it, you have his full attention.

PART 1 / PART 2

Warnings:  18+ Smut. Darkish!Rafe. Virgin!Reader. Romance, Angst, Dub-Con, Oral (w receiving) hand job (m receiving). Not Proof-Read so mistakes are my own.

Word Count: 6K

Author Note: Sorry it's taken me long to update we've had a death in the family and it's been a lot to deal with. Writing was the last thing on my mind at the moment. I'm just putting part 3 out there but once things are settled I'll write part 4. I'd like to think there'll be more parts than 4 because the story is now starting to pick up. But it depends on how well this part does. 🧡❤️🧡

Also, I changed part 2 slightly so it may be worth re-reading before reading part 3. 🧡

For those who asked to be tagged. Thank you so much for reading and sticking with the story.  Much love and take care. ❤️

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Please don’t steal or copy bits of my writing or any writing from other writers cause karma will get ya.

Curled up on the sofa beneath a cozy blanket, you slowly blinked open your eyes, adjusting to the room's muted glow. Rafe's voice, a deep murmur, sliced through the quiet ambiance. He was sitting on the edge of an armchair, his phone held to his ear while his other hand absentmindedly glided over his buzzcut.

"Why are they stalling?" his voice barely above a whisper was undeniably firm.

"And their counteroffer? No. Not for a piece of that size. They're well aware of its rarity, right? The clarity? They stand to gain at least 40% profit once it's resold. They know it. I know it. Ninety, and that's me being generous." His fingers stilled their exploration, and his thumb wandered down to his bottom lip, hinting at the storm just beneath the surface. "No, it's non-negotiable. Look, I'm trying to be nice here, alright? But if they keep fucking around with the number, they'll soon find out I’m not so accommodating after all. No more games. I'm done with their shit—Ninety. Final offer."

Your heart pounded, every beat magnifying the gravity of Rafe's words. This was clearly far more than just ninety dollars; it hinted at an intricate web of dealings far beyond your understanding. While whispers of his dubious associations had always floated around town, hearing Rafe speak with such authority was jarring. The sheer force he wielded and the unmistakable power resonating in every syllable revealed that he wasn't just a small player in whatever this game was. He was at its very epicenter, a dominant force controlling the strings. And as this realization washed over you, a sinking sensation set in: you barely knew him at all.

"Now, about that other forty. I want it. Today." He let the words hang for a moment, his tone colder "You keeping office hours now? What the fuck do you mean 'after six'?" His voice tightened with irritation. "Nah, I don't want to hear that shit." he spat. "It's either you have it or you don't, and you should have it since you had one job yesterday; to collect."

Despite trying to stay unnoticed, your numbing arm forced you to shift slightly on the couch, catching Rafe's discerning eye. Rafe's penetrating gaze bore into you, suspending the world in a split second. Amidst the pitter-patter of raindrops against the windows, the weight of the silence pressed in until Rafe finally looked away. "I'll be there in an hour," he murmured, his voice suddenly calmer. "I have some things to take care of first."

As he disconnected the call, you swallowed.

"Is everything okay?" You asked, your voice trembled as you propped yourself up on an elbow.

Rafe approached, confidence exuding with each step. "Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about," he reassured, leaning in for a gentle kiss on your lips.

"How long was I out?"

"About an hour, give or take," Rafe responded, his thumb brushed away a stray eyelash from your cheek. The simple, tender gesture contrasted starkly with the side of him you had just heard on the phone.

You hesitated, your curiosity getting the better of you. "Did you manage to get much done while I was asleep?" Hoping for some insight into his earlier phone conversation.

Rafe's smirk held many layers. "Yeah, handled some business, made a few calls, and I might've watched you a little...."

"Watched me? You mean you just sat there and watched me sleep?"

He moved closer, his warm breath brushing against your skin. "Not often do I see you so… relaxed around me. So yeah, I indulged a little." He murmured, pressing his lips to your cheek. "Besides, I like knowing I can make you feel good. Make you cum til you pass out. It’s up there with watching you squirt,” he grinned.

The change in topic, from shady dealings to fevered intimacy, was a dizzying experience, and you found yourself taking a deep breath to steady yourself.

"Listen," he suddenly said, leaning back to look you in the eye. “I have some business I need to wrap up. I could also do with a shower and a change of clothes." His gaze slipped down to his attire; he had changed back into his shirt, now less damp but very wrinkled. “What's your plan for dinner?

"Dinner?" You tried to keep up, the rapid change in topics leaving your thoughts scrambled. “Uh... Leftovers, I guess.”

“Wanna come over? Eat at mine instead?”

The invitation caught you off guard. The unexpectedness of it made you feel like you were navigating through a dense fog, with every step bringing a new, unanticipated revelation. But you nodded, despite the uncertainty coiling within.

Rafe's expression softened, picking up on your hesitation. He leaned in, his lips brushed against your ear. “You do know what this means, right? You'll have to deal with my company a bit longer. Think you can handle that without making a run for it?"

You tried to muster a playful retort, but his lips captured yours before you could speak, a deep, overwhelming kiss that made you weak.

Pulling back, he smiled, "I'll pick you up around six, yeah?"

“Okay.” Your voice was but a whisper.

As he moved toward the exit, the shadow of his phone call loomed over your thoughts. Only when you heard his truck roar to life did you finally exhale, sinking deeper into the sofa. Your mind was a whirl with questions you didn't know how to begin to ask, let alone answer.

By the time the clock struck 6, you were already fresh from a shower and dressed in jeans paired with a simple white vest top and an oversized cardigan. Right on cue, the low hum of Rafe's truck resonated outside, its headlights casting a gentle glow on your porch. After ensuring you had your phone and keys, you gave yourself a quick glance in the mirror and then headed out to meet him.

Suave as ever, Rafe leaned across his truck to push the door open for you. Offering his hand for support, he helped you up into the seat. A warm smile naturally bloomed on your face, and with a soft "Hey," you acknowledged his chivalry.

"Hey," he echoed, the familiar gravelly timbre warm and inviting. Without another word, he leaned in, capturing your lips with a kiss. As you pulled away for a breath, your gaze wandered over him, taking in every detail. He smelt amazing, something rich and woodsy, while the crisp black shirt and jeans he wore accentuated his toned physique. It gave him that distinct, effortless style he carried so naturally — the very essence of a kook.

As you settled beside him, a wave of self-consciousness washed over you. It wasn't a lack of confidence in your appearance—Rafe had always been vocal about how beautiful he found you. He had a candid manner of complimenting, and today's earlier affectionate proclamations were just another testament to his feelings. Yet, a nagging voice inside you questioned why someone as polished and affluent as Rafe would be into someone like you when he could easily have anyone from his own elite circle.

As the journey began, the ambiance in the truck was tranquil, but underlined by a tension you couldn't ignore. Rafe seemed to be miles away, his eyes barely leaving the road ahead and memories of his earlier phone conversation played on repeat in your head. Could his aloofness be about the business deal you overheard? Did something go wrong? The only breaks in the silence were his occasional clearing of his throat or sniff, causing you to swallow hard and stare out of your passenger window to calm your nerves.

When you exited the vehicle at Tannyhill a rush of nostalgia hit, interwoven with memories that weren’t as endearing. It was weird being there now for pleasure rather than work and at the behest of Rafe not Rose. Possibly sensing your hesitation, Rafe gently grasped your hand, leading you toward the entrance. As he swung the front door open, an overwhelming quiet enveloped the surroundings.

"Is Rose and Mr. C around?" you asked, noting the dimly illuminated hallway that stretched toward the kitchen and beyond.

"Nah, they're in the Bahamas. Business trip. They'll be there for a while." Rafe replied, his voice echoing in the quiet expanse of the house.

"What about Wheezie?"

"She's with them.”

"And Sarah?"

Rafe's face twitched slightly. "Don't know, don't care. Haven't seen her in, what, three weeks? She could be in a ditch for all I care—" His gaze met yours, "I'm kidding," he smiled. Yet, a flicker of something shadowy behind his eyes made you think otherwise.

"So, it's just the two of us tonight?" you asked, hoping to lighten the mood.

Rafe gave a nonchalant shrug, "Looks like it."

Entering the kitchen, your eyes flitted to the island, noticing several neatly stacked pizza boxes. "Planning a feast or what?"

His grin broadened, revealing the playful side you always adored. "Thought you'd be hungry after your day. Vegan, pepperoni, or drowned in cheese. Take your pick."

Laughing, you approached, your finger tracing the edge of the closest box. "Always one step ahead, aren't you?"

Rafe pulled you closer, warmth radiating from him. "Well, yeah. Gotta keep my girl happy and fed,” his voice husky as he leaned in for a kiss.

After devouring slice after slice and transitioning from the kitchen to the cozy ambiance of the living room, you and Rafe settled in, surrounded by plush cushions and the soft glow of the floor lamps. As conversations ebbed and flowed Rafe's gaze followed yours, landing on the Steinway.

"Do you want to play something?" Rafe asked lips curling into a small smile.

"Oh no you don't.” you said with a shake of your head. “I'm not falling for that, again.”

Rafe leaned in, his grin widening. "What do you mean?" he prodded, matching your playful tone.

"Every time I play, we end up..." You left the sentence hanging, heat creeping up your neck.

Rafe leaned in closer, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "We end up doing what?" he asked with faux innocence.

You gave him a knowing look, your eyes saying everything that words didn't need to. Really, Rafe?

"I like when you play." he said slowly with a shrug.

"I know you do... a little too much," you replied, your voice laced with humor and a touch of fond exasperation.

“Alright, don’t play.” He said with a sly smile as he patted the space beside him on the sofa. You found yourself irresistibly drawn to him, nestling close, the comfort of his warmth enveloping you.

Lost in a dance of gentle touches and lingering glances, Rafe pulled you closer. With each soft, deliberate kiss, the world outside faded away. His fingers toyed with the collar of your cardigan, his middle finger hooking the fabric, gently sliding it off your shoulder, as he peppered your skin with slow soft kisses.

"I think... yeah, this is the least clothing I've seen you in, not including earlier today," he murmured against your skin. "I like it. I like being able to have access to you."

As he spoke, his fingers ventured under the back of your vest, soft digits skimming upwards past your bra strap to your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His affectionate kisses stirred a profound desire within you, compelling you to cradle his face and initiate a fevered kiss of your own, a blend of lips and intertwining tongues.

"Stay," he murmured, his words a gentle plea brushing against the corner of your lips. "Stay with me," he whispered, his eyes locking onto yours.

"Tonight?" you questioned quietly, a hint of uncertainty tinging your voice.

"Tonight, tomorrow, as long as you like," he shrugged, his tone revealing a deep yearning. His candidness took you aback, causing your heart to flutter.

"I have a class in the morning," you responded, your hesitation evident.

"Of course, you'd have class on a Saturday. Who takes a class on a Saturday?"

"It's for extra credit," you playfully huffed.

"I'm sure it is, you lil freak.” Rafe remarked with an amused smile as he bit down on your shoulder. You hissed in response to the sudden, sharp pain. He immediately soothed the area with his tongue, a slow and sensual gesture that had you pressing your thighs together.

"What time?" he murmured against your skin.

"Hm?" you managed to reply, your mind struggling to focus.

"What time is your class?" he repeated, his lips still dangerously close to your neck.

"Ten," you answered, regaining some semblance of coherence.

"Okay," Rafe said, his voice low and husky as he made plans. "I’ll drive you home, you grab your stuff, and then I'll take you to class…" His words trailed off as his lips grazed the soft skin of your neck once more. He paused, pulling back slightly to search your face, his gaze filled with understanding. "But it's not just about your class, is it?" There was a knowing look in his eyes, a hint that he comprehended some of your apprehension, even though it remained unspoken.

"Don't…" you began as you licked your lips. "Don't you think we might be moving a bit fast?" you whispered. The pace of things had taken a sharp turn; just yesterday, you were literally hiding from him, and today, not only had you let him finger you into a coma you now found yourself wrapped around him like a scarf, his hand exploring beneath your clothes like he owned you. It was only natural to worry that things were progressing way too rapidly, burning too brightly, and possibly destined to fizzle out just as quickly as it had started.

"Nah, I don't." Rafe drawled as his nose brushed against your shoulder, inhaling your scent. “If we were moving fast, I would have fucked you a long time ago.”

You jerked your head away, staring at him with wide eyes while Rafe smiled, clearly enjoying your worried expression.

"What?" you asked softly.

“Oh, yeah.” Rafe nodded, “In fact, I would have fucked you quite a few times by now, in every position I could think of.” he said nonchalantly. A deep chuckle escaped him as he relished your deer-in-the-headlights expression. “But I also get that all of this is new for you, so..." his fingers traced your jaw. "We’ll take it slow. Until I can't hold back any longer."

"Rafe!" you breathed, and he threw his head back with a hearty laugh.

"I'm kidding," he laughed, his eyes sweeping over your features like a tender caress. "I'm kidding."

"So if I stay over..." you began, shifting nervously in his embrace. "We’re not..."

"Nah, we won't," he assured, understanding your apprehension. “But I can't promise to keep my hands or mouth off of you. It’s only fair, right? After all the stress you’ve put me through.” He murmured. 

“Stress! I give you stress-”

“So much fucking stress” You could feel the smile on his lips as he pressed them against your cheek, and you wondered if he could tell you were blushing. “Stay,” he said again, his tone resolute, treating it as the final word on the matter.

"Alright... I'll stay."

As the night wore on, the comforting cadence of your conversation intertwined with the weight of the day, gradually lulling you into a drowsy state. Feeling your eyelids grow heavy, Rafe kissed your temple softly. "Come on," he whispered, wrapping his fingers around yours and leading you up the winding stairs to his room.

Stepping into Rafe's bedroom for the first time, you were taken aback. The space was pristine, a stark contrast to the wild, chaotic tales of mayhem that accompanied him. Everything had its place, from the perfectly aligned books on his desk to the immaculately ironed shirts in his open closet.

Rummaging through his belongings for a brief moment, he emerged with an old jersey and a pair of shorts. "Here, try these” he suggested, handing them to you.

"In just one day, we've exchanged a lot of clothes” you said with a soft chuckle.

Rafe's eyes danced with mischief. "Well, if you want, I'm happy for us to ditch the clothes altogether."

Rolling your eyes playfully, you retorted, "Keep dreaming, Cameron."

His response was accompanied by a sly, teasing grin, "Oh, I already have." As he began to methodically unbutton his shirt, his captivating eyes held yours in a magnetic pull. Although you had already seen him shirtless. Tonight, the ambiance carried a different weight. There was an intimacy in the air that made your cheeks flush, causing you to divert your gaze to the wooden floor.

"I'll just… uh, freshen up before bed," you stammered, trying to find an escape from the mounting tension.

"Sure," he said, pointing towards a door on the side. "Bathroom's right there. There's a pack of toothbrush heads in the cabinet; help yourself."

"Thanks," you replied with a grateful smile, seizing the opportunity to step out just as the sound of his belt buckle being opened reached your ears.

In the dimly lit bathroom, you sank to the edge of the tub, your hand pressing hard into the porcelain, feeling its cold, smooth surface beneath your fingertips.

Sharing a bed with Rafe wasn’t just a simple act of two people sleeping side-by-side. It symbolized a budding intimacy, a fragile trust slowly unfurling between the two of you. And yet, the weight of his weird phone call pressed heavily on your chest. Could you really trust someone whose life seemed tangled in webs of secrets, lurking just beneath the surface? Could you willingly let yourself be drawn into his world, knowing full well it could be dangerous?

Biting your lip, you pushed those turbulent thoughts to the back of your mind, you changed into the clothes he had lent you and brushed your teeth. After a lingering glance in the mirror, searching for some kind of assurance, and taking a deep, steadying breath, you braced yourself for the night ahead and headed back to the bedroom.

Rafe was already cozied up in bed, the soft light from his phone casting a glow on his face. He had changed into a pyjama pants his chest bare.

"I haven't even left the room for two minutes and you're already sliding into some girl's DMs?" you teased.

As Rafe met your gaze, warmth filled his eyes as he admired your appearance, clearly liking the way you looked in his clothes. “The only DMs I'd ever slide into are yours, but I've already got the real thing." he casually remarked, his voice carrying a hint of affection.

You couldn't help but laugh, your nose scrunching up at his comment. "Damn, that's some next-level cheesiness. You're quite the cheeseball, you know that?" you teased.

A mischievous twinkle sparkled in his eyes. "Only 'cause you're a sucker for cheesy romantic gestures. That shit gets you wet." he replied with a small smirk.

Mouth agape you looked at him flabbergasted only for Rafe to downright smile his pearly white teeth on full display.

“Rafe! You really can't go five minutes without turning something sweet into something, just--" You playfully tossed a pillow at him which he caught. Pulling you to him Rafe planted a quick kiss to your lips before heading to the bathroom.

With Rafe momentarily out of sight, you took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The reality of sharing a bed with him was nerve-wracking. Sliding beneath the soft covers, you felt the smooth sheets against your skin, their coolness momentarily providing a reprieve from the weight of your racing thoughts.

The bed, although large and spacious, suddenly felt like a confining space. Each moment of hesitation, every heartbeat, every fleeting memory of your past interactions echoed loudly in the silence of the room. Sharing a bed with someone was always an intimate act, but with Rafe, the stakes felt higher. It was more than just physical proximity; it was about letting him into the vulnerable spaces you had never shared with anyone including your heart.

As you laid there in the soft glow of his side lamp, you tried to focus on the present. You reminded yourself that Rafe said you'll take it slow. Tonight was about simply connecting, not necessarily about taking a step further.

The bathroom door opened, and you saw Rafe's silhouette framed by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. He approached the bed, his movements careful, perhaps sensing your apprehension.

"Everything okay?" he asked softly.

You took a deep breath, "Yeah, just...thinking."

Rafe sat down beside you, his hand gently caressing your arm. "If you're not comfortable, we can figure something else out."

You shook your head, mustering a small smile. "No, it's not that. It's just as you said... It's all new. But I want to be here. With you."

Rafe leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Alright we'll take it one step at a time, yeah?"

With that assurance, you snuggled closer to him, feeling the warmth and security of his embrace. "One step at a time" you repeated softly.

As your eyes flutter open, the silhouette before you takes shape, dominating your field of vision. Gradually, your gaze adjusts, revealing the familiar features of Rafe as you shake off the remnants of a deep dream. The surroundings come into focus bit by bit. The early hour is apparent; it's so early that the outside remains cloaked in darkness, illuminated by a luminous full moon.

You had drifted to sleep cradled in Rafe's embrace but now he's beside you. His touch is a gentle caress, his thumb tracing the smooth curve of your jaw. He regards you openly, his gaze intense enough to cause warmth to spread across your skin, prompting you to look away. You wondered how long he had been staring at you... touching you...

"What time is it?" Your voice is a soft murmur, barely breaking the tranquility of the moment.

"Four thirty"

"Can't sleep?" you asked softly.

Rafe shook his head no. "Can't sleep, either huh?" he asked his words tender.

You manage a small smile, "I think I'm just not used to sleeping in someone else's bed."

Rafe nodded in understanding. "Maybe I can help with that, hmm? It worked pretty well last time.” Gently Rafe turned your face towards him and leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. Your heart flutters as his kiss lingers, his tongue delicately exploring yours.

Sheets thrown back, your jersey inches upwards, as Rafe moves on top of you, his lips creating a scorching trail down your neck and further south. Each feather-light kiss ignites a tingle, intensifying as his tongue meets your nipple. His lips move lower, soft kisses meet your sternum while his fingers brush the edge of your shorts and underwear, prompting your hands to instinctively stop him.

"We won't go all the way," he promises in a voice thick with longing while lust blown eyes stare up at you. “I just want a taste. One little taste. I deserve it, for being patient.” His lips linger around your navel, and you grant him a hesitant nod. Gently, he removed your shorts and underwear, leaving you vulnerable and exposed.

Despite your urge to shield yourself, Rafe, ever-so-gently, parts your legs, positioning himself in the intimate space between. His lips graze your hip, making your skin flutter. "Ever had a guy go down on you before?" His voice is an alluring mix of curiosity and yearning.

With a deep breath and a gentle shake of your head, you whispered “No”

Rafe smiles at your answer, his lips brushing your skin again. "So many firsts," he murmurs seductively.

His attention returns between your thighs, teasing and exploring, with soft kisses leading to your mound. His head drops lower and he slowly swipes his tongue over your clit. The sensation is a mix of ticklish delight and sinful pleasure prompting a soft gasp from your lips.

Rafe licks you slowly, teasingly, humming in approval with every wet swipe of his tongue. The swirl of his tongue between your folds begins to overwhelm you, and you try to pull away only for Rafe to firmly yank you back, his grasp keeping you anchored to him and your legs spread.

His tongue stops its gentle caressing and probes deeper, his lips nestling against your sex while his tongue hungrily delves within.

“Ooh—” you whimpered, tremors shooting throughout your body with each stroke of his tongue. His enthusiasm grows as he drinks in your reactions, his own moans blending with yours in a symphony of pleasure.

“Too much- too much- ah-” you squirm when his tongue began to flick at your clit.

Pulling away from your wet centre Rafe licked and sucked on your inner thigh. “No- you’re fine.” Rafe commanded, his determined gaze pinning you in place. “You’re fine. Just relax...”

He guides your hand to his buzzcut and as your fingers move hesitantly over his head, he returned to lapping skilfully at your pussy.

“Oh, my god, Rafe-" you whimper, your fingers scratching at his scalp as you buck underneath him.

Wrapping his arms around your legs, Rafe continued to lick your wet centre until you’re shuddering. He pulls his head back slightly. You could see his mouth shiny with your arousal, a smile curling his lips.

“Fuck, you taste sweet. Like honey.” his voice is like gravel, raw with pent desire. “Nah, sweeter than honey...” He muses. His fingers part your soaked pussy lips exposing your swollen clit and his tongue lovingly suckles it while his fingers tease around the entrance of your tight hole.

“Ohmygod, ohplease…"

"Yeah? This what you want? Want me to finger your sweet little cunt?” he chuckled teasingly.

"Please… please…” you beg, until finally he sinks his middle finger in you. You let out a cry as he slowly worked his finger back and forth within you, stoking your walls and coaxing your orgasm to the surface.

The feel of his tongue lashing at your clit, his finger twisting deliciously, along with the unrelenting focus of his gaze, hunger blazing in his eyes, has you moaning in abandon.

Your back involuntarily bows off the bed, a strangled cry leaving your lips as your fingers curled the back of his head.

It’s glorious when you cum.

A kaleidoscope of colour appears behind your closed eyes, created by the vibrations of Rafe groaning in approval and the succulent swirl of his lips and tongue.

Rafe removed his finger and his tongue quickly replaced it, delving deep into your creaming pussy. His nose pressed against your clit as he noisily slurped and lapped at you. The explicit, wet sounds of him devouring your pussy so raw and unashamed create a beautiful symphony that fills the room.

“Holy shit ha—“ you gasped with a smile. Sudden, swipes at your clit with his tongue had you oversensitive, your hips twitching with aftershocks.

Your eyes open, landing on Rafe still positioned between your thighs. With a tenderness that belies the moment's raw passion, he places soft wet kisses on your inner thighs, grounding you in the present. The weight of what has transpired gradually dawns on you – the unexpected progression from kissing to oral, something you hadn't anticipated, let alone think you'd enjoy as much as you did washes over you.

Before you can overthink, you lean in, initiating a passionate kiss, fueled by a desperate hunger intensified by the taste of yourself on his lips.

Rafe's fervor shows no signs of waning. He pushes you back against the pillows and then crawls over you, his desire unmistakable. Bracing himself near your head, he slowly lowers his pajama pants, causing your eyes to widen as you gaze downward.

He's big.

Big, long and thick.

Suddenly, his cockiness and confidence makes perfect sense. All that big dick energy. Naturally, you find yourself yearning to feel his raw power. Want to feel him thrusting inside you. Yet amidst this desire, a sudden thought emerges—a fear that you might not be able to handle all of him. You might not be able to please him fully when the time comes.

Rafe takes your hand in his, guiding it along his already weeping cock, and you feel him tense up and take a sharp breath as your fingers make contact. Encouraged by this reaction, your other hand wanders over his body, feeling the hardness of his abdomen. Both hands exploring him curiously, hesitantly.

"Like this…" he murmurs. With his hand over your own, holding his cock, Rafe sets a pace which brings forth soft moans from his lips. He moves his hand away to watch you carry on without him, completely entranced by the sight before him. The sight of you working his thick cock.

Clear pearls of pre-cum bead at the tip as an indication of how turned on he is by your touch. Rafe leans in to kiss you passionately while taking your hand once again and leading it up to his sensitive tip.

“Right. Here," he breathes into your mouth as he tells you to focus there. Your fingers instinctively curl tightly around the mushroom tip, fisting it as you become more confident, eliciting groans from Rafe's lips.

His hand moves from your fingers, finding its way to your throat. It curls around your neck in a possessive grip, while his lips reconnect with yours. His moans escalate in intensity, his desire palpable, and his voice becomes choppy. 'Keep going... keep going... just like that, baby. Just like that...."

Closely following his gestures and facial expressions. Your gaze remains fixated on his captivating face, magnetized by the range of emotions playing across it — the awe knitting in his brows, the quickening pace of his breath, and the roped corded muscles of his neck as his body became rigid.

"Fuck....” He releases a long sigh, color creeping up his chest, throat, and cheeks. “Long strokes- long strokes…” He commands his voice cracking. You obey, your hand stroking his length from root to tip. Your fingers glide easily, lubricated by his pre-cum.

Rafe's eyes rolled to the back of his head as he muttered something inaudible, but soon they found yours again.

"I want to fuck you so bad. I’m tryin to be patient. I’m tryin, but god I want to fuck you… I need to fuck you...” His voice trailed off into a desperate whimper, deep from the very core of him. His hips swayed to the rhythm of your hand as he fucked into it, each thrust quickening in pace.

"How?" you find yourself whispering in awe, astounded by the shift in power between you. You've heard him bark orders over the phone, full of confidence and dominance, yet here he was wrecked and vulnerable just from your touch. You would be lying if you said you didn't relish your newfound power. "How would you do it, Rafe? How would you fuck me?"

Rafe stared into your eyes, cock twitching in your grasp.

"I want to watch you ride my dick... watch you scream while you squirt all over it..." His confession hangs heavy in the air as he bares all before you.

"What else, Rafe? What else do you want?" you whisper, your fingers gently circling your clit while your other hand worked his cock.

"I wanna fuck your mouth. Want to fill your soft, pretty mouth with my cum. Watch you swallow it." His fingers softly brush against your lips, his middle and index finger pressed at its entrance. Entranced, you twirl your tongue around his digits before greedily sucking them into your mouth. Rafe utters a throaty groan before removing his fingers, his lips crashing onto yours in a crude kiss.

"What else?" you moaned, rubbing your clit and stroking his cock faster.

"Want to fuck your ass," he whispered through gritted teeth. "Have you on all fours - make you fucking take it.”

"Oh god, Rafe-" you whimpered, eyes wide with shock. You’ve never had a guy talk about doing sexual things to you let alone anything so vulgar. And yet- you could feel your orgasm on the brink of flooding your senses just from his words.

“I want to fuck and fill every part of you and I know you’ll let me. I just know you will…” Rafe repeated softly, confidently, "Do you know why? Hm? Why you'll take whatever I choose to give you? Why in the end you'll let me fuck you however I want?” He whispered his eyes boring into your own. “Because you're hungry for this just as much as I am. You want me. Just as much as I want you.”

His dark words sent you spiraling into a chaotic climax. Crying out in pleasure, waves of euphoria washed over you, causing your hips to involuntarily jerk and thrust up off the bed.

In harmony with your climax, Rafe reached his own. Droplets of his thick white cum painted your bare stomach and thighs. His body trembled with pleasure, his breathing stuttered, while his throbbing cock continued to pulse in your grasp.

His moans, raw and desperate, are tinged with a clear sense of relief. It's the relief that comes from finally having his pleasure reciprocated by you, even if only through the gentle touch of your hands, and the utter bliss that this brings.

Breathless Rafe collapses back against the pillows, his hand trembling with pleasure found yours once more, and together you slowed the rhythm of your stroking, savouring the final drops of cum from his spent cock.

Exhausted but utterly content, Rafe closes his eyes for a moment. When they open again, his dilated blue pupils are fixated on you. He cracks a satisfied grin.

He doesn't take his gaze away as you observe your hand. It's covered in his cum, an indicator of his pent up desire for you. Without uttering a word, your hand moves towards your lips, and curiously, your tongue tentatively darts out, brushing against your fingertips.

The taste is unlike anything you've ever experienced before, earthy and slightly salty and yet uniquely him. You moan as your tongue continues its exploration, carefully cleaning each digit.

"Fuckkk..." Rafe groans before pulling you in for a desperate kiss.

The gentle morning light filtered through the curtains, illuminating your face and the figure beside you in a soft, dappled glow. But the tranquility was abruptly interrupted by a glance at the time on your phone.

You were late.

Terribly late.

For someone who valued being on time, the day was already spiraling out of control. Scrambling into your jeans, you noticed Rafe stirring, his sleepy eyes meeting the clock, then your frenzied actions. Silently, with a steadiness you envied, he started dressing.

Your vest and cardigan from the previous night lay draped over a chair. Snatching them up, you slipped them on in a rush.

Rafe's offer to drive you to class was a godsend. Ten minutes later, freshened up and emerging from his bedroom, you expressed your gratitude with a beaming smile. As you walked past him, Rafe playfully swatted your butt, eyes twinkling with mischief. You let out a playful yelp, your laughter blending with his soft chuckle as you admonished him, promising to get him back later.

At your house, you grabbed your bag, textbook and notes in a flurry. You considered changing outfits but ditched the idea after another anxious glance at the time. It was only a two-hour class anyway and wasn’t worth the additional stress.  As you darted to his truck, a realization hit – your dad was coming home today. Another night at Rafe's was certainly out of the question. 

During the drive, you explained the situation to Rafe, expecting, perhaps even bracing for, a hint of disappointment. But instead, he simply nodded. Now, as the silence stretched between you, you were wrestling with the idea of revisiting the words he'd uttered last night. But decided it wasn't worth mentioning. They were merely fantasies after all—desperate things said in the heat of the moment, just to intensify the experience... Right?

As he pulled up in front of your building he leaned in to kiss you. You cut it short with an apologetic smile promising to call him later.

No sooner had you settled into your seat in class did your phone vibrate. It was a message from Rafe.

"Friend's having a party tomorrow night. Think your dad would be cool with it?"

A pause ensued as you deliberated, finally responding. "Should be. But I don't have anything to wear. Is it a bonfire type of thing?"

His reply was swift. "Don't worry about it. Shopping later. My treat."

A surge of conflicting emotions threatened to spill over as you absorbed his words, your fingers quivering slightly over the screen. "Rafe that's too generous. I can't."

But his resolution was clear even in text. "Why? You're with me. Right?"

You paused, chewing on your lip. It wasn’t lost on you what his words meant. What they implied. "Yes. But are you sure?"

He sent back a single word, filled with resolve: "Always."

—————————————————————————————

Thank you for reading. I hope you've enjoyed it. Thanks for liking, commenting and reblogging. 🧡🧡🧡 Part 4 coming soon

MASTERLIST

[cherryobx]

hiiii here to help you procrastinate! I suck at requests but I’m gonna make one and you can just see if you want to use it or not :)) so since I can’t personally hug you since your 24 hours away by car and I don’t have a drivers licence I want something cozy 👉👈 I’ve recently been obsessed with someone and for the first time I followed a twitch live stream because of him and it was so comforting to just listen to him play a game that I could fall asleep. so maybe something like gamer bf/gf and a sleepy reader OR a bookish reader, they’re gaming and the other reading or something. I want the coziness. but I have no clue if this is information that you can do something with so do whatever you want :)) and if you want to use it you can choose the character ☺️

Company || J.M.

Summary: JJ, your gamer bf, comes over and you spend a cozy evening together, sort of.

Word count: 0.7k

Warnings: no knowledge of gaming whatsoever, other than that none

A/N: thank you babe for this request!!!!!! and thank you for supporting my procrastination haha, hope you enjoy whatever this is (don't judge i haven't written anything in soooo long)

JJ kept all of his gaming equipment at your place. He was scared of what his father might do if he ever got his hands on it in a fit of drunken rage. It was very expensive, he saved up for more than a year to afford all of it. You made space in your bedroom for another table so he could have his gaming station and his own little corner to game in. 

You loved when he was over at your place to play his video games you knew pretty much nothing about. It was a way for you to spend time together. Not in the sense that you were conversing or doing some activity together but just being in the same room with each other, enjoying each other’s company. It was so mundane but so sweet.

He had his headset on but only one of his ears was covered. When you asked about it one time he said he wanted to make sure he could still hear you if you needed anything. But in reality he also enjoyed the little sounds you made over at the other side of the room, whether it was blowing on your steaming tea, turning the pages of your book or the little laughs you let out when a character said something funny in your current read.

One evening he came over to game with his friends. He could tell you were tired just by the way you dragged your feet behind you and how you kept yawning every two seconds. You had a really long day behind you and all you wanted to do was curl up into a little ball under the warm covers in your bed and fall asleep.

He followed you into your bedroom and watched you flop face first onto the bed.

“Are you okay?” He took a seat next to you and placed his hand on your back, rubbing it in a relaxing motion making your eyelids fall closed.

“Yeah, just tired,” you mumbled into the duvet.

“I don’t have to play right now, I can just tell them I can’t tonight. I’ll cuddle with you instead.”

But you insisted. “No. Go game with your friends. I’ll be out like a light in two seconds. Don’t even worry about me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Just come to bed when you’re done.”

“Of course.” He smiled and gave you a small kiss on your temple. 

He helped you crawl under the covers and tucked you in, making your heart swell. He gave you another kiss but this time on the lips. “I love you,” he whispered against your lips before he stood up and sat down in his gaming chair behind the desk you had gotten him.

He turned everything on and logged into whatever game he was supposed to be playing with his friends that night.

His voice was quiet when speaking to his friends, he didn’t want to disturb you more than he already has. He kind of felt guilty about his situation although you had reassured him many times that you aren’t bothered by his stuff in your room. You actually liked that a piece of him was always in your personal space.

“Sorry, my girl’s sleeping,” he whispered into the microphone. It tugged the corners of your mouth upwards in your sleepy haze.

You didn’t really focus on his hushed conversations but the low tone of his voice was so calming and relaxing, it lulled you to sleep in no time.

When JJ finally finished up with his friends, he took the headphones off, placed them on the monitor and quietly made his way to your bed. Lifting the covers gently, he climbed underneath them and joined you in the warmth of your bed. 

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you against him, stirring you from your sleep.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“‘S okay,” you slurred, already falling back asleep. JJ nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent and feeling the sleep take him over as well.

[blkgirl-writing]

Refuge for the Wicked

"Sharing a Blanket" from flufftober (In march)

Gale Dekarios x Durge!reader

Summary: You can't escape the faded memories of your haunted past, and sleep is nothing but a nightmare. Gale can't seem to sleep either. Maybe some extra warmth will help.

A/N: Prompt from @flufftober

(spring), I started late so I just started on 6! I might go back and write the first few. Also writing alongside my wonderful friend @ficbrish who made this fic happen, thank you! Also thanks to Jane Eyre for being my background audiobook and reminding me of big words.

TW: Dark Urge reader, (vague morbid thoughts, mentions of blood and gore, mentions of anxiety attacks), fluffy overall dw.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚❋ ❋ ❋˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚❋ ❋ ❋˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

In the dead of night, when the fireflies and stars lit up the sky, the air was too quiet to stand. Your head buzzed like frantic bees in a fallen hive, trying everything to get out, the brutal bloodied images flashing across your vision. No refuge for the wicked, You'd told yourself over and over, when sleep couldn't take you. But, You had been proven wrong.

Gale hadn't had the best rest either, used to the comforts of his tower, his warm tressym on his lap, and endless books to ease his mind into sleep. He had seen you turning in your sleep, and laid a gentle hand on your shoulder, whispering an invitation to his own tent. You had refused, worried about your cruel hands during slumber. but gods above, any sound had to be better than bitter silence, and one thing you knew about Gale, was that there would never be stale air.

It became pattern, after a few nights. The others would sleep, and you'd sneak away to his cozy corner, and Gale would talk. About anything, really. Gale shared his fondest memories, read a chapter from his small stash of literature, and even teach you a few simple spells. Your favorite was when he'd recite the most romantic poems. They felt warm, somehow. stirring something deep within you. Those nights, you'd rest peacefully, no dreams or nightmares, just darkness. Gale's voice became the only comfort in your world. And even nights he could sleep effortlessly, you found yourself wandering into his tent, curled up in the opposite corner from him.

This night, however, neither of you could sleep, and yet there was still quiet. It felt like hours,

"It's certainly cold tonight," Gale muttered.

"I can start another fire closer?" You offered.

"No no no, let me." At a snap of his fingers, a flame appeared in the dirt just in front of his tent. Never wavering and never moving, just taking the edge off the nipping air.

A few more moments passed, and you tucked your knees to your chest, hands cupped over your mouth to stop the numbness from climbing further up your fingers.

"Come here, you're freezing to death," Gale pulled the blanket over, opening up a space for you right next to him. Maybe he saw your hesitation, or maybe he wanted you next to him just as much as you wanted him, but he outstretched his hand to yours, his soft but calloused fingers wrapping around your frozen ones, and ever so gently pulled you towards him. Knowing it wasn't just an empty offer was enough for you to settle into him, his arm wrapped carefully around your waist, your head nestled into his shoulder, and finally, warmth enveloping your body underneath his big, heavy blanket.

"Thank you." This...was nice.

"Any time." His fingers played with a loose thread on the blanket, just by your hip. "You're more than welcome to keep your things here."

"Oh," Was all you managed, eyes fluttering away from his face for a moment. this closeness was something to be afraid of, you knew deep down you were supposed to be alone. But in his arms, you felt a calmness that you'd never known before. But you felt like you didn't deserve that bliss. "I don't need a tent or anything."

"I'm very sure you could manage on your own, but you don't have to." Gale spoke softly, almost like he was telling a secret, a small smile forming"You've spoiled me, I can't quite sleep right without you next to me."

You blinked, staring into the flicker of the fire before you. All you could think about was the soft fabric on your skin, so opposite from the biting that ran through your blood, and the warmth he brought from his touch, his body comforting and steady against yours. "Are you saying you miss me, Gale?"

"Quite a bit, actually." You could feel his eyes on you, but you hadn't dared to look, not yet. You knew there was kindness in his stare, it sent shivers down your spine, a sign that you didn't deserve the caring offer he implied, asked of. Your body rejected that but gods above did you want nothing but it. Because with him, Your mind was free, heart full, body light.

"I would really love that." You replied. Finally, a smile, from happiness, and not morbidity. You leaned further into him, intertwining your legs with his, Gale resting his head on top of yours, placing a barely noticeable kiss on your forehead.

"I'm glad you spoke to me."

'Hm?" Gale spoke, voice low and gravely, clearly between the realm of wake and sleep.

"I'm glad, that you spoke to me, to come to your tent that night."

"Oh," Gale rolled further into you, getting more comfortable, "I wish I had sooner." and with that, he drifted into sleep, the fire extinguishing in a wisp. Leaving you to think about his words, and your thoughts. You truly did love, that he invited you once, and again to stay, and he really meant it.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚❋ ❋ ❋˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

just before sunrise was when you silently awoke from more night terrors. Astarion still off in the woods, surely feeding. otherwise, everyone was sound asleep. Or so you thought.

You had a few minutes in your own thoughts, sitting up and staring blankly into the dim glow of the distant campfire. Gale, with his big heart and smart mouth, won you over, no denying it anymore. It was clear when your small respite of nightmares, dreams filled with him, almost fighting to keep you sane.

"Good morning." Gale leaned on his hand, looking at you with a groggy fondness, like you were the sunrise and sunset, beautiful and full of life. His eyes nearly glimmered when he looked at you through his sleepy eyes.

"I thought you were asleep." You smiled, cozying back into the warm blanket, the cold morning air still too crisp, or you just used it as an excuse to be close to him again. And as if he read your thoughts, he drew you closer to him with a gentle touch.

"Stay" He whispered, just loud enough for you to hear, oh gods above his voice sounded like warm whiskey and the smoothness of turning new pages. "-please"

Well, there was no denying that. You couldn't pry yourself away from Gale. You held him tight, as if he'd wake up and realize his mistake, you had mistaken his words and actions and never felt this comfort again. His warm breath tickled your lower neck, his head on your chest, eyes barely open, but fixated on you. under the blanket, shielded from the light of the day, heavy eyes not daring to look away from his.

He smiled. A soft smile, but full of light. His lips were slightly chapped, eyes tinted red, details you missed upon his face at a distance, now fully on display as you tilted down. lips inches from his.

Your eyes flickered closed as he sank further into you. Gale enveloped you, body and soul, connecting in a sleepy haze, melting into a kiss. Only stopping for air, a mumbled word, and another kiss. Countless kisses, ending in peaceful slumber.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚❋ ❋ ❋˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

TAGLIST

Please reach out if you wish to be added!!

@shyminnie07 @makers-breath @claryvoyantfray @black-sapphic @fapqueen

[cognitosclowns]

I wanna fall asleep with these freaks 💓🥺

I am the eepiest sleepiest little guy of all time and this activated a Worm in my Brain so this is gonna get SO LONG AMSDNAMSND

sfw!! just snuggles and soft things

Reagan

Not extremely cuddly? She likes her personal space!

That doesn't mean she never wants cuddles, she's just gotta be in a particular Mood for it!

Most nights, she wants to be kinda,, gently curled into your arm?? just a loose grip around it w/ her own, cheek resting on your bicep.

She talks in her sleep, but it's very quiet. Usually it's just her going through her schedule for tmrw (does she?? dream of work in her sleep???), but occasionally, you'll hear her mumbling about how much she loves you <333

Yes, it's just as cute as it sounds. She has no memory of it in the morning, but if you bring it up, she'll get this flustered little Half-Smile alllll morning <3

She falls asleep so fast. if you wanna be cute w/ her while cozied in bed I'm so sorry, the second she feels Safe and Warm and Cozy in your vicinity she's passing out for 4-12 hours ✨✌🏻

It's alright, you know she needs her rest <3 besides, that just opens up options for you two to be soft and shmoopy in the morning

Brett

Unsurprisingly, the cuddliest guy of all time. He would be inside your ribcage if the opportunity was provided KJASDKASJD

He really likes?? laying on your chest and stomach?? he likes to be significantly further down. occasionally you'll just,, barely see his hair and the top of his forehead peaking out from the covers from how low he gets

it's just so comfy! he likes The Noises and Warmth and Vague Suffocation that comes w/ sleeping w/ his head under the covers, resting against your torso <3

He smiles so much in his sleep. you didn't think ppl did that outside of movies, but he totally does <3 usually only when he's having a particularly good dream.

OH ALSO HIS BED IS SO FUCKING COZY

I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THIS MAN DOESN'T QUILT. HE HAS SO MANY BEAUTIFUL HAND-MADE QUILTS AND BLANKETS AND KNITTED SHIT IN HIS BED. I hope you like being cozy bc you're gonna be The Coziest Of All Time.

He also sleeps with stuffed animals! He always did as a child bc his treehouse was always cold as hell, and the habit just stayed with him!

they're so well-kept and soft all these years later <3 usually he just keeps them at the foot of the bed, bc it makes him feel safe to, but occasionally he'll bring a couple up for you two to snuggle <3 You Are Never Too Old To Snuggle A Stuffed Bear Don't Like To Yourself.

Andre

A Nightmare (affectionate)

not only is his sleep schedule Entirely Batshit, but he has so much trouble falling asleep. expect lots of tossing and turning

he does settle a lot thought when you hold him!! Don't hold too close, he still needs to squirm a lot to actually fall asleep

You're also the only person that he gets a full nights sleep with <3 he usually ends up waking up in the night, his mind starts working on smth, and he doesn't go back to sleep <3 but with you, it's almost instantaneous.

A little Jump, a bit of squirming to get into a comfortable position, and then off to seeb again <3 it's nice to see just how safe he feels around you <3

Expect plenty of early morning/late night convos <3 hell even middle of the night convos, where he hasn't realised that he fell asleep and instantly hops back into Whatever He Was

He also has such a habit of. Continuing Conversations From His Dream. like he'll just grab your arm and start talking about Yes I'm Sure If We Distilled It Enough We Could Make Whiskey Out Of Lighter Fluid Myc before passing out cold MASNFASMFJ

TLDR. squirmy silly man, but also enjoyable to seeb with.

Gigi

OUGHEEEEEEEEAWBABWBAGOURGHR <- experiencing wife fevers

SO COZY HOLY SHIT

I refuse to believe she doesn't have a Big Comfy Bed. Silk covers, big thick duvet, more pillows that she knows what to do with. The bed is 3 times the size of her so when you catch her snuggled up in bed she truly just looks like those photos of Very Small Puppies in Very Large Beds MNASDMASND

So cuddly <3 you wouldn't expect it, since she makes a point of being seen as very Untouchable and Independent, but she loves to be held.

Her ideal state is nuzzled under your chin, feeling your pulse through your neck <333 a leg hooked around yours to make sure you're nice and close.

She takes a while to fall asleep, so she likes to go to bed early! Feel free to join her at any time, she'll just be dozing <3

If you do join her when she goes to bed, expect some,, very soft, lovey-dovey moments. she looks utterly adorable, all bundled up in her cozy little slightly-too-poofy nightgown and eye mask.

She Deserves 1000000 Cheek Smooches Or Else You Shall Die Of Love Disease <- her favourite part of the night. she will start giggling the moment she feels your lips on her cheeks and neck.

kisses her 1000. she's the most

Myc

HE OWNS A WATERBED I KNOW THIS FUCKING MAN OWNS A WATERBED

A FREEFLOW WATERBED TOO. NO SUPPORT IT FEELS LIKE YOU'RE FLOATING.

It's actually pretty comfortable after you get used to it. you see the appeal, it's kinda got that Sensory Deprivation Tank feeling of weightless floating <3

Expect to be utterly Mummified in tentacles AKSDJASKJ

He insists that it's so that you don't go tossing and turning in your sleep and knock his ass off the bed but. You See Through His Lies You Understand. You See The Jackassery At Play Here.

OUGHEEE he has such a habit of like. swirling his tentacles gently around your skin. Not necessarily stroking back and forth, moreso massaging? if you have any knots in your back, thighs, or arms, they're gonna be gone by morning.

Fairly quiet? That doesn't mean silent though, he absolutely talks while you two drift off to sleep, but it's all in very quiet tones. A Little Shit, But Lovingly. (you may. gently have to bop him on the head and tell him to Shut The Hell Up Its 3 Am Goddamn Not Everyone's Job Is Just Sitting Around Getting Jacked Off MANSDMASNDMANSDMN)

Glenn

He snores like a foghorn I'm so sorry. the old man of all time

If you can look past that though, he's so fucking delightful to sleep with <33 most especially bc he loves when you lay on him

he says smth about how it Helps Unfuck His Back, but you're at least 45% sure that that isn't the main reason

(and you're right, it isn't <3 he just loves feeling your weight on him)

He loves just,, leaving a hand against your back, running up and down as you settle in to sleep <33 before leaving it to rest on the small of your back <33 love is so real and true.

his tail wags in his sleep

HIS TAIL WAGS IN HIS SLEEP

HIS TAIL WAGS IN HIS SLEEP

You'll see this most when he's sleeping on his stomach, bc when he's on his back his tail can't move, and on his side Everything Hurts At All Times KAJDKASJ

You'll see it squirm around the most when you're touching him <3 if you run your hands through his hair, or trace patterns on his back that things gonna be WHIPPING like a wheatstalk in a hurricane.

^ this also applies to. early morning and late night cuddles. in the morning its more of a,, slow waggle? like you'll just see it gently twitching under the bed, while you place kisses on his cheek BAWBBABWBABW <- if I talk about his tail any more we'll never be done

just the guy of all time <3 go sleep with that old man go do it go do it now go go go go g

JR

Let Him Sleep On The Booba

Truly he sleeps best with his face buried in your chest. what can he say, it's cozy as hell.

his ideal state is being Unconscious. A Coma. Laying horizontally being fed nutrients through a tube. He will nap on you at any possible moment

It's one of the time's he feels Truly Safe? Like he's constantly having to run around doing what the Shadow Board wants, doing what Rand wants, etc. Sometimes You Just Need A Little Nap With Your Partner To Be Okay Again

He IS freezing cold I refuse to believe otherwise. he runs Ice Cold and it takes him 15 minutes to warm up. feels a bit like cuddling a corpse until your body heat brings him back to Human Levels Of Warmth.

The things we do for love smh MNSFGKFAJSFGKSDJ

stupid rich expensive bed. imported silk sheets. mathematically optimised mattress designed in a lab to give him The Best Sleep Possible. he's rich enough to buy several countries, he might as well put it to use.

Alpha-Beta

OUGHEEEEEEEEAWBABWBAGOURGHR <- experiencing wife fevers part 2

He's such a heavy sleeper MY GOD. If you couldn't hear his internal systems whirring and clicking you'd think he was dead KJDSAKFJASDKFJDSA

It isn't really his fault - his 'sleep cycle' likes to be done in one solid stretch, to avoid file corruption, which means. His body just,, won't wake him up unless it senses Active Danger to himself or you.

It's fine! He'll wake up if the house is on fire. Probably.

'aww you're such an old man <3' <- he's going to push you into a woodchipper AKSGJSAKDJFKSDFGJ

He's so warm and cozy <3

Upside, personal heater during the winter. Downside, summer is hell for both of you (Upside, he sleeps mostly naked in summer to avoid Dying of Death Disease)

Hold him <3 hold him he won't ask but he loves being held, even more than he loves holding you (which is. Saying Something). The second he feels your arms wrap around him, maybe one of your hands gently fussing with his hair? Out like a light <3 its sweet, all those unspoken ways that shows how much he loves you <3

ABWBABWBAB I swear I did an ask like this before but. I don't care this was so cute. If you have any additions, go nuts!

[mimisempai]

Precious moment

Summary

Some habits change when you live together. Aziraphale remarks that reading alone all night doesn't have as much appeal when you have a demon sleeping in a cozy bed right above you.

Notes

Day 6 : Sleepy Kiss

My holidays have begun and although I can't do without my daily dose of ineffable fluff, I can't devote as much time to it as I'd like. So I hope you'll enjoy this short and sweet story anyway.

On Ao3

Rating G -  614 words

Aziraphale closed his book and decided to go to bed.

He realized that this was happening more and more lately. He used to be able to read all night long, but now that he and Crowley were living together, now that he was aware that the demon was lying and probably sleeping upstairs, reading a book alone in the quiet of the bookstore wasn't as interesting as it used to be. 

Besides, it didn't bother him at all.

He got up, turned off the light and climbed the stairs to the bedroom, now eager to find his sleeping beloved.

Arriving at the door, he called softly, "Crowley?"

Receiving no response, the demon probably sound asleep, Aziraphale silently undressed, then pulled on his pajamas before approaching the bed.

He couldn't help but smile fondly as he saw the way the demon had curled up into a ball under the blanket, only its head sticking out of the warm cocoon, which made Aziraphale want to crawl in right away.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Aziraphale carefully lifted the covers and slid against the demon. 

Then he pulled Crowley against him, once again overcome with emotion as the demon automatically wrapped his arms around him in a gesture that had become so familiar. 

What a long way we've come.

Two beings in need of physical affection for so many years, denying it to each other and now reveling in it. And most of all, no longer hiding it from each other.

Aziraphale couldn't resist. He took the demon's face between his hands, raised it to his own, and planted a tender kiss on the half-open lips.

Crowley made a small sound of contentment, almost like a purr, and returned the kiss lazily in his sleep.

Aziraphale smiled softly, planted soft kisses on the tip of the demon's nose, on his closed eyelids, and finally a lingering one on his forehead before cradling his head against his chest.

He murmured softly against the demon's hair, "I love you so much, sometimes it's overwhelming. I don't know if it's because our love has taken so long to blossom, or because I've kept these feelings locked up inside me for so long, but they're so strong now that they are out, that it takes my breath away. I know I've told you and that you know it, but I want to tell you again and again. I love you, Crowley."

He pressed his lips to the red hair in a long kiss, letting the emotion spill out of his eyes a little, for not all the tears were sad, and those were absolutely of overwhelming joy.

Then he laid his head on the pillow and closed his eyes, a smile on his lips as he waited for the sleep that would soon come. 

Little did he know that a certain demon, resting on his chest, had not lost any of his words. Crowley smiled softly and curled up even more before breathing into his neck, "Believe me, Angel, we both feel the same way. I love you so much that sometimes words are not enough to express it. But as long as we know what we feel, we are fine. And I know that you love me as much as you know that I love you."

Moments didn't always have to be full of meaning and big words.

Sometimes, just a moment between day and night, a few words of love and gestures of shared tenderness, were enough to make a moment precious.

Like this very moment.

Crowley, smiling too, let sleep take him.

No doubt, for both angel and demon, there would be no nightmares that night.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : here (After season 2)

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

[dumbkid4ever]

Lost in gentle waves

Mualani x reader! In which:

You're struggling to fall asleep, so Mualani sings you a lullaby.

Word count; 640 words 3,449 characte

In a dark room, dimly lit only by the moonlight cascading through the open window, the two of you were nestled in your shared bed. It was warm, cozy and soft and your eyes were closed but you just can't seem to sleep. Your brain is still running and you've tried to turn it off but failed miserably. So you just laid there, waiting for sleep to finally take you or, if that didn't happen, for the morning to arrive.

Unwanted thoughts plagued you, several embarrassing moments you wished to forget, like that one time you tripped and grabbed Mualani's new volleyball, causing it to fall down with you and accidentally making it land against an oddly long and sharp rock. Then your mind shifted to the many mistakes you've made, the people you loved and love but accidentally hurt. Then came self doubt. Are you really good enough?

As a pathetic attempt to block out the thoughts, you pulled the blanket over your head and curled up into a tiny ball, like a hedgehog, so that nothing can't hurt you anymore, but no matter how you try to hide away, the accusations in your own head just wouldn't stop. Enough. You don't want this anymore.

In front of where you're facing you heard some shuffling, presumably your girlfriend, Mualani. You kept your eyes shut and hoped you didn't wake her up. It was silent for a while, but then it wasn't.

"Can't sleep?" she slurred. Seems you have woken her. You felt a bit guilty. You should just stay quiet so that she'll think you're asleep, so that she'll go back to sleep herself, but for some reason you also wanted to tell her your awake.

"Yeah."

You couldn't see her face, as you were turned with you back towards her, but you could picture her cute droopy eyes that you see every morning. She's got a long day before her, you shouldn't be keeping her awake.

"Want me to sing a lullaby for you? My mother always did when I was little and I always instantly fell asleep," your girlfriend offered, now sounding more lucid than she was before. After a while of consideration, you accepted. She's awake now anyway and it wouldn't take long, you thought to yourself. If it did then you'll just pretend to sleep.

She let out a weak "yay," happy to be of help and began to hum. As she did so, she you in a way that made you fit snuggly inside the cradle of her arms. Ah, you know this one. It was an old song from the People of the Springs, evident in the unique pacing that you won't hear anywhere else. The rhythm was synchronized with the sound of the waves you hear outside the window. Quiet, dull, mixed a tinge nostalgia. Nothing like the Mualani you know at day. Yet at the same time, you can't imagine hearing this gentle melody out of another's mouth.

Slowly and unnoticeably, you were getting drowsy as she continued her humming. You could feel the vibration in her throat due your head being right against it. The arms around your waist seemed to have relaxed and so did your whole body. It was the most peaceful you've felt in a while. At some point, she began to sound faint, until she was still, but you barely registered it as you were barely awake. At last, she uttered something and fell asleep first. It was a bit difficult to discern but you understood what she said.

"I love you so much, [name]. So so much. Good night."

The hushed words were laced with so much love and adoration, it dispelled any self doubt you had on that night and you followed her into the land of dreams with a smile on your face.

[a-libra-writes]

hello may I request some romantic headcanons for atlas from Lackadaisy?

Alrighty, I did my best~ He's an interesting guy to think about, for sure. This is intended for a femme reader!

There's a few ways you two could have met. Given that Atlas May has a "proper businessman" reputation by day, it wouldn't be hard for you two to meet at a ritzy country club or some fundraiser your family put on. If you're the less posh sort, then there's always the Lackadaisy itself. His partner would certainly not be a "rough" sort, or involved directly in crime - like being a triggerman or owning a distillery. He still has a reputable image to maintain and a seemingly "proper" would help with that.

You're probably the only one who can get him to laugh, albeit it's low and more of a chuckle (Some of his business partners didn't even think he could manage it). When you're both in private, he's often glancing at you with a soft expression. He never looks away when you catch him; if anything, he gestures you to come closer.

(In public his expression is almost always schooled to one of calm indifference, so it's a treat to see otherwise).

Atlas has many private nicknames for you. There's "little dear", "my kitten", or "my lady" if he thinks you're being charmingly stubborn. And yes, he likes being the older and taller one. When you aren't within earshot, he often refers to you as "the missus" in a warm tone that his colleagues and workers don't hear much.

Atlas isn't one for PDA, in fact, there might be a wall of propriety that's hard to cross. Your arm will be in his, you'll both stand at the appropriate distance. It's when the relationship gets more serious that he'll bring you closer during dances, or hold your hand and kiss it in front of others, or give you a kiss on the cheek before helping you into the car.

(Overall he's always gentlemanly, holding doors and handing you his jacket on a cold evening, and so on.)

In private he's far more willing to let you sit in his lap and soak up as much attention as you want. At first it may have felt like you were always the one initiating the affection, which ... was probably true. Atlas is a naturally closed off man. Eventually, he's the one wanting you to come over and sit with him, wanting to touch your hair and run his hands over your legs. Once you get past that icy wall, he takes great comfort in your presence.

Sitting beside him in the evening is a little ritual you both develop. You put on a record, Atlas smokes while he looks over some papers. He sets them aside when you walk over and curl up beside him, and he listens to your day and you ask about his. The fireplace is warm and cozy, the settee is just the same. If you fall asleep, he just strokes your hair and goes back to reading.

No surprise, he loves giving you expensive gifts and lovely things to wear. Atlas doesn't show it much outwardly, but it makes him proud when you're clearly pleased with the gifts and when you spend extra time trying to decide what to wear. Watching you get ready for an evening date is something he likes quite a lot, but he'll pass it off as just wanting to talk to you about something. His eyes say otherwise, though.

(Oh, and you get to have a rare playful Atlus moment - he likes to sneak behind you he is so quiet and whisper something, just to make you startle and mess up whatever you were doing. You have no idea why this amuses him so much.)

Atlas is strict about his employees treating you respectfully; even the ... less than upstanding ones. If you're someone who was already socializing with the staff of Lackadaisy, then there's no problem, though they might feel some pressure to keep you from the less than savory parts of the business. Viktor and Mordecai are used to guarding or escorting you for certain events, as they're the only two that Atlas trusts completely.

On the subject of sketchy business, Atlas will not bring it up if you choose to not involve yourself at all. If you're visiting the Lackadaisy often, asking him questions, wanting to be involved - even if you're clever and savvy, he isn't inclined to let you in on it. For one, it could put you in direct danger with his rivals, and two, he's more an old-fashioned type of man. He'd rather you enjoy his lavish manor or arrange luncheons with important wives of so-and-so in the daytime, rather than dealing with the underbelly of his speakeasy.

If you two end up marrying, that means meeting your family. This may be the first time Atlas does so; using business as an excuse to avoid it before. While he's perfectly cordial (and being rich helps), they might express concern at his aloofness. Atlas also isn't one for grand holidays or huge family get togethers; I can see his upbringing as being more distant and cold, so that's what he's familiar with. He'd rather have a private holiday with the two of you than some big, loud to-do with lots of planning... but of course, he wouldn't want to risk upsetting you or your family, so he finds a fine line to walk. Though, if you're distant from your family or don't even have one, none of this applies.

The wedding is a small, but lavish affair. He keeps a gorgeous framed photo of the special day in the main sitting room, and photo of just you in your wedding dress in his office. He also has a small photo in his wallet.

Atlas never thought much of having children, though he understands it's expected, so he figures it'll happen if and when it happens. Just as his own father, he can be distant, but he does try for your sake. The child(ren) would want for nothing, just as you. He might allow the child to sit on his knee while he does paperwork or reads in the evening, and comes along with you when you take them out to the park. He refuses to allow any children into the bar, or even the Little Daisy cafe - he doesn't want to risk any potential thugs spotting them. This also means he's not eager to take them to social events where they might be photographed. Paranoid, maybe ... But Atlas always been very protective of you, as well.

Seriously, anyone who even vaguely threatens you within earshot of him will be dealt with. Either immediately, or within a few days... but they will be dealt with.

[xticklemeemox]

The Love You Want: III, Part Four

hehehe i hate the shopping trip section and the bit after that it does not seem well written to me i am going to lose my everloving mind =D

all aforementioned warnings apply, just in case <3

word count: uh 13,519?

Masterlist

Ao3

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Vessel waits with bated breath all morning, hugging his stuffie tightly to his chest as he stares, unceasingly, at his bedroom door. II and III had already been moving about for a couple hours now, their quiet voices and sleepy laughter telling Vessel of a comfortable night spent in III's room and a cozy morning. Vessel wishes he had joined.

His room is dark, the only light coming from under the door. Vessel is alone, as he wanted, and he hates it. He buries his face in his stuffie, snuggling into his Alpha Wolf hoodie, and tries to ignore the stinging in his hips, and the tears threatening to slip onto his cheeks. He lays there for who knows how long, waiting for the floor to open up and swallow him and his bed whole.

Someone knocks on the door. Its II, asking for Vessel to come down to the living room. He says something about wanting to start that talk now, and maybe something else but Vessel can't hear past the sudden ringing in his ears.

This is it. They're going to be mad at him. They're going to be mad he put them to sleep without asking, they're going to hate him. They're going to hate him. Vessel doesn't want to do this, he didn't want them to know about any of this. Vessel wanted to keep all of this to himself so II and III could continue living happily, without any knowledge of what Vessel has done.

Vessel forces himself to stand up when he hears II's retreating footsteps after a couple minutes of Vessel not answering. When he opens his door, Vessel makes sure his hood is up and his mask securely buckled. III is making their way up the stairs when Vessel starts to head down, and their smile is as soft as the blonde curls on their head when they see him. "I made you a coffee! Its on the table downstairs, in the living room, if you're ready to talk now."

Vessel isn't ready, but he takes III's outstretched hand anyway, hunching into himself to hide as much as possible. Let's III lead him down the stairs, focuses on them rubbing their thumb over Vessel's knuckles, focuses on not launching himself off the staircase to his hopeful death and asking Sleep to let him truly die.

II is bouncing his leg, reading a book while sitting on their couch when Vessel and III enter the living room. His eyes do not read the words on the page, staring blankly and worrying his lip, lost in thought. When III calls his name, II looks up, almost surprised by their presences, though III is never exactly quiet when they enter a room.

"Three, Ves! Good, you're here. Sit, please, we're just going to talk. We got you some coffee Ves, hopefully its how you like it. Three wanted to put more sugar but I like to imagine I know your limits, and their idea of sweet enough is far, far past it."

Vessel sits on the edge of his seat and readies himself to bolt if he needs to. He makes sure to keep space between all three of them for when they inevitably don't want to be near him anymore.

Even as he does so, keeping distance, III scoots closer and II completely gets up, moving to sit next to Vessel on his other side, effectively sandwiching him between them while placing a large, fluffy blanket over his shoulders. It should make him nervous, to be caged in like that and unable to escape like he initially wanted, but their knees are warm where they brush against his own. The length of III's thigh is pressed against Vessel's and he tries to focus on that warmth to ground him to this moment when all Vessel wants is to be anywhere but here.

Vessel avoids their searching gazes but smiles gratefully at II, wrapping the blanket around himself as further protection, and everyone waits for another of them to speak. Silence ensues for what feels like hours until II breaks it, also wanting to get this over with if only to get that terrified slip of emotion Vessel is allowing through the bond to go away.

"Tell us about this ability Sleep mentioned, the one that isn't yours. I just want to understand, Vessel, okay? I'm not mad, I'm frustrated you seem to keep hurting yourself in more ways than one, but I'm not mad. I'm concerned."

Vessel opens his mouth, trying to just get on with it, but his voice won't come out again. No matter how hard he tries. No. No, no, no, not again. Please. He'd finally moved past this, he'd- They looked so pleased to hear him and he's already fucking up.

III leans into Vessel's side, reaching under the blanket and gripping a portion of Vessel's hoodie, unsure what to do. II is saying something to him, holding his hand, but Vessel can't hear him. He's still trying to force words out, mouth opening and closing with no noise coming out. Vessel wants to cry, to sob, to tell them everything and nothing. He wants to be held.

II takes Vessel's hand and puts it over his chest, in the middle where Vessel can feel his heartbeat and the deliberate rise and fall of his breathing in slow, deep breaths.

Vessel tries to copy it. He really does, but it's hard when his head is swimming and he's suffocating in his own distress, the anxiety eating at his nerves as he shakes and shakes. Why can't he stop shaking?

II and III talk in hushed voices over him as Vessel hunches over further, torso almost meeting his knees, clenching his eyes shut and trying to focus on breathing at the same pace II is. A broken sob forces its way past his lips, coming out as more of a low keen that he muffles into the material of his stuffie that has managed to stay in his lap. He hates that he's staining it with his tears. He ruins everything he touches.

It takes what feels like hours to get his breathing under control, but it must have only been minutes. He is still trembling when his ears stop ringing. He wants to hide, he wants to escape into the forest and not return for a few days. Maybe not return at all. He isn't ready for this.

"Can we hug you? Please, you look like you need one." III begs, looking to II for help, but he only shakes his head sadly, already knowing what Vessel's answer will be.

Yes. Yes, please. Vessel wants a hug so badly. Please. Please.

"No." Vessel whispers, voice cracking as he refuses. "But, lean into me. Just- Don't wrap your arms around me. Please." Vessel compromises, desperate.

III leans into Vessel immediately, the full length of his torso pressing into Vessel's side as III puts the other hand under the blanket to wrap both arms around Vessel's own arm in as much of a hug as Vessel will allow. II scoots impossibly closer, using both hands to hold one of Vessel's own, rubbing soothing circles into his palm, or a thumb over his knuckles.

Vessel can breathe again. Letting his hand go limp in II's hold, he leans into III's side heavily as he tries to calm down. Vessel steels his nerves and just lets the words spill out of his mouth before his throat is wrapped with thorns again, hiding his masked face in his hands.

"I can- Make you sleep. That's all it is. I couldn't stand to see you suffer like I... I didn't want you to be awake and in pain the entirety of your transformation, so I experimented with my abilities as a vessel of Sleep and well, it got easier after the first time. You kept waking up though, and you were in so much pain... I had to keep putting you under. When you woke up and weren't in pain, I knew your transformation was over. I just... repeated the process with III."

"Sleep said this power was dangerous for you...?" II knows he won't like the answer.

"It makes me sick. It- I change. Two new sets of eyes, the split tongue. My blood becoming more like Sleep's. It seems I gain more of their features the more I use the ability."

"You're not using that ability again." II demands, not leaving any room for argument.

"What? But-"

"Vessel, you're not making yourself sick for us. Do you think I enjoyed your suffering as you puked up that weird black shit, or how you couldn't even sleep any of that sickness off? Because I didn't. I didn't enjoy a single fucking second of it. I hated it. Hated that I couldn't help you, that I couldn't take your pain away." II states, eyes like blue fire.

"We understand where you're coming from. You wanted to help us, but you never should've done it at the cost of yourself." III cuts in, nervously glancing between Vessel and II, pressing more of their body into Vessel's.

"Neither of you deserved to hurt, I- I was trying to help..." Vessel says weakly.

"I know you were, Ves, but you're not doing that to yourself again. You don't understand that we don't want you hurting either. You don't need to kill yourself to make sure we don't feel any pain." Vessel flinches into III as though struck and II wonders, fleetingly, why he felt as though he'd come upon something he shouldn't have.

"Vessel... do you think you deserved it? Your pain?" III asks, voice low and carefully neutral to hide the concern, thinking back to Vessel saying that they didn't deserve to hurt.

It wouldn't be much of a stretch, would it? To think that Vessel believes himself to deserve the pain the transformation brought, when the man actively self-harms.

Vessel will not look at them, staring resolutely at the ground. He does not address them directly, merely speaking out into the room, knowing they will listen.

"I- I don't... know. I- It made sense. For me to hurt. It still does. It's all I know. I felt... useful, when I was able to help Two that first time. Like I was finally doing something right. By the time Three came around, I- Well, I already knew the consequences and welcomed them if it meant I could spare you both the pain. The eyes aren't so bad, and I'm already getting used to the tongue."

"You don't deserve it. You have never and will never deserve any of the pain you put yourself through, or that anyone else has put you through." II despairs, taking a deep, unsteady breath to try and abate the tears he wants to shed.

Vessel remains silent, knowing he doesn't agree. II and III are the only ones who have ever thought that.

"You're not using the ability again. I don't care what you say, you're hurting yourself every time. I- Fuck, Ves, I already hate your self-harming, I don't want to see you continue hurting yourself this way too." II says, shoulders hunching with the stress of the conversation.

"I don't use it unless I need to, and I haven't needed to since your transformations ended." Vessel agrees easily enough, voice as small as he feels.

He doesn't understand why they care so much. He's not sure he ever will.

"Why won't Sleep let any of us rest during our transformations? I- I don't understand why He would decline if you asked Him to let us sleep."

"I didn't ask." Vessel murmurs quietly. "The- the way He said I handled mine, I didn't think there would be a point. He wouldn't have agreed. He said I handled mine beautifully, but- It hurt. It was... Agony, for weeks and I could feel everything- Everything changing in my body, the- the bugs-" Vessel cuts himself off, throat closing in at the memory.

He pushes his hands into all of his eyes where the skin meets the softer flesh of his closed eyelids. He can still feel the flies crawling over his burning eyes- the roaches over his hands and the way they came close to crawling in his ears or his mouth-

Vessel wants to throw up, the taste of that black sludge foul on his tongue. He curls in on himself, struggling to breathe. Again.

II and III share another concerned glance, "Bugs?" II whispers, mortified.

"Manor wasn't clean. Full of bugs. Crawled all over me. Over my eyes, across my hands. Felt all of it." Taking a deep breath to try and quell the nausea, Vessel manages to answer in short sentences.

"You... Where did you lay, Ves?" III is terrified of the answer.

"Floor. Barely made it through the front door. Hurt the whole walk here. I- fell a lot too. Over roots and just, the ground. Couldn't see anything, it was too dark. Didn't know where I was going." Vessel grunts, trying to will away the tremble in his frame.

He has said far more than he ever wanted to, but they are asking, and Vessel cannot refuse them most things. Not when their bodies are warm against his, their heat sinking into his bones and chasing away the constant chill. The blanket they'd wrapped around his shoulders helps keep him warm, too, but Vessel wouldn't mind being able to touch them without the barrier of it and his clothes. It is not something he can grant himself.

One proper hug from II and Vessel craves another, and another, and another. He wants their gentle touch on his skin all the time, in any way they'll give it. He wants to feel wrapped up and safe in III's encompassing hold, he wants to wrap II in his own arms, to hold him to Vessel's chest and rest his chin on the fluffy mess of II's hair. He wants their touch. He wants. He aches. He desires. Anything they will give him.

If their gentle touch ever turns painful, Vessel knows he wouldn't mind. It would simply be time for the abnormalities of his relationships with them to end and return to the familiar.

"... the fucking floor? You... you didn't have time to, to even get into the house properly?" III can't stop himself from crying out, just utterly horrified.

"No, my transformation was already beginning to start when I woke up in the forest. I- There wasn't any time." Vessel explains, closing his eyes and pulling II's hand closer, beginning to play with his fingers.

"Why would Sleep do that? He gave me time to get settled in..." II says, eyes wide with confusion.

"I asked Him to give you that time. I couldn't go into the stores and get you what I knew you needed. I was too much of a coward. My anxiety wouldn't let me. I- It was weak of me, I know."

"No, no, Ves, it worked out better that way. I wouldn't have expected you to be able to do all of that on your own... Its alright."

II is trying his damn hardest not to let his fury get the better of him.

He wants to fist fight his God. For what they have done and what they've failed to do. If Sleep could put off II's transformation when Vessel asked it of Him, there was no reason for Vessel to have needlessly suffered.

"It hurt." Vessel forces out, eyes opening and listless behind his mask, "It was like every atom was lit on fire after being put through a shredder. It hurt. For weeks. I- I laid there for weeks. It hurt. I couldn't sleep. Couldn't escape. Couldn't die either. I wanted to."

III tries to stifle their sudden sob, but ultimately they fail.

"It hurt." Vessel repeats, "It hurt and I was alone."

"You're not alone now." II is quick to assure, "You made sure we weren't alone, its our turn to return the favor."

III is nodding, trying to speak past their hiccupping sobs, but they can't. Not when they're imagining what Vessel must have gone through. Those few moments III was awake during his transformation was an agony they knew could never be replicated, would never be able to properly describe. To think that Vessel was forced to be awake for weeks, to experience something like that without any reprieve... And still Vessel thinks he deserved it.

III wants to hold Vessel tightly and never let go, wants to tell him that they love him, that he didn't deserve any of what has happened to him. Wants to kiss away all his tears, to wrap him in his arms and never let him go.

How could Sleep have just- let Vessel go through that? III doesn't understand. They were all personally chosen by a God, and yet that God shows little care when it comes to the safety of His vessels outside of having money and a home. III knows II said that Sleep does not understand human pain, does not feel it, but does that make any of this okay?

III's not sure if it does, when he sees the furious tears in II's eyes as they both hold Vessel as close as he'll allow, shuddering breaths and small hiccups still escaping him as he stares blankly ahead.

::

Once Vessel calms enough, he disappears to his room for the rest of the day, asking for space and leaving his coffee untouched. Much of that time is spent listening to II and III move about the house and contemplating whether or not he wants to kill himself, adding random lines into his skin when the temptation to simply end it draws too close to the surface. By the time Vessel has made a decision, hours after starting and stopping his current book, attempting to write new lyrics, and pacing his room repeatedly, it is dark outside. His arms ache something fierce, bandages stark white against the darkness of his skin.

Dinner has long since passed, Vessel guiltily ignoring III's knock on his door, asking him if he was coming down to eat or just to hang out. Guilt ate away at him, and so Vessel cut into his arms again to relieve it. The pain helped, somewhat, but Vessel only felt more guilty than before, afterwards.

Vessel stills when another knock sounds, II this time, telling Vessel goodnight and that the two of them were going to be in II's room that night if Vessel wants to join.

II audibly sighs when Vessel doesn't answer, leaning his head against Vessel's door for a moment before walking away. III, staring silently from beside him, follows and intertwines their hands, eager expression crumbling.

Vessel's eyes well with tears, and he wants to join them so badly. He should've agreed yesterday, too, but Vessel was afraid. Shoving on his Alpha Wolf hoodie and grabbing his thickest blanket, Vessel practically runs to his door in his haste.

"Wait!" Vessel exclaims, opening his door and stepping out, holding his plushie close to his chest.

II and III stop at II's door immediately, turning around with such hopeful expressions that Vessel knows it must match his own hope exactly, even without the bond confirming it.

"Are you sure it's okay?" Vessel asks, back to being quiet as a mouse, and II and III share wide grins.

"Of course. You don't even need to ask if you want to sleep with us. II and I will always welcome you." III holds his arm out, making grabby fingers at Vessel who reaches back with only a little hesitation, crossing the distance between them in a few purposeful strides.

III pulls him into II's room, a beaming smile lighting up the dim room. II follows behind them, leaving the door cracked for Elvira in case she wants to come visit.

II goes around moving pillows while III bounds off to grab more blankets. Vessel sits gingerly at the edge of II's bed, trying to gather up his courage.

He is fiddling with the edge of a bandage as II and III finish up, beginning to get comfortable on the bed. "I-. Uh, shit. Shit." Vessel starts, stopping immediately as his anxiety strangles him.

He doesn't want to ruin their happy expressions. He knows what he says next is going to kill the peaceful atmosphere.

"Go on, Ves, its okay." III encourages, and II nods in agreement, eyes soft and questioning.

"I- cut again. Can-" Vessel clears his throat nervously, letting go of the fraying bandage and digging his nails into his wrist, the sting helps, "Can you hold me?"

II cannot keep the sadness from his eyes or his bond, but he smiles softly regardless, "Of course. How about you get comfortable with Three while I get the med kit. You know I prefer making sure you take care of your cuts."

Vessel is... relieved neither of them are angry with him.

Vessel nods, climbing further into bed and into III's awaiting, outstretched arms. III brings one hand up to run through Vessel's hair, carefully avoiding pulling any strands stuck under the mask strap, the other splaying against Vessel's waist where he has carefully draped himself over III's chest, half on his lap. Vessel's blanket and hoodie acts as a barrier between their chests, and Vessel begs Sleep to keep III unaware of Vessel's lack of heartbeat.

II smiles, single dimple on display as Vessel settles in close, subconsciously snuggling further into III's warmth. He's off to get the nearest med kit and returning in record time, taking only a second to watch III whisper soft nothings into Vessel's hair, nuzzling into the soft strands as he holds Vessel close.

Vessel opens his eyes from where they had fallen closed in his contentment, bond open enough for them to feel it. Anxiety creeps in as II asks where the wounds are. Leaving his hoodie on, Vessel maneuvers himself so he can comfortably stretch his arms out, shoving up both sleeves past his elbow. His left arm was clearly bandaged better than the right, the material loose and sliding down his arm.

"Proud of you for taking care of them." II says, leaning forward with his weight on one hand to kiss the forehead of Vessel's mask.

A tiny, unsure smile pulls at Vessel's lips, ducking his head shyly, but II does not fail to notice that Vessel doesn't refute his words.

III looks stricken as II begins unwrapping the bandages on Vessel's left arm. Vessel had at least cleaned the blood off of them, but his skill in wrapping them is lacking. II knows its because Vessel has never bothered to take care of himself Before, and fuck, does that break II's heart into pieces.

Vessel winces when II begins disinfecting the cuts, surprising II and III when he buries his masked face into the space between III's shoulder and neck. Its uncomfortable, the mask digging in to their jaw and collarbone and wherever else it touches, but III would rather cut off their own leg than ask Vessel to change positions.

Slathering antibiotic ointment over the wounds marring his forearm, a bit below the elbow, with smaller little slices heading down towards his wrist, II begins rewrapping the arm with a fresh strip of bandage. The next arm is easier, but the cuts are more sloppy, some digging deeper, and its clear by the wounds that Vessel was more distressed when he dug a blade into that arm.

That one is nearly finished being bandaged up when II chooses to speak, "Thank you for telling us, Ves."

Vessel opens his eyes, different sets watching the movement of II's hands and his face. He simply stares for a moment, while II continues working and III's hand continues playing with his hair, "Kept thinking you would leave me. Kept thinking you would hate me. Knew you would, after you found out what I did. But... You stayed. Both of you stayed. You- Don't hate me."

II and III share a glance that Vessel doesn't miss as II says, "I don't hate you, Vessel. What I feel for you is the furthest thing from hate."

"I don't hate you either. Could never hate you."

Vessel wets his lower lip nervously, a fang peeking through, "Okay... Thank you."

Vessel wants to say more, he wants to spill his guts all over the floor, let them rifle through his insides, examine every inch of his viscera and bones, and their marrow, until they understand him so completely that he never has to speak of his feelings ever again.

Vessel supposes that is what the bond is for. That gift from his God was intended to help him connect, and he has refused it to some extent the entire time he has had it.

II yawns behind a raised hand, Vessel tracking the movement carefully. "You both should rest." Vessel says, and neither one of them disagree.

III pulls away long enough to let all of them under the covers. Vessel has been maneuvered so III is in the middle, without much say in the matter. He lets them do as they please, keeping his blanket wrapped around his shoulders and bunched around his neck. II asks if Vessel will get too warm like that, under both the blanket and the sheets but Vessel merely shakes his head. Temperature hasn't affected him like it used to when his heart still beat in his chest. The others have said he is cold to the touch, but he doesn't feel it.

Everyone gets comfortable, Vessel allowing III to wrap their arms around him. III pulls Vessel close, then shoves themself back so they're up against II, since the bed is a bit small for three grown men.

Goodnights are shared without much preamble, and Vessel knows its because the earlier conversation did not exhaust only him. He's felt it in the back of their bonds all day, guilty for that too.

Vessel sits and listens for a while, as the others settle down to sleep. II falls asleep first and Vessel is endlessly amused by the others ability to fall asleep quickly, always appearing so tired despite Vessel being the one who doesn't sleep. III takes longer to nod off, needing to adjust positions a few times, or fluff up their pillow. Its cute, as Vessel finds III is prone to being.

Vessel realizes he didn't bring anything to occupy his mind during the long hours of the night.

"Are you leaving?" III asks sadly, voice distorted by a yawn.

Vessel pauses from where he was moving off the bed, "No. I'm getting my notebook from my room. I'll... be back."

III nods, brushing a hand over Vessel's bicep, turning over to snuggle into II's back. "Go, so you can come back sooner." They murmur, "Miss you already."

Vessel's face warms, a smile pulling involuntarily at his lips. III says he'll miss him, even though Vessel is only going to his room and back. The thought makes Vessel giddy, and for once there is no voice in the back of his mind telling him that III is lying, or delusional.

"Be back soon." Vessel says, knowing III probably didn't hear over II letting out a loud snore right then, the others bond already fuzzing back up with sleep.

Vessel huffs out a laugh, smile remaining. They're both adorable. He makes it to his room and back in record time, sliding back under the mass of blankets, pressing the length of his side against III's back, who hums at the contact but otherwise remains asleep.

It's perhaps an hour or two later, Vessel silently scribbling potential lyrics in his notebook with the dim light of the bedside lamp (though it isn't needed), when III first shows signs something is wrong, when Vessel feels that something is wrong.

There is a furrow in III's brow when Vessel places a careful claw over his temple to coax out the nightmare after he sets down his notebook and pencil. Without a thought, he swallows it whole, loving the taste and yet afraid of what he will see this time.

It truly is a nightmare.

He was sprawled out on the ground, jaw aching fiercely. There was a weight on their hand, harsh pressure being applied with a foot. Trees surrounded him but in his peripherals, light from a building blinked on and off haphazardly.

"Fucking shithead! Should've stayed the fuck away from me." Someone spits on him.

It splatters against their cheek, dribbling down and off his chin, and he only barely manages to stop from cringing in disgust, "I was only being nice-"

A foot slams right into his ribs, once, twice. A groan of pain is torn from their throat with the action, a whimper as something cracks.

"Shut the fuck up. God, running your mouth even now. No wonder you couldn't keep a fucking job." With every sentence, another kick brings new agony to his ribs.

He moans as another kick glances over their jaw, stars bursting behind their eyes when their hair is grabbed in a tight fist, a knee meeting their nose and spewing blood all over the blue jeans of his assailant. He grins anyway, all bloody teeth and confidence, "Momma never taught you how to take a compliment? I didn't have a mother and I can handle someone telling me I'm pretty with proper decorum. A thank you usually suffices."

The grin is wiped off their face as a fist slams against their cheek, cracking the bone beneath his eye with a blinding pain that stuns them. Pain explodes in multiple spots on their body as they struggle against the people holding him. They force him to the ground roughly, blow after blow after blow landing on his ribs, his stomach, his head. He aches everywhere, barely conscious, and still they hold him down. Still he struggles.

There's no fucking way they're going to kill them without a fight-

Vessel gasps, still feeling rough hands around his arms, holding him down, he can't breathe- there's a hand wrapped around his throat- no- no that's not what happened, that was-

Vessel's bond slams shut as he tumbles out of bed, legs caught in the blankets. The harsh movement of the bed wakes II and III, but by that time. Vessel sees the tears in III's eyes, a single one slipping down his cheek and he's filled with unadulterated rage at the sight.

He can still feel a hand around his throat. He knows that wasn't from III's nightmare, III's death.

"What happened, Ves, are you okay?" II asks, holding on to III in a tight back hug.

"Nothing, I'm fine. I just fell out of bed. Got caught up in the blankets." Vessel reassures through gritted teeth, trying to keep his anger and terror, his confusion and understanding, out of the bond.

He does it with ease, projecting that calm sea he can picture so clearly in his mind. Even if his bond is shut, Vessel would prefer taking no chances of them discovering his anger.

"Okay, that's okay. Do you need help getting-" II starts, III cutting him off.

"Don't shut us out entirely. Please. Keep the bond open. I- I want to feel that you're here." III asks, brokenly, desperation and fear leaking from every pore.

Vessel is struck with the sensation of arms holding him down again and feels terrible. III has just woken from a nightmare and they're focusing on him- Vessel hates it. Wants to wrap III up in his arms and never let them go so they'll be safe-

II follows III's words up, like a knife to the chest, "I know I said you can shut yourself away whenever you want but it's like- like you're dead even if we know you're right here."

The fury simmers down in an instant, being put on the back burner in favor of processing what they're telling him.

Like... he's dead? It feels like he's dead? Vessel doesn't understand. Do... do they know? Do they know what he does? Vessel is quickly becoming overwhelmed by the events that keep occurring. His brain can't keep up, tired as he is and always so stressed.

"I'm sorry." Vessel apologizes, not sure what else to say, opening up his bond again, his regret seeping into II and III's side of the bond.

"Have you felt it?" III asks, tears in his wide, shining eyes, "What its like for the bond to be completely shut off?"

Vessel shakes his head no, and the next moment there is a void swallowing him whole. Where III's presence had been shining brightly, full of apprehension and regret and resolve, there is nothing. It's as though the other man doesn't exist, like his body isn't right here with Vessel's. Its a gaping void, like Vessel was missing a limb, a wound ripped right through him that will never heal. He struggles to breath through the aching in his chest, in his lungs, and the house shudders violently, creaking and moaning as the vines writhe along the walls agitatedly.

There is this pain in his chest. His heart which he knows does not rest behind his ribs, he knows it doesn't, is being squeezed with a tight fist. He can't breathe- he can't- why does it hurt so bad-

Vessel gasps, leaning forward to pull III to him, uncaring for that one moment if he can feel his lack of heartbeat through his clothes. Tears spill down his cheeks, lips parted around a desperate apology. There is relief buried deep in his chest, where his heart used to lay. They don't know.

"I'll try not to do it again. I promise, I swear I'll try, just, come back. Come back."

Vessel doesn't even take a moment to really think about what he's promising. What it means for his already unstable mental health. He is promising not to rest, promising to stay alive in this body he hates with a mind that loathes him. He knows there will be times he cannot keep that promise, times where he will need to kill himself to escape from his own body for just a little while.

The image of the bond in his head distorts, becoming less like doors in a hallway, more a tether connecting their souls to one another. Sleep did not give this to them just for Vessel to hide himself away whenever he wants, he realizes. He should've realized ages ago, but Vessel is always struck by how different II and III are to anyone else he has ever known. If... If Vessel wasn't so stuck in his past, maybe he would've been open with them sooner.

"I'm sorry to do that to you so suddenly. I- I should've warned you." III murmurs into Vessel's ear, breath warm as the bond blinks back into focus.

Vessel could sob with the sudden relief that rushes through him. The house settles, no creaking to be heard. The vines calm, and Vessel misses the way II scrutinizes them closely.

II leans on III, wrapping his arms around both of them, hands fisted tightly in their clothing, desperate for their touch after both of them disappeared from him.

"All those times I shut you out, Two... you never said anything all this time." Vessel cries into III's shoulder, reaching out desperately to hold II as well.

"I thought it- I didn't know it felt like anything. I thought I was- I didn't- You were dead, Three, your- Even though you're right in front of me, it was like you had died. Like not even your soul was left. Why didn't you tell me, Two? I would never have even- I'm... I'm so sorry. I'm sorry." Vessel can barely speak through the sobs tearing through him, harsh, wheezing breaths silenced to the best of his ability.

They're caught in his chest, suffocating him with their weight, but still, there is so little noise and it's unsettling. Vessel learned to cry like this, to sob with nary a sound, and its heartbreaking.

Vessel didn't understand what it meant to have his body and soul intertwined with another and then for them to disappear- it was worse than losing a limb. It was like some vital piece of himself that was there only a second before had just vanished, as if it never existed in the first place.

If II and III ever decided to leave Vessel, to tear the bond from their own souls with their God's help, it wouldn't have mattered if Vessel loved them or not, it wouldn't save him, his own soul would be shattered beyond repair and not even death would be a reprieve from the pain.

"Forgive me, please. Please, please, forgive me. I'm sorry. Don't leave. Don't leave." Vessel begs, clutching tightly to the material of III's shirt.

III holds him tighter, pulling Vessel closer even as they try to keep their own tears at bay.

"Ves, Ves, it's okay, just- try not to do it again and all is forgiven. Please, I'm not going anywhere, don't cry-" II regrets his wording immediately when Vessel struggles to pull away, all noise ceasing as though a switch had been flipped.

Vessel's breath hitches with another sob, but there is no noise to accompany it. Where before, there has been small little whimpers that he couldn't hold back, there is now literally no noise at all. Its unsettling, devastating. Tears still drip from under his mask, golden droplets staining everything they touch. His mouth is firmly shut, lips pinched tightly to hold in his whimpers.

"No, no, I- Fuck, I didn't mean it that way sweetheart, I swear. You- You don't have to be quiet around us." II begs, letting some of his own tears finally spill over.

"Two is right, Sugar. You never tell me to be quiet and I know for a fact I can get too loud." III adds, before asking, "Can I take your mask off? It can't be comfortable."

Vessel hesitates, slowly letting himself lean back into them to regain his earlier position. Vessel gives a small nod and III begins unbuckling the mask, wiping his own tears on his sleeve first.

When the mask is fully off and laid to the side, Vessel tries to get ahold of himself, wiping at his continuous tears with a sleeve that quickly becomes stained with gold. II and III speak to him gently, never asking him to be quiet or to stop crying, only ever using soft, comforting platitudes. They never grip his jaw to force it shut, to stop the noises Vessel has long since learned to quell. They never tell him to be quiet, to stop crying.

Gentle words and gentler hands coax Vessel from his tears into some semblance of calm as gold slips down his cheeks. II wipes them away as III braids small sections of Vessel's hair, gold accumulating on his hands and clothes.

Vessel whispers, in a voice hoarse with emotion, as III runs a hand through the mess to try and fix some of Vessel's unruly strands so they could continue braiding, "Not too loud. Like you as you are."

III smiles, a small thing that's brighter than any grin could ever be, kissing above Vessel's brow gently.

"Why were you crying, honey? I can still feel something off in our bond." II directs his next question at III, who is still wiping stray tears every now and then.

"Oh. Uh, bad dream. It's not anything to worry about." Vessel knows III is lying, can tell from the aversion of their gaze

Vessel thinks II can tell, too.

"Okay, if you want to talk about it, I'm here. I'm sure Ves wouldn't mind either."

Vessel is nodding in agreement, watching in some half-shocked, half-awed tidal wave of emotion as II pulls III's face to him gently, kissing his cheekbone, their brow, the tip of their nose. III's face is red but their smile is beaming when II pulls away, only leftover tears gleaming with hints of gold drying on their face.

II takes Vessel's face in one hand next, cupping the side of his head, avoiding Vessel's jaw as best as he can with his thumb by his ear and the rest of his fingers weaving through the mess of Vessel's hair. With that thumb, he carefully wipes some tears away, streaking gold across Vessel's cheekbone.

Without preamble, II leans forward to kiss Vessel's cheek. Then his forehead. The other side of his face, over the lid of his middle pair of eyes. With each careful press of II's lips on Vessel's skin, he grows warmer and warmer, body buzzing with electricity as his face flames, pointed ears going red at the tips.

"Two?" Vessel's voice is soft, eyes wide and not so sad anymore, tears slowing to a steady stop.

Vessel is always so stunned by such casual displays of affection. II and III are always so soft with each other, with Vessel himself. Vessel... never quite knows what to do with that fact. Because it is a fact. They are more gentle and kind than anyone Vessel has ever met. He thanks Sleep at the altar every chance he gets.

II accomplished what he set out to do, shaking his head with a quirk of his lips into a smile. II could get lost in the rubies of Vessel's irises, burning in the midst of the darkness of his sclera.

"You're so pretty. Both of you, so pretty."

III giggles, the sound a little unexpected and it causes Vessel to giggle too, something no one is sure they've heard from him before. Vessel's blush is contagious, spreading to II and III's cheeks like wildfire.

"You're pretty too, Doll." III says with a cheeky little grin that begs for II to challenge the nickname.

"Why Doll?" II pouts, squinting his eyes dangerously.

"Short." III states, before turning their grin towards Vessel. "Don't you agree, Sugar?"

Vessel's eyes are still wide, cheeks and ears still flushed but he nods anyways, adding quietly, "Big, pretty blue eyes, too."

II gasps and places a splayed hand over his heart, scandalized, keeping his tone exaggeratedly playful, "Why, I never. First, Sleep comments on my height, and then you two, the next day no less. I can't believe you both. I ought to take you off at your kneecaps, Three, and see what you say about my height then!"

Vessel tenses, looking between the two of them like he's not sure if they're actually going to fight or not. He would rather not be around if that is to happen. Vessel knows the yelling would make him catatonic with the memories.

"I'd like to see you try, Doll." III sticks his tongue out, laughing as II lets out a put-upon sigh.

There is a moment of silence where they all glance between each other. III's grin grows even bigger, and II's eyes narrow to slits before a smirk slips onto his face.

"Oh no." III mutters, beginning to lean back as though it will save them from what is to come.

Without another word, II launches himself at III, aiming for their sides to tickle them into submission. Laughter erupts immediately as Vessel stares with wide eyes, blinking disbelievingly at the proceedings.

He was- So sad, mere moments ago but with such ease he didn't even notice, II and III have lifted his spirits.

Vessel watches, a smile slowly pulling at his lips, as III makes their escape, managing to get away from II long enough to get off the bed. They're still laughing as they make it about halfway to the door before II launches himself off the bed after them, wrapping an arm around their waist and picking him up in one move, swinging III back around and up into a bridal carry.

"Thought you'd gotten away?" II asks, pretty blue eyes innocently staring at III, their noses close enough to touch if only they would lean in a millimeter closer.

II admits he is sorely tempted to kiss them, seeing that same temptation mirrored in III's eyes. They both refrain, glancing at Vessel, who is still watching them both, smiling gently. Now isn't the time.

"Nah, I got exactly what I wanted, Doll." III reaches up and pats II's cheek, a rogue finger tracing the curve of his smile.

"Now put me down. I'm insecure about being so close to the ground." III jokes and II laughs as he places III back on the bed.

Vessel could not force the smile off his face if his life depended on it as III suggests II start his book at the beginning, wanting him to read it aloud so Vessel will get the full story. Vessel starts to protest, not wanting to bother with something so trivial, but III is having none of it, already gently coaxing Vessel to lay on them as he leans back on a mound of pillows. II comes back from grabbing the book they were reading, a different genre than he usually reads that seemed interesting. Pulling the bookmark out as II gets comfortable on Vessel's other side, where he has let III maneuver him into laying down between them, II waits for both Vessel and III's go ahead to start reading.

Vessel's head is leant against III's shoulder, closely squished between them and II without even a hairs width between all three of them, a blanket spread out over their waists and legs.

Vessel is intrigued as II starts, tone calm but not emotionless as he reads the first page. The next chapter is read by III, who tries to give the characters their own voices and keep things lively while also keeping the tone of the book. The two keep switching off who reads with each chapter, and at some point during the night, II had fallen asleep during III's turn.

Vessel offers to read instead, and III lights up at the prospect, kissing the side of Vessel's head without a thought and settling in to listen with happy, but tired eyes. Vessel stumbles over the first few words, flustered beyond belief, but does not shy away from III's tender gaze. Its not long before III falls asleep too, but Vessel continues reading aloud quietly. He remains vigilant for more nightmares the entire night, warm between the two people he cares for most in the world.

Elvira pushes open the door around daybreak where it had been left cracked, meowing as she hops up on the bed to settle on Vessel's lap. Vessel pets her lovingly as she purrs, III's breath ghosting against his ear as II snores at Vessel's shoulder.

Vessel feels as though a weight has been lifted off his chest, closing his eyes to rest his mind. He lets his bond open, entirely, without holding anything back for what must be the first time.

::

Over breakfast the next morning, while II attempts to teach Vessel how to cook pancakes after III requested them, III speaks up about going into town. Kicking their feet so that they knock softly on the cupboard, III sits perched on the counter whisking eggs, which Vessel had wrinkled his nose up at, not liking the taste of eggs by themself.

"Hey, can we go into town today? I would really like more clothes, and that gaming console I mentioned to II."

"Gaming console?" Vessel asks, curious, as he carefully flips over a too-done pancake.

He smiles sheepishly when II praises him over it, while III begins to explain how they wanted to get more electronics since most of their entertainment is in book form.

Vessel nods along, asking what sorts of games III enjoys. "Story-driven games mainly! Though I do- did play first-person shooters sometimes."

Vessel hums, interested, as he and II listen to III explain about the different game genres they've tried and which ones they didn't care for.

"We can go into town after breakfast, if that's alright with you?" II questions and III nods along easily, not caring what time of day they go.

"Sure! Are you going Ves?"

Vessel freezes, watching a pancake cook far longer than it should, browning visibly at the bottom edges.

Vessel wants to go with them, just to be near, but he would need to go into stores, with other people, in public. At the mere thought, his anxiety creeps at the edges of his mind, threatening to swarm him.

"You did well in the furniture store that first day I arrived, despite your panic attack. You know I don't mind holding your hand and doing all the talking, Ves." II attempts to convince him, and Vessel admits that he has a point.

Vessel hates that they're coddling him. That he needs physical touch to go into a store. Its pathetic. He's pathetic.

Vessel wants to go with them. He really does. He doesn't want to be left in this huge house alone with only himself as company. It has never ended up well for his body, or his mind in the time Before. He was alone a lot, Before.

Vessel promised he'd try to keep the bond open. He knows what will happen if they leave him alone.

"Okay. I'll go." Vessel agrees, flipping the pancake over finally.

He frowns, staring forlornly at the crispy edges and dark, dark brown middle.

"You will?" III exclaims, excited at Vessel's agreement, handing the bowl of whisked eggs to II so he can start making scrambled eggs out of it and hopping off the countertop.

"Mhm." Vessel contemplates saying more, leaning into III a little bit as the other moves closer to Vessel's side, and decides it should be okay.

He trusts them. He is letting his bond stay open, giving them unfiltered access to his emotions. He trusts them.

"Didn't like being alone last time." Vessel focuses on the pancake in front of him and not the sudden regret spiking down II and III's bonds.

"Before you say anything, I am the one who decided to stay at the house. It's not your fault I felt that way." Vessel can feel their eyes on him and chooses to ignore it.

If Vessel turns around, he fears he may start crying again as the clear reassurance mirrored on II and III's faces trickles down the bond purposefully. He doesn't think he can handle seeing it on their faces.

Feeding Elvira takes priority before they all sit down to eat, not wanting to forget or cruelly have the cat watch, hungry, while they ate. When everyone sits around the table in the dining room that doubles as the living room, Vessel realizes that the pancakes taste a little burnt.

Dejectedly, he apologizes, the taste lingering on his tongue unpleasantly. III is quick to shut him down, scarfing down their pancakes with only butter as a topping, mask pulled up over their nose. "I thought you'd douse them in syrup." II comments, putting only a small amount on his short stack.

III hums in amusement, grabbing a few more pancakes off the plate placed in the center of the table, "You'd think, wouldn't you? I prefer them like this, but sometimes I do douse them in syrup. Absolutely drown them in it. Oh, Ves, maybe uh, a minute less on the skillet next time. These are good though, really! Just a little bit too done."

Vessel apologizes again with one corner of his mouth dipping too far into a frown for III's liking, and they wave him off with his fork and a large, reassuring grin, losing a skewered piece of pancake in the process. It barely misses the plate, falling to the floor as III lets out a whine of disappointment. Vessel laughs softly, no more than a shuddering of his shoulders and his frown lifting into a smile instead.

Breakfast is a quick affair after that, III eager to leave, devouring the rest of his plate in record time. II eats his pancakes and eggs within a normal amount of time, actually tasting the food instead of just inhaling it. Vessel only eats one full pancake, not needing it as sustenance like the others but still wanting to enjoy the taste, as burnt as they turned out. II picks up all of their empty plates before Vessel or III can do it, and Vessel and III share a look. III mouths "mother hen" behind II's back and Vessel huffs a laugh again.

Everyone pushes in their chairs, only one, the Fourth, collecting dust. They have all chosen their place at the table, and so it sits unused until the next vessel arrives. It has not escaped their notice that there are four main bedrooms, four main dining chairs. A decision on Sleep's part, most likely.

It doesn't take any longer than twenty minutes for the three of them to meet up in the foyer, all ready to leave. III's hair is pulled back in a bun so his mask will fit over it fairly well, in one of Vessel's shorter shirts that barely reach his hips, exposing a sliver of midriff that catches II and Vessel's gaze immediately, and a pair of Vessel's looser, billowing pants that he wears often around the house.

III reaches up to tuck a stray, loose wave behind their ear, and neither II nor Vessel can look away as the shirt rides up and exposes more of the pale expanse of III's skin. Vessel blushes to his ears again, II's own blush spreading down his neck as he takes in III as well.

III has no right being so damn pretty.

Vessel isn't feeling much better when he finally sees what II is wearing, which is nothing out of the ordinary, but its II, so Vessel always thinks he's breathtaking anyway. A hood is pulled up over the mess of his hair, the jacket long like a coat, sitting over a plain black t-shirt that hugs the muscle of his arms. A pair of comfortable joggers are tied loosely at his hips, powerful thighs and calves not causing the stretchy material any strain.

"If you continue staring, we're never gonna leave." II states, his dimple showing as one side of his mouth lifts to display it with an amused smile, an eyebrow raised.

"Sorry." Vessel murmurs, wanting to tell them both how pretty they are, but he's far too flustered to be able to get the words out without stumbling over them, and he's already so anxious as it is.

"I don't mind sweetheart, but Three needs more clothes that fit them properly. You can stare at me all you want on the ride to town." II grins, though his bond is a little unsure, holding his hand out for Vessel to take.

II hopes he's not being too bold, but seeing III be so daring with his touches and words, and Vessel not shying away from them like they'd both expected him to, makes II want to do the same.

Vessel takes his hand but doesn't meet his eyes with any of his six, fingers linking gently with II's own. "I'm just teasing, Ves." II admits as he watches Vessel's face get more and more red by the second.

Hesitant relief slips down the bond, and Vessel smiles, nodding as he rubs a thumb over a groove in his mask, held securely in his available hand along with the car keys.

III takes in what Vessel is wearing, a too big, grey t-shirt that hangs low on his neck, revealing their God's symbol on the hollow of his neck, over a black long sleeve with loose sleeves that leave room for his bandages. A pair of skinny jeans hugs his hips, held up with a brown belt that doesn't match the color scheme of the rest of the outfit. He's wearing black boots, which III immediately finds strange. They're not sure they've ever seen Vessel in anything but socks or barefoot. Even outside the house, Vessel seemed to prefer going barefoot despite the twigs and plant matter that litters the ground.

"We ready?" III asks, after ogling Vessel a little longer.

III confirms easily as Vessel hums his agreement and everyone steps outside.

Vessel closes the front door securely behind them, willing the vines lingering on the outside of the manor that climb along the wall to cover the door, wrapping over the handle and crisscrossing over the expanse of the door. Like this, with the vines overwhelming the wooden lattices on either side of the small porch, bolted to the detailed columns, the house looks abandoned, like the forest has overtaken something humans have staked claim to that had never belonged to them in the first place.

The car is parked nearby under the shade of one of the larger trees whose branches creep towards the house, and II asks who will be driving and who's going to sit in the passenger seat.

"I'll sit in the back." Vessel pauses before a small smile creeps onto his face, "I can stare at Two that way."

Vessel is pleased when his horrible attempt at a joke causes II and III to laugh as everyone puts their masks on.

The car starts up loudly, and with some difficulty when everyone gets settled inside. Vessel doesn't like being in the back by himself, even if he was the one who chose it, but II makes up for it when he puts one of Vessel's My Chemical Romance CD's on over the radio, knowing that Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge was Vessel's favorite.

Vessel flexes his fingers as they drive, answering when II and III ask him for opinions on topics he was only half listening to as II drove. Curl, uncurl, curl, uncurl. Vessel watches his claws dig thinly into his skin, misses when II would hold his hand while they drove to town. It kept him from fidgeting too badly, kept him from picking at the skin around his fingernails, pulling until the skin came free and blood beaded at the top. Vessel loved the sting.

Vessel avoids II's concerned gaze in the rear view mirror, singing along very quietly to the music and pretending his anxiety isn't eating away at his nerves. III turns around in his seat as best as they can with the seat belt limiting their movements, a hand coming to rest on Vessel's knee while III continues talking. III is pleased when it soothes a bit of the anxiety they can feel in the bond, the rest of the drive feeling less tense with one of them not so stressed. Vessel slowly inches the fingers of one hand onto III's before wrapping them around loosely, in case III wants to pull away. III casts a smile through their mask Vessel's way, curling their fingers around Vessel's hand in return. Vessel cannot stop his smile the rest of the drive, a small thing that remains as he continues to sing along quietly to the radio.

II parks in a lot with a multitude of stores at the behest of III when they point out a few thrift stores in the area. They know the area far better than II and Vessel, having lived here Before, so following their directions is easy.

As II and III get out of the car, Vessel still sits perfectly still in the back, except the trembling of his hands as his claws pick at the skin around his nails.

II leans back in from where he's gotten out the drivers side door and not closed it yet, "Are you sure you're okay with this sweetheart?"

Vessel nods, even though he is anything but okay. He wants the floor to open up and swallow him whole to escape the stares and the whispers he knows he will hear.

"I don't mind just picking you out some things if you tell me your size, Sugar." III says from beside II, wanting to lean in and look at Vessel properly but knowing there isn't room to do so.

"No, I'm okay. I promise. Just..." Vessel takes a deep breath, "Hold my hands?"

II and III smile, II's a soft lift of one side of his mouth that just barely allows his dimple to appear, and III a big grin. "Of course, I would love to hold your hand." III exclaims while II follows it up with an agreement, stating that he already does that anyway.

Vessel gets out, and his hands are taken in warm ones immediately. It helps, immensely, for them to be so near. To be so willing to touch him.

"What style do you prefer, Sugar?" III asks, attempting to distract Vessel, dragging both II and Vessel with them as they head to the first thrift store III sees.

Vessel stares resolutely at the cracked concrete sidewalk, anxiety making his hands shake as he feels the eyes of the townspeople on the three of them.

"Ah, modern Victorian emo, I suppose? I'm not sure what to call it. I love the Victorian style shirts with the puffy sleeves and more flowy material, but I always leaned towards black skinny jeans and chains, with boots." Vessel stumbles over his words, trying to think back on when he actually dressed out of enjoyment and not just in whatever fit and was mostly clean when he got more depressed.

"I must say I'm not surprised at all." III laughs, squeezing II's hand gently next.

"And you, Doll?"

"Comfy, in monotone colors. Ah, techwear sometimes but I didn't have a lot of free time outside of my job so I mostly stayed at home to drum and read, or game on occasion. Those clothes didn't get much use Before."

"I am also not surprised at that. You seem like a techwear kinda guy." III hums, pulling them along into the two-story building.

It's brightly lit with violet and white paisley patterned walls, small clear-crystal chandeliers and modern light fixtures hanging down a bit too close to head level, with rows upon rows of clothing racks tightly packed into the small shop, organized by color. Racks of shoes and purses line the walls, and towards the back is a couple changing rooms. Crossed off with a chain to the right of the changing rooms, a white-painted staircase leads up to the second floor.

"The old woman who lives here is legally blind, but can still see somewhat. She won't mind our masks. I used to come here all the time Before, she was always kinder than the other townspeople." III says, pulling Vessel along with them as II wanders off, only after making sure Vessel is alright.

Vessel lingers close as III leads them to the black clothing section, letting them pick out clothes at their whim. III has a mound of clothes piled in their arms before long, and Vessel offers to carry them.

"Oh, you don't have to do that Sugar." III refutes, gaze as soft as their smile.

"It's okay, I want to." Vessel assures, and smiles when III begins to hand the clothes over.

"I'll be taking these." II grabs the clothes before Vessel can, breezing by them with a smirk and an offhanded comment, "I'm the one with the super strength, and your arms are injured Ves."

Vessel pouts, watching II speed off as III laughs quietly. "He's right. I'm glad he interfered, your wounds slipped my mind."

"I'm not incapable. Besides, I did it to myself." Vessel frowns, flinching only slightly when III places their hand on his masked cheek a little too quickly.

"I would rather chop off my own limbs than purposefully cause you pain." III states seriously, without room for argument. "Two agrees, without a doubt. Let us be kind to you when you are unable to be kind to yourself. We care for you, Vessel."

Vessel doesn't say anything, but he smiles, taking III's hand and bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss to their bandaged knuckles, a whispered 'thank you' like a cold breeze on their skin. There is disbelief in the bond, uncertainty that III means what they say. Vessel wants to believe them, he really does. They've done nothing but exceed his expectations. They're kinder to him than anyone he has ever known.

Vessel loves them, both of them. He desperately wants to believe they love him too, but he doesn't know what love looks like, directed at himself. Everyone who has ever claimed to love him has destroyed him, body and mind. He doesn't know what gentle love looks like, would never be able to recognize it on his own.

Sleep knows this. For all that human emotion and its wide range has confounded him, it has also fascinated him. Sleep has watched humans fall in and out of love for millennia.

Sleep knows that His Vessel was never truly loved Before the God went to him. Sleep watched, listened. You do not belittle and antagonize until they snap under the weight of such cruelty. You do not hit those you love hard enough to mar their flesh with purple-blue.

Sleep knows that his vessels all love each other, His First simply cannot see it.

Perhaps it is time Sleep took action again, for the sake of His beloved First.

Vessel tilts his head at the feeling of Sleep's presence lingering near for but a moment before disappearing to the edges of his mind, where He usually stays. III's hand is still held in Vessel's own and when Vessel glances up through the thin mesh covering the eye holes of his mask, he finds III watching him keenly. A soft look and an emotion Vessel can't name thrums ever so gently through the bond, and Vessel forces himself to look away lest that tender gaze lights his soul ablaze.

Another customer walks up, browsing the items with no apparent concept for personal space. The woman leans in close to Vessel, eyeing his mask with an interested gaze.

Vessel clutches III's hand as he presses up against them to escape the woman, flush against III's side in his effort to escape the touch of a stranger. She watches him in interest for a moment, smiling a little to herself and batting her eyelashes. III continues shopping, humming quietly, pressing a little of their weight into Vessel. It's comforting, and appreciated. They reach for a long black pleated skirt at the same time as the other customer, and a stare down ensues.

There is a challenge in III's eyes, the mask covering their features to hide the mischievous smile, the sly humor that is so clear in the bond. There is a dare in the deep ocean of his eyes, as if to say "go ahead, grab it. I dare you. I'll take it personally." Vessel doesn't quite understand how that worked so easily, as the intimidated customer quickly retreats to the other end of the store.

III's eyes still hold some remnant of challenge when they turn to smile down at Vessel, letting go of Vessel's hand to swing one lanky arm around Vessel to pull him closer.

Ah, perhaps Vessel is just weak at the sight of III's ocean eyes surrounded by such long lashes.

"Let's go find Two. I found some stuff for all of us to try on, but I'd like his opinion as well, aside from him running off with the clothes." III says, keeping his arm around Vessel's shoulder, keeping Vessel close.

Vessel doesn't pull away, doesn't even think to force himself out of III's personal space. He's too busy swimming in the contentment such simple affection brings.

The arm feels possessive. Vessel tries not think about how much the idea appeals to him. Vessel wants to be coveted by III, by II. While Vessel wants them to want him enough to be possessive over him, the thought... unsettles him. The distress sits where his heart uses to lay. Deep in his chest, encircling very rib like ivy that cannot be torn away, aching like the memories of people he can't remember.

"What're you thinking about, Sugar?"

"Before." Vessel answers simply, still a little lost in thought.

III hums, pulling Vessel impossibly closer as they near II, then speaks after a moment, "If you ever want to talk about what you remember, I'm all ears. I'd be glad to share the burden of your past if it eases the weight on your shoulders."

Vessel takes time to think of what to respond with. He is always so astonished by the things they say, and sometimes, the only thing he can manage is small, unsure, "Thank you."

II has piled all of their items in an overflowing basket that swamps his form as he holds it. It's a wonder he can see past it, and Vessel frowns, hoping it isn't too heavy, even knowing that II has extraordinary strength. "We ready to try all of this on?" II asks.

III confirms and they all head over to the small changing room section. There are only two, one unoccupied and the other out of order, marked off with a sign that says the same. III has the most clothes, so Vessel and II send them in first.

They sit next to each other on a too small bench, fingers clasped together on top of their thighs pressed close. It doesn't take long for III to come out of the changing room, and Vessel barely manages to stop his mouth from dropping open at the sight of him.

III is in a pair of baggy black cargo pants pulled low and tight at the waist with a white and black checkered belt. A tight black high necked crop hugs their chest, exposing their stomach and the shiny,  black gem of a silver belly ring.

A fierce blush flames on Vessel's face all the way up to his ears and he is eternally grateful for his mask. Not so grateful for the bond that he kept open, broadcasting his flustered state and the hint of arousal.

III is gorgeous.

II nudges Vessel's shoulder with his own, laughing at the embarrassed smile pulling at Vessel's cheeks.

"I-is this okay?" III asks, suddenly nervous.

"You look beautiful!" II compliments, gently nudging Vessel in the ribs with an elbow.

"You should wear crop tops more often." Vessel blurts before covering his face with his hands.

II laughs, and after a moment, III follows, their nerves slipping away to be replaced by mirth. Vessel knows the laughter is not out of cruelty. Embarrassment swells within him, and Vessel feels as though he will burst with it.

"Here's hoping the few others I picked out fit, then." III smiles, before heading back into the changing room.

They come out in more revealing tops, some tight, others flowing and loose. There are a few long sleeved shirts and t-shirts in the mix, as well as plain jeans, shorts, and cargo pants. At one point, III comes out in a few skirts, both long and short. One particular skirt, pleated and a pretty pale blue that exposes his lower thigh, catches Vessel's attention. Vessel only looks away when they twirl a little, and his face goes up in flames once more, ducking his head a bit and averting his gaze elsewhere.

By the time its II's turn, III has gotten nearly everything they tried on and hums happily, tapping their fingers along Vessel's knuckles, hands held close while they wait for II to come out.

They don't have to wait long before II exits the changing room in a pair of cargo pants much like III has gotten, held up by a simple black belt, and a plain black t-shirt. "There really wasn't much to my interest or size in this store, which is fine. It happens." II says, unbothered, stuffing his hands in the pockets of the pants.

"We can check out some others, this town is full of 'em." III offers, apologetically.

"No, its fine. I'm content with what I've got at home, and hopefully some of this will fit." II assures, and III nods, smiling.

II goes back in the changing room, coming out a few times with outfits that are mostly the same style. Comfortable  and monotone, just as he'd said.

Vessel thinks he looks pretty in every single one of them. II would look pretty in a potato sack, Vessel is sure.

Too soon, it's Vessel's turn. III had managed to find an older style shirt, and Vessel is careful about putting it on.

When he exist the changing room, II and III share a look with matching grins.

"That style definitely suits you." II comments as III hops up, speeding over to Vessel, walking a slow, appraising circle around him.

"How did you manage to find this?" Vessel asks rhetorically, in quiet awe of III's find.

The black shirt is loose, with long sleeves that balloon further toward his wrist, where its then cuffed tightly, held closed by a button. There's a small V cut into the chest, held loosely closed by a black silk ribbon. Vessel hasn't owned a shirt like this in some time. He always loved the dramatic flair shirts like these brought to his outfits.

It fits perfectly.

Vessel is truly a beautiful sight, III thinks.

His hair was pulled back into a messy bun, loose strands framing his mask, leaving his pointed ears on display. III was surprised no one asked about them, but they suppose they could explain them away as a body modification if anyone was bold enough to question them publicly. It wouldn't be too odd considering the rest of their attire. III can just barely see the middle pair of Vessel's eyes peeking out from the middle eye holes of his mask, only the red of his iris' visible.

Vessel looks up, finally, and meets III's eyes, smile soft, "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Sugar. I'll keep an eye out for things like that from now on. The style really does suit you."

III had managed to find a couple of other shirts like the one Vessel had initially tried on. Their condition wasn't great, holes and tears in the sleeves, but Vessel didn't mind. He could just wear them with some of his ripped jeans to match.

When everyone is done shopping at that particular store, Vessel hands the credit card over to II, who leaves him with III to go pay, carrying all of the clothing with ease despite III and Vessel's protests. Holding hands with II and III has become so easy, like second nature. Vessel does not think that it is an act, at least, when they wordlessly ask to hold his hand. Over time, he has grown to cherish it. One action of clear care that he can admit to himself is genuine.

II comes back quickly enough, bags in hand, and they head out, intending to put their bags in the car before going to the only store in town that sells the sort of electronics III wants to buy.

"I don't know what fashion icon finally decided to aim for mental stability and get therapy in this tiny, shit town but I am forever thankful. I found some really good stuff!" III exclaims happily, as they pile the bags of clothes in the trunk of the car.

The game store is a quick affair, and III walks out of the shop with a big grin and a brand new PlayStation console with a few games to try. The large store that doubles as groceries and appliances i next, and they tie down a large tv to the top of the car a bit too precariously. Their next stop is a store that sells phones. III mentions there's one nearby, just a couple blocks down in another outdoor shopping center.

As they are putting the large box in the trunk alongside their clothes from the thrift store, III glances up. His gaze catches on some passerby further into the parking lot.

A man is wearing a deep crimson shirt. It would be pretty if not for the specific color, stark against the streetlight, and III can't tear his eyes away.

The sight makes III nauseous.

He doesn't know why the color is unsettling him so thoroughly all of a sudden, when they know they've seen similar shades all day. Perhaps its the exhaustion of long shopping trips settling into his bones and making him susceptible to the traumas deep in his mind.

"III?" Vessel asks, quiet and unsure, hesitant, no doubt feeling their distress.

Vessel wished he never said anything at all. The look III gives him when the other pulls their gaze to meet Vessel's eyes, it's- Vessel will never forget the look in III's eyes. They're so... haunted.

III can't look at Vessel. All he sees is blood, so much blood. In their minds eye, a flash of Vessel, bleeding from the healed scars on his body overlaps with reality. Blood is soaking through his clothes, slowly spreading from his arms, his thighs, his hips. It dribbles from his mouth, and III shakes their head, hoping to rid the image from his mind.

"I'll be right back." They manage, just barely, struggling to keep the contents of their stomach inside.

III would hate to puke up breakfast after Vessel put so much effort into it. It'll take forever to get the taste of vomit and pancakes out of his mouth every time he even thinks about eating more.

"Oh, we can go with you." II starts, still half in the car from where he was about to get in.

"No! No, its fine. I'll be right back, promise, I just need to use the restroom." III lies hastily, the taste of it like ash on their tongue.

Vessel and II watch them go, their worry in the bond palpable. III hates to be the cause of such concern.

There's a gas station nearby, across the road. The clerk at the front hands him a key when they ask about a restroom, directing him outside and around to the back of the building. The sun has set by now, only dim lights leading the way. It would be creepy if III didn't have night vision, able to see clearly without any issues.

By the time he actually gets into the restroom and locks the door, most of the nausea has passed. III takes a moment to calm down further, wanting to get back to the others but still shaken up. Their hands tremble under the faucet as they wash them with cheap soap that smells far too chemically for III's liking.

Fuck. III hates the trepidation they caused in Vessel's bond because they couldn't keep control over their reaction to a fucking color. III used to love red, why did that have to chance because he saw some blood?

He knows its not just because it was blood.

It was the look on Vessel's face. The apathy in the bond. The ease with which he had cut into his arm, the sight of the blood beading up and spilling over.

III covers his mouth quickly to stifle the sudden gag, the nausea back tenfold. Fuck. Fuck.

A few tears slip from his eyes, sliding into his mask to leave glittering golden specks on the soft material. They are hyper aware of the bandage wrapped around their hand, pulling their hand back to stare at the white cloth. His palm and fingers ache where the blade sliced deep in his haste to get it away from Vessel. They don't regret it.

They wait in the restroom until the tremble in their hands is barely noticeable, until the nausea has receded and not returned for a good bit. Ten minutes must have passed by that point. He's been away from Vessel and II for too long, as II tugs ever so slightly on the bond in question. III replicates the action, feeling II's worry and wanting to assuage some of it.

Tucking some stray strands of hair behind their ear, III lets II's response of agreement wash over him. He still isn't sure how they all can get certain feelings or ideas down the bond, but III is thankful for it anyway. Taking a deep breath, III steps out of the restroom, its key in hand, gaze a little distant, lost in his own mind.

Then, there is a hand over his mouth, an arm around his throat, placing tight pressure as III gasps out precious air in surprise. They kick out uselessly, alarm bells ringing in his mind as a large form drags him into the forest beside the gas station. II and Vessel's bonds are immediately a mess of confusing emotions, swamping him with their own fear and his.

Fuck.