#but the concept of a bath is nice. very nice. i miss being able to take them w/o a care in the world. now everything feels gross though

[oscill4te]

grounding techniques for dissociation almost never work for me except heat-based grounding techniques.. i just luv sitting on the ground by my heater like a cat who basks in warm sunlight.. or having a hot cup of tea in my cold hands. Romanticizing my shoebox of a life.

[virgo-dream]

✨ dreamling / fluff / acts of service / mature ✨

SUMMARY: It’s been 10 days since Dream of The Endless was rescued from Fawney Rig by one Hob Gadling, who takes it upon himself to see to Dream’s recovery. While with Hob, Dream is provided with something he’d been missing even before his imprisonment: to be cared for. read ch. 03: healing waters (2,9k+ words) here or on AO3 AUTHOR'S NOTE: The way I fully spoiled the name of this chapter on my previous May Dream post (because it was supposed to be chapter two's name before I decided to divide it in two)... Well, here's the much awaited bath! And... something else at the end. :)

Out of the many things Dream had been deprived of during his imprisonment, the ones that hurt the most were those he never admitted to himself were essential to his well being. He'd given up on the concept of caring for his own needs the day he buried his son. Living in the Dreaming, quite literally inside his own head, he was able to shun out anything that didn't serve his self inflicted penitence. Still, it was a prison of his own fashioning. Being bound to the Waking, stripped of his power and divinity, he was brought lower than Orpheus had descended. And still, he was alive and his child was long gone. And now, alive still, Dream was faced to confront the very thing he'd denied his own son: the gentleness of never ending support and devotion. 

Dream had noticed how careful Hob was whenever it was necessary to touch him. Since being brought to Hob's flat, Dream had greeted him with varying levels of consciousness, veering from completely present and grounded to uncalled for rudeness and violence, falling into melancholia, apathy and, finally, guilt for all he was subjecting his greatest (and only, for all he knew) friend. Hob was patient, more than any saint Dream had ever known, and knew exactly how to calm him down, to stoke the quickly spreading fire of despair that lit up with no warning. Dream vaguely remembered an attempt at a bath a couple of days prior, that was met with an outburst of rage turned into a panic attack. He could see why Hob would wait to try again, and even if it didn't seem like it, Dream was feeling better.

"I'm gonna help you up now, duck." It was nice to be told when a touch was coming. It was also nice to notice Hob didn't ask for permission, that he felt confident enough in Dream's capacity to understand there was no threat in his actions. The endearment in his voice was enough to communicate his intentions, and Dream knew he could rely on Hob's honesty. It was also nice to feel relied upon. Dream nodded in acknowledgement, and watched as Hob moved towards him, leaning down.

Hob's arm slipped underneath Dream's with gentle precision, curling around his back and letting his hand find refuge on a frail ribcage, protected by the soft fabric of one of his many worn out cotton t-shirts turned pyjamas. Hob's skin felt warm, even if not in direct contact with Dream's own, but in his current state Dream couldn't help but feel every physical sensation there was, to have every nerve on his body fire up when he was touched. Touched by Hob. Hob who had claimed him, even if unknowingly. Dream's eyes were trained on him, watching the way the muscles on Hob's face expressed all the efforts his body made, how his eyes crinkled at the corners and his cheeks squished his lower eyelids as he helped Dream up to his feet. He was completely caught up in the spell of Hob's humanity, so much that it took him a moment to realise he was being spoken to.

"...walk to the bathroom?"

"Hm?" Dream's eyes blinked a few times, suddenly grounded back in the Waking. 

"Do you think you can walk to the bathroom?" Of course Hob would repeat himself without a hint of judgement in his tone. Of course he was better than Dream in every aspect. Of course.

Dream allowed himself a sly smile, just a gentle curve of his lips, allowing his eyes to find Hob's and stay there. "I would not forfeit my couch privileges so easily, Hob. I understand those are at stake at present." 

"Ah, yes. Yes, of course." Hob chuckled, looking up at the ceiling for a moment. Dream didn't quite understand why humans sometimes looked up when amused by something. Did they believe to be in communion with some higher being, sharing their amusement with said deity? Was it just how their nerves told their bodies to react? So much to ponder in a split second. "Well, ready when you are."

Dream took a moment to assess the situation. He could feel the weakness of his legs, still not entirely used to being stretched fully, nor carrying the full weight of him. He wasn't sure he'd ever needed to rely on the muscles, bones and tendons of his physical form before; even when he visited the Waking, his presence was as ephemeral as his existence. Only now, that his powers were cut off from him did he realise how much he'd neglected himself. His eyes darted back and forth between Hob and the bathroom door, afraid of failing on the first step. He'd been made to fear many things during his imprisonment, and Hob's pity was among the top of his list. 

Still, Hob had already done so much. And Dream had never given anything back to him. His friend. His companion. His Hob. So a step he'd take, literally and figuratively (because in the Waking those were different things, unfortunately). He hoped Hob would be able to read the meaning of it. Of what it meant for Dream to try. And so, he took the first step. 

˜˜˜

Dream's legs only trembled for the beginning of his small walk to the bathroom, which Hob had told him was a very good thing. His muscles had not gone into complete atrophy, which was a testament to his divine nature, and it meant the fatigue would start wearing off the more Dream attempted these short walks. Hob always seemed to be filled with hope, and it was fitting, really. Hope fit Hob so damn nicely, like the suit he'd worn to the White Horse in 1889. This time, Dream would allow himself to see Hob wear it. 

Hob helped Dream sit down on the toilet, then leaning down to check the temperature of the bath water. It was warm enough to fog up the mirror, which Dream was thankful for; he wasn't willing to see his own reflection quite yet. Not ready to face the damage, or maybe be greeted by the same old sorry face he'd lived in for the past couple millenia. Maybe it was worse. So much worse, and it would mean he'd been defeated by Burgess, somehow. Brought lower than grief ever could. Made little, insignificant. Made human–

A warm hand squeezed a bony, cold one.

"Dream, come back to me."

To you, always.

"Would you like help getting undressed?"

A thousand bells seemed to ring inside Dream's head all at once. His brows furrowed, lips parted in a stutter of words he wasn't quite ready to let out. He seemed confused, at first, but it was really the speechlessness the question had left him in.

"It's alright, I can wait outside–"

"No." It was all Dream managed, but it was a beginning. All stories must begin before they have the chance to end. 

"...no to waiting outside or to getting undressed?" Hob's questioning seemed genuine, even more with the gentle smile it was accompanied by. His hand had not left Dream's either, and it made it easier for Dream to find his footing in the situation. Remember he wasn't alone, and that he didn't need to be. Not now. 

"I do not wish to be undressed. I can bathe as I am now." He was calling the shots, Hob had said. He mustn't do anything he wasn't comfortable with. He'd set the pace. 

Hob was silent for a bit, the cogs turning inside his brain almost audible. "...I'm gonna apologise for even asking this, but I just want to understand. Feel free to tell me to bugger off. Do you not want to be naked, or do you not want to be seen naked?" 

It was a valid question, Dream thought. But it was one that required a bigger understanding of his own anxiety than Dream knew to look for, and it made him flustered to not know how to answer. This was way beyond the depths of his knowledge. He knew all, but all meant nothing when presented with a question filled with so much respect and care. 

"It's okay, Dream." Hob squeezed Dream's hand once more, letting his thumb rub circles on the back of Dream's hand. It was soothing, and Dream allowed himself to let his eyes close, taking in a deep breath. "I get it. It's hard to tell these things apart sometimes. And I respect it. You deserve your privacy. I'm just… trying to figure out a way to help you without hurting you more, you know?"

Ah, the kindness of his words. The way they enveloped themselves around Dream's shoulders, caressed his cheek and kissed his forehead. He could almost see bluebirds taking flight around them, and feared that maybe Delirium was eavesdropping on their conversation. Or perhaps this was what daydreaming felt for those who experienced it firsthand. 

"...I have to qualm with being seen by you." Dream couldn't look at Hob while saying that, but he mustered all the strength he found within himself to do so for the rest of what he had to say. "I am not ready to… see."

"Hm." Hob took a moment in silence to ponder. Dream watched him attentively, trying to read what he was thinking from the way the wrinkles on his forehead shifted as he seemed to settle on something. The vapour rising from the bathtub must be really warm too, because Hob seemed flushed too. "Do you trust me?"

He nodded, no hesitation whatsoever. This he was sure of. Hob took another short pause before continuing, seeming a little more confident now. "...then you look at me, and I'll look at you. Your face, I mean. I'll only see what you're comfortable with, and you'll have to look at my ugly mug. Unfortunately you get the low end of the deal this time." 

Dream tilted his head slightly, brows furrowed. "You are nothing short of beautiful, Hob." It made no sense to him for Hob to not see what he saw. Maybe this exercise would prove mutually beneficial; to see the other, to let the other see through the mirror of friendly eyes.

Hob let out a laugh that sounded a bit like a snort, shaking his head and looking away for a moment. "Flatterer. A week and a half on the left side of the couch for that one." Dream thought of protesting, for he was only stating the truth. Hob was quicker, turning back to look at him, eyes locking with Dream's searching ones. 

Out of the many things Dream had been deprived of prior to his imprisonment, the intimacy of touch had been one of the ones that hurt him the most. He'd forgotten to miss it, like he'd forgotten to miss his siblings or the sunshine in the summer. How he'd forgotten to miss music, laughter, the gentle aroma of flower fields in spring. Touch. Hob's fingers curled around the hem of the t-shirt he was wearing, the back of his fingers grazing his skin gently as he pulled the shirt over Dream's head. How Hob's eyes did not wander down, even though it wouldn't be a problem if they did. Then, the ghost of Hob's warmth, as his hands travelled down to the waistband of the sweatpants hanging loosely around Dream's hips. How he pulled them down ever so gently, waiting for Dream to lift his hips up, then pulling each leg off, always careful not to go too fast, too rough. And there they were, those brown eyes. Locked onto Dream's. 

Silence fell between them for what felt like 100 years.

"...you wanna do the boxers?" Unlike Dream, Hob did not look away when he asked a question. He pushed through, always, and his willingness to help was admirable. 

Much like Dream didn't want to walk to the kitchen earlier to not deprive himself of Hob's touch, here too he'd hide his motives. He shook his head, and held Hob's gaze as he'd once done Calliope's. He wished Hob would hold him like a lover, but he'd settle for being undressed by a friend if it was all Destiny would have in store for him. 

"...alright. Um. Lift 'em up."

Now, the warmth was no longer a ghost, and it travelled down his legs for a bit, just enough for Hob to be able to pull his boxer shorts off. Now, Dream was fully undressed, but he didn't feel any more exposed than Hob did. It was a wonder, how Hob never made him feel beneath him, how he was always able to meet Dream wherever he was. 

Hob kept their eyes locked as he helped Dream up once more, and finally into the tub. The water felt warmer than Dream had expected, but it was not so much that it would overwhelm him completely. He sat down, and the water compelled him to stretch out his limbs, allowing himself to take up space. It felt strange, being engulfed by water once more, allowing his muscles to relax under the healing properties of the very source of life. He felt Anuket's embrace, Amphitrite's welcoming gaze and Anahita's gentle touch. He could hear Damona call for assistance, only to be met by Mariamman's kindness and readiness, Iara's gentle song and Oshun's motherly love. Had he known so many of them would come to his aid, maybe Dream would have asked sooner. Still, none were sweeter than Hob's smile, which meant he'd found help exactly where he needed it.

"Wanna lean your head back? I can fold a towel for you, then you won't have to lean against the hard tub."

It was a tempting offer, and Dream couldn't help but to notice the softness in Hob's voice, almost as if he feared he'd disturb somehow. Maybe he'd noticed how Dream seemed to have really relaxed for once, and was attempting to not break him out of the spell the goddesses had put him under. Dream nodded, and Hob reached for the closest towel, rolling it to give volume, placing it behind Dream's head. When he leaned back, his eyes fell closed almost instantly. 

"Need help washing?" Hob asked, voice still soft and low. Dream was glad the water was warm and would be able to disguise the gentle blush on his cheeks. He nodded, eyes still closed. When the bath sponge touched his skin, Dream didn't even flinch. 

There were many forces at work at that moment. That of friendly gods, welcoming Dream back into freedom. That of friendly man, filled with respect and kindness. That of yearning heart, so primal yet unwilling to grow out of its hunger. Dream almost felt like a child, being handled by hands more skilled than his own, allowed to not be in full control. When Hob asked him to sit up so that he could wash Dream's hair, he complied gladly, letting out a satisfied groan when Hob's hands massaged his scalp. Hob, once again, was right; the nourishment he believed his physical form didn't require was more than welcome, and it was able to reach Dream's essence. The bath wasn't only for his skin, as was the healing not limited to flesh wounds. Hob poured water over Dream's head and bubbles of shampoo travelled down the bones of his spine. Dream yawned, and it felt glorious. He felt the care he so diligently placed over his dreamers now gifted back to him. 

All that came after felt like a sleepy blur. He remembered being warped in a towel and being carried back to the bedroom. The gentleness of Hob's touch as he dressed him, the soft scratch of a hairbrush detangling his feathery hair. Hob nudged him gently to ask if he wanted to sleep, and Dream was more sleep than man now, nodding as he made himself comfortable on Hob's bed. 

There was something he did remember quite vividly. 

"...stay, Hob."

"It's alright, really. I'm gonna miss my side of the couch, might as well sleep there tonight."

"...I do not wish to be left alone." Dream reached for Hob's hand, squeezing it with a little more strength than he had the days prior. It made Hob smile, bright as the sun, and Dream was ready to bask in it. Willing, even. "...please." It was the magic word between humans. 

"Alright, you win." 

There was no resignation in Hob's voice. There was just the gentle song of his heart, and when he laid beside Dream, it felt like being home again, wherever home was. Dream didn't let go of Hob's hand, nor did he allow for there to be too much distance between them. He thought he could feel the smile on Hob's lips even with his eyes closed. He hoped to carry it to the Dreaming with him, even if he only visited for a few hours every night.

˜˜˜

Hob's phone buzzed a few times on the bedside table, noisy enough to wake him up. He reached for the cellphone with his free hand, lowering the screen brightness the moment it attacked his eyes. It was 4am. 

You've had him for almost two weeks. Is he ready to talk?  (3:51am)

It took his eyes a moment to adjust and to be able to read the texts and comprehend them. It made his chest tighten, eyes darting between the screen and Dream's sleeping face.

He's in no shape to help. Won't be for a while. Can't expose him to this shit now. (4:02am)

This shit is his fault too. (4:03am)

It's not and you know it. We can talk in the morning. I'm turning my phone off. (4:04am)

Fine. But I can't wait much longer. (4:04am)

Hob sighed and turned his phone off. This was a problem for another day. Hopefully one he could delay indefinitely.

[superjerrbear-81]

There's a story behind this. When I was about seven or eight years old, I watched most of this movie while waiting for my dad to assist me in getting dressed for school. We both woke up early because it was easier for him to get me ready before he went to work. The typical morning routine consisted of my bath, then he puts me in bed while I wait for him to finish showering and dressing. In the meantime, I got to watch TV.

IIRC, I missed the last 10 or 15 minutes of this movie. While he was helping me get dressed and in my wheelchair, I missed the ending. I was able to pay attention as I was being dressed. I was very disappointed to miss the ending, but I didn't think it wise to complain too much. But, it only took one complaint for my dad to offer up some advice. He told me I could probably catch it again as a rerun.

With this in mind, I spent the next two weeks randomly checking the Guide Channel every few hours to see if it was back on. Of course, I couldn't check it during specific times of the day, so it may have rerun while I was at school or asleep. I didn't forget about the movie, but I stopped looking for it. Then, I suddenly had an inkling to check YouTube.

I couldn't remember if it was simply called Jack and the Beanstalk or if it went by some other name, so I typed "Jack and the Beanstalk with a princess" into the search bar. Sure enough, the first result was a clip from the movie. I investigated the first result, but the movie playing immediately after the clip was the last thing I expected. I didn't even notice it in the video queue.

For the sake of argument, let's say I was seven years old. Wow, it only took me 34 years to finally finish watching this movie! It was nice to revisit something I gave up on because I couldn't catch it at the right time. This movie had more influence on me than I thought.

The first thing I noted on this second viewing is the animation style. Once upon a time, I was obsessed with anime. If my timeline is correct, this would be the first official anime I've ever seen. At the time, after seeing the princess's design, I wanted to see more cartoons in that style. Other than her design, this looks like a typical 70s animated cartoon.

I originally thought Voltron, Superbook, and The Flying House were my first brushes with anime (I still consider Vampire Hunter D my first true introduction to the concept of anime), but this movie precedes them by a year. Still, I'm not ruling out the possibility that I had an earlier brush with anime preceding Jack and the Beanstalk.

For as long as I remember, I've been in love with falling in love. The first movie to reinforce this is still The Princess Bride, but this one is the second one. Something about Jack and Margaret's interactions made me want that for myself. The romance aspect was my second favorite part of this movie.

My number one favorite part was the action. There's not much of it, but what they have is entertaining. Too bad I missed the ending the first time around because I would've loved the final act.

Jack and the Beanstalk also solidified me into a lifelong fan of the underdog. I was already a fan before this movie, but this movie caused me to be more interested in underdog stories. Although I'm sure if I hadn't seen it, something else would have made me a fan of underdog stories.

As a kid, I was very familiar with the original story, so I knew this one could only end one way. Considering the only way for Jack to see Margaret again is if he gets more magical beans to grow a new beanstalk, it's highly unlikely they'll have a full happily ever after. On the upside, at least the adventure led to Jack having a better life. He and his mother don't have to worry about money issues anymore.

One last thing, am I the only one that finds it a little dark how happy the cow is to be taken to the butcher? Animals are clearly shown to understand the people in the story, yet the cow happily comes along after Jack's mother tells him to sell her to the butcher…

[harrywritingsbyme]

Full

Anonymous Said: pls cnc with daddy H plsssss 

Based Off Of This Ask

A/N: Okay...so as I was writing this, I realized just how much I loved this concept. Like it’s so soft, but also rlly spicy(and I added a shit ton of spice on top of that...you’re welcome). There’s some soft cnc in here too. So I hope y’all like it...this is kinda breaking me out of the whole not being motivated to write even tho I have ideas in my head that I’m dying to expand on and do a fic about them thing I’ve been on since my last fic. And since this is my first fully written fic in a good lil while, I hope it doesn’t suck too bad and I hope you guys love ittt...enjoy🙃

3.7k wordsss

You were having a little bit of a rough night. For the most part, everything was going fine ever since you went to bed a couple hours earlier. You were in your favorite and incredibly comfy sleep shirt, you were all cuddled up and cozy in Harry’s arms, and there was a cute little plug nestled inside your second entrance. Well, you had a cute little plug nestled inside of you. 

After your initial cuddles with Harry that ultimately sent you both right to sleep, you started to move around a bit in your sleep. While Harry thought it was absolutely adorable, you always went to bed with a mission of trying not move around too much. But no matter how much you thought you could keep still, you really couldn’t. You just loved your sleep and couldn’t help but to roll around. Especially if it meant that you were getting a good nights rest. Now most nights while you were doing your nightly rolls(or competing in the sleep olympics as Harry liked to call it) you rolled around your side of the bed(and into Harry)without your plug falling out. You were able to keep it safe and sound inside of you for the whole night usually and not have to worry about losing it inn the sheets. That was most nights, but not tonight. As you were peacefully sleeping next to, or directly on Harry at some points, the bunny plug you chose for the night managed to slip out of you and into the sheets. Now you didn’t wake up immediately after it slipped out of you, but you did wake up not too long after. And when you did wake up, you felt different. Not only were you incredibly close to falling asleep again, you also felt empty. You’d grown so used to having your second hole filled every night and pretty much all the time for that matter, that you were desperate to find your plug and push it back inside. 

See, Harry was beyond obsessed with pushing these princess plugs as he liked to call them into you. Their main purpose is to train your second entrance so that you could be adjusted enough to eventually take more inside and be more comfortable in the process. The whole idea of training and stretching you to fit his cock inside was absolutely amazing to him and quite the turn on as well. And even after pushing into your “glorious” second entrance, Harry still wanted to use the plugs on you. He wanted you to always be stretched and ready for his cock. With that being said Harry was always on top of you having one inside at all times. When you went to bed at night, he’d let you choose which plug you liked the most for that night and he’d pull you over his lap so that he play with you a bit and ease the pretty accessory into you. And he’d do the exact same thing in the morning when you were just out of the shower(or bath; he liked to spoil you in the morning if he went rough on you the night before). And when he wasn’t at home to fill you himself, he’d instruct you to call him via FaceTime right after your shower. No matter the time, or what he was doing in that moment, he’d always step away to answer your call. And he always did just that. Once you were in contact with him, you have your ritual morning/first conversation of the day, and then he goes about instructing you on how to fill your second entrance.

The first step in the process would be choosing your plug…which could be pretty hard sometimes. Throughout you guys’ time working on your much tighter hole, a large collection of pretty plugs was acquired. There was a range of sizes that showed your progress(which Harry was incredibly proud of by the way), and each size had an array of different colors, materials, and shapes. You were hands down obsessed with all of them and you hated when it was time to choose a new one. There were even a couple glass plugs that were designated for when Harry really wanted to play with you, or for when he wanted you to look extra pretty. And along with those and the other plugs, there were two vibrating plugs that were slightly larger than the rest, and they had either a jewel of a fluffy bunny tail on top. Both were designated for when Harry wanted to make a mess of you or for when you were being punished. They were also kept in Harry’s box of toys, the box you weren’t allowed to go in. But back to your wide array of options and choosing just one of them. As you looked through the toys, Harry would give you some suggestions and help you choose the best one for the day.

And once you’ve chosen your princess plug for the day, you head back over to the bed. Harry then instructs you to prop your phone up against the pillows at the head of the bed so that he could get the perfect view of what you were doing. He’d then tell you to get the lube he always uses on you from the drawer of his side table, and bend over in front of him; well, him through the phone. From that point on, he guides you through the final steps of filling your second hole and he gets to watch it all. And hear your whines too. He thought you sounded so cute as you spread the lube around the area, and when you start to nudge the plug past the tight ring of muscles, or when you felt the lube sliding down to your already glistening pussy. Once your nice and filled, Harry would sing your praises. All the way through you guys’ explosive round of phone sex, and  he wouldn’t stop until the phone is hung up.

So yeah, with all that being said, you were definitely not used to being empty like you were now. Especially since Harry always made sure to keep you filled at all times. Even when he was away! After feeling around for your princess plug and turning up with nothing, you started to get quite frustrated. And on top of that you were starting so slip into your subspace. All you wanted at this point was for Harry to find your plug, fill you back up, cuddle with you, and go back to sleep together. That’s it. You hated to wake him up but you were slipping further into your subspace and you were feeling needy. So even enough you didn’t want to, you try and wake Harry up. You begin to softly whisper in his ear and nudge at his shoulder to wake him. And after about a minute or so you were able to successfully wake Harry up a little bit.

“What’s the matter darling.” He asks concernedly, his words slurred and his voice heavily overcome with sleep, so deep it sent a little shock to your core. 

“Can’t find my princess plug daddy!” You softly whine to him, your voice laced with your need for Harry to make you feel better. 

“It’s alright baby, daddy gonna find it for you.” He softly replies, waking up more and more as he talked to you.

“Please daddy, feel so empty.” You mumble in response. 

“Daddy’s gonna get you all filled up again, don’t you worry sweetheart.” He reassures, lifting his head from the pillows to lean over and press a small kiss to your nose before completely lifting himself up. He then pulls the covers off of his body and stands up from the bed. “M’gonna turn the light on now.” He warns, giving you a chance to prepare yourself before turning lamp on his bedside table on to start his search for your plug. 

He pulls the covers back from the top of the bed to expose you and the expanse of the bed before proceeding to shake the covers in hopes of shaking the plug out of them. But there was no plug to be found, leaving the floor as the last option for the location of the missing plug. He starts by checking the floor on his side of the bed where he was standing to see if he narrowly missed stepping on it when he got up. Upon confirming that it was not was not on the floor in his area, Harry begins to walk around the bed, coming to a halt when he reaches your side. 

“There you are.” He mumbles to himself, his eyes stopping on the pretty blue bunny plug that was lying on the floor next to the bed. Following the direction of his eyes, you peer over the edge, your eyes stopping in the same place as his. Harry then leans down to pick the accessory up.  “Gonna have to pick another one sweets. Gotta clean it in the morning.” He groans after leaning over,  giving you a little pout once he’s fully standing. 

“Still wanna be a bunny.” You reply simply, stating your preference as to what plug you’d like to have. 

“Okay” He chuckles at your cute and very simple answer. “And what color sweets?” He asks, beginning to back up in the direction of the closet.

“Hmm, pink please.” You decide. “Thank you daddy.” You continue, sending him a soft smile in the process. 

“Anything for my girl.” He replies, mirroring your smile and sending you a little wink before disappearing into the closet. He makes a b-line to the drawer with all of your plugs and plucks the pretty pink bunny plug that was exactly the same, all the way down to the size, as the last one. He then places the blue plug on one of the nearby shelves as a reminder to clean it and put it back in the drawer before turning out the light and heading back to you, keeping his hands with the plug behind his back. When he enters back into the room, he walks over to the bed, revealing the new plug to you once he reaches the end of the bed. Harry then, very simply and very nonchalantly, wags his finger around to signal you to turn around and get in position. And you immediately do just that. You turn yourself around at the top of the bed and you pull your sleep shirt up a bit to make sure it’s not blocking anything. When Harry sees this, he couldn’t stop his cock from twitching in his boxers. You were so eager to have your little hole filled again that you were going to do any and everything he said. 

Wasting no more time just standing there, Harry quickly walks over to his bedside table to grab the lube before crawling onto the bed behind you. Since you were on your hands and knees, Harry could see everything, causing his cock to harden even more in his pants. Whenever he fills your much tighter hole, Harry always makes sure that you’re comfortable in the process. So before doing anything, Harry reaches up and grabs a pillow from the top of the bed so you can have your hips lifted and not have to be on all fours or have your back arched. He tucks it underneath your hips, and then proceeds to instruct you to just lay down and relax against the bed.  Harry then pushes your thighs apart spreading you a bit wider before crawling on top of your plushy thighs. 

“Now pull em apart f’me baby.” He instructs, lightly tapping at your backside. And within seconds, Harry is watching you grip onto the flesh of your ass before pulling it apart to fully reveal yourself to him. “Look at that little hole. Absolutely amazing how it takes all of me inside.” He admires. When he sees your little hole contract below him, Harry couldn’t help but chuckle a little behind you. “I take it someone is excited.” He states playfully, bringing a finger down to poke at the tightened opening, causing you to clench up even more around his finger. He then grabs the bottle of lube from beside him and pops it open before squeezing a good amount of it down onto your hole. To ensure that you’re nice and ready for him so start pushing it back in, Harry brings two fingers down to spread the lube around, concentrating on your entrance. He then closes the bottle and drops it onto the bed, replacing it with the plug itself. Harry slots the head of it between his fingers and brings it down to your entrance. “Now be a good girl and relax f’me baby.” He whispers from behind, nudging the tip against your entrance. “Daddy’s got you.” He reassures, beginning to push the plug further. As he does this, he can hear faint whimpers and moans leaving your mouth, prompting him to whisper sweet reassurances to you and making his now incredibly hard cocks presence known.

Once the plug is fully inside, Harry gives your ass a little tap, signaling to you that you could let go. When you do, Harry just sits there and admires your backside. He couldn’t help but to fall in love with how cute the tail looked on you. To him, you looked like a proper little bunny. A proper, and utterly fuckable, little bunny. To him in this moment, you were his little fuck bunny. And he could really go for a good fuck. Especially considering how hard he was right now. There was no way he was going to bed with a rock hard cock. Especially when you’re so readily available to him.

 “Now what do you say after daddy has plugged you up so nicely?” Harry coos, lifting himself from you momentarily to shove his boxers off. 

“Thank you daddy.” You happily sigh, content with the feeling of your ass being filled again. You then begin to turn back onto your side but Harry is quick to push you back down onto your front, spread your legs back, and get back on top of you to keep you down. “What are you doing daddy?” You ask, completely confused as to what was going on. 

“Well daddy just wanted to give himself a treat for waking up in the middle of the night.” He says, bringing a hand down between your legs to your cunt.

“Just wanna sleep daddy.” You whine, trying to move around below him.

“Well you can baby, once m’done with you.” He simply replies, pushing his fingers between your sticky folds and against your weepy little hole. 

“No daddy!” You whine into the pillow below, trying to protest his actions and not let out a loud moan instead. 

“Stop being a little brat and just take my cock Y/n.” Harry groans, using his other hand to tug at his cock. Harry then moves himself closer to your center and lays himself on top of you, his mouth landing right at your ear, keeping one of his hands wrapped around his cock. He lifts his hips up from yours and blindly maneuvers his cock so that it’s hovering over your entrance. “And if you really meant that, you know what to do.” Harry reminds, referring to the safe word the two of you’d set when it came to your activities in the bedroom whether they were planned or not. Whatever it may have been, if either of you used it, everything stopped. The both of you, especially Harry though, took it seriously and wanted to make sure that it was there and known. 

As he reminds you of the safe word though, Harry begins to push his cock right into you. Sending you into a complete frenzy. Your protests came to a halt and your moans began. You were loudly moaning at the feeling of his cock sliding into you and completely filling you up. It felt so goo and you were so happy Harry kept going because you felt absolutely amazing. Once he’s fully inside, Harry takes a moment to get his bearings. You were a complete mess below him and he was beyond overwhelmed with how good you felt around him. Harry wanted to just have a good lazy fuck that would put you two right to bed. But with your pussy feeling like this around his cock, Harry was literally incapable of going slow. There was just something about your wetness and juices that unlocked his carnal desire to just fuck you. And on top of that, whenever you were subby, your sensitivity tended to be heightened. Which meant that you’d be a moaning mess the entire time and it would only take two seconds for you to explode around him. Also, Harry just loved pounding you and taking complete control over you when you were in your subby space. He was already in control, but this was so much more. So instead of pausing any longer, Harry dives right in and begins delivering the quickest, deepest, and hardest thrusts he possibly could.

“Daddy!” You shout, feeling him slam into the deepest part of you over and over again. You could feel the carnal desire he had in his thrusts. You could also hear it in the way he growled into your ear. While you loved being coddled while in your subspace, you also loved being controlled. Harry was just slamming his cock into you over and over agin, trying to relieve the pressure in his cock. Sure he wanted you to feel good, but he was more concerned with pleasuring himself and using your body to do just that. And in the process of doing that, he was making you feel like you were soaring.

As he continues with his beyond intense thrusts, Harry felt like he was on cloud nine. The way you were clenching up around him and just taking it all was extraordinary to him. You were being such a good girl and doing so well for him, taking his pounding and loving every second of it. He even made sure to tell you how good of a girl you were being, and even promised to fill your tummy with all of his cum if you kept being a good girl. And that you did. You continued to let him take you hard from behind and make you scream into the pillows. As the rhythm he had going with his hips continues, Harry alternates between lying right on your back and pinning your hips down and just mounting you so to speak. Sometimes he just wanted to see your little tail and watch his cock disappear into the magical cave as he liked to describe it, that was your cunt. Seeing that on top of hearing your cries out to daddy about how deep he was inside, how big he was, how rough he wad going on you, and how good it felt made it all ten times better and pushed Harry closer to his release.

“Such a good little fuck bunny f’me” Harry grunts into your ear, back to lying on top of you. “What are you doll?” He growls, staggering his thrusts to make them harder. 

“A fuck bunny!” You shout, struggling to form those three words.  

“And who do you belong to?” He growls, slamming his hips down into you again, demanding a prompt response from you.

“You daddy!” You reply through another whimper. As you replied to him, the part of your legs that weren’t pinned down flailed back and forth as you took each power and pleasure packed thrust. 

“Good girl. Now put it all together; I am…” He begins, leaving the rest for you to finish. 

“Daddy’s fuck bunny!” You reply wearily, struggling to get the words out.

“Good girl!” He praises (with a tinge of condescension in his voice), going back to his rough and very deep, continuous thrusts. “M’so glad you’re a good fuck bunny don’t mind daddy tearing you up inside.” He grunts, feeling a familiar rumbling in the pit of his stomach as he continues on. “Wanna cum sweets?” Harry pants a few moments later, continuing to push his cock in and out of you, his thrusts turning into humps more and more as his release gets near. 

“Please daddy!” You softly cry, feeling a throbbing sensation mounting in your clit.

“Want you t’hump the pillow baby. Dig that greedy little clit of yours down into the pillow for daddy.” He instructs, almost guiding your movements against the pillow. He could hear your whines turn into desperate whimpers. He could feel your walls begin to contract around his cock. And he could feel his own release beginning to take over him. After a couple digs into the pillow, you couldn’t hold it any longer. You let go right then and there, prompting Harry to follow your lead. As you were riding the seismic waves of your release, Harry was releasing everything he had to give. The both of you riding the waves of your releases. 

When Harry can feel most of his body again, he lifts himself from your back and leans over to turn the light out. He then pulls you both onto your sides with him right behind you, and pulls the comforter that was abandoned earlier up onto you both. 

“Nice and full sweetheart?” He asks, circling his hand around your lower stomach before removing it from around you and bringing it back between the two of you. “This nice and snug? Don’t want it to come out again.” He asks, pushing the plug into you a bit more.

“Perfect daddy.” You sigh, still in a daze from everything Harry did to you.

“You just love being filled up, don’t you baby.” Harry hums, chuckling at how happy you were now that you’re completely filled up. 

“Mhm!” You happily hum, beginning to doze off.

“Well m’gonna keep you nice and full, and make sure you sleep real good baby.” He says before pressing a kiss to your cheek, Keeping himself tightly wrapped around you. Keeping his cum, his cock, and your pretty little princess plug safe and sound inside you. 

Masterlist

[rezzyromance]

What would happen if Heisenberg found reader’s diary?

What if said diary had a written confession of a crush/feelings?

I think he would be very giddy + cocky about it. He would tease reader making off handed comments with certain words she used in her diary to describe him until it clicked with her that he read it.

NSFW is not necessary but encouraged 🥴

Being greedy I’d like to see another prompt with the roles reversed - reader finds his diary.

Ps I love your writing 💕

Oh my god please this is so good.

NSFW +18 (CW: Sexual talk, but no actual sex. Nothing too specific.)

You closed your eyes and tilted your head back as your body relaxed, soaking in the hot water of a bath you made for yourself. The parts of the factory that you often roamed in were often cold, so it was nice to have a hot bath from time to time. As much as you were curious about the other parts of the factory, Karl made it clear to you that he didn't want you wandering around them. He wanted you to stick to the more "livable" parts of the factory like the bedroom, bathroom, and occasionally his office.

Your relationship with Karl was just a close friendship. You were someone who he felt like he could trust and you gave him company. While he only saw you as a good friend, you had regrettably grown feelings for him. Much more intimate feelings. Sleeping in his bedroom since there were no other bedrooms in the factory didn't help either. He didn't sleep often as he was too devoted to his work, but when he did it was often on the couch in his office. You felt bad practically stealing his bed from him, but his bed became a safe space for you as it still smelled like him.

After bathing yourself and relaxing a little bit longer, you pull the plug on the tub and begin to get out. Once you step out of the tub, you look around and realize something is missing. You forgot to grab a towel or clothes to change into. You groan and walk over to the bathroom door, opening it just enough for your voice to travel out of it more clearly. "KARL! KAAAARL!", you cry out for his attention. "WHAT?!", you hear his mumbled voice yell from his nearby office. "I FORGOT TO GRAB TOWELS AND CLOTHES FOR MY BATH. COULD YOU PLEASE GO GET ME SOME?", you ask. The air was dead silent, but you know he was groaning quietly to himself. "FINE!", he exits his office and you hear as he moves towards the bedroom. You then walk back over and sit in the now empty tub, patiently waiting for him.

He grumbled the entire way to the room. He hated being interrupted, but he knew if he didn't help now then you would just continue to beg. He goes into what used to be his bedroom and rummages around, looking for some clothes to get you. He tried not to think about how weird it was that he was digging through your belongings. He found a warm looking sweater that was on top of a chair. When he pulled it from the chair, something fell and hit his boot. He looked down to see a book. A diary. He chuckled slightly to himself when he realized you had a diary.

He reached down and picked it up, contemplating on whether or not he should put it back or snoop even further. He always did wonder why you stick around the factory. While the living area of it is safer than outside, it seemed like a depressing life to live, roaming only a few rooms in a large factory with little interaction. But still, you stuck around and seemed to almost enjoy it. He begins to open the diary, hoping to find some answers to his questions.

"Tonight is my first night spent in the Heisenberg factory. The factory itself is quite intimidating, but intriguing. To think that Karl built this army all by himself. He's so smart, I hope my presence doesn't drag down his success... and he's letting me sleep in his bed. He said he doesn't sleep much to begin with, but I feel a little bad like I'm intruding or something. Oh well."

He chuckles. The comment "He's so smart" slowly goes to his head, inflating his ego. He turns a couple more pages and continues to read.

"Today, I was bored and lonely. Karl usually says to not interrupt his work, but he was just in the office space. I thought maybe I wouldn't be too much of a distraction if I just popped in. What I didn't know was that before I entered, he had been recently doing some metal work in the hotter parts of the factory. The last thing I was expecting was to open to door and see him shirtless and sweaty. I couldn't move. He had this look in his eye that expressed his frustration, but it almost look animalistic.. like a predator viewing it's prey. I can't get the image out of my head, but I really don't mind."

He remembers that day. He was frustrated about you interrupting his work, but had no idea you were so flustered about him being shirtless. Animalistic? The words seem so sexual in a way. Could you be insinuating some sort of attraction? He flips through some more pages.

"While Karl does have powers to control metal, he still does his fair share of labor work. Today, he let me follow him around the factory while he worked because I told him how I was bored recently. I didn't think he'd actually let me join him. Could he possibly have grown some sort of attachment to me? It seems so out of the ordinary for him to agree to something like that. Maybe I'm just letting my hopes get the best of me. Either way, I couldn't help but notice the way he grunts when he's doing strenuous work. They made my mind wander. And I couldn't stop staring at his arms as he works. His muscles and veins bulge out of his strong arms whenever he handles something heavy. I just couldn't stop thinking about how sexy he looked. I hope he didn't notice."

He was shocked by the words, but a grin grew on his face as he processed them. He never realized how infatuated you were with him. The concept began to make him feel powerful. He continued to snoop.

"Last night, Karl made some sort of huge achievement in his inventions. I've never seen him so excited. He laughed so loud and it made my heart flutter to see him so happy. We celebrated by drinking. He doesn't usually drink, but he was just too happy and felt like celebrating. I drank enough to get tipsy. It was enough to fill me with almost enough confidence to make a move, but I never did. I couldn't sit still in my seat, though. He looked so relaxed in his chair as a cigar hung from his mouth. His eyes pierced through the smoke and I couldn't look away. He looked me up and down so much last night. What could have been on his mind? I wish I did something to show or tell him how I feel. I can admit to myself that I love him, but will I ever be able to admit it to him?"

The words caused him to freeze. "I love him." His brow furrowed as his feelings confused him. Why did these words make him feel so strange? He turned a page again.

"My mind is completely clouded with him. So many things I want him to do to me. I want him to make me beg. I want to feel his rough hands grip me all over. And I want to know what that scar on his lip feels like against mine. It's my favorite of his scars. His rough body has so many stories to tell and I want to be the one to hear them. I want to hear the way he grunts again. I want his powerful eyes to be fixed on me again. All I want is him."

His face is flushed and he noticed his pants slowly started to feel tighter. A new sense of power stroked his ego. A power over you that he never knew he had.

"KARL! WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY TOWELS AND CLOTHES! I'M GETTING COLD!", you shivered in the empty tub. What could have taken him so long? Your muffled complaints snapped him out of his nosey gaze. He quickly throws your diary onto the chair, unaware that he left it open, and gathers some clothes for you before rushing out. He grabs some towels on the way and opens the bathroom door slowly, sticking only his arm out with the towels in his hand.

"About damn time. I was worried you were gonna let me die in here." you make your way over to the door, reaching for the towels. As you reach, he suddenly raises his arm, causing the towels to no longer be in reaching distance. "Beg for them.", he says. You can't see his face, but you can tell that he has a grin stretching across it as he says this. You freeze. "What?" "I said beg for them. Go on." Your heart begins to pound in flustered confusion. "P-please...", your cold, naked, vulnerable body gets covered in goosebumps. "Louder.", he shakes the towel to taunt you. "Please!", you reach up and grab a small part of the towel. You hear him chuckle behind the door. He begins to pull on the towel, slowly pulling your body forward. You try to keep your feet on the ground and keep your balance. If he keeps pulling, you're bare body would be in his sight from the crack of the door. Why is he doing this? "Karl please! You're being a jackass!", you try to verbally assert your dominance but fail. "An animalistic jackass, perhaps?", his own words cause him to let out a cocky laugh.

It suddenly hit you. He knows how you view him and how you feel about him. He finally lets go of the towels and you wrap them around you, panicking over his new discovery of your feelings. There's only one way he learned all of this. Your diary.

You pull the door open and begin to run towards the bed room, your feet slapping against the cold ground. "Where ya goin' (Y/N)? You forgot your clothes.", he smiles and begins to walk in your direction. You make it into your room and rush over to where you normally keep your diary. You see it laying wide open. You cover your mouth as your face grows hot. His foot steps grow louder and closer until they stop as he stands in your door way. He pushes his sunglasses over his head, resting them on top so you can see into his eyes which you apparently loved so much. He whistled to get your attention and your head jolts in his direction. "Hm. What's that?", he points at your diary and fails to hide a grin. "You dick.", you mutter, embarrassed to all hell. "Yeah, but at least I'm a strong, sexy, animalistic dick. At least, according to you.", he laughs and throws your clothes in your direction, walking down the hallway to leave you alone for now. But, this definitely won't be the end of his teasing. (EDIT: I forgot to mention that I will be doing a similar story where the roles are reversed another time. Thank you anon for the amazing request.)

[justice4canyonmoon]

An Evening Off

Summary: Both Y/n and Harry have a rare night off. Y/n has relaxing plans for how they should spend it.

Notes: Howdy! This is probably the last fic I’m going to post for the next two weeks; I have finals for college next week, and I have a fuck ton of work this week because professors love to give students everything at once 🙃 Anyway, I came up with the very fluffy concept because I crave emotional intimacy, so I hope you like it!!!!

Warnings: cursing ig. otherwise just a lot of fluff and taking a bath together 🥰

WC: 1.9k

Y/n was feeling lonely.

Her boring ass office job didn’t produce too many friends for her. While the people she worked with weren’t the absolute worst, they were just, well, bland. Their lives were cookie-cutter. The closest thing any of them had experienced to a true adventure was a trip to IKEA. Her two best friends, Maria and José, were across the country, since she had moved from one coast to another to live with her boyfriend. Sure, she could FaceTime them, but it just wasn’t the same. And after the call, she knew she’d just be more lonely than before.

Harry wasn’t an option either. He was working, far too hard for her liking. She understood, of course; it was album crunch time. He had to make all of the last minute decisions: finalizing the tracklist, photoshoots, and touch-ups on the chosen tracks in the studio. But she missed him. The only times she saw him anymore was right before bed, when he would stumble into the room sleepily and kiss her forehead before going right to sleep. So yeah, she was a bit lonely. And being alone on her day off wasn’t exactly the plans she wanted to have.

Luckily, the universe decided to answer her pleas. At around 1:00, after she had finished up a late shower, her phone buzzed with a text from her beloved.

H: Hi, baby! The only thing we have left on the agenda today is touching up a couple of the album tracks, so I should be home a bit earlier :D If you’d like, I can pick up some dinner on the way home.

She couldn’t help the huge grin that spread across her face. For the first time in ages, the two of them could finally have some time together! Maybe she could do something nice for him! He had been working so hard lately, he deserved it. And honestly, she did, too. An idea popped into her head, and she threw open the bathroom closet, taking a look through her bath supplies. She grinned triumphantly as she pulled out a citrus bath bomb, knowing that Harry enjoyed the calming scent of orange and lemon. A nice bath would not only help Harry destress, but it would also be the perfect cure to the loneliness that was settling in her heart. She quickly texted Harry a reply as she set the bath bomb aside.

Y/n: Sorry about the wait, babe, was just taking a shower. Forgot to this morning lol

He answered pretty much right away, making her smile.

H: It’s okay, baby! No need for apologies :)

Y/n: Okay! I’m excited to actually get to spend some time with you! I could really go for curry, if you’re up for Indian takeout.

H: Curry sounds good to me! I’ll probably be home between 6 or 7! I have to go now, but I can’t wait to see you :) I love you so much!!!!

Y/n: Can’t wait to see you, either, Har!!! I love you, too 💕💕

“Baby, ‘m home!”

Y/n looked at the clock. It was 7:30, a bit later than what Harry had said through text, but still much earlier than usual. She leapt up from the couch and sprinted to the front door, tackling Harry in a hug. He laughed loudly and wound his free arm around her waist, not fully able to hug her back because of the takeout bag in his arms.

“Let me put the food down so I can give y’ a proper hug.”

She let go with a small pout on her face, which Harry promptly kissed off while setting the bag down. He then wrapped her in a tight, two-armed embrace. She melted at the contact, resting her head on his chest and hugging him back just as tightly. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, then rested his head on top of hers.

“Miss you, Har,” she said, her speech slightly muffled from talking into his t-shirt.

She could feel him frown against her hair, “I miss y’ too, Y/n. The album should be done by the end of the month, and then ‘m all yours until tour starts.”

“Good. I was gonna break into the studio and steal you back myself if you weren’t done soon.”

He chuckled, “I don’ think Jeff would like that very much.”

“Fuck Jeff! I need you back here,” she scoffed.

“I certainly hope y’ don’ want t’ fuck Jeff.”

She rolled her eyes, “You’re annoying.”

He grinned cheekily, “But yet y’ still here.”

“Lord only knows why,” Y/n grumbled, though there was a smile on her face.

They pulled away reluctantly, both realizing how hungry they were. The two chowed down on chicken curry and naan while chatting about their day. Y/n spent most of her day off watching The Great British Bake-Off and snuggling with Daiquiri, their black lab. Harry had been putting the finishing touches on three of the album songs (“I can’ wait to play them f’ y’, baby”), and ranted about the traffic coming home (“I would’ve gotten home 45 minutes earlier, but the freeway was ridiculously clogged up!”). It was domestic in a way that Y/n never thought she would have, and she loved every second of it.

When everything from dinner was cleaned up, Y/n figured now was as good a time as any to reveal her plans for the rest of their evening.

“Hey, Har,” she paused, then continued when she heard his hum of acknowledgment, “would you want to take a bath with me?”

He raised an eyebrow, “Is this a ploy t’ get me naked?”

“No,” Y/n said bashfully, “I just thought it would be nice to take a bath together. I found a citrus bath bomb at the back of the closet, and I thought it would be relaxing for us.”

Harry’s eyes softened and he smiled gently at her, “That sounds perfect, love. Y’ too sweet.”

The two made their way to the bathroom, hand in hand. Y/n plucked the bath bomb from the closet and laid it in the tub, turning on the warm water. The water became a pastel shade of yellow, reflecting the lemony scent of the bath bomb. As she was checking the temperature, a pair of tattooed arms wrapped around her waist, and a kiss was pressed to her cheek. The heat radiating off of his body led her to believe that Harry had already rid himself of his clothes. When she turned around, her suspicions were confirmed.

“You work fast,” she commented, making a humming sound when the temperature was to her satisfaction.

“A bit,” he confirmed, leaning over to turn off the nozzle “just wanna take a bath with y’, love. Speaking of, let’s get those pesky clothes off of y’, shall we?”

Y/n nodded and Harry reached forward, almost reverently lifting her (his) sweatshirt over her head. She shimmied out of her leggings and removed her undergarments. She stepped into the bath first, gesturing for him to follow. He obeyed, and sat between her legs, resting his head on her shoulder. The two sat in silence for a while, basking in each other’s company. Y/n couldn’t remember a time where she had felt this at peace. But she also knew that Harry had forgotten to shower that morning since he was nearly late to the studio, so she reached over and grabbed some soap and a washcloth. She looked down at him and giggled softly when she realized he was almost asleep

“Wake up, baby,” she crooned, “let me wash you.”

“‘M awake,” he muttered, “promise.”

“Sure you are, that’s why your eyes are closed,” Y/n teased.

He only hummed in response, making her giggle again. She kissed his forehead and began washing him gently. The soft circles she was rubbing into his skin with the washcloth were soothing, and a sleepy smile made its way onto his face.

“‘Y always take such good care of me. Dunno how I got s’ lucky.”

Y/n felt her face grow warm as she reached for the shampoo, “I think I’m the lucky one. You always take care of me, too.”

She began rubbing the shampoo into his silky locks. Breathy gasps fell from his lips as she tugged lightly as his hair, working the shampoo into his curls.

“Feels s’ good,” he murmured.

“Glad you’re feeling good, Har,” Y/n replied in a hushed tone.

She rinsed his hair and repeated the process with the conditioner. By the time she had finished, Harry had fully fallen asleep on her shoulder. She cooed softly at how adorable he looked. He was like an angel; his long lashes were speckled with little water drops, his wet hair stuck to his forehead in an oddly endearing way, and a small smile was spread across his lips. He looked so relaxed in a way that Y/n hadn’t seen in a while. The bath helped her feel more at ease too; the monotonous motions of washing Harry made the stress from her job melt away, and the loneliness that had plagued her earlier in the day was washed away by the warm water. But she knew she had to wake Harry. She wasn’t quite strong enough to carry all six feet of him back to their bedroom.

Y/n gently jostled his shoulder and whispered, “Harry. Need you to wake up, baby.”

He groaned softly, making her giggle softly once more. His eyes slowly blinked open to reveal his jade irises, and he stumbled his way out of the tub, making her laugh a little harder as she followed. Y/n got out two towels and dried them both off, knowing that Harry was much too tired to do it on his own. She took his hand and walked toward their bedroom.

When they reached the bedroom, Y/n guided Harry to sit on the bed while she picked out sweats for both of them to wear to sleep (she knew that Harry had a particular fondness for when she wore his clothes to bed, so she got out his clothes for both of them). Harry pliantly moved his limbs as she clothed him, and watched her with moony eyes as she pulled on her own sleepwear.

“Look s’ pretty in m’ clothes, love,” he complimented, relishing in the shy smile that appeared on her face.

“Thank you, Har. Let’s get you to bed, okay?” she replied.

Y/n turned off the light and joined Harry on the bed. He was already lying on his side, so she wound her arms around his waist, resting her head between his shoulder blades. Usually, he was the big spoon, but with the whole mood they had set all night, it just felt right for her to be the one cuddling him. Y/n barely heard Harry mumble a “g’night. Love you,” before his breathing evened out. She smiled and closed her eyes, reflecting on the day. Just spending one evening with her boyfriend made her feel right as rain, and the loneliness that had once threatened to overtake her was totally gone. Though she had been taking care of him that night, he was also taking care of her. And sure, they were both going back to work tomorrow, but in two weeks, Harry would be done with the album and would be all hers. When sleep finally overtook her, all she had were the most pleasant of dreams.

[dhwty-writes]

hi! I have a prompt, if you like: what if Geralt hangs up mistletoe to get Jaskier to kiss him? :)

ELLIE, what a galaxy brained concept! It’s so silly and the gay panic is rampant in this one, my friends. The Kaer Morons being a bumbling pack of idiots and Geralt ridiculously pining after Jaskier? Coming right up!

Summary: Geralt is in love with Jaskier. In order to finally get him to admit his feelings, he devises a ten step plan with Lambert, Eskel and Vesemir. 

Warnings: NONE, this is tooth-rotting fluff

Read on AO3

There was a conspiracy of the highest order brewing in the Continent involving no less than four witchers, their horses, a goat, and an unsuspecting bard. It is known under many names, including, but not limited to, Operation Home Sweet Home, Gods Save us from your Fucking Pining, and Get Vesemir's Blessing (and Mission Let's Get Geralt Laid, but that was from Lambert and therefore stupid).

They had laid out the Conspiracy in a set of carefully calculated steps last winter with the help of Vesemir's Wise Words and truly copious amounts of alcohol. Once he saw the whole list sober, Geralt had nearly chucked it into the fireplace out of mortification. Good thing Eskel and Lambert had been nearby to wrestle the slip of paper out of his hands.

Only after the creation of at least half a dozen copies was he trusted with it again. He frowned down at the sheet. It was simple, really. A simple ten-step-plan. He could do that.

Step One: Stop fucking staring out of windows and sighing longingly. (Shut up, Lambert.) Get back on the Path and find Jaskier.

Now, at least that was easy enough. Not for the first time since their acquaintance they had agreed upon a meeting place to come find each other as soon as the snows would allow it. Most of the years Geralt would arrive a little late; because even if they chose a spot closer to Kaer Morhen than Oxenfurt, the Killer was usually impassable for a long time.

A few years they had been lucky and could set out relatively early in spring. Geralt hadn't felt lucky at all, sitting in a lonely tavern corner day in, day out, waiting for a familiar bright-coloured bard to fill his life with light again. He had felt terrified, most of all.

So, this year when he set out to the Path, an already crumpled list clutched tightly in his hand, he was even more on edge than normally. He didn't think he could take Step One failing already, and the mortifying possibility of Jaskier lying dead in a ditch. He might just climb up that mountain again and never come back down.

Luckily, Geralt — and Vesemir — were saved from that miserable fate. When Geralt threw open the tavern door in some backwater Kaedwen town, Jaskier was there already. He was peacocking around in his usual manner, enticing his sparse audience with his captivating presence. When his eyes fell on Geralt, though, his three half-drunk spectators were soon forgotten.

The bard gasped and slung his lute onto his back, vaulting off the stage to come rushing over to him. "You're here!" Geralt stood ready, his arms spread wide to catch Jaskier when he flung himself at him in an overenthusiastic hug. "I missed you." Jaskier slung his legs around Geralt's hips and buried his face against his shoulder, clinging to him as if for dear life. 

Geralt held him tight, deeply inhaling the familiar scent, a mix of honey, grapes, and cinnamon. He was used to this by now. He didn't mind. Truth be told, he craved it.

"Hmm," he answered, acutely aware of the stares they were attracting. Geralt decided he didn't care. "I... missed you, too."

"You did?" Jaskier pulled back and beamed at him. Just a week ago he had thought he would kill to see that smile again as soon as possible.

"Hmm," he agreed. Now he knew he knew he would die for it.

Jaskier wriggled in his grasp as a sign he wanted to be put down again. "You certainly know how to sweep a man off his feet, darling," he announced with a cheerful wink. "I don't think you've ever told me you so much as enjoyed my company before, let alone miss it."

"Hmm." Hadn't he? He could've sworn he had.

"None of that, now, let me just grab my bag and we can be on our merry way." Without another word, Jaskier rushed up the stairs in the back of the tavern.

Geralt stood uncomfortably in the door, waiting for him to return and doing his best not to attract too much attention. 'Hurry up, Jaskier,' he thought impatiently.

"Oi!" the bartender shouted. "Yer the witcher? The one of the songs?"

"I am."

The man nodded and threw something at him, humming a very distinct tune. It was a ducat. Geralt pocketed it with a sigh. He hadn't missed that.

He didn't have to wait long before Jaskier came barrelling back down the stairs, a much too large bag Roach would have to carry again in tow. "Well," the bard straightened his crumpled doublet, which, for some reason, now gaped open and showed off the pristine shirt underneath. Geralt tried not to stare, "where are we off to?"

"Toussaint," he answered, holding the tavern door open for him.

"Toussaint!" Jaskier exclaimed excitedly. "I love Toussaint."

"Hmm," Geralt said. 'I know,' Geralt thought, 'that's why we're going.'

With their reunion out of the way, it was time to proceed with the plan:

Step Two: Travel with Jaskier. Be nice to him (no fillingless pies!)! Compliment him! Laugh at his jokes!

That part was significantly more difficult than the first. Not that he lacked compliments for Jaskier, quite on the contrary. They, however, posed not one, but two difficulties.

The first was one of his own making: voicing his thoughts with actual words. In the privacy of his mind he had a myriad of compliments. 'You're beautiful,' passed through his head when he saw Jaskier bathed in the golden light of sunset. 'You smell nice,' after a day at the coast, salt encrusting Jaskier's hair. 'You make me smile', 'You make the loneliness go away', 'You're the best bard I could wish for.' None of them were quite eager to leave his mouth.

When they finally did, it was awkward. They didn't sound at all how he imagined them. "What are you looking at?" Jaskier asked.

"Something on your face," he answered. 'Yeah,' he thought dumbly, 'sunlight.'

Or: "Geralt, are you sniffing me?"

"You smell." He still cursed himself months later for omitting the simple word 'nice'.

After a while he got better at it. He could manage an "I like your voice" without stumbling over it, or a "Your outfit looks nice and smooth." It wasn't an "I love listening to you sing and say my name; you make it sound like something that is worthy of affection" or an "I love that you wear silk as soft as your skin and could spend days caressing it without growing tired of it" yet, but he was getting there.

What came then, once he was able to say a simple nice sentence to his bard, was somehow even worse. Jaskier was clumsy, that was nothing new, but this season it was on a whole different level. Whenever Geralt so much asked him about the song he was working on, the bard stumbled over his own feet; with every smile or laugh he nearly dropped his precious lute.

But nothing beat that time they happened upon a particularly clear and blue lake and Geralt had leaned over to tell Jaskier: "I like it. It reminds me of your eyes. Just as pretty." The poet had nearly plummeted right into it, which would have been very unfortunate indeed, since he hadn't convinced the nymph living in it to migrate yet.

In the end, Jaskier's utter lack of equilibrium sense led to Geralt offering him to ride on Roach. That was much better. Sometimes they rode double, too. He liked those days especially, when he had an excuse to hold his bard close. The days when Jaskier would sigh and lean back into his touch he liked most of them all.

Slowly, they settled into a familiar rhythm. It was awkward at first, but soon they became used to the change of their relationship. And it wasn't as if everything changed. They still bickered and insulted each other, and laughed and told stories. It was just right; Geralt almost didn't notice how summer came to an end.

But it did, and when the first leaves started coasting to the ground it was time for the next step.

Step Three: Ask him where he will spend the next winter.

It was probably the most mortifying thing he had to say to Jaskier yet. They were sat at a campfire one early autumn evening, Geralt trying to look busy cleaning his sword and Jaskier preoccupied with his lute. Once he finally worked up the courage to ask, he stumbled over his words like a school boy; he even blushed, for fuck's sake! It was embarrassing.

Luckily, Jaskier didn't seem to notice, too busy tuning his lute. "Why, in Oxenfurt, of course. Why do you ask, Geralt?" he answered nonchalantly as if Geralt wasn't just leading the most daunting conversation of his entire life.

'Fucking great,' he thought. Now it was time for Step Three.5: Ask Jaskier to come home with you, you fucking idiot.

"Hm," he said.

Jaskier laughed. "Talkative as always I see." He smiled at him brightly and turned back to his lute. "Alright then. Keep your secrets."

"Hmm." This wasn't getting any easier. "Jaskier."

"Yes, dear?"

His heart fluttered with the pet name, so much that Geralt nearly bit his tongue off in the process of trying to voice his question: "Would you like to stay with me?"

The lute gave a dissonant twang that made both of them wince. "Excuse me, what?" Jaskier stammered, his voice much higher than normally.

"Hmm. I just thought..." He frowned. 'Shit.' He couldn't do it. He just couldn't. This had been doomed from the beginning. "Forget it, it's stupid."

"No, no, not at all!" Jaskier scrambled to his feet and hurried over to Geralt's side. "Where would we be staying? I suppose you could come to Oxenfurt with me, but it could get a bit crammed and-"

"Kaer Morhen," Geralt stated simply.

"Kaer Mo- oh!" His eyes lit up. "Why, yes, Geralt, I would love to stay with you."

And that was the end of that. They didn't talk about it anymore the whole evening as Geralt did his damnedest to forget the conversation had ever happened. But when he laid awake in the night, Jaskier huddled close to him — it was getting rather cold, after all — he couldn't stop his mind from whirling, excitement mixing with immobilising terror. Jaskier would come to Kaer Morhen with him. They would stay together the whole winter. And Jaskier would meet his family.

With a sigh he turned over, cautiously throwing an arm over Jaskier's waist and holding him like the precious thing he was. The smile that spread on Geralt's face when his bard snuggled even closer, outshone the morning sun creeping over the horizon.

The following days and weeks, Jaskier was buzzing with the same excited energy that Geralt held within. It cost him every ounce of self-control not to turn Roach around and head for Kaer Morhen right away. But it was still early in the autumn, at least a moon's turn before it was time to go home, so they busied themselves with taking contracts and performing for sub-par audiences.

It was alright. He needed the money, after all, if he wanted to cross off Step Four: Bring Jaskier back to Kaer Morhen in its entirety, including the note: Buy him some nice and warm clothes on the way - Vesemir

It was good advice, Geralt knew, as most of Vesemir's advice was. Jaskier might have travelled with a witcher for the better part of his life, but he was still only human. And winters were very cold in the northern Kaedwen mountains.

So, on Geralt's annual stop in Ard Carraigh, he took Jaskier to get him equipped with soft woollen sweaters and stockings, as well as a pair of sturdy boots, ignoring the bard's protests of how 'ugly' they were.

"You'll thank me when you've still got all your toes after this winter," he grumbled as he strapped Jaskier's bag to Roach's saddle.

After that, nothing much exciting followed. There were still a few villages and hamlets along the way to Kaer Morhen but the least of them had so much as a tavern. The ones with a real audience of Jaskier were fewer still.

Geralt couldn't say he didn't enjoy it. Quite the opposite, he loved listening to Jaskier in the privacy of their camp or — if they were lucky — the barn where they could stay the night. He loved knowing that Jaskier sang only for him. And most of all he loved the vibrant smiles he got along the way, and the tiny ones, too, etched on his face even when he curled up against the witcher at night.

During the days, Jaskier finally had to stop riding on Roach; the path was simply getting too dangerous. The way up to Kaer Morhen had never been easy, not even when there had been two dozen witchers and twice as many students living there, but since the attack they hadn't tended to it anymore. The Witcher's Trail was no easy one for humans — and it wasn't meant to be.

Jaskier, to his credit, didn't comment much on it, most of the time too exhausted or admiring to run his mouth about the difficulty of getting to Geralt's home. He was almost a bit worried, anxious even, if Jaskier's reaction to seeing the ancient ruin would just be the same kind of silent admiration.

Evidently, there had been no need. They rounded the last corner and, finally, Kaer Morhen was looming up above them. As soon as his eyes fell on it, Jaskier gasped and ran ahead. He had, apparently, forgotten about his aching limbs he had complained about just that morning. "Is that it?" he asked excitedly. "Geralt, is this it?"

"No, it's another crumbling fortress in the Kaedwen mountains," he deadpanned.

"You're mean," Jaskier accused him and turned back around to the keep. "For months I've dreamt of this moment and what do you do? You mock me, truly a horrible habit, that- oh, gods, Geralt, it's so beautiful!"

"Hmm," he answered, watching Jaskier intently. The childish glee on his face, the snowflakes dancing around him and melting in his hair. "I guess so."

"Can we go inside?"

Another barbed comment was already on the tip of his tongue, but Geralt guessed that he shouldn't ruin the moment. Not if Jaskier was so happy. "We can. Come on."

They were still a good distance away when the gates creaked open and three bulking figures stepped outside. "You're early," he accused Eskel and Lambert once they caught up to them. They weren't supposed to be there. They were messing up Step Five: Meet the family. (Lambert Eskel Lambert Vesemir first.)

"And you're impolite," Vesemir grumbled. "I taught you better, Geralt."

"Hmm," he answered and the silence that followed might've been awkward if not for Jaskier.

Thanks to him there was no silence at all, to be precise. "You must be Vesemir; Geralt told me so much about you. Dare I say, Master Witcher, I am honoured and humbled by the invitation, and am looking forward to my stay. The name's Jaskier and I am at your service," he concluded and bowed with a flourish.

The three witchers gaped at him in surprise and Geralt couldn't help but grin. No overly detailed stories by him could've possibly prepared them for... well, Jaskier. "What," Lambert muttered quietly, "the fuck?"

"Now, that's just rude," Jaskier said as he straightened himself, "don't you think? Geralt, your brother is being rude to me."

It was all he could do not to laugh freely. Instead he shrugged and said: "Told you he's the rude one."

"Oh, you're Lambert!" The bard grinned widely and stretched out his hand. "Nice to finally meet you."

Lambert huffed in surprise and shook the offered hand. "Tell you what, bard, I'm not sure if I should be flattered or offended."

"Offended," Geralt mumbled just as Eskel said: "Flattered."

Jaskier smiled widely and wickedly. "Both."

Lambert opened his mouth, presumably to return a rude comment, but Jaskier's attention was diverted by Eskel, who gave him a thorough once-over and then nodded. "Welcome to Kaer Morhen, bard."

"Thank you, uh, Eskel?" he hazarded a guess.

A smile tugged on the unscarred corner of his mouth. "That's right."

"Dinner's in an hour," Vesemir cut in. "Maybe you could show our guest to his room, Geralt?"

Right. With the meeting out of the way it was time for Step Six: Show him to his room (Make sure it has some nice fur rugs - Vesemir) (Shag him on the rug - Lambert) (Offer to stay with him if he's cold - Eskel). Both of those additions seemed equally daunting to him.

But before he could even think of an excuse as to why he couldn't do that right now, Roach's reins were ripped from his hands and they were being pushed towards the keep.

"Well, they're certainly eager to get rid of you, considering they haven't seen you for a year," Jaskier quipped once they were inside the keep proper.

"That's not- hmm." 'Fuck.' He had almost betrayed himself. "They'll be different after dinner," he promised. "Besides, you know they can hear you."

"So?" He huffed a laugh. "I know they're just like you; all bark and no bite."

He was about to deny that claim but Lambert's offended howl that reached him from the courtyard quickly changed his mind. That definitely was worth the jab at his own ego. "Come on," he urged, smiling, "no need to continue playing the jester for them any further."

"Why, is there any issue with providing entertainment for a living?" Jaskier teased.

"Only if it's at the expense of me."

He sighed dramatically. "That I know, my dear. That I know."

"Jaskier?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up, I'm trying to give you a tour of the keep."

"You are? Oh, I wouldn't have noticed." Geralt shot him a dirty look. Jaskier snickered maliciously, the bastard. "Oh, yeah, yep. Shutting up. Go ahead, Sir Witcher, show me your magnificent home."

From anyone else it might've been mockery. It might've been mockery from Jaskier, too, if not for the sound of absolute awe in his voice as he took in their surroundings.

Geralt could hardly blame him. It might've been a long time since he had arrived at Kaer Morhen, but he still remembered how dumbstruck he had been at the sheer immensity of the place that should become since home.

It had lost its mysticism since then, but seeing Jaskier's childlike wonder as he led him through the kitchens and great hall made him remember. He showed him the library, too, as well as the stairs down to the hot springs that he must never, ever confuse with those that led to the laboratories.

He closed with the rooms the various witchers claimed as their own: "That's Lambert's room down the hall, don't go there, he's a prick; Vesemir is a few floors below us, claims he's too old for our squabbles; that's mine, and that one's Eskel's, ask him if you need something and I'm not there, not Lambert, he's an arsehole-"

"Geralt," Jaskier said soothingly and put a hand on his arm, "you're rambling."

"Am I?" he asked confused. "Don't think so."

"There's no need to be nervous, dear. I won't abandon you; you're stuck with me for the winter."

"I'm not nervous," Geralt insisted, his fingers twitching nervously.

"Right," Jaskier took his hand away, evidently not very convinced. "I'm sorry for interrupting you, then."

"Don't be," he mumbled, not quite able to tear his gaze from Jaskier's gentle smile.

"Geralt?"

"Hm?"

"Do I-" He started fidgeting with his lute strap. "Do I have a room, too? I mean, not that I mind sharing with you, that's not the issue at all- gods, I sound stupid-"

His eyes still trained on Jaskier, he reached behind him and opened the door. "There."

"That's my room?" he asked without turning around to look inside.

"That's yours," Geralt confirmed. He had prepared it last winter already. Just in case.

As soon as the words had left his mouth, the poet whirled around and rushed into the sparsely furnished room. He looked very much... out of place. The realisation hit him like a slap in the face; but apparently the visual of Jaskier and his bright purple doublet in the grey empty walls of Kaer Morhen was what it took for him to realise how little they were reconcilable.

For the first time in his life he felt self-conscious for his home. "'S not much," Geralt mumbled.

"It's wonderful." Jaskier beamed, carefully inspecting the bed and the rug, peering out the window and into the chest. "Might get a bit cold, though."

He grumbled something he knew to be unintelligible to humans into his beard.

"What was that, love?"

"You could always stay with me," he spoke up. "Y'know. We've shared before."

"That we have! You might find that before long you will be forced to let me take you up on your generous offer."

"Hmm," Geralt answered and left him to it, in order to complete Step Six.5: No, let him arrive first, you idiot! There would be no 'being forced' of any kind, but he wasn't quite ready to admit that to Jaskier, yet.

Despite their apparent incompatibility Jaskier settled into the routine of Kaer Morhen disturbingly quickly. Though 'settle into' wasn't quite the right choice of words. More like 'tear it down and build it anew, but with lyrics, laughter, and luminosity'.

The evening of their arrival was truly mortifying, the worst mix of embarrassing stories of Geralt's childhood and very inappropriate questions directed at Jaskier. Geralt had spent the whole dinner frozen in shock and awe at the masterful display of the bard's craftsmanship.

After an hour of vicious cross-examination, the three witchers had finally backed off. And as Vesemir had retreated to his rooms, Lambert had brought up the alcohol. It hall had spiralled out of Geralt's control after that.

Within the hour Lambert and Jaskier were japing and jabbing at each other as if they were lifelong friends and not acquaintances since a few hours. It took his bard three days to have Vesemir completely wrapped around his finger, intently listening to his droning lectures about basically everything. And not even a fortnight into their stay, he found Jaskier and Eskel in the library, talking with hushed voices. He quickly retreated but not before he heard Jaskier telling his brother how beautiful he was, scars or no scars, and Eskel sniveled quietly.

A month since their arrival saw them trapped into the castle by the heavy snowfalls. Unfortunately, that didn't stop Vesemir from drilling them mercilessly.

They were an hour into their morning routine when they all perked at the sound of soft footsteps passing through the hall. "Jaskier," Geralt said softly.

The bard was bundled up in several quilts, his face barely visible beneath the mess of his hair and the blankets. Still his face lit up with the brightest smile when he saw them. "Mornin', lads," he croaked, "lookin' good, keep it up." He gave them a tired thumbs-up and shuffled off to the kitchen, where Vesemir would provide him with a hot breakfast with a side of 'most-boring-information-on-this-earth'. It was their own morning routine of sorts, and the three of them knew it wouldn't be long before they were discussing the 'merits of the iambic pentameter in 10th century love poetry' or some shit.

"Fuck," Lambert cursed once they knew Jaskier to be out of earshot, "I really can't blame you, Geralt. Too much time with him and I start gawking like a love-sick idiot, too."

"Hmm," Geralt agreed. Jaskier definitely had that effect.

"Jealous, wolf?" Eskel inquired with a knowing smile.

"No," he answered earnestly. If anything, he loved Jaskier more for it. His family wasn't easy to deal with, he knew. But his bard didn't care. He had so much affection to give, even for witchers. 'Especially for witchers.' He closed his eyes with a happy smile.

"Y'know, there's still a couple of steps left on our list," Eskel informed him casually.

Geralt's eyes snapped open as his heart sped up. 'Fuck.' The plan. "Hmm."

"Just fucking get it over with," Lambert yearned. "Your pining isn't any less obnoxious just because he's here."

"If anything, it's gotten worse," Eskel agreed.

"So?" he snapped. He had put it off, that was true. Had waited for the snow, he told himself, but now the snow was here and-

"So, we'll distract him this afternoon," Eskel interrupted his spiralling thoughts.

"And you pull your head outta your arse and fucking follow through," Lambert added.

"Fine," he ground out. "We do that." Not before he kicked both their arses during their training, though, for being such utter dicks.

Before long, however, the inevitable happened. Morning passed over to noon, and, true to their words, Lambert and Eskel whisked Jaskier away after lunch. They left Geralt behind in the hall with a branch in his hands and nothing left to do but complete Step Seven: Hang up a mistletoe.

"Fuck," he muttered. Nearly one year had passed since they had come up with their conspiracy. One year to gather his courage, one year to come up with a plan, one year to at least think about where to fucking put it. "Fuck," he said again, for good measure.

He looked around. Looked to the rafters. Looked at the mistletoe. "Fuck it," he declared and tucked it away to scale up to the rafters.

He was already up there, dangling from one of the beams when he remembered that he had nothing to secure it with besides the silky ribbon that would never fit around it. He scowled darkly. He sure as hell wouldn't climb down and up again. Without further ado he pulled his dagger from his belt and drove it deep into the wood, pinning the mistletoe by the ribbon.

He climbed down again, making sure that it was visible from the ground. 'Perfect,' he decreed. With the mistletoe in place, it was now time for Step Eight: Have Lambert and Eskel inform Jaskier of the mistletoe and a strategically placed Geralt. 

He spun around to go and alert his brothers, when he heard a cheerful voice behind him: "Geralt! There you are, you mean witcher, I was wondering where you were hiding. You know, it is not nice to leave your, uh- bedmate all alone and freezing in the morning, and- oh." There was a thoughtful pause. "Now would you look at that."

Geralt heaved a long sigh. He dreaded turning around, for he had a very distinct feeling he knew already what he would see. And fuck, he was not ready for that step. For some stupid reason, he still did turned around.

Jaskier stood in the middle of the hall, squinting up at the ceiling. "Are my eyes deceiving me — and they might be, mind you, my eyes are not as good as a witcher's — or is that a mistletoe I spy up there."

He cursed internally. He knew he should've hung it lower. "Hmm," he answered, his heart beating in his throat. Why was his heart beating in his throat? It wasn't supposed to do that. His voice was surprisingly calm when he said: "Seems like it."

"Oh no!" he moaned woefully. "Quick, Geralt, come here and lift the curse!"

"Curse?" he inquired bemusedly as his feet moved without his volition. "What curse, Jaskier?"

The bard gasped. "Don't you know? When someone passes beneath a mistletoe, they are frozen to the spot until the curse is broken."

"Hmm," he stepped under the mistletoe, too. He should've known Jaskier would make up a story around this. It was just a tradition, for fuck's sake, no curse. Although a curse was certainly more romantic, even he had to admit that. "Must be a rare curse if a witcher's never heard of it."

"The rarest," Jaskier insisted and pointed at his cheek. "It may only be broken with a true love's kiss."

In light of what happened next, let it be known that, in Geralt's defence, he was panicking. Quite thoroughly so. Since the Trials his legs hadn't shaken like that anymore.

He had been promised a pep talk by his brothers before having to confront the situation at hand. And yet they were nowhere to be found and Jaskier was here, evidently expecting him to kiss him.

'Shit. Fuck. Shit fuck.' He was not ready; he was not ready; he was not-

"Geralt?" Jaskier ripped him from his thoughts. "Are you waiting till my nose grows icicles, or what?"

Still, he leaned forward, placing one hand on Jaskier's hip and the other on his shoulder, and pecked him on the cheek.

The cheek. That had not been the plan. That had not been the plan at all. And then, of all things, he heard himself ask: "Can you move again?"

Jaskier blinked, looking just as dumbstruck as Geralt felt. "I- I think so?" he stammered and moved to pull away, blushing furiously.

'Fuck, no,' he remembered thinking. And while he wasn't quite in control of his limbs again, what he did next was probably the single most clever thing he had done in his entire life. Gingerly almost, he tightened his grip on Jaskier. His head tilted to the side, an invitation, an escape.

His bard didn't move. Instead, he said: "Doesn't seem like it."

"Hmm," Geralt answered and leaned in closer. "Difficult curse, seems like. Let me try again."

Before he could even think of changing his mind, Jaskier had his arms looped around Geralt's neck and crushed their lips together. He did his best to reciprocate the kiss, which wasn't easy with fear still gripping his heart tightly, but then Jaskier crowded closer, moulding his body against Geralt's and that was all it took for the tension to seep from his bones and go limb.

It was a weird sensation; being wrapped in Jaskier's arms was so familiar, but he was also kissing Jaskier, which was new- 'Great gods, I am kissing Jaskier, I am kissing Jaskier, I am-'

He pulled back with a triumphant grin, evidently startling his bard. "What?" he asked, very confused.

"I am kissing you," he announced, his grin widening even more.

Jaskier frowned. "That you are, but-"

"I am kissing you," he said again and pecked him on the lips. "And I can keep doing it."

"Oh!" The frown eased away, giving way to the softest of smiles. "That you can, my dear."

So, Geralt did. Again. And again. And again, and again, and again. He didn't know how many times he had kissed Jaskier, how many times Jaskier had kissed him, before he pulled back and blurted: "I love you."

Jaskier stared at him in silent awe, before blushing and cupping his cheeks gently. "That you do, my love," he whispered. "And I love you, too." Softly, he pressed their lips together again.

"You do?" Geralt asked disbelievingly.

Jaskier smirked. "I do. For years and years, I have. I thought you knew."

"Fuck," he muttered. Did that mean... 'I didn't have to do any of this.' He could've just- "I'm an idiot."

"Only sometimes," he allowed, giggling sillily. Geralt was compelled to join in. "Besides, you’re my idiot, and I love you for it." He shifted a little, so he could lean his head comfortably onto Geralt's shoulder despite them being nearly the same height. 

"So," Jaskier drawled, curling a strand of Geralt's hair around his finger, "are we just going to keep standing here, or...?"

He scoffed. Of course, they wouldn't. He had a plan, after all. "Fuck." The plan.

Jaskier raised his head. "Is that a curse or an answer?"

"Yes," he answered warily.

It earned him the most beautiful snorting laugh he had ever heard. "What are you cursing at, love?"

"We skipped Step Eight," he admitted, "got right to Step Nine."

"Excuse me, what?"

"Step Nine: Kiss Jaskier." The poet just gawked at him. "I had a list," he explained.

"You had?" Jaskier's eyes lit up and he made grabby hands. "Show me, show me!"

Reluctantly, Geralt handed it over, studying Jaskier's face carefully as he read through it.

"I knew it," Jaskier concluded finally.

"Huh?"

"Oh, come on!" He threw up his hands. "You were acting weird all year round, Geralt! Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but still, weird. It took me about ten minutes to figure out there was some ploy at play." He laughed quietly and waved the paper around. "Though I never would've guessed what was amiss."

"You don't like it."

"On the contrary! It's a wonderful plan," the poet said and pecked him on the lips. "I've got to admit, though, Lambert was right: you should've just fucked me on that rug once we got here."

"Hmmm." Geralt nuzzled against Jaskier's neck, holding him closer when he tried to squirm away from the tickling sensation. "That still an option?"

"Very much so. I believe it has to be one more step before completing your list." He pulled him close and whispered against his lips: "Take me to bed, my love"

And how could Geralt refuse such a request? Especially if it coincided so luckily with Step Ten.

[haikyuu-appreciation-club]

Hey, I was hoping to get an emergency request? I’ve been depressed and had my heartbroken a bit, so I’m kinda staying up at night just having bursts of crying fits, and so I was wondering if I could have some hcs of how Tsukishima, Aone, Ushijima, and Daichi would treat their s/o if they spent the night with them when they were crying on and off through the night. Thanks, and feel free to delete this if it’s not something you wanna do x

hey there anon!

im so sorry to hear that love, remember that it is 100% okay to cry and that every single thing you’re feeling is valid <3

my messages are always open (and ask box is too if you prefer to stay anonymous) xoxo

I hope you enjoy our bbys showing you some much deserved love :)

•Tsukishima, Aone, Ushijima, and Daichi Comforting Their Crying S/O•

warnings: mentions of mental health issues

genre: comfort + fluff

characters: tsukishima, aone, ushijima, daichi

•Tsukishima•

tsukishima was usually very snarky and playful when it came to your relationship

back and forth bantering was how you two showed your affection for one another

but when tsukishima heard your soft cries from beside him he knew that this was a time where he had to be more cautious with his words,

“Hey, what's the matter with you?”

you turned to look at him, eyes puffy and red, with hot tears streaming down your cheeks

you swiped at your face and offered him a forced smile,

“I’m fine Kei, sorry for interrupting your beauty sleep.”

he didn’t miss the slight shake in your voice with your attempts to lighten the mood

he tsked and flicked your forehead,

“I’m not an idiot Y/N, why are you crying?”

you casted your eyes downward, too embarrassed to face your boyfriend

it’s not as if you didn’t think he’d care or you were too nervous to open up to him but you didn’t want him to view you as weak or troublesome,

“I guess I just haven’t been feeling the best lately. I’ve been getting sad more often than usual without a reason and I don't really know what to do.”

tsukishima looked at you as you tried to stop your lip from quivering

seeing you like this made his heart hurt

he always hated seeing you so upset but he wasn't always the best at reassuring you during your time of need

he sighed, more towards himself then you, and pulled you into him

“Kei wha-”

“Quiet,”

“But what are you-”

“Y/N, save me the embarrassment and just cuddle with me, will you?”

your eyes widened at his statement, it was very rare for tsukishima to initiate something like this 

but you didn’t complain, curling up next to him and wrapping your arms around his figure

soon after, the feeling of sadness washed over you once more as you tried to hold back your tears

you didn’t want to seem ungrateful by continuing your pity party

after all tsukishima practically leaped out of his comfort zone to help you 

however, as you shook lightly in tsukki’s hold you felt his arms that were encasing you give a soft squeeze,

“you can let it out, it’s just us Y/N.”

once those words met your ears tears began flowing down your cheeks all over again

tsukishima held you, running his slender fingers through your hair until you fell limp in his hold, slipping out of consciousness

once he knew you had fully drifted off to sleep he placed a kiss on your tear stained cheek,

“I love you.”

•Aone•

aone was a very light sleeper, so he didn’t miss the light whimpers that escaped your lips as you lied next to him

at first he didn’t really know what to think, maybe you were having a nightmare or something of the sort?

but when he heard a sob rack your body he knew that wasn’t the case

aone wasn’t one to freak out over things, he was very composed and calm even in difficult situations

so, as soon as he sensed something was wrong he didn’t hesitate to take initiative

sitting up and gently shaking your shoulder, he spoke in a soft voice,

“Y/N.”

you turned to face him and immediately he could make out the tears staining your cheeks

he was never one to use his words, choosing to stay quiet for a vast majority of the time, but you didn’t ever mind

his actions had always spoken so much louder then his words ever could

you knew how much he loved you, it was displayed with every single thing he did

and when he silently tugged at your hand, lifting you away from the covers and into his warm embrace, you felt his love all over again

he lightly rubbed your back as you continued to cry into his chest, your arms lazily returning the hug 

a part of you felt embarrassed being caught in such a vulnerable state but the way your boyfriend was caring for you washed away any feeling of unease

after a while, the soothing rhythm of aone’s large hand moving up and down your back brought you to a state of peace

however before the two of you drifted back off to sleep, aone tugged on your hand once more, pulling you out of the room

“Aone, where are we going?”

he didn’t answer you, just pointed in the direction of the front door

you were confused but figured it would just be simpler to comply with his unknown idea then to ask questions 

aone pushed open the door and the cool air met the exposed areas of your body

you shivered a bit as you watched your boyfriend sit down in front of you, staring up at the night sky

he looked back and patted the spot next to him, signaling for you to join him

as you sat down, aone wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, letting his body heat warm you up

the two of you sat there watching the stars in each other’s company

it was nights like these where you were truly grateful to have someone like aone in your life

•Ushijima•

ushijima was never exactly good at understand emotions or comforting others

so when he woke up to hear you softly sobbing beside him, he didn’t know how to react

his first instinct was to ask your upfront what was wrong but he had been told many times before that he was too blunt and he didn’t want to make things worse for you

so, he lied there trying to figure the best way to approach the situation

that was until he heard you get quieter and quieter, and soon enough your whimpers grew silent

he was confused at first but he figured you just had a nightmare and decided to approach you about it in the morning

after squirming around a bit, trying to get comfortable, he finally settled by your side with his large arm draped around your mid section

he always loved these nights with you, it gave him the opportunity to be in your company without the constant worry of conversation

he knew you didn’t mind his silence but the nagging from his teammates had made him a bit insecure about his quiet nature

so, being able to just lay down and enjoy your presence was definitely a favorite moment for him

he began to drift off into sleep until he heard your quiet cries once more, the sound leaving a pang in his chest

although he was not the best when it came to feelings, he did not want you to go through your issues alone, so he sat up and turned to you,

“Y/N, what is wrong?”

you flinched at the sudden sound of his voice, not realizing you had woke him up,

“Oh, sorry Toshi. I just had a bad dream, that’s all. Don’t worry you can go back to sleep.”

“You had been crying earlier as well. Is there something bothering you?”

you had tried to hid your emotions from your boyfriend for so long, but iit wasn't as if you didn’t trust him or didn’t want to confide in him

you just didn’t want to worry him or make him feel awkward about the whole situation, which is why you had been trying your best to muffle your sobs

but seeming as the whole plan back fired, you had no other choice but to come clean,

“It’s just, I’ve been feeling kind of off lately. I don’t know exactly why but I just feel sad,” 

you peered up at ushijima through damp lashes and watch as his brows furrowed at your words

quickly you cut the conversation short, already feeling as if you were bothering him,

“I’ll be okay though so don’t worry, lets lay back down, okay?”

you leaned back to snuggle into the covers when you felt ushijima grab your wrist

“Come with me.”

“Huh?”

he didn’t give you an answer as he hauled you out of bed and towards the bathroom

you sat yourself down on the floor as he kneeled in front of the tub, turning on the water and grabbing some bubble bath from under the counter

you watched as he prepared a bath, humming your favorite song subconsciously as he did so

soon enough he had finished, wiping his hands on his pants and turning towards you,

“Undress please.”

your cheeks flushed at how straight forward he was with his words but you complied none the less

once you had stripped yourself bare, he lightly grabbed your hand and helped you into the tub

he spent his time kneading your body, earning groans of satisfaction from you as he released the tension in your sore muscles

as he massaged some shampoo into your scalp he spoke up,

“I am not good with my words, you know this. But when I am feeling unpleasant, I enjoy relaxing like this. I hope you do as well.”

your heart melted at his statement

he always tried his best in your relationship, even though he was unfamiliar with the concept

“It feels really nice Toshi, I’m definitely feeling a lot better.”

“I’m glad Y/N.”

he paused his actions for a moment as he peered directly into your eyes,

“I love you very much.”

you smiled up at him as you brushed your fingers across his cheek,

“I love you too Toshi.”

•Daichi•

daichi had noticed something was a bit off with you this past week

you seemed quieter and less cheerful then normal

so it wasn’t a huge surprise to him when he woke up to you crying into your pillow

despite his anticipation, it still broke his heart to hear your soft whimpers as you clutched the fabric beneath you

daichi wasn’t one to hesitate when it came to comforting you

whenever you had been down he was always right there, ready to pull you into a tight embrace or place gentle kisses on your forehead

and tonight wasn't any different as he grabbed your shoulder and turned you so he could see your face

his fingers gently swiped across your cheek, collecting the tears that you had shed,

“Y/N, what's the matter?”

when it came to your boyfriend you had always felt this sense of comfort, even when you’d try to hide your emotions or go through things by yourself, he was always right there with you

so when he asked you that question you felt compelled to let him know the truth

“I-I don’t know. I just feel so empty and broken, I don't know what to do. I’m sorry Daichi.”

“Hey, there’s no need to be sorry babe. Life can get the best of us sometimes and I understand that. But remember Y/N, you aren't alone in all this. I'll be right by your side, always.”

you looked up at him and smiled at his words, letting out a soft hiccup as he cupped your face in his hands

“Do you wanna talk about it some more?”

you shook your head slowly

daichi brushed his thumb across your cheek and pulled you close, pressing a chaste kiss against your forehead,

“Alright, do you wanna watch a movie?”

that suggestion received your immediate approval

you two always watched a movie at the end of your rough days, it was the perfect way to spend time with one another and get your minds off anything that had been bothering either one of you

you snugged up to daichi as the light from the laptop illuminated your faces

he wrapped his arms around you and placed a kiss to the top of your head,

“I love you Y/N.”

“I love you too Daichi.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

[yamalegacy]

can you do nsfw headcanons with mt lady please?

can i? can i do n/sfw hcs for one of my favourite characters? of fucking course i am! and i will happily do so bc i'm big time horned monster for lil miss mt lady! and well, since i didn't know where to start, in true super extra french fashion, went overboard and finished the n/sfw alphabet for her 💛

i’d already done a, d, l, m, t, y but i added them to this post so that i can have a full alphabet in one post!

cw: mentions of dom/sub dynamics, rough sex, threesomes, dry humping, finger sucking and slight oral fixation probably, mentions of so many things tbh. yū is a brat. also, pubic hair and stretch marks? idk man

⚠️ MDNI not so casual reminder for minors to not interact with this post ⚠️

A — AFTERCARE ( what are they like after sex? )

she is a bottom through and through and a pillow princess, so get ready to have to take care of her because she gets even lazier than usual after a good fuck. she can get whiny and demanding, asking for a bath or tea or both, but you’ll always be rewarded with cuddles and kisses. if she doesn’t fall asleep, that is.

B — BODY PART ( which body part do they like the most? )

big time ass and thighs girl right here. she enjoys a handful (or two handfuls, you know), girl loves a shapely ass that feels nice in her hands. she can’t keep her hands off of a nice ass.

C — CUM ( any headcanon about cum )

she complains a lot about basically all things cum related at first lbr, not to the point of complaining about going down on you (well, depending on how much you come, really...). it’ll take a while for yū to accept to kiss you after you eat her out, but you’ll catch her moaning at the taste of her own arousal more than once. and well. maybe sucking on your fingers after you fucked her turns her on a whole fucking lot. don’t expect her to admit it out loud tho.

D — DREAMS ( do they have sex dreams? what kind? how do they react? )

fairly regular kinky dreamland visitor. yū hates her sex dreams though. she always wakes up just when things are getting good, so she wakes up wet, needy and desperate every time. if you aren’t sleeping together that night, she’ll send you messages to complain, or even call you, hoping for a quickie over the phone. if you’re in her bed, she won’t care what time it is, she’ll wake you up and demand that you make her come. if you ignore her and go back to sleep, be ready to deal with a grumpy pro hero all day long (poor kamui woods has heard her complain about it way too many times and wishes he could forget everything she’s told him, especially that one time she dreamed about a threesome with you and him).

E — EXPERIENCE ( how much experience do they have? )

a lot less than you’d expect her to. yū is still young and she’s been extremely busy trying to become a pro hero so she hasn’t had that much time to experiment. she’s had a few partners, but it’s mostly been vanilla experiences for her.

F — FAVORITE POSITION ( what is their favorite sex position? )

she likes when things are close and personal, so missionary is always good with her, honestly. she loves being able to see your face and kiss you when you fuck her. yū also enjoys being bent over your lap, so that you can fuck her with your fingers and pull at her hair — learn how to multi-task, my friend, and she’ll be putty in your hands.

G — GRAB ( where do they like to have their hands on you the most? )

ass ass ass. thighs. ass. there’s very few things that yū loves more than a good ass and she will never stop touching it when it’s within her reach. when she is acting jealous or possessive, she tends to grab you by the wrists. if she’s still feeling possessive when you get home, she will crawl on top of you and keep her fingers wrapped around your wrists for a while, and then intertwine your fingers. yū has a habit of squeezing, it’s a way for her to make sure that you’re there, with her, that you aren’t going to go away.

H — HOT & BOTHERED ( what are they like when turned on? )

oh boy. is she a wild one! no matter what, she will be needy, but it might manifest in two very different ways. 1) she’ll give you the cold shoulder and pretend that she totally isn’t horny and desperate, she’s stubborn like that, but she sucks at hiding those things from you; she always presses her thighs together, that’s her biggest tell 2) she’ll just outright initiate intimacy, kiss your neck, straddle your lap and grind on your thigh.

I — INTIMACY ( how caring are they during/after sex? )

yū isn’t exactly the most gentle of lovers in general, even outside of your sex life. she is good with gentle touches, like caressing you, touching your hair, but when it comes to sex... little miss pillow princess expects you to take care of her. and she can be pretty demanding about it. but her habit of holding your hands is one of the ways she shows she cares.

J — JACK OFF ( any masturbation headcanon )

when adrenaline sets down after a day at work, yū needs the release more than anything, it’s also a really good way for her to relieve some stress. being a pro hero isn’t easy every day after all! she tends to want to make it quick because she doesn’t have all that much patience, which is exactly why she avoids penetration when touching herself; she’s all about rubbing her clit and vibrators — and she knows how to make it rough and quick.

K — KINK ( favorites? which ones do they keep secret? )

(semi) public sex, edging, overstimulation and multiple orgasms. dominance and any display of dominance that might be associated with a dom/sub dynamic, really. yū is a sub and it shows. she’ll complain about orgasm control because she’s not getting the release she needs, but it’s one of her favorite things. she has a bit of an oral fixation, bit of an obsession with sucking your fingers and licking them clean after you’ve fucked her, but she... well, she doesn’t want to admit it tho. it’s not that much of a secret since it’s become extremely obvious to you. on the other hand, she wouldn’t mind trying some roleplay/petplay and a bit more of degradation, but she sure af would mind saying it out-loud.

L — LOCATION ( what is their favorite place to have sex? )

being the pillow princess that she is, yū will always favor a comfortable bed over anything else, but it doesn’t mean that she doesn’t enjoy sex in other places. the two of you have become well acquainted with the couch at her agency (which has led to some awkward situations when you realized too late that you weren’t actually alone in the building).

M — MOTIVATION ( what turns them on? )

extremely sensitive and painfully easy to turn on. you barely have to try to turn her on most of the time, really. run your fingers on her inner thighs, grab her by the waist, whisper in her ear about what you want to do to her and she’ll be ready to go. yū will complain a lot if you do it in public, but that’s only because it gets her turned on in record time! hearing your voice, your praises, spurs her on better than anything else.

N — NOPE ( any turn offs or hard limits? )

she is a bit claustrophobic and her quirk makes it dangerous for her to feel trapped, which is why you have a safeword. she doesn’t like being handcuffed or tied down unless she knows she has an easy way out. she likes when you sit on her face, but not for too long, for the same reasons.

O — ORAL ( do they like giving or receiving? a preference? )

yū is an oral enthusiast, of course. she prefers receiving (she isn’t a pillow princess for no reason), but she enjoys pleasing you and being good for you, so there’s not a doubt she enjoys going down on you.

P — PACE ( fast or slow? )

her impatience makes it harder for her to enjoy slow at times. she wants it hard and fast (partly because it’s much easier than dealing with feelings). and well, when you take it slow and edge her... she is so sensitive that she’s come without permission on accident more than once because she just can’t control it. fast is easier because then she knows you just expect her to come.

Q — QUICKIE ( are they up for a quickie? )

always. all the time. never not up for a quickie.

R — ROMANCE ( do they like romantic gestures to set the mood? )

while she likes the idea on paper, the whole concept of taking the time to enjoy the moment, have nice scented candles and a warm bath, and she might put some effort into it when she has days off tbh. but it’s mt lady we’re talking about, you should know better than to expect all that romance fantasy! yū still knows how to surprise you from time to time.

S — STAMINA ( how long can they last? )

yū is a pro hero. she has years of training behind her and regularly works up to stay in shape, so she definitely has the stamina to go several rounds! but depending on how tiring her day has been. honestly, she might not make it to a first orgasm one some days, but those are rare occasions.

T — TALK ( what is their dirty talk like? )

yū isn’t necessarily the best with words; she’s all for kisses and touches. but if you’re touching her the right way, she’ll tell you how good you are. she won’t hesitate to tell you that she’s all yours and that she’s wet just for you.

U — UNFAIR ( how much do they tease? )

this woman. she knows your weaknesses, she knows what turns you on, what makes you want her the most. she likes to provoke more than to really tease; she wears the outfits that you love the most on her, the cute bras that push her tits up just right, the pretty sets of lingerie that she’s bought to look nice for you. if she’s feeling mean, she’ll swat your hands away when you try to touch her, but honestly, it won’t last long because. well. once again, yū is extremely impatient and there’s no much that can be done about it.

V — VOLUME ( how loud are they? )

makes a lot of noises but isn’t super loud in general. moans and whines, a lot of them. she makes the prettiest noises, honestly.

W — WILD CARD

you can't tell me that with her quirk she doesn't have stretch marks. she kinda hates them and is glad that her hero costume hides them, but seriously, just take a minute to kiss them and run your fingers over them. funnily enough, while she hates her own stretch marks, she could spend hours appreciating yours.

X — X-RAY ( any headcanon about their bodies and grooming habits )

yū takes really good care of herself and her body — she doesn’t like to shave everything off when it comes to her pubic hair, she keeps it clean and trimmed tho. she has very nice ethics when it comes to her appearance. shaves, no waxing, she hates the idea of having to go to a salon and have a stranger touch her, even if it’s their job.

Y — YEARNING ( how desperate do they tend to be? )

mt. lady is queen of yearning. she’s also queen of pretending that she doesn’t miss you all the time. if work takes over her life for a few days and she can’t see you for a while, you can expect her to just be glued to you the second she sees you again. she’ll be extra needy and probably want to ride your thigh. she wouldn’t be able to let you go. and yet she’ll try (and fail) to pretend like she didn’t miss you and wasn’t desperate to feel you again.

Z — ZZZZ… ( how quickly do they fall asleep? )

well... it’s happened a few times that she fell asleep embarrassingly quickly after an orgasm... let’s say you’ve stopped counting how many times she’s fallen asleep with your fingers in her mouth.

[abundanceofnots]

Prompt! After seeing that ball gag in the basketball hoop in their room, I’m hilariously imagining Franny wandering downstairs with it during breakfast or something and everyone freaks out about it, or something similar lol

Forewarning: As you could’ve guessed, this one is pretty dirty. In fact, I’ll probably never recover from writing some of these words. You’ll know which ones I mean. Damn it, Shameless, why are these things canon?!

---

They were talking again. Loud, like they didn’t give two shits who could hear them, even though the house was full of people.

Lately, it’d become almost nonstop, and Debbie had just about enough of it – and them.

“Take it, you insatiable slut!” 

“Yes, fuckin’ impale me with your monster cock!”

As she stood behind the closed accordion door, which frankly did nothing to silence all the bizarre exclamations and assorted sex noises, she scrunched her face in disgust. Thankfully, her ears only felt like they were bleeding, and the real damage was happening just to her inner calm.

This time, Ian and Mickey were going at it at half past seven on a Sunday, throwing around words that would make even the creators of bad pornos cringe. 

They’d been on her shitlist ever since she found several dried come stains on her lilac bath robe, and really, her frustration with them only grew stronger from there. It was one thing that they apparently made sex into a full-time hobby; sounding like absolute perverts throughout their daily (and nightly) numerous rounds was another. 

Debbie could take it no more. She was long past the point of finding it funny. There were now very specific, lewd details about her older brother forever embedded in her mind – and she fondly looked back at the days when Ian was still behind bars and dearly missed.

Checking that her palm was covering Franny’s eyes, she squeezed her own eyes tightly before getting a blind hold on the accordion door. She yanked it open, immediately causing the verbal vomit to stop.

“The actual fuck, Debbie!” 

She heard scrambling and annoyed groans and, eventually, to what sounded like a fight over the comforter, the bed creaked as someone got off it. She took that as her cue and secured her hold on Franny, who started to dig her little fingers into Debbie’s palm.

“I’ve had it with you two assholes!” she raged, using her free hand to gesticulate wildly. “I was fine with the exaggerated moans and the fact that seeing your ugly naked asses around on a daily basis was now a given, but if I have to hear the words uber-masculine slut and dom top daddy one more time, I’m gonna make sure you won’t be able to stick your dicks anywhere. For a long time.” 

She paused, becoming faintly aware that someone was hurriedly trying to get dressed somewhere to her left.

“Now, I’m gonna go back to bed,” she continued, much calmer, satisfied that her case was being heard without protests, “and you’re gonna watch Franny because you both owe me. Big time.”

The room was silent, the atmosphere tense. Debbie let out a frustrated huff. 

“Just tell me when,” she prompted, too scared to open her eyes. 

For a second, it seemed like Ian and Mickey argued without saying a thing out loud. Then, settling on whatever, Ian cleared his throat. 

“Yeah.”

Debbie immediately regretted not leaving without sparing them another glance. Because while Ian was at least dressed, standing in front of her in his boxers and a T-shirt that was both too tight and inside-out, Mickey sat on the bed only with the comforter bunched in his lap. 

They were both sweaty and out of breath, and Debbie felt herself flush when she noticed the visible handprints on Mickey’s neck. 

Still, she recovered fast, piercing them both alternately with a hard stare. “Can’t believe I even have to say this, but no fucking in front of my kid!” she warned, pointing her finger at them.

---

The slam of Debbie’s bedroom door successfully burst the strange bubble they got themselves caught up in. Their eyes instantly snapped to each other. 

“I call shower,” Ian announced plainly.

“Fuck you, I call shower first,” Mickey countered. “I was about to bust a nut anyway.”

“What’s bustanut?”

It was the first thing they heard Franny say, and, yeah, Debbie was definitely going to break both of their dicks after this, wasn’t she?

“Well, Franny,” Ian started as he leaned down to her, maneuvering her a little so that she wouldn’t catch a glimpse of Mickey’s naked form as he untangled himself from the comforter, “that’s a thing adults say when they have to brush their teeth. And your Uncle Mickey has a really stinky breath this morning.”

“Like you’re one to talk, bitch.” 

Ian looked up to Mickey poking his tongue in his cheek, his loosely curled fist moving in front of his face in a rather obvious motion. He shot him a glare, but Mickey just pulled his boxers up and left the room, chuckling.

The good news was that Franny seemed content with that. Shrugging her shoulders, she hopped on their rumpled bed and started jumping on it. Ian decided it was better than having to crack the ol’ concept of male ejaculation to her on an early Sunday morning and went about his routine as usual. 

It didn’t take long until something else caught Franny’s attention and she started making low frustrated noises.

Putting on his deodorant, Ian watched in the mirror as she struggled with the cap of their lube. 

“Is this a special sauce?” she asked, all bright-eyed and curious.

Ian snickered. Franny knew all about special sauces ever since Liam started experimenting with making his own in the kitchen a few weeks ago. 

“Yeah, I guess it kinda is a special sauce, in a way,” he replied amusedly. “Uncle Mickey says he doesn’t like it, but he’s a filthy liar.” 

“Smells like strawberries.”

“Yeah, it does.” He turned, grinning at her. “Nice, huh?” 

She held the tube out for him. “Can I try?”

Instead of opening it for her like she probably expected, Ian took it from her and shoved it in the closest drawer.  

“Maybe in a few years.” 

Franny sighed dramatically, and Ian observed in real-time as he started losing his fun uncle points with her. But it didn’t matter how pouty she got; he couldn’t actually let her play with their lube. Mickey was right – that shit was expensive.

It only took about a minute this time before she got bored again. Kicking the bed involuntarily with her feet hanging over its edge, she scanned the messy room. Finally, her eyes fell on a black leathery thing laid on top of the laundry basket by the bed. 

“What’s that?”

Ian pursed his lips as he thought of the best answer, but before he could give her any, he got interrupted.

“It’s a ball gag,” Mickey supplied as he strode into the room with only a towel around his hips. His hair was wet, and the unashamedly self-satisfied smirk on his face had Ian roll his eyes.

“What’s a ball gag?”

“It’s—”

“A toy!” Ian said, a little panicky. “A toy that Uncle Ian and Uncle Mickey like to play with. Especially Uncle Mickey.”

Pausing on his way to their closet, Mickey smacked Ian’s ass. Waggling his eyebrows, he then leaned in to lightly peck his cheek.

“You betcha.” 

Franny’s eyes widened with excitement. “Can I play, too?” 

She got her hands on the contraption at the same time as Ian, who at first tried to scare her off with a stern look. Failing that, he started pulling on the strap, giving out a somewhat tentative laugh.

“Really not a good idea.”

“I wanna play, too! Please!”

“Franny—”

With an ear-splitting screech, she slipped the ball gag from Ian’s grasp and set off running out of the room.

“Crap,” Ian muttered, slapping hard at Mickey’s arm when he had the nerve to chuckle. “Dumbass, your dick’s on the line here, too, you know?”

In the kitchen, he found Franny making rounds around the table; the sex toy held over her head victoriously like a golden trophy. Thankfully, the only person sitting there was Lip, who seemed genuinely entertained by the sudden spectacle.

“Uncle Lip, Uncle Lip, do you wanna play with my ball gag?” Franny asked mid-run.

“Uh, maybe later?” Still smiling, Lip shot his brother a look, pointedly raising a brow.

“Franny?” Ian tried playing nice with a sing-song voice. When the kid slipped past him over and over again, he decided to change his tactics. “Franny! Gimme that!”

“No!” she yelled stubbornly as she took off toward the living room. Unluckily for her, that’s where Mickey, having come down the other set of stairs, caught her. 

As he walked back with her, he held her under his arm so that her tiny legs kicked the air behind his back as she tried to wiggle free. “Sorry, kid, but Uncle Mickey doesn’t share his toys,” he told her as he settled her down in the kitchen. 

Lip sniggered into his mug. 

“So, breakfast?” Mickey suggested after he passed the ball gag to Ian. “I’m fuckin’ starving.”

While Ian hid the sex toy upstairs, Mickey made Pop-Tarts. And Franny, being the good girl she was, sat there through all that and quietly sulked. 

Then, after nibbling on her breakfast for some time, she stood up resolutely.

“I’m gonna go bustanut,” she stated loudly, nearly prompting Lip to choke on his coffee.

He watched as Mickey cackled, and shook his head.

“Debbie’s gonna kill you both, you know?”

Mickey just smirked. “Can’t wait to see her try.”

[daim1812]

Unknown Number (Levi Ackerman x Reader)

Warnings: 18+, High School Reader, Reader's at legal age, Creampie, Shower Sex, Degradation (faintly), Perv! Levi, slight spanking and out-of-the-blue sex.

One Shot: 18+, One night stand (kind of)

Guides:

(Y/N) - Your name

(L/N) - Last name

(H/C) - Hair color

'Ring, ring, ring, ring!'

My eyes open delicately, getting used to the little light coming through the curtains. I stretch out on the bed, the sheets running over my body as I don't stop stretching my muscles. I make little sounds and then I sit on the bed. I look at the nightstand on the left side of my bed and notice my phone. I turn off the alarm that keeps ringing and check the time.

7:48 AM

My eyes widen rudely and I bolt out of bed. Soon I find myself in the bathroom, undressing and throwing myself into the water, taking a quick shower. I get out of the bathroom and soon start dressing.

I put on my underwear, my shorts, my black skirt and my white polo shirt. I decorate my feet with white stockings with blue lines at the top which reach my knees. I put on my black school shoes and run to the living room, grab my black jacket (uniform combination) and go back to the room to get my keys and backpack.

I walk to the door and after opening and locking it, I start running to school while I put my backpack on my shoulders.

8:10 AM

I'm a little late for school, but it was all worth it. The bell had already rung and everyone was going to their respective rooms. I run to my classroom and enter carefully, noticing that I had arrived early since there were still people missing from the class.

I sit in one of the chairs at the front and take out a folder, a pencil, and some notes.

There was an important exam that day. This exam would keep my grade for the year and no other exam this professor gave us was worth more than that exam. I had spent all that week studying like crazy so I could learn that test. My friends had spent some days with me studying, but then they decided to do it on their own, so I decided to continue with my studies.

The night before I had been feeling quite nervous to the point where I could no longer sleep. I finished studying and decided to go to sleep. I was able to fall asleep very late, so late that it was almost dawn.

I sigh nervously when the teacher comes to class. After he came in, he passed out his good morning and began handing in the exam. As soon as he gives me the test, my mind freezes and my hands immediately start to sweat, but I don't let it get me nervous.

I started to take the exam and later I could already remember some things that I had studied and read about 20 times in a row.

As I was about to finish the exam, only 5 questions unanswered, my phone started ringing. I took it cautiously so that the teacher or someone would not see me. I looked at the screen and frowned.

Unknown number

I put it back in my pocket and continued with the exam. I was almost done, two more questions so I could finish the exam, turn it in, and then leave the classroom. But my luck was so horrible that the stranger didn't seem to understand the concept of ignoring a call.

Unknown number

3 missed calls

I was getting quite annoyed so when he called again I answered, leaning my body to the side and letting my voice come out in a whisper.

"Hello?"

"Why did you do it, Petra?"

A male voice tasted my right ear and my insides wanted to know more about that voice so deep and strong.

I swallowed hard and whispered again, looking sideways and noticing that my partner on the right side was watching me curiously. I smiled at him and returned my attention to the call.

"I think you have the wrong number. Please don't call again."

I was about to hang up when the male voice spoke.

"Why the hell do you have Petra's phone number? Who are you?"

I was offended and upset. I looked at the cell phone and when I was planning to respond with an insult, someone takes the phone from me, making my face become a total poem, my body freeze in a strange pose and my heart pound strongly on my chest.

"Miss (L / N), you have 0% on the exam. Now, go to the principal's office; we will see if there you answer the phone on his face. Get out of my class now." And he hung up the call.

Perplexed, furious, stunned, my blood boiling, I grabbed my backpack and my phone which the teacher had left on my desk.

With an immense urge to cry, a lump in my throat, with an internal shame, I walk out of the room to the office to sit there waiting for a lecture that would leave me wanting to jump off a bridge.

I arrive at the office and no one is there, not even the secretary was there. After a few minutes standing in front of the secretary's desk, she arrives with some papers. She smiles at me and I explain why I'm there. She shakes her head disapprovingly and tells me to sit in one of the chairs near the desk.

I do what she tells me and soon I see her disappear from my sight.

I have tears accumulated in my eyes and I only screech when I realize that I had screwed up my semester just because of some stupid who wanted to annoy me at that very moment. This was all the fault of that idiot behind the phone.

I bite my lip furiously and grab my phone, unlock it, and look up the number I don't know, dial it, and wait for them to answer.

After a few long minutes, I hear the male voice answering my call.

"You are a fucking asshole, did you know that?"

I come out with the first thing that comes out of my mind, fury and rage blocking my reason and my thoughts.

"And who the hell do you think you are to talk to me like that, brat?" I hear him growl and it makes me angrier than I am.

"BECAUSE OF YOUR FUCKING FAULT I JUST FAILED MY SEMESTER! COULDN'T YOU GO FUCK SOMEONE ELSE'S LIVES?" I was screaming like a fool in the office, my tears starting to come out of my eyes. I notice that I scream and lower my voice so as not to attract attention.

"Tsk. That is not my problem, little girl. If YOU had studied and if YOU had not answered the call, none of that would have happened. Therefore, it is your fault. Irresponsible." I let out a frustrated sigh and dry my tears.

"Was I the one who called like 20 times? You are an idiot, an egocentric, a real piece of shit." And with that said I ended the call.

I cry like a fool, phone in hand. I hear my phone ring again and this time I curse out loud. I respond quickly with a lot of anger.

"WHAT?!"

"Curse me again, little girl, and I swear, I'll break you in two and not in a very cute way. What's your name, brat?” His voice lowers a bit in tone and I can tell that he is talking a little bored about the situation. I look sideways and lower my head, looking at my uniform.

"And what does that matter to you?"

"Brat... don't answer a question with another question. Answer the damn question. What's your fucking name?" He raises his voice a little and I stay silent.

“(Y / N)..." I whisper, but I know he heard me.

"Good. I'm Levi." He introduces himself in a short form.

"Nice to meet you..." I continued whispering.

"Anyway... what private school do you go to?" He asks and I frown.

"It’s a public school."

"For a girl very demanding of her grades, I am surprised that you’re not from a private school." He arrogantly says, making me angry again.

"Do you think public school students have no goals? We have more dreams than private school students could have. I imagine you say that because you were in a private school. I also imagine that because you were in a private school, you are a huge jerk . " My subconscious gives me a high-five and I gladly crash them. This is how it is done.

He huffs against the earpiece and then sighs.

"Do you want to play, little girl? Because I do I love to play. Fucking the lives of people who challenge me is my favorite pastime." His voice changes a bit in tone, being authoritative and mocking, but at this point I couldn't tell much.

"Moron." I whisper as low as possible, but he hears me. Still, he ignores what I said to go back to his question.

"What school do you go to?"

"None that you care about." My subconscious drops the popcorn and smiles wide, loving my responses.

"(Y / N), you are giving me a headache. Tell me where the hell is your school." He growls, and this time I bite my lip, something inside me liking that growl. I look at the floor and hear the sound of heels hitting the ground, announcing that someone was coming down the hall from the office.

I look at the phone and when I see the secretary lean in, I quickly hang up the call, lower the volume and put it on silence.

I look at the secretary whose name is Felicia and she tells me that I can go to the director now. I rolled my eyes for me and sighed, thanking the secretary and then headed for the principal's office.

After giving me a lecture and a half of all the bad things I have done, he lets me leave school, since many of my teachers had been absent.

As I'm on my way home, I can't stop thinking about the idiot that cost me my semester. Tomorrow I had planned to go to the teacher to see if he would give me the opportunity to make up the exam even if he took away some points. I would tell him what had happened and pray to God that this teacher had the decency to help me.

I get home and throw my backpack on the couch in the living room. I lived alone, but my parents helped pay for the apartment while I kept studying at that school. Sighing, I decide to just sit on the couch and put on a series that I had been watching in the previous week.

I spent most of the day watching the show, until I heard my stomach growling while just laying on the couch. So I started to prepare some food that I had in my kitchen.

After I finished, I sat back on the couch, ate something, and then, realizing that it was late, packed everything up, put the plate in the sink, and went to my room. I bathed, changed, checked the notebooks, and then went to sleep.

When I closed my eyes, the first thing that came to my mind was my semester all destroyed and the male voice that ruined everything.

I curse out loud and knock all of that out of my brain. My subconscious is moving its head from side to side, shaking its head as it makes all trace of what had happened in the day disappear.

Minutes later I had already fallen to sleep with my pillow on one side, sleeping to wait for tomorrow.

===============

I got to school early, walking down the hallways to get to my first classroom. I enter the classroom and meet the teacher who had thrown me out. I say good morning to him and he does not hesitate to say something to me.

He starts class and I don't stop paying attention at all times. At the end of the class, I go to the teacher and explain what happened. With a great and beautiful miracle from heaven, the teacher understood. He told me to come the next day so that I can take the test again. I left the classroom happy and headed to my next classes.

Coming out of my third class, going to recess, I decided to go out of my way to go to my friends to go to the bathroom. When I was going to go in, I trip over someone and my phone, which I had in hand rummaging through my music, falls to the floor. I almost scream when I see it on the ground and I feel like dying. I squat down and pick it up, looking at it to see if something had happened to it. This starts to boil my blood and I stand up again, looking at the person to whom knocked down my phone. I looked at the person and noticed his features. He had totally gray eyes, dark and full of many problems. I could notice it. His hair covered his forehead a little and it was jet black. He was a little short, more or less my height. I feel self-conscious, like he's intimidating me; I feel attracted to this. My cheeks turn a little red, but it quickly fades.

"Can't you see where you're walking, brat? Tsk. Reckless." I was going to continue walking, but I whispered, making him stop and turn around. "What did you say?"

"Don't you have ears?" I faced him, now speaking a little loud.

"Come and say it to my face.” He leaned closer to me a little, challenging me. I frowned, this attitude reminding me a bit of the idiot on the phone. I shake my head a bit and face him.

"That you are a fool.” I looked up at the man in front of me and he raised an eyebrow.

"And you are a very irritating brat ..." he leans a little closer to me and grabs my nape, closing the distance between us. He brought his lips close to my ear and with an extremely sensual voice, he whispered. "... (Y / N).”

He walked away.

With a mischievous smile that then turned into a fine line on his lips, indicating that he was in a bad mood, he disappeared from my sight.

I was puzzled by what happened. I came out of my trance and went into the bathroom. I did what I had to do and then I went with my friends. I wasn't paying much attention to what my friend and best friends were saying, I was only thinking about the gray-eyed man. In this Levi.

When classes were over, I went home, stopping somewhere to buy some food. I didn't feel like doing anything to eat so I bought myself some Chinese food and then went home. I breathed a little sigh when I got to the apartment, I wanted to get there to eat and then go to work at 6 in the afternoon, at the cafe on the corner.

As I got to the front of my apartment door, I realized that there was a silhouette in front of my door. I frowned and moved closer; noticing the short boy's hair, I rolled my eyes, passing by his side and pulling out the key.

"Are you following me, inept?" I look at him, as I feel his gaze on my body. He doesn't show any emotion and he just flinches at me.

"Did the cat bite your tongue, you idiot?" I said again, smiling sarcastically. He didn't respond and I was already starting to get a little irritated. I opened the door and stepped inside. I was going to close the door, but Levi's hand stops me. I look at him and mumble. "Want something?"

"Let me make it up to you for missing this semester." Finally he said, a dry and serious tone. He gave me a little chill down my spine, but I shook it off fast.

"I don't even know you."

"We can change that." He pushed open my door and stepped inside, ignoring my screams. I rolled my eyes again and closed the door. I saw him looking at my apartment, touching everything and watching it carefully.

"This is filthy dirty. How can you live here? Disgusting." He pouted his lips and the blood went straight to my head. I calmed down and went to the kitchen.

"So... Levi, right?" I grabbed a plate and served the food to myself. My subconscious kicks me a little and I curse. "You want...?" I offer him. He walks over to the kitchen and looks at the food. Then he looked at me seriously and nodded. I smiled at him, for the first time, and served the food for him. I took it to the table and put some bottled water for him, a crystal glass next to the bottle.

"And... how do you plan to reward me?" I look into his gray eyes and for a moment I lose myself in it. My cheeks turn crimson and I have to look at my plate to relax. My subconscious doesn't seem to like my behavior very much and makes me understand that I don't know him.

"I'll talk to the teacher about the situation.” He said curtly, just eating some of what I served him. I bite my lip a little and look at him. Fine lips, perfect for kissing. An upturned nose, made to measure. His gray eyes and small dark circles under his eyes, a symbol that he was not sleeping well. I felt a little bad and curiosity wanted to win me in this, but I did not let it.

"I already spoke to him. Don't worry."

"Don't address me informally.” He said quite cold and cutting, causing me to squirm in my chair a bit, feeling that what he had said was wrong.

“I’m sorry..."

"What did the Professor said to you?" He asked after a great silence between us.

"That tomorrow he would give me the opportunity to make up the exam. At least he understood that an unknown idiot made me fail the class." I look at him, not caring about the labels or anything.

He watches me calmly, serenely, boredom included. It seemed like he didn't want to be there.

"Call me idiot again and I won't answer, brat." He murmured and went back to eating, ignoring my gaze on his body. He had some buttons undone and you could see his abs a bit. I died internally and my subconscious had to fan itself with their hand.

"Okay. Also," he looks me in the eye irritably. "Could you leave before 5:20 PM? I have to work."

"Where do you work?"

"In a coffee shop on the corner. They pay good so I stayed there. Besides, I need the money." I add with a nod, picking up the chicken and putting it in my mouth, giving some liking to my palate.

"How much do you get paid per hour?" Levi is looking at me now, his eyes never stop piercing my white polo from school. I hadn't even had a chance to change my clothes.

"$5.25 an hour. It's quite a lot for me. Not much though. I only work 5 hours, plus tips from clients, which isn't much either. But I like the place; it's quiet and has a Christmas scent most of the time. That's something I love a lot. " I smile and he doesn't stop looking at my smile. I notice it and I can't stop shifting in my chair.

"How old are you?" I look at him with some food in my mouth; he's waiting for me to delight the chicken. I swallow easily and press a lock of my hair behind my ear.

"18." I muttered, going back to eating some more of the chicken, which was actually yummy.

"I see." He stops eating and grabs the crystal glass in a very strange way. He picks it up and drinks from over the glass. I feel lost in the way he holds the glass. When finished, he puts it back where it was and watches me. "You smell.”

"What...?" I whisper incredulous. Did he just...?

"You smell. Take a shower. " His back touches the back of the chair and his gaze infuses mine.

"WHAT?!" My cheeks turn red with rage and I have to restrain myself from getting up from the chair and punching him in the very beautiful face that he has. "WELL, IF YOU WERE NOT ROAMING AROUND LIKE A SEXUAL HARASSER, I WOULD HAVE ALREADY BATHED! Now, get out of my house!" I yelled at him, lifting myself out of the chair and walking to my room in a fury. I don't hear him speak or mutter anything, so I deduce that he was gone. I closed the bathroom door and took off all my clothes, the school uniform, leaving it in a place away from the water. I step into the bathroom and sigh, thinking about how long the day had been. I sigh again when the water passes through my body slowly, filling me with joy. I let the water wash away all my worries, my despair, my crazy starts and I let myself be carried away by the sound of water falling to the ground. I let go of my (H / C) locks and put my head in the water, the water sliding all over my body. I lather up slowly, loving every second and minute that I spent in the shower.

Suddenly I feel a hand surround my waist and another hand position itself in my mouth, so that no sound comes out. A silent scream comes out of me and I feel myself dying in the arms of a stranger.

"Take it easy." The cold, emotionless voice calms me down a bit, noticing whose he was. He lets his hand escape my mouth and positions it on my waist. I breathe hard, trying to get past the bad scare I had.

"Are you stupid or what? You almost scared me to death Levi. Oh my God!" I put a hand on my chest and calm down. I hear him snort and cling to my body.

Good grief of the cowboy saints and the entire galaxy!

He had a heart attack body. I didn't see it, but I did feel it. A few abs pressing against my bare back, a v-line running down his crotch and... and let's not talk about his little friend. He was more than a friend at this point.

I feel my cheeks burn and then a short, low moan escapes me. He reaches up to my ear and with his teeth grabs my earlobe, pulling it for himself. I moaned loudly and I squirm in his chest, my breathing starting to go wild.

"Le-Levi ..." his name leaves my lips and for the first time and I feel that it is the most beautiful and most sensual name that I have heard in my entire life. He seems to like me how I moan his name because he now he presses his semi-hard cock against my buttocks, taking my breath away.

"That's it... moan my name, slut.” He whispers in my ear and even though he called me a slut, it made me so wet, getting a loud moan in response. So encouraging.

His hands run through my body and never move away from me. I feel his breath on my neck and I tremble at the touch of him on my stomach. His hands slowly move up my stomach and he positions himself close to my breast. He seems to try to retract, but he doesn't. Instead, he just goes ahead and grabs my right breast, squeezing it in his hand, making me squirm at his gigantic hands that literally fit my breasts perfectly.

I screech at his hand starting to pull on my nipple, his other hand kneading my breast. Then he presses his manhood to my back and begins to rub against me, moans escaping my throat.

I can't think, everything is blocked in my mind. I try to listen to what my subconscious is telling me, but my body doesn't want to respond and begins to rock my hips against Levi. I hear him growl and bring his mouth to my neck, sighing against me, sticking his tongue out of him and licking a large part of my neck.

I moan loudly and can't stop moving my hips back. He bites my neck slowly, digging his teeth into me a little. I drop my neck on his shoulder and he now holds me in his big arms.

"Are you so needy, (Y / N)?" He whispers into my neck and then turns me around, this time letting me see the whole picture of him. His pecs, his strong thighs and legs, his gray eyes now a little black and his hair a little wet because of me.

I bite my lip and don't take my eyes off him. My eyes land on his manhood and I feel myself almost falling to the ground from the greatness before my eyes.

Could that really fit into such a small place?

He watches me lustfully, noticing that I see his manhood with eyes of concern and desire. He wraps his arms around my waist and presses me to him, slowly getting closer to my lips. He smirks mischievously and runs his tongue across my lips.

“It will fit. And if he doesn't fit in, I'll have to force him." Then he kisses me.

He kisses me with a force that pushes me back and my back is pressed against the cold wall. I groan at the cold touch and he takes that opportunity to subjugate his tongue into my oral cavity.

I feel myself dying before his lips and his hands go down my waist, resting on my ass. He imprisons me on him and his member presses on my stomach, slowly coming down into my crotch.

The water falls on our glued bodies and gives it an exciting and lustful atmosphere. Levi won't let me go, kissing me until my lungs are out of breath. He stops kissing me and starts spreading kisses all over my face until he reaches my neck where he starts giving small, wet kisses. One of his hands goes up my stomach and positions himself on my breast, grabbing the already erect nipple and manipulating it at will.

He makes me moan and gasp continuously, letting me run my hands through his raven hair and pull him with quick movements.

After a few seconds, Levi looks me in the eye and I have to blink quickly not to get behind in his gaze. I see him smile mischievously and then as he grabs my ass, he makes me jump and my legs wrap around his waist.

My hands go behind his neck and I let them rest there. His lips seek mine and when he finds them, he kisses me with passion and eagerness. I kiss him back and soon we are carried away by the kiss.

The water continues to fall on our bodies and now I can begin to moan like a cat in heat. The only thing that can be heard is the sound of water falling against the floor and our breaths accompanied by short, soothing moans.

Suddenly I find myself looking between our bodies together, noticing how Levi grabs his member and leads him to my entrance. I groaned loudly and dig my nails on his shoulder. He growls at my act and gives me an angry look.

"Do not do that." He mumbles and I know he is holding back, that deep inside him he had liked what I did.

I bite my lower lip and look into his eyes.

"I am a virgin."

All the anger has died down, going to a more formal face, a face of perhaps surprised, but he knew how to hide it quite well. I watch him warily, wandering my eyes all over his face and hear him snort.

Then, I feel his lips touch mine again, but in a softer and more subtle way, letting the cold of my lips warm to his. I feel like dying before the softness that he takes. One hand is still supporting my weight and the other now places it on my cheek, holding it gently. We kiss for a short time and then he pulls away from me, a bit of saliva connecting our lips. Levi give me a little "tsk" and then returns his gaze to our crotches.

"I know you're a virgin ... I'll try to be as careful with you. If it bothers you, just squeeze my shoulders and I'll stop." I nod and he gives me one last look, then begins to press on my entrance.

I bite my lip quickly, the same with which he looks at me while he is pressing his throbbing member against me. He pushes the head of his member inside and I let out a silent scream, internally crying.

Levi spreads kisses down my neck and my head leans back as I try not to cry from the pain. He stays like that for a few seconds, pampering me in his arms, kissing my neck, repeating to calm me down with a slow and deliberate voice.

He looks at me and I try everything to be able to look at him. He brings his forehead to mine and after giving me a little kiss on the nose, he whispers:

"I'm going in."

He subdues the entire length of him inside me, taking my breath away and finally breaking every virginity he had. I try to hold back my tears, but soon one or another comes out of my eyes. Levi kisses me and does not move inside me, understanding that it was better for him to get used to the length and thickness of him.

I pat him on the back, my head pressed to his shoulder, my teeth gently biting my lower lip. His cock throbs inside me and I feel Levi growl low. His hands make me jump a little so that the weight is just right for him and his member takes this opportunity to impale himself inside me again. My throat goes wild and I let out all the louder moans I've ever heard made before.

Levi begins to move inside me slowly, his lips pressing on my shoulder as I moan without concern into his neck. My head tilts a little and it gives me a chance to look Levi in ​​the eye. I press my forehead against his as Levi begins to sway continuously and eagerly.

"More..." I sighed between moans, my nipples rubbing against his chest, letting Levi draw a growl that felt it all over my pussy, getting me more wet than necessary.

Levi looks me straight in the eye and his heart surrenders to what he sees. Suddenly he pushes me against the wall, the water falling between us, and without letting me think for a moment what was happening, his member begins to rush in and out of me.

He fucks me with such agility that I can't almost breathe. His lips stick to my neck and he bites down hard, leaving his bite marks on the edge of my neck and my collarbone.

I hear Levi's grunting and my pussy can't help but contract and get wetter than before, and Levi notices this, making it harder for him to get in and out.

"You're so... tight." I groan in response, my head flooded in clouds and paradises as I am supported by Levi.

Even though my mind was screaming at me what the hell I was doing this with a guy I barely knew and who, to make matters worse, almost made me miss a whole semester, I didn't have the slightest desire of importance in me. It felt so good in the arms of that short boy. I felt that I could achieve glory while he pampered me with words and on the other hand made me want that sexual act more intensely.

Fuck, he felt so good. He felt so fucking rich.

Levi bites my nipples and brings me back to reality. Almost drooling into his arms that keep pressing me to the wall, I look at him with lust and a little confusion as to why he did that.

His eyes meet mine and I can't contain my moans as I watch him suck on my nipples. He bites and then licks my nipple, moving to the other to repeat the same action. Suck, bite and lick.

I screech at the itch on my bottom and instantly know that Levi had whipped my ass with his hand.

My pussy tightens around him again, and Levi moans again, loving that my pussy took the size of him so well.

"Look at me." He orders me, smacking my ass again. His mouth is drawn to one side with a mischievous smile as he does not let my nipple escape from his thin and luscious lips.

It's hard for me to look at him, but I do my best to keep my eyes from closing in pleasure. His hand grabs my chin and makes me look at him, those gray eyes now with dilated pupils and his wet hair pressing into his forehead.

So sensual.

My nails dig into his back and I moan maddeningly at his onslaught nonstop. We stared at each other, he gripping my chin tightly so that my head wouldn't tilt back, and I between closing and opening my eyes. I bite my lower lip and continue moaning, my breasts rising in time with the fierce thrusts.

"I told you... to look at me." He growls against my chest, his teeth nipping at my nipple with no subtlety, making me scream on the spot.

I look at him quickly, the water droplets almost blurring my vision. Still, I don't take my gaze away from his as he continues to grab my nipple and violently slap it between his lips. He sucks incessantly, like a baby, and my pussy squeezes my juices.

"Le-Levi ..." I call his name as my waist rises in time with his hips. His balls hit my entrance, the water and my juices creating an extravagant sound throughout the bathroom.

"I am so close." I moan at him, grabbing his cheeks and forcing him away from my nipples, letting a POP roll off his lips. I look into his eyes and push my lips against his, kissing him passionately, pushing my tongue into his mouth.

His thin fingers sink into my hips and he soon begins to thrust rapidly, in and out of my wet pussy without any difficulty.

He pulled me away from his lips a few inches when I felt my orgasm reach its maximum. I dig my nails back into his back and scratch him from the bottom up, wanting to hold on and hold on to him.

I hear him growl and gasp a little in my ear when he notices my pussy twitch around him as he presses his cock's head against my G-spot.

I bite his shoulder quickly as a high-pitched scream comes out of me, not being able to take much more of that passionate sex session. My fingers continue to dig into his back as my toes curl and my legs jerk. My moans are heard throughout the apartment and Levi seems to love it as he pulls my earlobe and growls in my ear.

Soon his thrusts begin to cease, the white liquid fading inside me, running gently down my lips and my thighs. I hear him moan as his member lets out the last drops of his semen on me.

He holds me for a few more minutes, our breaths heavy and colliding with both of our necks. My nipples are still upright on his chest and his member comes out of my pussy to give his semen a chance to come out of my hole.

Levi lets my feet touch the ground gently, still watching the spasms of my orgasm in my legs. His fingers are still buried in my hips as I lean back on the wall. I clear my throat and uncomfortably turn so the water runs down my wet, sweaty back. Levi says nothing and I pray to keep it that way.

After cleaning up and letting Levi do the same, I walk out of the bathroom to get dressed. Levi comes out behind me with a towel hooked around his waist.

My cheeks are flushed and I have to turn my gaze not to let him know that I found that image too tempting.

After dressing and looking at the clock next to my bed, I can tell that my workday would soon begin.

"Umm ..." I mumble, watching Levi put his shoes on and then stand up and look at me. "I think ... it's better now ... that you leave ..."

I almost whisper the words, but the intimidating look Levi gives me leaves me stuck on in my place.

I hear his footsteps approaching me and my subconscious starts to panic. I forget to breathe, my hands sweat and my heart pumps with more force as his hand is positioned on my waist, drawing me towards him.

"For a little girl ... you made me come like no one else." He mutters, the mischievous smile appearing on his face. My blush is higher than before and I really couldn't think clearly.

I walk away from him and point to my bedroom door, causing him to walk me to the front door.

He does not look at me at any time and I only flinch to murmur goodbye when I see him cross the threshold of the door.

Before leaving, he takes my chin, makes me look at him and with a face of loathing mixed with lust, licks my lips slowly.

Sensual.

"You don't smell now, idiot." He whispers into my lips, leaning back slowly. "Call me to screw you again ... and I hope this time is not your semester." I smile and watch him disappear from my sight as he stepped into the elevator.

I closed the door as quickly as possible and took a deep breath.

OXYGEN, ENTER MY BODY.

My legs slowly sag and soon I find myself on the ground with my cheeks red, my hands pressed to my knees and my mouth half open in surprise.

I really did something like that?

What kind of outrageous person have I become?

Fuck, but it had felt wonderful. He made me touched the sky and he swore he wanted to do it again. My fingers slowly trailed down my thighs, remembering how his hands roamed up my hips and infused me against his, his cock throbbing every time he sank inside me.

I feel my fingers position themselves on my panties, my head tilting back with a groan. I had hardly felt the glory and wanted more.

My fingers get lost inside my panties and land on my clit, giving me the feeling of desire and anguish for more. I start a slow, fragile movement against my clit, thinking of Levi's hands touching me as if it was the only thing I wanted to do at the moment. My other hand lowers the bra over my breasts and my fingers engage in kneading and pinching my nipples, which begin to rise up against my fingers.

The swaying of my fingers doesn't compare to Levi's thrusts, but they calm me with lust when I insert one of my fingers into my entrance. My head slides back into the door with a solid moan, my pussy getting wet non-stop as I masturbate in the doorway to the memories of Levi fucking me in my bathroom. I let myself sink into thoughts and continue my instinctive process of spontaneous release.

I prick and knead my nipples, my other fingers running circularly over my clit, seeking quick release and relaxation. My moans rise again in pitch and suddenly I find myself moaning Levi's name as my body contracts and rises into the air. My hips jerk as my body squirts liquid from my pussy. I continue to moan as my body relaxes on the floor, the liquid exposed all over the floor at the entrance to my apartment.

Flushed, wet, with lust clouding my head, I get up to clean everything that my body dripped. I head back to my room, taking a quick bath, putting on my work clothes, and grabbing my things to get out of the apartment. I mentally note that I had to go to the pharmacy to find some contraceptive pills since I had let a total stranger come inside me.

Before opening the door to leave, I remember my phone, rummaging through my purse. I unlock it and the message on the screen frightens me and makes me wet again.

Very sensual.

Message from: The bitch who screwed up my semester 🤦🏽‍♀️

Your moans were heard throughout the hall. I was barely gone and you were already dripping for me. Brats like you deserve a lesson. And you will see what a lesson I will teach you... slut.

The boy from the wrong number was extremely sensual.

End

Thank you so much for reading this!~

Have a good day or night, beautiful. 🥰

This is a translated version. The original version will be posted in due time.

[dex-xe]

I’ve made Spotify playlists inspired by each of the ghosts and I’ve made these little written pieces to talk about them. if you wanna read them, please go ahead - if not then enjoy the music!!

This is Thomas' playlist:

If anyone actually reads these let me know, cause they take quite a while to write and while I will finish all of them cause I'm a perfectionist and want them all to be consistent but if anyone actually enjoys these let me know??

Friday I’m In Love - The Cure

This doesn’t really need an explanation, Robert Smith just “really speaks” to him. I think any love song probably speaks to Thomas to some degree but I’m glad he likes it.

I Should Be So Lucky - Kylie Minogue

He loves it so much he stole it. Genuinely that’s one of my favourite scenes when he performs it for Alison just because I love his little *hides face* “please send correspondence to Miss Minogue!”

You Belong With Me - Taylor Swift

We all know Thomas love a lovey pop song so like old Taylor Swift. He would dance to that over and over on repeat. He’d also appreciate the beauty of a modern love story like he does in Friends. Like the holding up the cards through the window in the music video would also remind him of Love Actually which he also loves.

Daydream Believer - The Monkees

This is Thomas’ world and we’re all just living in it. Daydreaming about Alison while not being able to do anything.

Girls Like You - Vitamin String Quartet

I said this with Kitty but it also applies to Thomas: the Bridgerton soundtrack fits nicely. Thomas would’ve been a teenager or have just come of age when Bridgerton was set so the balls and the season and everything would be the ultimate dream of Thomas who clearly loves things like that.

Venus As A Boy - Björk

Yes, this song is probably about just good sex but I also like to interpret it as being about the beauty of a man and the idea of feminine beauty (Venus) in the body of a man which I think is very Thomas who is obviously very in touch with the feminine side of beauty.

Dancing Queen - ABBA


Thomas king of dancing at Button House, his little dances to The Cure and at the party are just so fucking cute?? King behaviour.

Don’t Go Breaking My Heart - Elton John & Kiki Dee

Self-explanatory but like love at first sight and everything.

Take A Chance On Me - ABBA

Do you reckon Thomas will ever clock that Alison truly doesn’t feel the same?? Cause she’s obviously not gonna take a chance on him and like she obviously shouldn’t cause Mike is 100000% better for her XD (not just because he’s alive…) but like will he ever properly clock that??

Creep - Radiohead

Ngl Thomas I adore you but you’re a creep, you’re a weirdo. I guess because he’s dead it doesn’t really matter that much that he’s thirsting over Alison but imagine being Alison. You’re living in this big old house with your incredibly loving and devoted husband and there’s just some dead guy in the corner like “i love you more than he does”. Thomas mate consider the consequences of your actions XD

Ever Fallen in Love (With Somebody You Shouldn’t’ve) - Buzzcocks

Self explanatory but like, I’ve just said imagine being Alison but on the other hand imagine being Thomas. You’ve been living in this big old house for literally two centuries when all of a sudden it’s invaded by a beautiful woman (Alison, my beloved) but you’re dead and literally can’t do anything about your feelings. Painful. So yeah, I don’t blame Thomas for a lot of his stuff cause like I know what it’s like to fall for someone you can’t have, it hurts, man.

Line Without a Hook - Ricky Montgomery

“She’s a - she’s a lady, and I am just a boy” I feel like the way Thomas loves Alison is like a little boy crush cause Thomas died young and inexperienced in the field of love despite literally obsessing over the concept of love in his poetry. He doesn’t understand the complexity of love as is shown when he’s like to Alison “leave him, kill yourself, marry me” or something like that like he really doesn’t understand love despite loving it. He’s not too far away from Kitty in that respect I guess, they both have quite childish, fairytale-like views of love.

I Think We’re Alone Now - Tiffany

“Alone at last” Thomas get the fuck outta the bath, man!! But yeah, this gives me 90s girls sleepover vibes like little whispered secrets in the dark and honestly I fully love that.

Can’t Help Falling in Love - Elvis Presley

Again one of the reasons I don’t entirely blame Thomas for his love for Alison is because often you really can’t help it.

You Can’t Hurry Love - The Supremes

Significantly better than the Phil Collins cover which seems to get more play?? But yeah just a great song, nothing really to say.

Boys Don’t Cry - The Cure

“As an English boy, you’re encouraged not to show your emotions” - Robert Smith. Thomas is very much the rejection of that and very over expressional of his emotions which tbh is way more healthy. Thank you Thomas, boys do in fact cry (if they don’t then good lord I guess I’m no longer a boy XD)

Oh Patti (Don’t Feel Sorry For Loverboy) - Scritti Politti

“Don't feel sorry for lover boy, he wants the world to love him, then he goes and spoils it all for love”.

This Charming Man - The Smiths

(This is one of the first songs I ever remember hearing, not relevant but it’s true) The idea of rejecting “alpha-masculinity” is I think super interesting and very telling for Thomas, like he rejects the idea of traditional masculinity but he does it by attacking those who embody that form of masculinity. Like calling men ‘philistines’ (it took me so long to figure out the spelling of that) for embodying traditional masculinity and I just find that super interesting. It’s like the idea of women supporting women and the rejection of the ‘pick-me’ girl and the ‘not like other girls’ girl in favour of supporting everyone regardless of what type of femininity or otherwise they choose to employ, one day hopefully Thomas will catch that idea and apply it to other men.

Sweater Weather - The Neighbourhood

Bi Thomas, that’s my reasoning. XD Nah it’s just a great song

My Melancholy Blues - Queen

Thomas’ sulking is genuinely just iconic like his sighing place and like when he gets interrupted in his sulking is the start of so many iconic lines.

[drwcn]

The Shadow Beneath the Light 

Concept: Sect Master Wen Qing & her harem of Jiang heirs demonic cultivators. CQL!Verse. 

[Part 1] Part 2

(long post, tw: scars)

~

The remnant heirs of Yunmeng Jiang all had scars, Wen Qing knew.

She discovered Jiang Yanli’s first. 

“Do you want me to help you remove them,” she had asked the oldest Jiang when her brothers brought her to Nevernight for Wen Qing to ease the ravage of demonic cultivation on their sister’s constitution. Wen Qing was good at that, erasing scars. She had helped herself along these many years; Wen Ruohan didn’t like weakness, and scars were much too telling. 

“No.” Jiang Yanli replied, and Wen Qing found her steel like resolve magnetic. 

“What they did to me cannot be undone, Wen-zongzhu.” Jiang Yanli raised a pale hand from the dark medicinal bath Wen Qng had put her in, water dripping from her wrist down to her elbow, rolling across the countless white lines that marred her once untouched skin. With a twist of her wrist, tendrils of back smoke danced between her bony fingers and gathered in her palm. 

She closed her eyes. “But they’ve paid for it.” 

There was no point in asking her how these fine scars made by thin blades came to be, or what others scars she carried that could not be seen with the eye. Nevernight received reports from Wen Chao himself when he had captured the three Jiang children. Having been raised beside him, Wen Qing knew her cousin’s nature well, and she knew even better the pettiness of his mistress Wang Lingjiao. 

...the Jiangs have fallen under our might, stripped of their powers and dignity alike...

Even Wen Ruohan had scoffed at his son’s letter in distaste and muttered “that idiot boy” before sinking back into deep meditation. In his later days, he had little energy for anything else but controlling the Yin Iron. 

It made him easy to kill. 

After she’d slain him, Wen Qing had preserved his body in her laboratory, and ordered him to be studied in detail by her healers. The physiological effects of demonic cultivation on the body: such uncharted water, so much untapped knowledge, a realm of unexplored potential. She wasn’t going to get another subject that was as readily available and un-missed as her predecessor. 

And if this just so happened to allow the three Jiangs to bear witness to his systematic disassembling while his de-brained head floated in a glass tub above her workbench... well, that was a convenient bonus. 

Wen Qing was not a nice woman. 

Fortunately, the Jiangs weren’t looking for nice. 

~

She married Jiang Yanli on an auspicious summer day. 

With the memories of Yunmeng’s vengence still so fresh in their minds and Qishan Wen’s new political foundation so precarious, it seemed wise to keep to a serious, private agenda. Yet, this was Sect Master Wen’s da’hun, an official affair if nothing else, so no corners were cut when it came to matters of ceremony and sanctity. Though it was not the lavish event that Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian had dreamed of giving their sister in their youth, Wen Qing made sure that Jiang Yanli was afforded every measure of respect and dignity. 

They rose early in the morning, bathed, and meditated to clear their minds. At noon, they climbed Nevernight’s tall stairs together to bow and pay homage to the heavens and gods. There was no song, no music, just the high altitude winds in their ears as they bond themselves to each other, witnessed in full by their brothers, their parents’ spirits and their disciples. 

Then later, inside the sanctuary of their wedding suite - the only place where Wen Qing gave in to her impulse to make it as decorated and luxurious as she knew Jiang Yanli deserved and desired - the young Sect Master of Qishan Wen allowed herself to be unwrapped by her new fu’ren and to unwrap her in return. 

“It’s all yours,” Wen Qing promised within the cocoon of their canopy, the air dense with the heat of their coupling. Her body tingled in pleasure where Jiang Yanli’s hands had mapped out its planes and claimed them for herself. 

“Hm?” Her new wife laid propped on her elbow by her side, the curtain of her hair falling around her pale shoulders, lips dark, kiss-swollen, and smiling. She was the very definition of beauty, the epitome of divine, and living proof in Wen Qing’s mind that mere mortals could not taint perfection. “What’s mine?” 

Her heart, they both knew, would have to be shared. In fact, Wen Qing suspected Yanli rather preferred it this way: all of them in Wen Qing’s bed and in her life, so that none would have to be without the other. To the outside world it may seem like a harem, but Wen Qing understood without a doubt that there could be no others, nor did she want there to be. 

She reached for Jiang Yanli’s free hand, laced their fingers together and pressed a tender kiss to her palm. “Everything. All that I am - my titles, my powers, my lands - they’re yours. Fu’ren, you are my fu’ren, my legally wedded spouse, my only wife. I entrust myself, my life to you.”

“Yanli,” she whispered, caressing her wife’s - her wife, what miracle! - face with the back of her knuckles, her thumb brushing her lips open and then down under her chin, along her neck, across her clavicle and over the mount of her left breast, a motion which earned her a soft moan from Yanli’s parted lips. “I can’t turn back time, can’t undo the past, but henceforth I will do everything in my power to ensure the happiness of you future. Qishan Wen Sect lies at your feet.”

Jiang Yanli’s eyes darkened incrementally with her every word, darkened in a way that had nothing to do with the yin energy that flowed through her veins.  

“I like it when you call me fu’ren,” Jiang Yanli leaned closer, her gaze falling to Wen Qing’s lips. “Say it again.” 

“Fu- mhm!” 

Her words were lost somewhere in between them. Jiang Yanli shoved Wen Qing onto her back and caught her lips in a kiss that was truly too filthy to have come from any good gentry girl, and proceeded to show her just exactly how much she liked it.

~

 A-Ning once asked her once why the Jiang siblings would agree to marry her, despite the Wens being the reason for all their tragedy. Wen Qing told him that there could be no greater karmatic justice than if the clan from whom Wen Ruohan and his sons took everything became the bloodline to inherit Qishan Wen’s future. 

~

Jiang Cheng’s scars are ragged and angry, overturned flesh, long and deep. 

They hurt him on the days when the weather turned and the temperature dropped. His temper was terrible on those nights, and with the dark powers aggravating his spirit, that made him dangerous. 

Wen Qing didn’t mind. She was a Wen, and Wens practiced ways of the fire, and for Jiang Cheng she would set her mountains alight to keep him warm for a moment. 

Two days after Jiang Yanli became the new lady of Nevernight, Wen Qing welcomed Jiang Wanyin into her harem with a small private ceremony of their own.  He looked odd in proper red; it wasn’t his colour, but his smile was sweet and shy and Wen Qing lost herself a little in those eyes. 

He was her consort, what a strange notion to think about. Even now she still couldn’t quite wrap her mind around it. Dukes and emperors had concubines and consorts, cultivators rarely did. She wasn’t the first but certainly one of the few. Not to mention, she was the first female head of family in Qishan Wen’s history. A female Sect Master with a harem of demonic cultivators, what a colourful tableau they must seem to the world. 

She asked Jiang Wanyin before he committed himself to her if there was any part of him that minded that he couldn’t be her legal husband, that she couldn’t give him the same prestige she gave his sister. He shook his head. After everything, he and Wei Wuxian both agreed that Yanli came first and that they would honour her before all others. Wen Qing thought this was perhaps their way of atoning for a mistake that was never theirs to begin with, but as much as she didn’t agree, she understood why the boys couldn’t let go of the guilt of not being able to protect their sister. 

(Sometimes, they would tell her stories of what they endured at the hands of Wen Chao and Wang Lingjiao, and how the three of them survived the months they spent together in the Burial Mount. It gave her nightmares, those stories, she who didn’t lose a wink of sleep after cutting off a man’s head.) 

Jiang Cheng couldn’t be her husband in name, but she made sure to arrange for him all the sweet and homely customs that normal couples would enjoy on their wedding night. A veil for him to lift from her face, and wine for them to drink with their arms entwined. He looked confused when the merry old wives, who were her wedding attendants, led by Grandma came to her with a bowl of half cooked dumplings. 

She took a bite. The merry wives chuckled and asked, “sheng bu sheng a?”  

Jiang Cheng blushed. He understood. Wen Qing bit back a laugh and nodded, “sheng.” 

Then they were left alone. Jiang Cheng was still blushing, even though what was supposed to happen next would hardly be their first. 

Hm, on second thought, perhaps it would. 

Their times spent together prior to this had always been accompanied by special assists that Wen Qing was quite good at using and that Jiang Cheng was quite delighted at receiving. She didn’t bring them tonight. She figured that tonight of all nights he would want her a different way, just as she wanted him. 

Jiang Cheng shuffled back onto the bed and glanced in further confusion at all the dried dates, peanuts, longan and sunflower seeds spread across the silk. “What? Did we run out of plates?” 

Wen Qing climbed leisurely onto his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Use that big boy brain of yours and think.” 

It only took a couple more seconds before it clicked. “Oh”. His blush darkened. “Wow they’re really serious about this stuff.” 

“What?” Wen Qing teased, purposely gyrating her hips to grind down against him. “You don’t want to?” She could feel him, and he definitely wanted to. 

His hands spanned her waist, pulling her closer. “I never said that.” 

Unlike Yanli, Jiang Cheng needed a firm but gentler hand. Something consistent, unwavering, safe. Wen Qing cradled him between her thighs and within her arms. The heat from her golden core flowed out from her fingertips, crawling up his spine and along his scars to warm him from within. 

Jiang Cheng panted against her neck, clung to her tightly and pressed desperate kisses where he could. 

“I’ve got you,” she whispered against his ear, as their shared pleasure dizzied her usually sharp perception of the world. “I’ve got you. A-Cheng, Wanyin, I’m with you, you’re safe, you’re good, you’re so good, so good, you can let go, let go. Let go.”

In the back of her mind even as their world exploded into blissful white lights, a single thought lingered. You’re not allowed to die.

Afterwards, when he curled up quietly at her side, pillowed against her soft breasts, she found herself running her fingers through his hair and lulling him to sleep with her visions of their future. Yunmeng would be free, she would tell him. Lotus Pier would be cleaned and rebuilt just as the three of them remembered. She would send her most trusted subordinates to the Jiang library, to preserve their books and scrolls. She would dispatch her most agile trackers to find remnants of their disciples and Jiang elders travelling the lands so that they may help to pass down Yunmeng Jiang's wisdom and guide the steps to train their young folks... 

“Young folks,” she mused. She could still feel his spent between her legs, a bit sticky where it was starting to pool under her thighs, and a daring part of her wondered if it would happen tonight. “Hm.”

“Someday,” Jiang Cheng mumbled, half asleep. “’hm many d’you want?”  

“The better question is how many your sister wants. Fu’ren is calling the shots on this front - ha ha - stop!” Wen Qing shrieked a little as his sneaky fingers danced across her sensitive ribs. The bastard knew just where to tickle her! 

“What?” Jiang Cheng grinned, pulling her closer and apparently no longer interested in sleeping. “A-jie has high expectations, we can’t disappoint her.”

“Hm yes,” Wen Qing smiled, melting into his kiss. “That would be unacceptable.” 

~ 

The stories about them, the stories that the Jins were spreading, painted a wretched affair. 

Wen Qing didn’t have to hear it to know that it must be bad. The cold blooded assassin betraying the man who raised her, decapitating his head and usurping his rule, overthrowing him to steal Qishan Wen Sect from under him. She claimed zero tolerance for his tyranny and yet, not months later, she had taken in not one, not two, but three of middle kingdom’s grandmasters of demonic cultivation. Within a year, she’d married all of them. A harem. She was the only master of a major sect to have one. Word on the street was that the Jiangs were her puppets, her slaves, that she owned them. 

What people didn’t know is that although she usurped Wen Ruohan and assumed his power, in doing so, she had also assumed his debts, the debt that Qishan Wen owed Yunmeng Jiang. Yes she owed Gusu Lan as well, so she sent her resources, and yes she owed Qinghe Nie, so she sent her healers. But the Jiangs...what could she do for them? 

So no, the Jiang remnants were not her puppets, her soldiers, nor - heaven forbid - her slaves. They were her debt, a debt she could never repay, and would owe for the rest of her life. 

~

Wei Wuxian’s scars were the worst. They were the only kind she couldn’t do anything about because they were inflicted with the spiritual fire brands of her own clan. 

Wen Mao, their founder, had them forged when he established their sect. It was intended for their own disciples who’d committed the gravest of crimes. Once inflicted, the evidence of it could never be removed through any healing methods known to man. It was never meant to be used for torture. 

Wen Chao clearly didn’t care, or more likely he didn’t know, since he barely bothered to read his own ancestor’s teachings.  

The first time Wen Qing saw Wei Wuxian’s scars, it was when she had finally wrangled him into her clinic to have him examined for damages from demonic cultivation. She had examined his sister, and she had examined his brother. They both got better under the care of her and her team of healers. Only Wei Wuxian resisted, even though he was the most aggressive practitioner of the them three. 

When he finally shed his upper robes, Wen Qing understood why. He was covered in them. Her assistant healer actually swore aloud and flinched, though Wen Qing’s withering glare had him quickly lowering his eyes to apologize. “I’m sorry, that was unprofessional.” 

Wei Wuxian shrugged. 

He drank a lot and was indiscriminate about his liquor, but once in a drunken stupor he confessed that he missed Gusu’s Emperor’s Smile. So when Wen Qing proposed to him like his siblings wanted, she expected him to refuse. Wei Wuxian wasn’t the type to be forced to do anything no matter how much his brother and his sister wanted him to. 

Except he didn’t. 

“You understand what I’ve saying right?” 

“Yeah. Being the concubine of the most attractive young Sect Master in the land - no offence Zewu-jun and Chifeng-zun - uhm some would call me a lucky bastard.”  

Wen Qing was baffled. “If you’re sure. You know I wouldn’t let the Jins do anything to you or Yanli or A-Cheng, marriage or no marriage.” 

“Pff, I’m not afraid of the Jins, and why wouldn’t I be sure?” 

“Because....Lan Wangji?” No need to beat around the bush about these things. She was there when the two of them fell out of the cave together, wrists bound with Gusu Lan’s head ribbon. 

Hm. 

Wei Wuxian glowered. “Well, more reason to get married isn’t it? If I’m part of your inner court, your harem, the venerated and righteous Hanguang-jun can’t reasonably come and force me to go back to Gusu with him so he can exorcise the evil out of me.”

“He said that?” Somehow the dots just didn’t connect.  

“Not in so many words.”

Right. 

Well, in her defense, Wen Qing didn’t really know Lan Wangji all that well, so she couldn’t be blamed for what she did next. 

Two days after her ceremony with Jiang Cheng, and four days after her da’hun with Jiang Yanli, Wei Wuxian dressed himself in red and Wen Qing came to him with a giant vat of Qishan’s finest alcohol. 

There was none of the grandeur she afforded Yanli (he wouldn’t have preferred that even if she could arrange it), nor any of the sweetness she shared with A-Cheng (“He’s the sentimentalist in the family not me”, waved Wei Wuxian dismissively). Wei Wuxian just wanted a good time, and Wen Qing obliged. 

In short, they got drunk. Blindingly drunk. Over many, many rounds of drinking games which started with betting and ended with stripping, both of them worked themselves up enough to get their hands on each other. 

Probably. 

She was not entirely sure. When she woke up the next morning, she was on the floor with a pounding headache, completely naked, sore all over and wrapped in a red silk drape that somehow came down from the wall. The bed behind her was still made, which meant they never made it there. 

A groan came from the table. Crammed under there, Wei Wuxian was also completely naked. He shuffled out, rolling over onto his stomach, blew the errant strands of hair from his face and whined, “Ow! I’m so sore. Did we fuck?” 

“Uh...” What time was it? Surely way too early for any decent person to ask her to do a medical exam on herself. Wen Qing squinted against the light streaming in from the windows. “Uh, I’m not sure.”

Wei Wuxian padded down his body and winced when he reached his backside. “Yeah we did.” He gave a triumphant pump of his fist. “Alright! Mission accomplished.”  

Wen Qing laughed. Wei Wuxian sat up and laughed with her. She laughed harder when she was sure that his mirth was genuine.  

She felt lucky. She had a household: a brother who was safe, respected and maturing into a fine young man every day, a wife who was the pillar of her life, a consort who she loved very much, and a man who kept things interesting. A family. 

Wen Qing laughed, but she laughed too soon. 

~

“Gusu Lan Sect is sending an envoy next month to Nevernight for the trade negotiations.” Wen Qing paced the length of her wife’s private study. 

Jiang Yanli raised her eye brows. “Yes...we’ve spoken about this. Everything is in order, is it not? Lan Xichen was very reasonable in his letters. Certainly more agreeable than Jin Guangshan.” 

Wen Qing smacked the newest letter down on Yanli’s desk. “This was delivered to me personally this morning, addressed to the both of us. I can’t believe I’m receiving something of this nature from Zewu-jun of all people.”

Jiang Yanli picked up the slip, glanced it over, and fell silent. “Oh.” 

“Yanli, ‘Oh’ is an understatement, this is an outrage!” 

The intention of the letter was very clear; Lan Xichen wrote on behalf of his brother Lan Wangji for Wei Wuxian’s hand in marriage. 

The ladies stared at each other, in utter, shocked silence. No matter how close the Twin Jades were, there was no version of reality in which Jiang Yanli would believe that Sect Master Lan would ever stoop to asking a fellow Sect Master for her concubine, like Wei Wuxian was some kind of giftable property. This has to be a mistake. 

“Listen to this language. ‘My brother, though he may often find it difficult to express his affections, feels deeply for Wei-gongzi.’ Gongzi, he wrote, not xiansheng. ‘As there are regrettably no elders present for either the Jiang or Wei family, I must then seek blessing and permission from you Wen-zongzhu and Wen fu’ren, the current head of the clan with whom Wei-gongzi resides and his adopted elder sister’.” Jiang Yanli read aloud, pausing to exclaim, “I - I don’t think he knows!”

“How could he possibly not know? Jin Guangshan is fabricating nasty stories about us in every tea house, tavern, and inn. How could Lan Xichen not know?!” Wen Qing dug the heels of her hands into her eye socket in frustration. “Wen zongzhu and Wen fu’ren - he knows we married.”

“Yes, you and I. The vernacular used on the streets is the Jiang heirs, so maybe he thought it didn’t include A-Xian. In any case, you haven’t gone out in public with him yet.” Yanli tried to rationalize. People knew about Jiang Cheng because Wen Qing had taken him on an inspection of Qishan Wen’s cities and citadels three weeks ago. Everyone saw: subsidiary clans, townsfolk, peasants, travelling merchants. 

“That’s true.”  Then Wen Qing suddenly had a thought. “At the risk of sounding like a warlord trying to curry favour with an ally by gifting away her concubine, you think we can just ...lie about the marriage....? No, no that’s insane. And immoral.” 

 Yanli sighed. “We could try all we want, but A-Xian would never buy into it, even if you and I both know there’s still something there.” 

“Not that he’ll ever admit it.” Wen Qing grumbled.  

“A-Xian can be...difficult. Once upon a time, I had harboured some kind of hope that he and Lan-er-gongzi could...” Another sigh. “And then everything happened. I can no more speak for him than I can speak for myself, and without a family to back him, given his method of cultivation and his record during the war...well.” Jiang Yanli’s eyes took on a far away look. 

Wen Qing cocked her head. She was starting to see why Jiang Yanli wanted her to marry Wei Wuxian. Jiang Yanli understood as his sister just as well as Wen Qing understood as his once-physician, that Wei Wuxian was more fragile than he let on, and she wanted someone there to take care of him. More than that, Jiang Yanli wanted herself to be around to ensure that he was taken cared of. That person wasn’t going to be Lan Wangji. She had given up on Gusu Lan Sect. 

 Perhaps she should’ve waited. Perhaps they both should’ve. 

Wen Qing rounded the table and came behind Yanli, kneading her thumb into the tense muscles of her trapeziums. Jiang Yanli hummed. “He still loves him, you know.” 

“I know.” 

Over the months, Wen Qing had discovered that she and Wei Wuxian were quite compatible. She shared his bed - occasionally - because they were friends and it was fun and he needed the connection, but it wasn’t like that between them, and they were both well aware of it. Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing saw each other only as family, in the best sense of the word.  

Things were good. Really. It was warm and comfortable. Wei Wuxian spent his days with his siblings and Wen Ning and found joy in the duties he took up within her sect. If Wei Wuxian liked to stare at the orchids on his window sill, the white orchids Nie Huaisang brought as a gift when he visited lasted month and which Wei Wuxian tended to himself and didn't let anyone touch, Wen Qing pretended she didn’t see. 

“The envoy next month is clearly a ruse. Our trade agreements are all but finalized. Lan Xichen clearly wants to talk about this marriage in person, but why the smoke and mirrors?” Wen Qing knelt down and wrapped her arms around her wife. 

“His Uncle probably doesn’t agree. Or his Elders.”  Jiang Yanli leaned back into the embrace and closed her eyes. She was tired. They both were. “I don’t imagine Lan Xichen is coming here himself.” 

“Naturally not.” 

“Who is he sending?” 

Wen Qing pulled back just enough to tilt Jiang Yanli's chin towards her for a kiss. "Guess? Who does the kind and magnanimous Zewu-jun have at his disposal that is good with words, has his trust, and knows the ins and outs of Nevernight."

"Ah." Yanli understood.

Sunshot Campaign’s most prolific little spy. 

“Meng Yao.”

[Next]

~

Notes:

da’hun 大婚 - the official marriage of a person to their legal spouse.

sheng 生 = raw, but also “birth”. It’s an homonym for “is it raw?” and “are you going to give birth?” It’s for good luck.

date (zao), peanut (sheng), longan (gui), sunflower seeds (zi) - zao sheng gui zi 早生贵子 another homonym for having babies quickly. Lol yes traditional families are obsessed with babies.  

[no-whump-on-main]

Apartment 307-7 (This is for Your Own Good)

this is for your own good-requested by @magpiewhump

TWs: Heavy chapter overall. Creepy, sadistic whumper, noncon nonsexual touching, branding, victim-blaming, passing thought of emeto but none actually shown, thoughts of death

Clyde started to worry about Elora when she still hadn’t woken back up at six p.m when he got back from work, over ten hours after she passed out due to him completely exhausting her magic. He walked in and checked on her the very moment after he put his things down on the kitchen counter, and there she was, still passed out, curled up on her side like a little terrified animal. He left, deciding to let her sleep some more-he was concerned, of course, but not terribly so. She did seem rather drained when he left. He would’ve loved to spend the evening with her, but he resolved to show a little sympathy and let her sleep. Still, he checked on her about every hour, only to find her still passed out in the exact same position every single time. He began to get irritated when she still wasn’t up around eleven-he just wanted to sleep, at that point, but he was worried she’d wake up at any moment and start causing a scene. Screaming, trying to escape, doing whatever it was she did-hell, he didn’t know. She was unpredictable.

He still didn’t even know what he thought about her. He was fascinated, of course, by her magic, by her mere life-that’s why he had to have her-but he still didn’t know how he felt about her as a person. She was awfully stubborn and had terrible language for a young woman, but she was beautiful, exquisitely so, especially when her eyes were watery with tears and she had that determined expression despite the fear he knew was crippling her.

God, he just wanted to break her. He wanted to study her first and foremost, of course, but as a side project of sorts, he wanted to see that iron resolution dissolve, just like that, because of him.

He decided to head to sleep, freshening up in his master bath before heading to sleep. His room was nothing special; it smelled like a mix of dirty bath mats and moth balls, and all it really had for furniture was a desk on the verge of collapsing, a mattress on the floor, and boxes that still hadn’t been unpacked despite him having moved in over a decade ago.

But that night, he went to sleep happy, unbothered by the chaos and dirty apartment and his seemingly menial life. Because he knew what to do. He had direction, for once. Elora brought him that. She was like a quest, a puzzle to solve, and he’d had a eureka moment. To break her, he’d have to teach her that she wasn’t her own anymore. That she was his, because clearly, she’d been struggling with the concept.

And he knew exactly how to do it.

~

When Elora woke up, she felt like she was having the worst hangover she'd ever experienced, multiplied by ten. She was dizzy, her mouth was dry, and a pounding headache had settled in the back of her skull, each throb feeling like a firework exploding inside her head.

It was pitch black, not a single ray of light coming in from the crack underneath the door, so she assumed that it was either the middle of the night or early morning. That meant she slept for, god-eighteen, twenty hours? That was probably half of why she felt like shit. Draining her body of all the energy it had like that was both excruciatingly painful and awfully exhausting. It was also decidedly horrible for her body-she was never supposed to work herself like that. Hell, she wasn’t sure how she even survived exerting that much.

At the very least, she had some time to herself. It was nice to be alone for a while, to recoup between sessions of vicious torture.

She sat back against the wall, staring up at the pitch black ceiling. Time was fuzzy, but she thought it was...Tuesday, now? So her mom certainly knew she was gone, and she had told the police, and they were looking for her.

She hoped. She just-she really, really hoped that someone was coming for her soon. Before anything worse happened, while she could still come back from it. While she could still come home alive, herself, shaken, but herself.

She ended up dozing off for a few minutes and waking up again a few times as the hours passed by, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She knew exactly when the sun was rising; the crack underneath the door slowly began to get less dark, going from black, to an inky gray, to a pale orange, and finally, to real yellow light. A little sliver of a sunrise. Even after just a couple of days, she missed the sun. The bathroom was windowless, and that alone made it suffocating. She’d do anything, pay any amount of money in the world, just to go outside, see a sunrise, and breathe. Just breathe, for a moment, just catch her breath.

As excited as she wanted to be about the taste of a sunrise, all she felt was dread. Every morning she’d been awake to see the pattern, so far, she’d noted that he came in just after sunrise.

So she only had a few minutes, then.

She just hoped that he would make the pain brief.

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply when she heard his footsteps pattering down the hallway, exhaling when she heard the doorknob turn.

He flicked the light switch on and the sudden brightness hurt her eyes, so much so that she quickly wrenched them shut. And when he spoke, it felt like his voice was booming, much louder than it actually was. She wanted to cover her ears, but resisted the urge, much too scared to take out another sense and be so vulnerable to him.

He acknowledged her reactions with a hum, tapping his foot impatiently.

“Jeez, you’ve been out for a while. It’s about time you woke up. What’s the face for? You okay?”

Elora shook her head, replying bitterly. “Not supposed to use that much magic. Feels kinda like a really bad hangover.” He always smelled like cheap beer. Maybe he’d have some sympathy for that.

“Mh. You’ll be fine. We have things to do today.”

Elora opened her eyes, at that point, looking over at him despite the deep burning sensation in her eyes. He was holding something behind his back, out of her view.

“I-I’ll do what you want,” she said shakily. “Whatever magic shit. I don’t care. We can-h-how about we just act symbiotically, huh? I’ll do whatever you want and you just don’t hurt me. Easy deal on your end, really.”

The man scoffed. “Funnily enough, I actually don’t need anything from you today. Just for you to stay still and be a good girl. I’ve got something to teach you.”

Her throat felt like it was coated in honey. She wanted to spit back that the last thing she would ever do is be a good girl, but she couldn’t form words. It was hard to breathe properly. She knew she was panicking. What did he mean?

Casually, he revealed what was behind his back. It looked like a big pen, with a long cord on one tapered end and a thick, linear metal tip on the other. He plugged the cord into the wall and set it down. Dimly, Elora wondered where she’d seen a weird pen like that. She knew it seemed familiar, it was for crafts, but she couldn’t remember quite what it was for. She blinked, her panic slowing her thoughts-

Woodburning. It was used for woodburning.

Her mouth dropped open in shock, her eyes instantly tearful as she looked on in pure horror, knowing what was going to be done to her. Clyde basked in her terror, grinning as he watched realization and fear strike her.

She was frozen, shocked into silence, so he took the opportunity to speak first. “You seem to be having a hard time with the concept that you’re mine. And what better way to mark that something is yours other than putting your name on it? That’s how I get my coworkers to stop eating my tuna salad from the community fridge.” He stopped to laugh at his own joke. No one liked tuna salad but him. His coworkers would never touch it. Elora looked utterly terrified. He didn’t care a bit, and went on. “But of course, you don’t need to know who I am. You don’t need my name. All you need to worry your pretty little head about is being good for me, got it? So what better than to teach you than to just mark you as mine?”

As panicked as she was, Elora suddenly went into survival mode, no longer able to just stand there and wait to be hurt. “NO!” she screamed. “No, please, I c-can learn! Please, you don’t need to do that. I-I-I told you, I’ll do what you want today, please!”

The man grinned, wagging his pointer finger at her. “Uh-uh-uh. We’re past that, little lark. You already showed me that you don’t know who you belong to when you so rudely refused to do as I told you with the plant and adamantly denied to heal yourself up until I made you.”

He stepped towards her, and she screamed, scrambling back to the other side of the bathtub. It didn’t do much, of course; he was still able to grab her just as easily. She kept screeching, and she fought, she fought tooth and nail, scratching, kicking, trying to bite him, but nothing worked. She was already getting weaker by the day.. He managed to unlock her handcuffs and lift her out of the tub within a minute, completely stopping her desperate fight when he threw her down on the hard tile by the sink where the pen was plugged into an outlet, knocking the breath out of her. She sputtered and coughed, trying to roll on her side, but before she could, he stopped her, straddling her waist, pinning her legs down with his own, and both her arms with his left, pulled tightly across her chest, his elbow digging into her right arm, keeping it in place, and his hand holding down her left. With his right hand, he grabbed the woodburner, the cord just long enough to reach down to the floor.

He frowned as he looked down at her screaming, thrashing form, then put the burner down. For a moment, Elora thought she was free. She thought she was free, she thought he was safe, she thought he reconsidered, she thought he wouldn’t do it.

“Woops. Forgot a step. You’re too damn much of a fighter.” Instead of letting her go like she wished, he fumbled to unbutton all three buttons on the top of her polo shirt. She felt like vomiting the entire time his fingers brushed against the skin of her chest, undoing the buttons painfully slowly, one by one. She shivered, but the room felt hot.

He picked up the burner again. “This is for your own good,” he said, his voice gruff and firm. He pulled her unbuttoned shirt to his right and brought the hot metal tip down upon her left collarbone.

The agony was blinding. She saw pure white as she screamed, keening, much louder than she had been before. She dimly felt the pain move up against her skin as the woodburner stroked upwards, then down diagonally, then up again diagonally, then back down. It left a trail of searing, red-hot pain. M. Mine.

Three more letters to go, and she already felt more blinding pain than she thought was possible.

Clyde frowned at her screaming, briefly putting the woodburner to the side, exchanging the pain for a gentle touch, softly running his hand through her hair. She continued screaming and tried to wiggle away from his hand, yet he ignored her blatant discomfort.

“Shhh,” he whispered. “Quiet, my darling, it’ll be over soon.”

His words were far from comforting, though her screams did stop for all but a moment. They continued when he brought the woodburner back to her skin, drawing out an I, three torturous burning strokes. She thought she might pass out, might vomit, might die, the pain was so bad.

“Halfway there,” he said gently, when he finished burning the I into her skin. His voice had become gentle, kind. She didn’t understand it. “Shh, you’re alright. I had to do this, you know. This is for you. To help you learn.”

She shook her head madly, tears falling down her face and onto the tile floor. “Stop,” she croaked, her voice breaking. “Please, stop.”

He seemed genuinely apologetic. Maybe this was too much for him, too. Or maybe it was all an act. Elora couldn’t tell.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. We’re halfway done already. It would be strange to stop here, with half of a word, no?”

And with that, he went on, with just as much brutal carelessness for her pain.

N. She had been switching between staring up at the ceiling blankly and squeezing her eyes shut while he branded her, but she was looking up for this letter, watching the ceiling spin, watching black spots dot her vision, watching as she slipped in and out of consciousness for a few seconds at the time.

She couldn’t even say that she was getting used to it. It hurt just as much now, a minute later, as it had when he started.

The smell started to catch up with her halfway through the N. It was awful, the overwhelmingly sickening scent seeping in and filling her nostrils. She couldn’t escape it. She had to breathe, had to inhale the scent of her burning flesh. There was no choice.

Just as the last upward stroke of the N danced like fire across her skin, the man’s hand carded through her hair again, his fingers rubbing her scalp kindly.

“Almost done, honey. Almost done. You’re doing great.”

She didn’t even have the strength to shake her head. She wasn’t his honey, she wasn’t doing great, this wasn’t for her, it was for him, he was crazy-

Her screams began to die out, her throat burning and raw, begging for air. They turned to weak, sobs, her expression twisted with agony.

E. A stroke up, one to the side at the top of that, another sidestroke in the middle, another at the bottom. She started to feel like she was up on the ceiling, floating. She couldn’t handle this.

What she felt was more than pain. She didn’t know how to describe it. But it was much, much worse than any sort of pain she knew. The burning agony mixed with the scent of her charred flesh in the air, the sensation of the man’s weight on top of her, his hand in her hair, his fingers unbuttoning her shirt combined to create the the most horrific thing she’d ever felt.

It was a new kind of misery. Something much worse than she even knew existed.

She gasped for air as the man slowly eased off of her, her chest finally able to expand properly. He let her arms go first, as a trial. She didn’t make any attempt to retaliate, so he got off of her legs, too, and stood. She laid there, half disassociated. The pain was too much for her to bear. Even though the woodburner was no longer directly on her skin, it still hurt just as much as when the hot metal had been making direct contact with her collarbone. It was still pure, utter agony.

“Remember,” the man’s voice boomed. “This was for you. You chose this, with your actions.”

She didn’t shake her head no, but she didn’t agree, either. She stayed perfectly still, right where she was, sobbing. She just sobbed. That was all she could do.

“Ice,” she begged weakly, her voice hoarse from her screams.

The man chuckled. “Oh, no, sweetie, no can do. Don’t want you getting any sort of first aid. I need it to scar as much as possible. That was the whole point.” He chuckled. Another sob ripped from her throat, and he began to feel slightly guilty.

“Here. I can do something for you. He opened the bathroom door and left, the burning flesh scent thankfully beginning to waft out. Elora knew that she should have gotten up and ran for the door the moment he left. She knew that she was missing what was probably her only chance to escape.

But she couldn’t make herself do it. She couldn’t make herself move.

He was back a few moments later, with a pillow and a blanket from his bed. He lifted her head up and placed the pillow beneath beneath it, shielding it from the hard tile. He draped the blanket over her body, smoothing it down around her with care. She’d be disgusted by his falsified kindness if she weren’t so distracted by the pain.

“And I’ll let you stay uncuffed for a while. I’m sorry, Elora, I really am, but this was the only way. You and I both know that. I’ll have to call out of work, can’t trust you alone and unchained. But that’s fine. I’ll just stay right here until you’re feeling a little better.”

He slid down the wall and sat across from her. All he could see on her face was pure sorrow. She didn’t sleep, despite the pillow and blanket; she wasn’t tired. She just hurt. She lay there, limp, weak, and crying, the pillowcase soaking up her silent tears as she pressed her mouth into a tight, thin line.

Clyde stared at her for several minutes then sighed and lit a cigarette. They’d be here for a while.

Tags: @exploringspaceinpyjamas

@badthingshappenbingo

[strawberrysoup]

Let’s Review || Chapter 22

Peter Parker knew that his big sister would do anything for him to be safe and happy. She’d given up everything for him twice over already and would do it again in a heartbeat. And that’s why, when the criminal mastermind Tony Stark started inextricably following him around, he didn’t say a word. Because he knew without a doubt Penny would do whatever she had to if it meant keeping Peter safe. He had to protect her, just like she always protected him. He never considered what would happen if Stark decided both Parker siblings were worth taking. Never considered who else in Stark’s inner circle would agree. He just wanted to protect her and yet somehow, they both ended up with needles in their necks.

relationship: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character/Bucky Barnes, background Peter Parker/Tony Stark rating: Explicit warnings: Dark Steve Rogers, Dark Bucky Barnes, Dark Tony Stark, Dark Avengers, kidnapping, non-consensual&dark sexual situations, underage Peter Parker, emotional and psychological abuse, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat  additional warnings: open the read more, CTRL + F and search “content warnings” to skip to the additional "spoiler-y" tags for trigger warnings

hey guys! i made a ko-fi! if you enjoy this and have some cash you could spare to help me out with my bills, id really appreciate it! if you follow the link and check out the ‘posts’, there’s a snippet for ch. 4 of posies! 

Their parents had died a few months after her thirteenth birthday and Penny essentially blacked out for the next 8 months. She didn’t remember anything from that school year, although she’d evidently scraped by in all of her classes—actually, Penny was still convinced that little Peter, who was already showing signs of being a tiny genius, had done at least half of her homework. She didn’t remember Hanukkah that year, or the first Christmas she’d ever celebrated with Aunt May and Uncle Ben. She had zero friends coming out of that year, having accidentally pushed everyone away in fits of rage or sadness that she couldn’t even remember. The pain cut just as deep every time she remembered showing up to school the first day of her freshman year only to receive the cold shoulder from half her grade.

That was actually one of the first memories she’d retained after coming out of 7 months and 3 weeks of complete emptiness, how none of her best friends wanted anything to do with her. Everything had been confusing, somehow devastating all over again but… it was less. Her parents were gone and it hurt so much but it was nothing compared to the agony that had beset her form seconds after being informed her mom and dad were dead. When Penny racked her brain she could almost remember Aunt May crouched in front of her while she sat on the couch at home, holding her hands.

Somewhere in her brain, Penny had known that plane crashes were possible. Like, as a concept she understood the idea. The plane that was flying through the air stops doing that, and all the people inside the plane die. But it couldn’t possibly happen to her parents—they were her parents, they were infallible. Plane crashes happened, yeah, but her parents couldn’t be gone. Aunt May had told her several years later that she and Ben had been petrified she would try to kill herself, especially when the state tried to take the young girl away from the Parker’s.

They’d never had the money for therapy and Penny figured she’d never regain the memories from those months but honestly, she didn’t want them. The gaps were reprieves, the missing conversations, the absence of any and all detail. Wasn’t she sad to not remember her eighth-grade graduation? Fuck no, it was a blessing to forget how she’d felt like everyone in existence had their eyes on her—except for the ones she wanted.

There were times she absently wondered how disappointed her parents would be that she didn’t finish college, let alone get an actual high school degree. Her dad had been so smart, a genius in his own right. And her mom… Penny tried not to think of her mom often, not when it hurt so deeply. Mary Parker had been a gentle soul with an IQ of 150 who made Penny feel safe and loved and understood every day of her life. Her mother would’ve been understanding, she would’ve seen the necessity in her dropping out but it would’ve hurt that gentle soul to know the opportunities her baby had missed.

It hurt Penny in a special way that neither of Mary and Richard Parker’s children would be graduating from high school. Neither would attend university. They wouldn’t go on to press the limits of their parent’s knowledge or make an impact on the world. Somehow despite everything she’d sacrificed, Peter would never get the opportunity that he deserved. Her genius baby brother, his potential capped before he had a chance to try. God, it was an agonizing burn in her chest, a searing pain that made her nauseous and light-headed.

Her heart was pounding so hard she wondered if her ribs would crack. The cabin was lovely. Dark wood and an A-frame, a nice deck in the back and lots of windows. It was surrounded by trees, with dark needles or thin pale trunks, the purple mountains of the Rockies a lovely backdrop. It was colder than she’d expect for summer, especially considering the overcast sky and the breeze. The clouds moved so fast at such a high altitude and Penny watched trembling as a shadow passed over the house, chasing the light away before the sun followed its path ravenously once more.

Steve and Bucky were unloading suitcases from the back of the SUV, passing each other calculating looks as Penny stood practically frozen in place. Her shoulders were hunched almost to her ears, arms wrapped gently but tightly around the white kitten in her arms. It was purring quietly, the same way it had been for hours now. The little thing had cried the first few hours after they’d left the tower and subsequently the chubby cheeked orange kitten behind, only settling when Penny laid down across the middle seat in the SUV and let it burrow into the crook of her neck.

If Penny turned around she would’ve recognized the mournful looks on their faces, the pain in the lines of their eyes. The soldiers knew the hurt she felt, to be separated from their most important person—they understood that Peter was the most important person in Penny’s world. This separation was on their heads, but what could they do? They’d worked themselves into a rut, the three of them, wearing such deep treads into their negative behaviors that they couldn’t climb out. A complete shakeup was the only solution.

Both winced when she abruptly folded at the waist, clutching the kitten to her chest, and vomited over the pine needle strewn dirt of the driveway. Her hair fell in heavy, curly curtains around her face as she heaved again, hiding her tear-streaked face from the soldiers’ view. The sound of them setting the bags they held down registered in Penny’s ears but she couldn’t find the strength to collect herself before they converged on her.

“Come ‘ere doll, lemme take you up to the bathroom,” Bucky stated quietly, sweeping her and the cat up into his arms as gently as he could, “you can take a bath while me and Steve get everything unloaded. I think you’ll really like the cabin baby, we… well, we designed it just for you. If there’s anything you want to change, you just tell us. We want it to be perfect for you.”

She mostly caught flashes of green and white and brown, tucking her chin to look at the kitten snuggled into her cleavage. It felt cruel, to have taken the white one and left the orange, but the little chubby-cheeked kitten had taken to her brother so well—better than it had taken to her, even. Peter had named it Malcah and while it still didn’t like being picked up or held, it twined his ankles and meowed at him for love.

“Sit here baby,” the soldier set her carefully on the lid of the toilet, after having climbed a set of stairs and turned multiple blurry corners, “let me run your bath.”

It was all white tile, the toilet built into the wall. The tub was a freestanding clawfoot, with a spray nozzle and high sides. It was surprisingly small, considering how large the tub in the tower had been. Penny idly speculated that only perhaps one of the soldiers would be able to fit at time and it would certainly be a tight squeeze if she was forced in with them. There was a standing shower on the other side, where the roof wasn’t so sharply sloped by the A-framed roof. The nice thing, that Penny would never admit was very nice, was all of the plants. The entire room was predominantly white but there was a long-vined philodendron hanging gracefully over the tub, snake plants sitting on the shelf before the toilet. She could see a rubber plant and another type of vine by the sinks, framing the mirror.

They’d obviously gone to great lengths to make sure it would be something she liked, clearly evidenced by the bathroom alone. There were even candles waiting to be used on the antique, hunter green shelves and bath bombs with lovely scents. If she’d been able to design a personal bathroom, Penny figured it would probably have looked something like this and that made her hate it all the more.

The bastards were so in their heads they could barely see the sunlight. Penny was convinced that they were so distracted orchestrating her nightmare they’d lost the plot. They kept throwing stuff at her; beautiful plants, nice clothing, cute cats, lovely homes—but it didn’t mean a single thing. All of the possessions in the world didn’t make up for the gaping, rotting hole in her chest.

“Alright doll, let’s get you undressed,” Bucky shifted towards her once the water was at the right temperature and filling the tub, a small smile on his stubbled face.

“Do you think I’m debilitated?” She rasped after a moment, rolling her eyes up to stare him in the face before spitting a vomit speckled wad of phlegm onto the rug by her feet and setting the kitten on the shelf next to the snake plants. “Last time I checked I didn’t need to be treated like a baby. Are you gonna keep standing over me like a pervert? Get out.”

The soldier’s eyebrows shot up his forehead, surprised by the calmness behind her cutting tongue. Usually, when Penny got an attitude, it came with fury and fists and resulted in broken bones or bleeding wounds. This was overwhelmingly controlled; a bitchy rebuttal. Her voice was the gravelly tone she usually got after screaming or crying, dark brown eyes nearly black.  When he didn’t move, Penny rolled her eyes and stood, whipping her t-shirt over her head and dropping it to the ground.

“You’re bein’ a little moody, babe,” Bucky watched calmly as she undressed, her clothes piling up on the floor. “Wanna think about reigning it in?”

Penny’s hair was big and curly around her face, framing the clenched jaw and sneering nose. “What are you gonna do, kill me? Whatever.”

“Penny, what—”

“Peter is a thousand miles away,” Penny’s voice started out sharp but very quickly faded into a tired drawl, “you can’t hurt him from here. And what do I care if you hurt me? So could you either get the fuck out and let me take a bath or fucking drown me in it? Whatever it takes for this interaction to be over.”  

“Are you looking for a punishment right now?” Bucky’s lips pulled down at the corners, eyebrows furrowing, “‘Cause you’re working your way towards one really quick.”

“What’re you gonna do? Kill someone in front of me?” She groaned, reaching up to dig her fingers into the roots of her hair, tugging sharply before dragging it into a tangled, thoughtless bun on the top of her head “Or spank me until I can’t sit? Rape me? Could you just get it over with? I want to be alone, please!”

Bucky was silent for several long seconds before sighing through his nose, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows. “Take your bath, think about your fuckin’ attitude. Steve and I are gonna bring the bags in.”

He left the door open and Penny was further irritated to learn he had too much dignity to stomp down the stairs the way she’d hoped he would. His break in composure had been so good for her it was unbelievable—but there was likely a punishment on the horizon and Steve wasn’t likely to let her off easy once the brunet told him what she’d said. The bastard was stone cold when it came to that shit.

She stared idly at the steaming bath, naked with her clothes piled around her feet—the question was whether she wanted a bath or if she’d been resigned to it? The water was scented, because of course it was. It was even one of her favorite citrusy scents, she noted disdainfully, another thing they had paid so much attention to while keeping her locked up in a tower like fucking Rapunzel. Now in a cabin, she figured she was a Jewish Goldilocks surrounded by hungry bears.

But it smelled nice and her body ached from the long car ride, it had already been run so why not hop in? Besides, it would keep her busy while the soldier’s fucked around and she wouldn’t have to see them for a bit. They were shuffling around and she could hear the sounds of bags being placed around the cabin. The door banged off the walls several times, always accompanied by a groan or a curse, one of which she recognized as a Yiddish swear—which she refused to find endearing. The kitten meowed at her from its position on the shelf, looking put out to be so far away but Penny shushed it quietly.

“You won’t like the water, just stay there,” she murmured quietly at the distraught little creature, picking up a washcloth and dunking it into the perfumed water. “If I come get you I’ll make a huge mess.”

She ignored the kitten as it continued to communicate with her, chittering in annoyance and pawing the edge of the ledge for several minutes before evidently surrendering and lying down with its little paws draped over the edge. Penny smiled to herself, the cat’s tail was roughly the size of its body and when it curled the fluffy mass of fur around itself it became unrecognizable as a cat. The orange one would’ve continued to complain until Penny let it down, would’ve just barely given her ankles a rub before running off to hide somewhere.

That’s why she decided to leave Malcah with Peter; the orange cat didn’t run from or scratch him. She twined his ankles, sat next to his thigh on the couch, kneaded her little paws against him. Peter had decided both kittens were female, based on the very reasonable basis that he wanted them to be. Penny wasn’t sure, didn’t quite care. The only thing she ever referred to the cats as was Chatul—which literally meant cat in Hebrew. She’d shortened it to Tuly for the white kitten, for the sake of ease, but refused to say it in front of the soldiers. The cat was hers, she didn’t have to share it with them.

The sounds of the soldiers were becoming more consistent throughout the cabin and Penny figured they must’ve brought in all of the bags and were focused on unpacking. She could hear someone down in the kitchen, unloading the masses of groceries they’d brought up the mountain while the other was in the bedroom. Penny rubbed the washcloth over her skin lightly, the oils from the fragrance making her skin soft and slippery.

She didn’t hear him come in, she felt Steve come in. The blond’s presence was just as overwhelming as Tony Stark’s, an aura bigger than his body that filled the room. She could feel the disappointed stare, even as she continued to wipe herself down with the washcloth. Her teeth ground together as he watched in silence, just waiting.

“Bucky said you’ve caught an attitude, baby doll.”

“Caught an attitude?” She rolled her eyes. “Wow, if only I hadn’t become desensitized to living in constant terror—you never would’ve realized I’ve had an attitude the whole time!”

“We’re supposed to be turning a new page, Pen.”

“Turning a—” Penny scoffed, face appalled as she abruptly stood from the bath and ignored the water going everywhere, “we’re not turning a new page—You burnt the fucking book!”

The blond’s eyes widened; Penny had gotten angry in the past, furious even. She’d broken things, broken skin, broken bones and it was always accompanied by outraged screaming. But Penny didn’t make unnervingly straight eye contact while she did it. She was barely coherent at the best of times, mostly she screamed to the room at large before flying into a violent frenzy—it was different. It was startling, the light in her eyes and the way her voice cracked.

“There is no page turning, there’s no fucking­—fucking reconciliation here, Steve,” she snatched a towel from the rack behind the tub, wrapping the light green fabric around her chest tightly, “I can’t believe after, fuck, how long has it been? A month and a half? Two months? What fucking day is it?”

“…It’s July 2nd,” he found himself choking out, still feeling shell shocked as she stepped out of the tub.

“A month and a half,” Penny’s face twitched, just barely concealing the distraught look he could see she wanted to make and she started shifting past him, “Jesus Christ after a month and a half you guys still don’t get it—you know what, never mind. After a month and a half, I should’ve been smart enough to realize what dumbasses you both are.”

“Penny—”

“God, fuck!” She shouted up at the ceiling, stopping in place halfway out the door. “I have listened to you two talk at length for what’s apparently been a month and a half! I have tried to listen to your stupid fucking rules, I put in the fucking effort and you still decided to take away the one thing I care about! I’m sick and tired of you saying my name in that fucking tone, I’m tired of constantly internalizing and I’m tired of being fucking walked on! So I’ll tell you what I told Bucky—either kill me or leave me alone, but for fucks’ sake just give me space!”

A low mew followed her statement and Penny made an abrupt about face, stomping past him to snatch up the kitten from where it had been sitting on the ledge and storming past him again. It was like getting brushed by a wildfire and Steve fought the urge to take a step back when her wet hair whipped against him.

She dug through one of the bags that held her belongings angrily, kitten on her shoulder, knowing that the blond continued to watch her from the bathroom doorway. Shorts, underwear, a sports bra, a t-shirt, and a hoodie over that. She would’ve put on socks but she knew it bothered Steve when she went barefoot.

“Come downstairs, precious,” he sighed after watching her dress, gesturing towards the stairs, “we’ve got to talk.”

“We’ve always got to talk,” Penny snorted derisively but started down the stairs anyway, Tuly back in her arms, “but it’s usually just you two telling me what I can and can’t do. Stop bossing me around.”

Steve followed after her, aghast and confused—Penny had always been brave in the situations she was forced into, whether it was taking custody of her fourteen year old brother or dealing with being kidnapped from her apartment by a billionaire criminal, but she hadn’t ever antagonized before. She’d talked back, got irritated, snapped, but she hadn’t ever just been flat out bitchy.

On the main floor, Bucky had already put away all of the groceries and was folding up the cloth shopping bags to tuck away for next time. The brunet’s eyes locked on Penny for several long calculating seconds and her hackles raised; whatever was coming was going to be annoying. She refused to be afraid though, not when there wasn’t anything to lose. Not anymore.

“Sit on the couch, let’s talk,” Steve directed, watching as she seemed to contemplate following the direction before doing so, “things are obviously going to be different here, precious.”

“The cabin is equipped with the same AI as the tower but its restricted to monitoring and safety protocols,” Bucky explained, gesturing to the open layout of the main floor, “you’ll be able to go outside so long as you ask first, there’s plenty to do out there. When Steve bought it there was an overgrown vegetable garden out there, we had it cleaned up for you and the shed fixed up and stocked. A lot of good hiking around here too.”

“I can’t talk to JARVIS?” She asked, eyes tracking the way the soldier’s exchanged glances. “Of course not. Then I would have some sort of interaction beyond the pair of you. Damaging to your plan, huh?”

“Penny, the rules didn’t end just because we’re out of the tower,” Steve had one hand braced on his hip while the other rubbed over his forehead, “be—”

“If you say Be Sweet I’ll find a way to kill myself,” Penny intoned, a dry look on her face. “Jews don’t have an afterlife you know, I’m not afraid of going to Hell.”

“Penny, we’re trying—”

“Penny we’re trying,” she mocked in a high-pitched voice, dead eye stare once again boring into Bucky’s, “I’m not. I’m done trying. You’ll either kill me or drive me insane, I’ll never see Peter again—I…I failed. I couldn’t protect him, I couldn’t even keep him safe until he was an adult, isn’t that insane? Grand total of three years and some change and I fucked it up.”

Penny stood up from the couch, shaking her head as she went. The kitten was quick to jump off the couch and follow after her, meowing while that massive fluffy squirrel tail curled over its back. The open floor plan of the cabin came in handy for the soldiers though, because she couldn’t really escape even as she walked across the living room and into the kitchen.

It was hard to pretend she didn’t actually love the cabin. The kitchen was small, located beneath the loft that held the bedroom and bathroom. The railing to the loft was covered in live vines that hung down to create a tiny illusion of separation between the living room and kitchen, the kitchen itself was sage green with white and dark brown accents. There were more plants, open cabinets mounted to the walls, the sink was small but there was a dishwasher. She loved the spiral staircase that led up to the loft, framing the kitchen to the left with small shiny baubles hanging from it.

There was a hamsa and a cross, both stained glass and hanging from the tallest step. Pretty cat toys hung from the lower railings, just within the kitten’s reach. It made Penny’s skin itch, just how lovely and perfect the whole cabin was. More evidence that they were paying a freaky amount of attention to her and every move she made.

“You didn’t fail, doll,” Bucky’s tone was quiet and he hesitated for a moment before following after her several paces, ending up on the edge of the kitchen, “You didn’t fuck it up, Peter—”

“Peter is trapped in a prison in New York with a creep more than twice his age who wants to violate and brainwash him,” Penny was on her knees in front of the fridge, digging through the crisper drawer in the bottom. “Literally all I had to do to prevent that from happening was pay more attention to his daily life. Fuck, kid was practically raising himself with how often I was gone—never stood a chance, you know?”

“Don’t think like that Penny,” Steve sighed, leaning down to pick up the kitten that had circled back to his ankles and setting it on his shoulder, “there’s nothing you could’ve done. You know who Tony Stark is, you know what he’s capable of. You can’t heap that guilt on your shoulders.”

“Oh, can’t I?” She hummed, absently throwing a package of bacon onto the floor, followed by a flat of raw chicken and beef. “There can be dairy in here or there can be meat, not both.”

“We might need a second fridge,” Bucky observed quietly, watching Penny drop a couple of deli bags with sandwich meat onto the ground before she started shuffling everything into different places within the cooler. “We could keep it in the shed?”

“No room,” Steve shook his head absently, “garage?”

Penny had collected a stack of items from the fridge and piled them onto the counter, not even bothering to look back on the soldiers as she began puttering around. The open-faced cabinets on the walls held mostly dishes and containers filled with ingredients and she ducked down, opening the lower cabinets and digging out several pans.

“Do you… do you want a hand, doll?” Bucky asked hesitantly after several moments, watching her collect ingredients and tools and turn on the stove.

“No.”

“Penny—”

“Can I make lunch please?” She whipped around, an irritated look on her face and a spatula in hand, looking like she was about to use it to beat them both, “I’m hungry and I want to die, I figure you’ll only allow me to fulfill one of those wants so can you let me cook?”

The next thing she knew, Penny had been swept up into Bucky’s arms. The solider looked confused, lips curled in frustration but his brow furrowed with dismay. She stiffened at the action when he stomped back to the couch and sat down roughly, dropping her over his knees and landing a smarting blow to her ass through her shorts without warning.

“Thirty for this fucking attitude,” he barked, yanking the shorts down until the waistband settled under the curve of her ass against the tops of her thighs, “count.”

A sharp inhale followed the first skin to skin hit and Penny snarled in response, “one.”

“Apologize,” Steve’s fingers tangled into her hair, extracting the hair tie and letting the curls fall in chaotic waves over her shoulders and face.

“Two,” she counted dutifully and angrily, narrowed eyes landing on Steve’s face, “I’m sorry you’re a fucking monster!”

“That just added ten more, Penny,” Bucky sighed through gritted teeth, “you better reign it in.”

“You better just kill me,” she rasped, nails digging into his leg where she was holding on for balance through the hits, “because I won’t reign it in. I’m sick to death of you motherfuckers—Oh, fuck, three!”

“No cursing during punishments, start from one,” Steve ordered darkly, the hand in her hair pulling taught as he glanced into Bucky’s eyes—the baffling combination of anger and dismay and loss in the brunet’s eyes let him know he wasn’t the only one scrambling.

“Fuck you!” Penny shook her head roughly as if to dislodge his hand, canting her head to the side the best she could manage to look him in the eye, “beat me black and blue, I don’t fucking care. Don’t you get it? It doesn’t matter anymore! Nothing fucking matters.”

content warnings: spanking *edit, addition content warning: disrespectful terminology for Jewish people 

[emerald-amidst-gold]

Just some general angst

I mean, it’s kind of ‘fluffy’ angst because it has a happy ending and it isn’t CRESTWOOD, but still angst. 

Enjoy a concept of Fane’s vallaslin removal. (I’m writing a follow up with smut, so shhhh!) I told you there would be tears, @oxygenforthewicked! I supplied them, even if I was somewhat tearing up the whole time writing this! 

***

“Sit down, vhenan.”, Solas directed Fane gently, holding his face between his hands with a tenderness he had long thought was wasted on him. “Let me free you from these shackles you should never have known.” Two thumbs ghosted along the high points of his cheekbones before they flicked up to trace his vallaslin - his shackles.

Fane let his eyes flutter shut at the feather light touch, reveling in the feeling of safety and warmth it gave him. He became literal putty in this man’s hands - melting, molding, and melding until their souls felt as if they were intertwined like a beautifully tied knot. To anyone else, that may seem like slavery, like the very inked bonds upon his face, but it wasn’t. Not by a long shot. This was a promise, a devotion that ran so deep he no longer knew where one end began and another ended. 

This was a vow plated in gold so, so long ago. A vow that had been shattered, forgotten, and then reforged anew with emerald fire and blue water. It would never be sundered again. Never.

Fane took a deep breath, opening his eyes slowly to see a pair of stormy blue gazing at him patiently, lovingly. The gorgeous array of blue, grey, indigo, and hints of lavender were waiting for him, but not rushing him. They housed eternity, and a sky he had turned his back on for too long. They would never end, never go completely grey. Not as long as he breathed. Not as long as he endured.  

Fane paused in his thoughts as he stared ever deeper into Solas’s eyes, watching as quiet indigo sparked within steely blue. That spark made a similar spark within his chest ignite, slamming his prior, old thoughts into the ground. No, he didn’t just endure this world, or the ignorant people within it. He didn’t just observe how that ignorance did not paint everything without feeling this same spark in his soul, or fostered guilt when otherwise there had been none. He knew more now, he knew better now. 

He lived, and everything they had been through; the tears, the triumphant victories, the soul crushing anguish, the seemingly uncrossable rifts, and the madness of a world so desperately crying for help, proved he was alive and had a place in it.

A place, but a place without being bound and shackled with chains that had always threateningly rattled in the back of his mind even when he had not known the truth. 

“I’m ready.”, Fane said after a few moments, leaning forward to rest their foreheads together. Their eyes connected without hesitation, without reservation, and he couldn’t help a tiny smile from forming despite his inner trepidation. “Take the vallaslin away. Free me from this nightmare I unknowingly walked into due to forgetfulness and my own ignorance.”, he pleaded with a desperation he hadn’t known was still lying dormant within him. 

Solas’s eyes softened further at his words, the grey within swirling with age old sorrow and guilt before they shut themselves slowly. He momentarily mourned the loss of those eternity bearing eyes. He had never realized just how much he had missed them until he had realized who they belonged to once again. 

They sat in silence amid the moonlit grass and the starry bathed canopy of trees that shielded them from the world outside of this forested refuge they had found after their flight from Skyhold, from the Inquisition. Fane’s eyes idly roamed the expanse as he waited for Solas, offering the elf resting against him the same amount of time that he had offered him. He watched the quiet bobbing of fireflies as they wove up and under each other in a seemingly ritualistic dance of their own. Their gently ebbing glow lightly bringing a golden sheen to the pale green grass every time they hovered along it. 

I wonder, will my eyes look the same when the ink is taken away? Fane found himself thinking as he watched the grass take on a more verdant hue. Once upon a time, the thought of seeing his eyes in their full glory terrified him, disgusted him to the point where he’d shatter glass without fear of slicing into his fist. But now, he yearned, painfully yearned, to see them ebb and flow like the fireflies did with so much whimsical abandon. 

Fane let his gaze travel away from the dancing dopplegangers of his eyes to look upwards. The moon was out in its full glory this starry eve, bathing the world in white ivory and pale yellow. It was such a beautiful contrast to the twinkling, but dark sky that was its home. He felt his eyes go hooded as another thought flickered into his mind without a preamble.

So white. Like new fallen snow. Will my face be as glowing as ivory? Will I be unscarred, and untouched as if I had just awoken once again? As if I still had my scales? Will I be able to see every freckle and birthmark that I couldn’t, or rather, wouldn’t before? 

These questions permeated his mind like the scent of steaming water - invigorating and freeing. How far he had come. To being repulsed with his own reflection, thinking it looked so much like a monster’s he now knew he had no connection to, to desiring to see it and to never look away.

To never look away. The thought made him smile a bit more as he watched a shooting star soar across the blue-black backdrop of the night sky. Yes, he would never look away again. Not for fear or indifference. He would keep his gaze skyward as the world reflected him in two forms. 

One form would be as itself - ever reaching and boundless. And the other form..

..would be his sky - flesh and bone with a spirit so bright that he couldn’t look away even if he tried.

Fane slowly drew his gaze away from the sky above, giving it a silent nod in acknowledgment before looking at his very own expanse of eternity, who had reopened their eyes to watch him with a tender smile and a wealth of adoration. He had to clear his throat a bit as embarrassment at being watched so closely had his ears heating up a bit. Okay, maybe he would look away sometimes, but not often.

“Something interesting?”, Fane grumbled with a tiny frown, shifting his gaze back and forth between Solas and the ground below. Damn, he was getting flustered so easily now that it was just the two of them. It was refreshing to be able to indulge without constant stares, but he was still getting used to vulnerability.

Solas let out a quiet chuckle before shifting closer to him. Fane felt himself stiffen a bit as their knees brushed together, his scars jumping in protest before he forced them to relax. No, now wasn’t the time for his body to ruin things. He had accepted the pain of his body, and he would live with it. 

Live. Such a freeing word. Yes, he would live. Live, live, and live. The word made him feel light like he could fly once again.

“I am merely curious as to your conversation with the sky.”, Solas said after a few moments, voice light and soft instead of guarded and measured. It would see he wasn’t the only one to have changed with their disbandment. It was...nice, even if Fane knew they both held guilt and dread of years to come in their hearts.

Fane let out a quiet scoff, turning his gaze back to give Solas a withering glare. “I wasn’t talking to the sky.”, he said. Okay, maybe he was a little bit, but the elf didn’t need to know that.

“Mm-hm. The illumination of gold told me otherwise.”

“Do you ever stop talking? Like seriously?”

“I believe you said you enjoyed our discussions.”, the Elvhen mage quipped back with amusement, eyes surprisingly bright for once.

Fane let out a tiny growl. “Only when you aren’t being full of yourself.”

“I thought I was only asking a question. You like curiosity, correct?”

“I swear to anything that’s fucking holy, Solas...”, he warned, leveling the man with a dangerous glare that he knew wouldn’t make the other shrivel up, but he did it anyway. Force of habit.

Solas only raised an eyebrow at him, one side of his face bathed in moonlight to where many of his already sharp features appeared sharper, while the other was shrouded in gentle shadows, making those same sharp features soften as if melding with the darkness. There was a tiny knowing smirk upon his lips, stormy eyes twinkling like the stars above with mirth and tenderness, but still a form of apprehension towards what they were about to do. 

Fane’s embarrassment and grumpiness trickled away at that hint of hesitation in deep blue. He let out a quiet sigh, calming himself of his agitation before reaching down to take a hold of Solas’s hands, which had been resting on his lap as if awaiting his command and consent. Immediately, the mage’s fingers entwined with his own, giving his hands a reassuring squeeze. He let out a tiny laugh before shaking his head at that. He should have known. Leave it to this fool to worry. All the taunting and all the teasing was just Solas’s way of trying to filter that emotion out. He was starting to think that’s all his sky could manage some days.

“I’ll be fine, Solas.”, Fane said, gently tugging on their joined hands to coax Solas closer. He would be lying if he didn’t feel a smidge of anxiety towards the removal, but that was only because of the fact that he may potentially get sick. Sensitivities didn’t just go away within a year when they had been festering for ten, but it was no matter. He wanted this, and he would have it.

Solas let out a quiet sigh of his own, easily coming closer to press their foreheads together again. “I know, but the last time such magic had been so close to your mind, you--”, he trailed off, softened features hardening with painful memories.

Fane shook his head firmly, even though they were connected. “Stop. I’ll be fine.”, he reaffirmed before unraveling one of their hands to place it upon the back of Solas’s neck. “I can endure any amount of discomfort.”

“That you can. However, that does not mean I like that you must, ma’isenatha.”, Solas told him, reaching up with his own freed hand to cup his cheek reverently. “I would prefer you knew no pain.”

He rolled his eyes a bit at that before sighing gently. “You know that’s a hazy dream, Solas. Pain is a part of life. It’s embedded in the path we tread, and the one before.”, he stated before leaning in closer, brushing their lips together to whisper against them. “But so is love, and I’ll endure anything, anything, if it means that that’s what’s waiting for us in the end.”

Solas chuckled, lips curling into a smile against his own. “Such optimism. Are you sure I am the one dreaming?”, he teased.

“Maybe.”, Fane said with a light shrug before giving the lips against his a light peck. “But dreams are nice, aren’t they?”

“They are, indeed.”

“Then let’s make one seemingly unreachable dream a reality. Let’s make the world a little less grey. Let me be free.”, he offered before continuing with more determination. “So, please, free me, Fen’harel. Let me be your dragon again. Not the..”, he trailed off, motioning to his own face. “...Not the ones who enslaved me in the first place.”, he finished, huffing a breath out through his nose as an ember of anger tried to break through. He wasn’t going to get angry during this. Not this time. He wouldn’t let his creeping insanity spoil this one happy moment. 

He pulled away slowly with those words, watching as Solas’s pupils widened and then narrowed from the change in light. He had to smile a bit at that. Eyes were windows indeed, and how he loved the ones shining back at him with equal emotions of wonder, adoration, and tempered grief.

He loved the sky, and all it offered.

Solas watched him closely, steely eyes boring holes into him before a tender, but slightly sorrowful smile graced his lips. Fane felt his own widen a bit more at that, the muscles straining slightly, but he willed them to obey. It was time, he knew. 

It was time for him to be freed from the leash that ensnared him.

“You will tell me if anything is beyond bearing, understand?”, Solas said with a stern expression, his softness and unguarded smile gone to harbor seriousness. “I know this is something you desire fiercely, vhenan, but I will not put you in jeopardy if I see agony in your eyes.”

Fane felt his own face fall and harden with seriousness as he nodded once. “I understand.”, he said, even as minor irritation made him want to growl. He knew Solas was just being caring, but he wanted this more than anything right now. He wanted to see himself without a mask hiding him.

“Very well.”, Solas said before reaching up gingerly to delicately cup his face, his hands cool despite the warmth of blood rushing through them. “Take a deep breath, but do not hold it.”, he instructed.

Fane let out a tiny snort. “I know how to breathe, you ass.”

He watched with a tiny spark of mirth as Solas gave him an exasperated glare. That only made him give the other a tiny shrug before a tiny smirk broke his serious mask.

“That’s what you get for being full of yourself.”, Fane said with the same smirk, trying to ease the tension that had settled in the air around them. As much as he knew this was a serious situation, it didn’t have to be. This was a moment, and he wanted it to be light.

My, how he’s changed, hm? Who would have seen this day? Not him.

“You are insufferable.”, Solas said flatly before shifting closer, face relaxing a tiny bit. 

“You love it. Don’t lie because I can see it.”

A deep chuckle had a shiver running down Fane’s back as Solas came closer, holding his face all the while. Ohh, he had forgotten the other could make that sound. A sound that reminded him of his kin. That was a dangerous sound. 

“And I can see you love me being an ‘ass’.”, the mage shot back, the area around them beginning to glow a calming blue. “Or is it more you love my ass? I seem to recall you stating something along those lines.”

Fane grimaced slightly despite their banter, the smell of mild ozone making his mouth water with the want to expel, but he swallowed around it. “Ngh.. Shut it.. mgh..”, he said between quiet grunts. 

“Breathe, Fane. Listen to me.”, Solas gently instructed, dropping their back and forth immediately upon signs of his discomfort. “Focus on my eyes, block out all your other senses. Use your abilities, if you must, and tell me what you see.”

Fane swallowed around some rising bile, his body beginning to tremble slightly and sweat lightly as more magic was gently brushed along his face like a thin sheet. Focus on...Solas’s eyes? He wanted him to...observe him right now? Why? As a distraction maybe? Well, if it would get him through this then he’d give it go.

“I...ngh..!”, he grunted out harshly before he could even try to do what was instructed of him, feeling how the ink upon his face pulled like a bandage was slowly being peeled away. “D..Damn..”, he cursed, reaching out blindly, as his vision was blurring with pained tears, to wrap his arms around Solas’s waist. 

Ugh, how this hurt! Solas had stated it wasn’t supposed to be painful, but maybe this was just his body’s doing. It was so sensitive to magic that it spurned even the most gentle spells? How typical!

“Shh, ma’isenatha. You are doing fine.”, Solas murmured to him soothingly, easily coming closer when he pulled with insistence. “Tell me to stop and I shall.”, he offered a way out, even as methodical hands continued to work their magical cleanse. 

Fane shook his head lightly, merely tightening his hold around the mage’s waist with a gasping breath. “I..It’s fine. I..I’m fine..”, he managed to get out before blinking away the tears threatening to spill from his eyes to meet Solas’s worried, but proud ones. That nearly had Fane wanting to cry openly. Such pride. For him. He couldn’t take it, but he wanted to!

“Are you--?”, Solas began to ask, but Fane cut him off with a deep growl.

“I want this. N..No matter the agony.”, he snarled out as another wave of nauseous had him nearly ripping his head away to puke onto the pure, moonlit ground. Yes, he wanted this! He wanted this! For the first time in his life, he would proudly soak in all this pain if it meant he could be free to live!

Through his own tears and slightly blackening vision, Fane swore, for just a moment, he could see a line of dampness reflected back at him from the sky watching him. He swore he saw rain clouds beginning to roll in hues of purple-grey and deep blue. He swore he could feel droplets kiss his cheeks as the sky closed him to meet him.  

He swore Solas was crying. 

At that, gold tinted his vision, obscuring it more with its gentle brightness before it ebbed away to signify his eyes had swapped colors from emerald to gold. He watched as Solas’s whole visage nearly crumbled with more pride and more grief built love, the hands upon his face trembling for a moment to where magic washed through his it with renewed vigor. Fane bit down on his cheek, willing his eyes to stay open despite how they wished to close from the sudden surge of hot pain that bit into it. There was no turning back, no matter what Solas saw! 

With a shaky, tense movement, Fane reached up to cup Solas’s face with his hands, brushing away a few errant tears that had miraculously escaped from the stormy clouds harboring them. A sensation of warmth and relief washed through his sweating body as his earlier observation was confirmed.

“You’re crying..”, Fane murmured, stroking the mage’s damp cheeks with clumsy movements. “You’re crying with so much love within blue. Adoration with indigo. Devotion within grey. Pride within lavender.”, he rattled off each emotion as his draconic nature burst forward, wishing to soak in and freely observe every last morsel given to him. “And they..ngh..all swirl together..to make eternity.”

Solas’s expression only twisted with a sorrowful, but yet, happy smile as the aura around them brightened another fraction. There were no words, no comments, no distracting banter. His sky was watching him, just as Fane watched it. He let out a slightly choked sound, taking a deep breath as he felt more of his skin tug and unwind. It was almost over. It had to be! Almost, almost, almost!

It was warm. It was cold. It was stinging. It was soothing. It was grey. It was blue. It was eternity. It was the end. The ritual was all of these things, all of them, and he could feel how his body tingled and shook with them rather than pain. 

Come on. Come on. Come on! Fane’s mind roared like the dragon within his soul as impatience began to rear its head. They were nearly there! Nearly! The tugging was becoming less in certain places, the sting left behind no more than a memory!

Suddenly, upon those thoughts, as Fane thought he was about to pass out from how much he was gasping and sweating, it was over. No contradictory sensations. No tang of ozone tickling his nostrils. There was stillness, and silence, apart from both he and Solas’s gasping. 

The blue aura dissipated, his vision clearing to allow delicate moonlight and glowing fireflies to grace it once more, and most of all, there was no more pain, no more sharpness. 

There was only light and freedom soaking into his soul much like how the sweat upon his brow was. 

“Ane vasreëm, ma’isenatha.”, Solas’s voice pushed through the euphoria and residual pain, eyes swimming with tears, but also genuine wonder as they flitted across his face as if never having seen it before. 

Fane blinked, his mind in a haze as magic continued to slip away from his face like water on a cliffside. He was...free? He was free… He was free! He was free!

“I’m..”, Fane began to say as unrestrained jubilation coursed through his body, but soon after, a sudden rush of dizziness had the world spinning before him. “I’m..”, he tried again, but couldn’t continue as he felt the world rush to meet him and black suddenly drowned out all the eternal colors that were widened in horror and deep concern.

“Vhenan!”

The desperate voice of Solas reached him, but he was unable to respond as his body met the ground behind him. However, he knew he would be okay. He just needed to nap. Just a small one. Nothing to fret over. He’d apologize when he woke up for making his sky panic. 

I’m free. I’m free. I’m free. Those words echoed with certainty and childlike joy, even if he could not see himself as black finally followed with true silence.

***

I’m not crying. Solas is crying! I make him cry because he needs to, so yeah! I’m not fucking crying! *sniffles*