#dunno when peace will come but one can still hope. so that’s what I’ll try to do

[tzufcallsmeshomps]

Listening to kh piano has given me a much needed reprieve

…And now I want to draw, all over again

((umm I’ll take some prompts too if you feel like it!))

[novemberevenings]

somewhere between the stars | chapter 1

Azriel is your best friend. The best, most brilliant, and dearest friend you have ever known. It gets harder and harder to separate your platonic and romantic feelings for him.

A/N: first chapter of this series!!! honestly wanted to write my own rendition of an angsty, mutual pining fic w my azzy <3 anyways this first part isn’t the longest but i’m posting it to motivate myself to write the next part!! (btw italics indicate a flash back!)

The night sky seems peaceful tonight, almost as if it were at ease. A chill night breeze brushes past, swirling in the soft grass in greeting. The branches of a nearby tree sway, the only sound being the soft caress of leaves. Lying with your head laid back against the grass, eyes closed in a mix of exhaustion and ecstasy. 

At the feel of a soft, scarred hand brushing against your own, you open your eyes and tilt your head to the side. You’re greeted with a familiar and comforting sight. Your best friend's questioning gaze and furrowed brows make you quietly ask, “What's going on in that head of yours?” 

It’s a phrase that you both have claimed as yours. When either of you needs to be dragged out of your thoughts, the other won’t hesitate to ask to ground you back to the present. 

He’s quiet for a moment, trying to find the words that are jumbled up in his head. He turns to look at the sky once again before asking, “Do you think they’re watching us?” 

“Who?” His question puzzles you, not quite understanding where it's coming from. 

“The stars, the moon. I dunno, maybe the entire sky.” You’re used to his weird questions. It’s become a thing that you’ve got going on between the two of you. “If they are, I hope they don’t snitch on us.” 

This earns you a light chuckle, his head slightly shaking from laughter. Realistically, the sight of two younglings watching the stars at night shouldn’t be a problem. But for a boy who has to wake up for training early in the morning and a girl who has to continue with her apprenticeship, they could get punished for being out this late at night. 

“I like to think that they are. Watching over us, I mean.” 

“Az, that’s kinda really creepy.” 

He laughs indignantly, lightly shoving at your shoulder. It’s silent again, but you can tell he wants to say more, so you wait. “There’s just… so much out there, you know? It’s so big, and there’s so much we don’t know. I like thinking that, somewhere out there, someone’s looking out for us.” 

You take a second to just marvel at the way he thinks. A sudden feeling of gratitude and pride washes over you at being one of the few people who gets to see this side of him. The side of him that’s bright and curious, hopeful. 

You turn your head back towards the sky, looking at the stars and the empty spaces between them. Your best friend’s words are still in your head, trying to form an answer. 

When you look back at him, you find his gaze already on you. He looks at you just like how he looks at the night sky, with reverence and utter devotion. It compels you to reply, “Well, regardless of who’s out there, I’ll always look out for you.” 

He gives you a soft smile, the one that you’ve come to treasure and look forward to. “I’ll always look out for you, too.” 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Tucked into a corner in the library at the House of Wind, your eyes roam over the page you’re reading. You were catching up on some old texts, brushing up on your knowledge of some spells. As the sorceress of the Inner Court, you always wanted to ensure you could protect your family. 

A clock nearby chimes, and you poke your head out to check the time. It was almost time for dinner, but you still wanted to finish the chapter you were reading. Going back to your book, it wasn’t long until the doors to the library slammed open, surprising a couple of priestesses nearby, an arrogant General waltzing in looking to find you. 

“You know, Cass, they expect silence in a library.” Closing the book with a resounding snap, you stand up from the cozy armchair you’d been sitting in, returning the book to its rightful place on a nearby shelf. “Lovely to see you too, my dearest Y/N.” 

You half-heartedly roll your eyes at him but take the arm he’s offering as he leads you out of the library. The two of you exchange stories of the day, Cassian recounting training with the Valkyries that morning. You listen to him intently, but you stop in your tracks when he says, “Az is coming home tonight.”  

“He is?” Your eyes widen as relief washes over you, not realizing how worried and tense you have been throughout the past week since Azriel was gone on a mission. 

“Yeah, sent Rhys a message ‘bout an hour ago.” 

At your look of shock and surprise, Cassian follows up with, “He didn’t tell you?” 

You softly shake your head, dismissing him. “I’m sure he was just really busy with work. It’s fine, Cass. Nothing to worry about.” 

Your soft, encouraging smile did nothing to ease Cassian’s worry, but he didn’t push on the subject. 

There had been this rift growing between you and Az. Both of you had been quite busy with your duties, Az especially. But you can’t help but feel there’s something else that’s causing this, and you hate it. Your friendship with him is one of the best things in your life, and the idea of losing him was… devastating. You don’t think you would be able to survive it. 

But you plan on fixing it as soon as he gets back. A simple conversation will fix this, you’re sure. 

“Alright, come on then.” 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It was a calm night in the House of Wind. Everyone had gathered for weekly family dinner, and all was well. Everyone except for Azriel, that is. 

To say you were tense and anxious would be an understatement. Even a blind man could see just how worried you were. While everyone else was lounging in their seats and sipping their glasses of wine, you sat with your back straight, hands fiddling with each other nervously. 

“Loosen up a little, Y/N! Cauldron, you look like someone just killed your puppy.” You roll your eyes at Cassian’s teasing. Sometimes, you worry your eyes would be stuck at the back of your head whenever you’re with him. 

“Oh, give her a break, Cass. We all know why she’s acting this way.” Mor says, trying to lighten your mood. 

And it’s true. Everyone gathered around you knows exactly why you were so tense and worried. Despite Azriel sending you a message that he would be back tonight, your worry would not disappear until you saw him with your own two eyes, safe and unharmed. 

It was no secret to anyone how close the two of you were. Best friends ever since you met each other in Windhaven. Your friendship was one of the constants in your life, forever a source of comfort. He was your closest confidant, the shoulder you could always lean on, the first person you celebrate the good news with, and the first person to wipe your tears away when you cry. 

He wasn’t just your best friend. He was… your best everything. 

You tried your best to enjoy the night, joking with your family and catching up on each other’s day. Although your worry wasn’t completely gone, the presence of your family always put you at ease, love pouring through every interaction. 

“As I was saying, wing-warmers should totally be a thing. You don’t know just how much the cold affects our wings. I feel like an oversized icicle flying around the–”

Cassian stops mid-rant as a figure appears in the doorway. Everyone follows his line of sight at his silence, your head quickly snapping towards the doorway. 

And just like that, a week’s worth of worry and anxiety melts from your body. The sight of Azriel in his leathers, all seven siphons gleaming, is one you’ve longed for. 

“Az,” you sigh softly in relief. 

“Hi,” he replies. That soft smile you think is reserved just for you spreads across his face, eyes crinkling a little at the edges. 

That one word was all it took for you to fly out of your seat, running towards him at full speed. He catches you, bringing you into his warm embrace immediately. You tuck your face into the crook of his neck, wrapping your arms as tight as you can around his neck. In response, Azriel buries his nose into your hair, tightening his grip around your waist. 

You pull back slightly, your arms holding his shoulders so you can better scan his body for any injuries. 

At the worry in your face, Azriel asks, “What’s going on in that head of yours?” 

You notice his attempt to lighten your mood and snark right back at him. “Nothing, just thinking about how much you stink.”

He lets out a chuckle, and you can feel his chest vibrate from your proximity. “And here I thought you missed me.” 

You stay in his embrace for a little longer, feeling grateful that he’s returned unharmed, and take a moment to just look at him, reminding yourself that he’s back. A cough sounds from somewhere behind you. “Hello? Care to share him with the rest of us?” 

Rhys’ impatient yet teasing tone makes you and Azriel laugh, pulling apart to let the other members of your family greet him. 

You stand back, watching him embrace everyone else. Finally, you feel settled, like a part of you was missing, and now you’re whole again. You try your best not to think too much about what that might mean, wanting just to enjoy the fact that your best friend is back.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[hypnoneghoul]

I just got diagnosed with eds and ill have to pick up some knee braces tmr and im getting sm anxiety bcs I hate the hospital :/

Can I get a rain(and dew maybe?) fic w that exact scenario? I need my brain to chill 😭

i just scribbled something small very quickly in class, didn't want to make you wait, i know the feeling and it sucks. hope you like it and feel better about the whole thing soon. have some silly fluffy raindrop in the meantime

“Droplet?” Rain asked—mumbled—from where he was resting his cheek against Dewdrop’s shoulder.

“Yeah?” They have been stuck in a hospital waiting room for half an hour now. Rain had just gotten an official diagnosis and now the doctor told him to wait to get measured and fitted for knee braces right away. The diagnosis itself, even though a sentence of a kind, was a relief to the water ghoul. To the entire pack. It’s easier to fight back when you know your enemy and the peace of mind once the illness becomes a fact is unmatchable. The diagnosis was good.

But for some reason it was the braces that freaked Rain out.

“This is… weird,” he said, scooting closer to Dewdrop, chasing his warmth. It wasn’t exactly cold in the corridor, it was the hospital’s energy. Rain hated it, it all felt wrong and uneasy and filled him with additional anxiety about the whole ordeal. “The braces– it’s a whole… I dunno, ‘nother level.”

“Yeah, it is,” the fire ghoul agreed as he wiggled his arm from between him and Rain to wrap it around him and hold him close and warm, “but it’s not weird weird. Doesn’t make you weird.”

“I’m not so sure ‘bout that…”

“Would you say that to Zephyr?” Dewdrop asked and Rain bit his lip, his fake accusatory tone causing the water ghoul to smile a little.

“No,” Rain admitted. He brought his hand to play with a loose thread on the fire ghoul’s jeans. The jeans that had seen everything and somehow still were in one piece.

“People are gonna stare. I don’t like that off stage.”

“Exactly! Nothing wrong or weird in all that.” The fire ghoul shrugged, booping Rain’s nose with a finger. It was so cold that a second of contact was enough for Dewdrop to feel it and so he leaned down to kiss the tip of his mate’s nose with his warm lips. “We’re getting you something that’ll help. I am happy about that, even if you have doubts.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Dewdrop confirmed, but there wasn't any worry in his voice. He was confident in all he was saying and he couldn’t have known how much it helped Rain to feel better. “Humans do that, you know, but thankfully I can breathe some fire to take the attention away from you any time.”

Rain snorted at that. “You can’t breathe fire, droplet.”

“Sure I can,” he said matter-of-factly, squeezing the water ghoul against his side. “Besides, with your luck I bet your braces are gonna be the most badass things ever. And with your styling skill you’ll come up with the best outfits for them.”

“I’ll definitely try,” Rain chuckled, not caring about the people walking past them all the time. He leaned his body against Dewdrop’s even more, fully cuddling on the stiff plastic hospital seats.

“What’s that stupid slang thing that Phantom and Aurora use all the time? Oh, I know–” the fire ghoul giggled to himself. “You’ll slay, fish boy.”

“Serve cunt, even,” Rain added as he looked up at his mate and grinned.

“Lucifer, I’m too old for this.” Dewdrop shook his head. They both laughed for a few more moments before Rain’s doctor interrupted them, walking out of his office.

“Ready for the fitting?” he asked.

The water ghoul looked at Dewdrop, received an encouraging nod, and got back to the human. “Ready.”

[indouloureux]

scandals & handcuffs; burning altars

eddie munson x reader

summary: it’s summer and eddie’s bored out of his mind. and while he spits out mindless questions, clarifying gossip and racy expeditions, eddie finds himself indulging you (and your touch, scent, kisses)

word count: 5, 297

warnings: explicit ones below the cut!

a/n: i know i already posted yesterday (here), but i finished this one early and i wanted to post it. hope you all filthy whores indulge in this eddie smut. mwah mwah

MASTERLIST

explicit warnings: poorly written smut, bondage ft. handcuffs and bandana, soft!dom eddie, cumplay, unprotected sex (practice safe sex!), cumplay, praise kink, multiple orgasms, biting, tongue fucking, cum eating, oral (fem receiving), rough sex, squirting, and short aftercare <3

“Do you think I should get a buzzcut again?”

Eddie toys with the nail polish you brought, reading the labels and what-not. You’re on his bed, laying down with your elbow propping you up, desperately trying not to smudge your nails. “Dunno,” you shrug.

He’s pacing, entertaining himself by playing with the nail polish bottle, and giving his guitar a small strum when he walks by. It’s obvious Eddie’s bored, which was why he invited you in the first place. “Think I’ll still rock one?”

“I love your hair.” You do love his hair – long, tangled and curled, probably needs an entire bottle of coconut oil conditioner and a proper comb, but it fits him well. It’s what makes him Eddie. “I think you should just keep that one.”

“But,” he gently places the small bottle on the bedside table, plopping down beside, copying your position with a curious look. But he’s only gets that kind of curiosity when he’s bored out of his mind. “If I get a buzzcut, would I look like I’m sick, or, sick.”

“Sick as in cool?” he nods, stupidly cute. “I guess. But you haven’t had it in years and your face back then was like, so small and cute and chubby.”

It’s not that he’s not cute anymore, but his face has shaped into more of an adult-ish physique. Eddie doesn’t have the cherubic prepubescent look anymore. They’ve morphed into predominant cheekbones, and his face has grown a bit longer. He’s gone from cute to handsome, but with a little bit of cute when he smiles.

“What if I straightened my hair?” he pats his hair down, looking up at you through his eyelashes. “Would I look like a hippie or a pervert? Or like, a wet afghan hound?”

“Where are all these questions coming from, Eds?” you laugh. Eddie smiles at you, even with his eyes. “Are you really that bored? You’ve been growing your hair for years and refused to get a haircut. Now you want a buzzcut?”

 “It’s a ridiculous thought,” you say to him. Eddie stares at you for a short while, crossing his arms over his chest.

Then he covers his eyes with his hair, the smile sitting faintly on his face. “I’m just wondering.”

You pick up a thick strand of his hair and split it into three sections. Eddie lets you loosely braid his hair, removes the one on his eyes to look at you. You like his eyes – they’re dark, almost black when he’s in a dim room. But even then they hold such devilish irradiance when he’s happy, or doing something he loves, or when he’s at peace. And you can see them right now.

“Please don’t cut your hair,” you say. “I love braiding it.”

“Okayyy,” he quips. “What about a tattoo?”

You sit up, suddenly interested. “Can I design it?”

Eddie ponders for a bit. He shrugs. “Yeah sure, why not. What would you give me?”

“Hellfire Club right above your butt crack. But in cursive.”

He laughs. “Shit, that’s cool. I’ll consider it.” Eddie makes a quiet ‘mmm’ noise, looking up. His hand props his head up, too, the other tapping rhythmically on the space between the two of you.

“What?”

“What if I get a tatt right on my dick? Like on the tip. Or beneath the tip, and they’re like the Devil’s Horns?” Eddie suggests. You make a disgusted face, where he responds with two pointed fingers on either side of his head, mimicking horns while poking his tongue out to you.

You pull his fingers down, “Eddie, don’t do that.”

“Alright,” he chuckles. “Anything for you, sweet thing.”

“Gross.”

Eddie lifts his head, a smile that walks on the border between offence and humor. “Gross?” he scoffs, furrowing his eyebrows at you. “Yeah, but when Mike Lewinski calls you ‘hot stuff’ last year, it has you skipping around the halls like an idiot. But when I call you ‘sweet thing’ it’s gross.” Eddie rolls his eyes, turns his head away from you a bit. “I’m offended.”

You half-gasp. “That’s because he was a hot senior, Eds.” You push his shoulder a little. “And people kept on spreading rumors that he was going to ask me out. So forgive me for gushing about a guy who’s really hot.”

Petulancy gets the best of him. Eddie spares you a short glance, before turning his shoulder away from you.

“Eddie!” you laugh, pulling on his shoulder. “Eds, I’m sorry I called you gross,” you place your chin on his bicep, pouting down at him. “Eddie. Eddie Munson.”

Stubborn, you quietly groan and poke at his side. He doesn’t flinch, as you expected, so you groan loudly and pull on his hair. “Ow!” he yelps, his hand comes up to pry your hand away from his hair. “(y/n)! dude…” he laughs at your violence. “That fucking hurt!”

“You wouldn’t look at me!”

“Alright, now I’m looking at you,” he widens his eyes, leaning closer, like he’s trying to scare you. “Isn’t this what you wanted? I’m looking right at you – stop leaning away!”

Eddie grabs your shoulders and holds them in place, restricting you from moving back. And you continue to laugh, perhaps out of fear, because his wide eyes are starting to scare you. He likes to indulge in scaring you sometimes, either with words or his menacing stares. “Eddie,” you laugh nervously. “Stop it or I’ll kick your face.”

“Alright,” he chuckles. Eddie moves away from you and reaches for his bedside table, pulling on the drawer and taking out a pack of cigarettes. It’s the same one from two weeks ago, the one you bought for him, and you can tell it’s from you ‘cause you can see the small ‘fuck you’ written in the bottom in your handwriting.

“You still have that?” you query. “The Eddie I know finishes a pack in two days. It’s been two weeks. Are you trying to quit?”

He places one between his lips, taking a lighter out of his pocket and lights it up. “No,” his answer is muffled, and Eddie takes a long drag before he lets it go.

“Ah, right, you were too busy doing crack with Chrissy Cunningham.”

“It wasn’t crack,” he waves his hand, cigarette almost dangerously burning your arm. “It was just marijuana. And I wasn’t with her.”

“Right,” you scoff. “And I know who the Night Stalker is.”

He places the cigarette back between his lips, but does nothing. Eddie looks at you, jejunely, lets his cigar hang loose from his parted lips. “What? Don’t believe me? You’re believing what does shitheads say about Chrissy?”

Eddie plays with his rings. His hands are extremely attractive, brutishly adorning his brash silver rings. The one on his index had four skulls on each corner of a cross, the one on the middle looks like a pig, and the other had only a single skull, though it’s larger than the others.

You like the one on his other hand. It’s small, pretty on his ring finger. The band’s black, but the crest of it was a darker shade of blue, surrounded by silver. Eddie’s let you borrow it once, sometimes you’d even take it off from him and wear it yourself.

And you do take it. You gently take his hand off the cigar and pull the ring off, placing it on your own. It’s a bit bigger, almost would slip off, but you like the way it looks on your hand (and so does Eddie.)

Then you shrug. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you. I know Chrissy’s not a crackhead, but I highly doubt you weren’t with her. I mean, come on, Eds. People saw you two.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything for a solid thirty seconds. He senses grandiosity in your speech. He can tell by the way your lips twitch into almost an unpleasant frown that there’s something you’re not telling him with your colloquial words. You reach for the impassive cigarette in his lips, place it on yours, and take a longer drag than he does before you puff it in his face.

The boy doesn’t cough. He’s used to the smell. “(y/n),” his playful ebullience is masked with allegation when he says your name. “Are you jealous?”

He drags his vowels, and you drag your eyes into a roll. “What would I be jealous about? I snort coke with you all the time…”

“Hawkins High is built with scandals,” it’s true. The school’s filled with crass students and naïve adults, and they live on gossip. Repetitive, fraudulent, juvenile gossip. Caused only to destroy someone’s life; it’s like an unspoken rule that there’s to be eloquent lies spoken every month to entertain the dull town. Every lie slips past the thin walls and into another’s mouth. And so far, you’d only believed one (maybe two) out of ten gossips that entail your best friend.

“And?”

“I know you’re not just accusing me of doing crack with Chrissy,” Eddie murmurs, finger hovering at the right side of your neck to trace its slope.

You scoff, twirling the cigar between your fingers. “And what would you be doing with her?”

It’s an ever-so-soft, shivering touch when the side of his finger traces your temple, lightly brushing the hair away. His eyes are deceiving, you don’t know if he’s looking at your lips or your eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe…sit near her. Or…hold her hand,” Eddie’s finger drags on your bare shoulder, though maintains eye contact, and leans forwards to your ear. “Whisper shit to her that makes her cross her legs, then lift her to the bench. Or bend her over there, knowing damn well she’s still dating fucking Jason Carver.”

You know he’s quoting all they said about him when they caught him with Chrissy. And the fact that you weren’t there to see what happened makes you suspicious, because they actually could be true. The thought leaves a bitter aftertaste on your tongue, makes you swallow dryly.

“Maybe I might have handcuffed her, too,” he finishes, dusk eyes dragging themselves to the handcuffs hanging beside his door. Much to your dismay, Eddie removes his finger from your shoulder. “Or yeah, maybe I was just doing crack with her.”

You sigh. “Eddie…”

“Aha!” he sits up, points a finger accusingly at you. “You are jealous!”

With wide eyes, and eyebrows sunken and creased, you sit up too. You slap his hand down. “What? All I said was your name!”

“You made a sound!”

“It was a fucking sigh.”

“A sigh, a depressing sound of jealousy, they’re all the same, babe,” he teases, taking the cigarette from you. He doesn’t take a puff, though, instead he kills it and throws it in his ashtray. 

What a miffing concept for you – Hawkins High’s infamous Freak, and their Queen. It’s uncanny, unbelievable. Maybe it does make you jealous because you solely wish they’d make a rumor like that with you and Eddie.

You shake your head in disbelief, looking away from him. You’re dancing dangerously on a tightrope, knowing if you fall you’d lose all the reverential avidness for the man in front of you. Tiptoeing on that rope, your hands balance teenage lunacy and sophistication. You’re scared to fall, to give in, but knowing Eddie’s down there to catch you is almost too fucking tempting.

“You and your fucking handcuffs…” a wry chuckle leaves you. It has Eddie leaning closer, tilting his head at you.

“‘d you like my handcuffs?” the murmur’s imbued with palpable taunting, one that pulls you from the tightrope. “They’re very fun to play with, y’know?”

Him and his fucking handcuffs. Eddie’s handcuffs. His scandals and handcuffs. Handcuffs used for sheer folly to delight his sordid disposition. Calumnious scandals that paint him notorious. Notoriously hot as he looks at you like that – a coquettish gaze, lips quirked into a sadistic smirk. Oh yeah, they’re definitely making you fall from that tightrope.

You take one last glance between his eyes, then his parted lips. “Fuck you,” you say, and then you kiss him.

It hits you like a pistolwhip that you’re kissing your best friend Eddie Munson. You’re drunk on nothing, maybe now that you’re tasting his lips – soft like his old leather jacket, but the kiss is rough like his sleeve-ripped denims. He’s very keen on kissing you back, forcing his head closer that his nose bends from your cheek.

But he pulls away, taking your hand in his. Eddie opens his eyes, panting a little, and pushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “You sure about this?” he murmurs against your lips, and he’s only looking at them.

“I just fucking kissed you, Eds,” you exhale. You’d already fallen on the tight rope. “Fucking want this.”

He kisses you again. It feels nefarious to do this, but you love doing heinous things with Eddie, only this one’s new. It’s what makes your relationship with him so thrilling, to unveil the disposal of repugnant ardor and indulge in this new side of moronic titillation.

Eddie slips his tongue between open-mouthed kisses, hand crawling up your arm to cradle your neck. You feel his cold rings against your skin, has you gasping at the feeling, maybe even at how hot his mouth is. He kisses you deeper, makes your mouth open wider.

Desperate hands grip his shirt, your fingers lathering all over him – his hair, his cheek, his chest over his shirt, his tattoo-obscured arms. He laughs against your mouth when he makes you whine by pressing his thumb in the middle of your throat.

“You wanna try them out? My handcuffs?” Eddie gently pulls your face away. “I know you want to. Be honest,”

“Okay,” you breathe out, pulling on his shirt. “Okay, fuck, just make it quick.”

He tuts. “So bossy,” he pecks your lips. “So cute.”

Eddie stands up from the bed, almost tripping over scattered clothing. He plucks the handcuffs from the hook, waves them around. You’ve pushed yourself up to his headboard. Eddie walks over to the edge of the bed, pulls on the bottom of his shirt and discards it on the floor.

He’s got tattoos everywhere – random tattoos with random meanings. They’re all Devils and Skulls and Bats, some with DnD references, but you think you’ve spotted your favorite:

Right on his left hip-bone were the words fuck you in your handwriting, standing out in dark black ink. It’s a strange juxtaposition to his abominable tattoos, but you love it either way. The vulgar tattoo makes you bite your lip, chuckle even. “When’d you get that?” you point at it.

“Two weeks ago.” He says, bending to crawl over you. You spread your legs apart, allowing him to slot himself between you easily. “Pretty fucking cool actually.”

“Sweet,” you purr. Eddie drags his fingers behind your earlobes, thumb grazing your cheeks. He leans down to kiss you, soft, unlike seconds ago. The kiss is sweet, like he’s trying to say something. But he doesn’t say anything, even when he pulls away to take your hands in his.

Eddie takes your left hand and raises it to the side until it reaches the headboard. He sits up, thighs on either side of yours and handcuffs your left hand to the bottom bar of the headboard. He slots two fingers on the space between the cuffs and your wrists. “Y’ alright?”

You nod. “Yes.”

“Okay,” he leans back. But he doesn’t go back to kissing you yet. He sits on his knees, hands on his hips. You lift your head from the pillow to look at him, waiting.

“What’s wrong?”

“I realized I only have one pair of handcuffs,” he chuckles. You click your tongue at him. “Wait, hold on.”

Eddie pulls something from behind him, showing you his black bandana. He twirls the fabric in his finger, leaning forward again to take your right hand in his to raise it above you and tie them to the headboard again. So now you’re fully restrained, hands unable to move. It makes you feel a tad bit anxious, but Eddie’s got you.

“Tell me if you wanna remove them, alright?” he leans down to kiss your forehead, then your nose, then finally your lips.

“Course,” you smile at him. “Wait, Eds. I’ve still got my shirt on.”

He leans back again, towering over your helpless body. “Right,” Eddie smiles at you. Both his hands reach to cup your shirt, and you gasp when you hear a loud tear and feel the cold air of his trailer graze your bare stomach.

“Eddie!”

“I’ll get you a new one,” he compromises, tearing the sleeves off so the shirt’s finally off you. “There. Now it’s gone.”

Impatient, Eddie places incremental kisses from your collarbones to the top of your breasts. He greedily sucks on your skin, makes you whimper. Eddie decides that he likes the sound you make, and he does it again. It’s ethereal, a new sound he likes other than metal. And he’s lucky enough that the clasp of your bra’s right in the center.

He unclasps them, goggles at your exposed tits like a newborn. You chuckle at his expression and kick at his shin. “Watcha staring at?”

“Tits.” He breathes out. “Pretty,” his hands knead your breasts, thumb grazing over your hardened nipples. You arch your back to him, almost digging his face on the valley of your tits. “pretty tits.”

You feel your face redden. “Flirt,” you sigh, moaning when he nips at one of them. “Fuck.” The restriction from your hands makes you groan, because you want to touch his hair, let your nails comb through his shaggy tresses. He sucks and nips at your buds, greedy, hungry, and treats the right breast with the same eagerness.

“You like that?” he mumbles against your skin. “Being helpless? All tied up while I suck on your tits? God you look so fucking hot right now.”

“Eddie,” you whine. “Do something.”

“Patience,” he says, but his hand leaves your mounds anyway, trails down and teases your stomach with light touches that it tickles. Eddie’s fingers tease your belly button, circling around it, before they decide to trace your hipbone, until they draw the top row of your jeans.

With lips still around your nipple, he unbuttons your jeans, drags the zipper down ever so slowly, like he’s got all the time in his world. And he does – maybe a lifetime full of times like these, where he’s indulging you (and your touch, scent, kisses).

But he spares your impatience. Eddie tugs your jeans down, in a motion that goes slow to fast when they reach your calves. He lets go of your breast, kissing your collarbone before he bites on your neck. He’s doing all that with his hand tugging your underwear down.

“They’re cute, baby,” he giggles in your neck. “I like them.”

You moan, followed by a shy laugh. “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank for,” Eddie kisses you. “I love anything you wear. But I love it even more when you’re wearing nothing.”

“Cheeky- ah,” you moan when his finger drags between your slit, lathering up your wetness just in his middle finger. “Shit.”

“So wet, baby,” Eddie bites your bottom lip, releases it with a soft titter. “So fucking wet. God, it’s amazing how I did all of this.”

“Don’t be complacent, Eddie,” you tease him, raising your leg to wrap it around his ass. He shakes his head, presses chaste kisses on the corner of your lips.

His fingers rub your clit in slow circles. Eddie’s neophyte fingers possess abundant dexterity in certain things. You’ve always glorified his hands when he plays the guitar in quick riffs, or when he gesticulates his hands when he narrates during DnD, or anything he does with them. But now, maybe his fingers touching your pussy might be your favorite sight (and feeling) of it all.

Eddie rubs, circles, applies pressure to your clit. He has you whimpering and squirming with his miniscule touches, and he loves the feeling of seeing you like this – a mess for him. Desperate for him. You can tell he’s also tracing something; something you can’t perceive because everything feels too delicately good. But they’re eight letters. Eight letters of an unknown sentence, eight letters lost in your voluptary haze.

“More,” you demand, pushing your hips harder into his hand.

He tuts. “Where are your manners?” Eddie looks up at you. “You gotta beg for it, baby. I can’t just give you everything that you want, can’t I?”

“Eddie,” you whine.

“(y/n),” he mocks you.

“Please,” an embarrassing plead. “Please, Eddie. Just touch me.”

He’s teasing you. “I’m already touching you,”

“Fuck me,”

“With what?”

“Your – your fingers,” you exhale. “Your fingers. Fuck me with your fingers, baby, please.”

“Alright baby,” he rubs on your clit still, not obeying yet. But he eventually does, his fingertips tracing your hole before he slips one in. Eddie moans quietly at the feeling of your tender walls, tracing each crevice of you. You’re moaning again, perhaps a bit louder despite having one finger in.

Then he slips in another one, and another, easily. Because you’re all gaping for him. He fucks you with his fingers slowly, making sure you adjust. He kisses your neck for good measure, then your cheeks, then your lips. Eddie kisses your lips again and again, parting your lips open with his tongue. You sloppily kiss him back ‘cause your moaning, louder when his fingers go fast.

Your cunt makes loud wet sounds. It makes you feel embarrassed that he hears this, although he doesn’t tell you that the sounds make him harder than a fucking rock.

“Fuck, baby,” you grunt. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah, I know it does. I can tell,” his hands move over the threshold of rapidly vigorous. Eddie moves his fingers faster, thumb rubbing your clit. It overstimulates you, makes you moan until the nearby trailers hear you. “Greedy girl. So fucking spoiled, getting everything that she wants.”

He declares it’s not enough to himself. Eddie descends from your face and down to where his fingers continue to fuck you like there’s no tomorrow. You cry when he removes three of his fingers, but he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside your gaping cunt, the entire thick muscle forcing itself in.

The feeling’s foreign, having to never been fucked by a tongue before. It’s not as thick as his fingers but it feels good nonetheless, because you’re still moaning for him. You’ve got your legs over his shoulders, and he’s got his thumb rubbing your clit still. The vacant hand rests on top of your pelvis, holding you down when he fucks his tongue in and out of you.

“God, fuck,” he groans against your cunt.

You tug on your hands. The handcuff hurts around your wrist the harder you tug, but the pain only adds more delectation to what you feel down there to your cunt.

“I’m close, Eddie,” you gasp, tears brimming your eyes from the gratification. “I’m gonna fucking cum.”

He pulls his tongue out, only to be replaced by three of his fingers again. You practically scream, thrashing around with your back arched, head deep on the pillow with a slacked jaw and shut eyes.

Eddie moves his fingers faster, and faster, until your legs shake. “Cum for me, baby. I got you. I fucking got you.”

He doesn’t stop until he starts to feel the warm substance on the tip of his fingers, and when your legs stop quaking and dig your feet on his back, sweeter liquid pours out with a loud cry.

You taste sweet. A sanctuary with walls flooded with nectar, and he’s a sinner thirsty for wine as he’s spent his entire life in Hell with a parched throat. Your salubrious liquids remedies his throat; it spurts out with ire, staining even his face and coats his voracious lips.

Eddie’s zenith doesn’t prevent him from stopping, only when he sees you calm down. Your body slackens on his mattress, and only then he sees the stains you caused on his bed.

“Holy fucking shit,” you laugh. Eddie smiles at you, sucking his hands clean like the greedy bitch he is before he places them on either side of your head. He brings himself down to kiss you, and you can’t taste yourself on his tongue. “I’ve never done that before,”

He pulls away a little. “Well then, I’m honored.”

But he’s not done. Eddie removes the belt from his denims, pulls them off quicker than he removed yours. When he pulls his boxers down, the sight of his cock has your lips water. He’s well shaven, pink and swollen on the tip, two indignant veins around the shaft. You quietly moan when he pumps himself, precum leaking from his slit.

A hand props himself up while the other lines his cock right in front of your swell pussy. He gives your clit light slaps, laughs when you grunt and whimper. “You ready? Or you’re tired?”

You shake your head. “Fuck me or I’ll rip my hands off these things and use you as a toy.”

Eddie gasps at your vulgarity. “Demanding!”

But he does command to your demand. Eddie pushes himself in, until he can’t move anymore. You feel so full, the feeling of his cock buried inside you is preposterously rapturous.

“So tight, baby,” he pants, hand cupping your ass to lift your leg around his torso. “Feel so amazing, (y/n). Feel so fucking amazing I wanna stay here forever.”

Your nail scratches on his bandana. “You could,” you look at him. “Only my legs would go numb. So I totally don’t recommend that.”

“I’ll carry you everywhere.” He bargains. “Then you wouldn’t have to walk. I’ll do everything for you.”

“Anything for a lifetime of cockwarming, huh?” you giggle.

“Totally,”

“Well you can have that after you fuck me. So please,” your head lifts to bite his bottom lip, pulling it out with a quiet pop. Eddie grunts. “fuck me, freak.”

Eddie only kisses you as he begins to thrust. He pulls his cock out completely before pushing in. His opted movement draws out a long moan out of you. You look up at him to see his eyes closed tightly, jaw relaxed into quiet moans. It’s like dream to see him like this, only it is happening and you’ve never been happier.

A cock that has you voracious for him, it feels like Eddie’s fucking you in a burning altar – fire increased by each thrust he makes. Eddie wraps your legs around his torso, balls slapping at your ass. It’s a plethora of obscene sounds that gets you wetter than you ever could. And although you wanted it, it frustrates you that you can’t pull on Eddie’s hair.

But you love the feeling of submitting yourself to him, anyway. So who are you to complain for wanting something you’ve craved for a long time?

“Eds,” you moan into his mouth. “Feel so fucking amazing.”

“I know, baby,” he chuckles, rubbing his nose against yours.

He’s rocking harder into you, each thrust stupendous as it tethers you together. Eddie fucks his cock harder into you, doing it like it’s his swan song. But it’s not, he’s gonna keep doing this forever. Even when you burn together in Hell, he’s going to keep fucking his cock in your until you turn into ashes.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, fingers clawing on your restraints. And you moan, tumultuously. Eddie’s red cheeks and hair stuck to his forehead due to sweat deserves to be in a painting placed as the main attraction at a museum. He craves for your touch, too, so whilst pounding into you, Eddie pulls out the key from his drawer and unlocks the cuffs from your wrist before untying the bandana from the other.

Immediately your hands dig themselves into his hair, scratching every part of his back. You claw at him, seeing the red tendrils form on his biceps, and on his back when Eddie digs his head on the crook of your neck.

But the sovereignty of your hands don’t last long. Eddie grabs them and pins them to the mattress, sucking on your neck. “Harder,” you grunt when hits that spot in you. “Harder, Eddie.”

“I’m already giving you everything I got, babe,” he chuckles. “This is hard as I can go. Unless you want me to take you in the ass-”

“That’s for next time,” you stop him. Eddie ignores the fact that you said there’d be next time, like you plan on doing this immorality with him for as long as you both wanted.

Your feet digs themselves on his ass, urging him on. “I’m close,” he tells you, and his thrusts go sloppy. You can feel his cock twitch inside of you, like he’s going to burst.

“So am I,” he forces your hands deeper into the mattress. “Where are you gonna cum?”

“I gotta pull out,” he exhales.

“Okay,” you nod, voice barely a whisper. “Okay, Eddie, I’m gonna cum.”

“I’ll hold it in,” he lets go of your hands so he could rub your clit. You feel it teetering on the edge, and his incessant rubbing cuts the knot and you’re cumming again.

Eddie pulls out, just enough time for him to give himself a few more strokes before he’s shooting his warm seed on your stomach. He paints your skin in alabaster stripes, his hand covered with your slick and cum as he strokes himself still.

The culmination is rhapsodic; a cognizance that you just fucked your best friend, or rather he fucked you. The altar stops burning, your legs fall down on the mattress, and Eddie runs a hand through his disheveled hair.

“Fuck,” he gasps. His back slackens from exhaustion. Eddie places his hands on your thighs and leans down to kiss you again.

The innocence in the kiss is strong, as if he hadn’t just fucked your legs out of its mobility. You wrap your arm around his back, where he breaks away from you to kiss your biceps, back to your neck, then to your lips.

“That was cool,”

“That’s it?” he looks at you. “Only cool?”

“I’m too fucked out to explain how amazing your dick was,” you chuckle, tracing his cupid’s bow. “But it’s so cool. So, so cool. You made me squirt, so take that as a sign that it’s more than cool.”

“Alright,” he pecks you again. “Just give me a moment, ‘kay? I’ll clean you up.”

Eddie stands up, cock softening as he disappears in the bathroom right outside his bedroom. He comes back with a wet towel in his hand, kneeling in front of you to wipe the mess he made.

“You stained my bed, babe,” he kisses your knee when he wipes the outside of your swollen cunt. You flinch when he accidentally presses hard on you. “Sorry.”

“‘s alright.” You smile at him.

Eddie can’t help but smile even as he wipes his mess on your stomach. And he can’t stop wanting to kiss you – which is what he does. He gives you a tender kiss. Two. Three, until he lets his tongue prod your mouth for a few seconds before pulling back.

You cup his face in your hands, tracing the creases on his face when he smiles. “You know, if you get to fuck me this good whenever I’m jealous, I’d be jealous all the time.”

“Aha!” he beams, like a triumphant child. “I knew it! You were jealous.”

You pull on his hair, glaring at him. “Freak.”

“Freak in the fucking sheets, yeah.”

“Gross.”

banner by @/lauras-collection

[spnexploration]

Collared part 21

Pairing: Dean x Reader eventually

Series summary: Sam and Dean save a woman from where she has been held as a slave by a witch. But things turn dark whenever they try to take her magic collar off, leaving them with a slave to look after and a curse to break.

Episode summary: Dean apologises

Warnings: none

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: Big thanks to @iprobablyshipit91 for sense-checking the part in her head for me!

Series masterlist | Supernatural writing masterlist

Part 20 <- -> Part 22

Dean knocked on your door, “Y/N, it’s me, can I come in please?” 

“What do you want?” you said sullenly. 

“To apologise. And I have a peace offering.” 

You didn’t say anything. 

“Please can I come in?” he asked again.  

“Ok,” you said quietly. Dean opened your bedroom door and stepped inside but did not approach you. He was holding a block of chocolate that he put on the floor near you, then stood up to speak. 

“I wanted to apologise for grabbing you and picking you up today, I know you don’t like me touching you. But Sam was stuck behind the lady with the trolley and couldn’t get to you. I wasn’t going to carry you because I know you didn’t like when I did that before, but then I thought you were going to faint and then people would demand we take you to hospital, but I figured if you were already in my arms if you passed out then I could cover it up and get you to Cas if needed. So I’m sorry I did all of that without your consent.” 

That wasn't what you were expecting. You hadn’t even really thought about the fact that he’d carried you out; you’d just been so embarrassed about the whole thing and depressed about how you couldn’t fit clothes, couldn’t handle people, couldn’t even go to a shop and buy bloody pants without freaking out and needing rescuing.  

“If you hadn’t, I’d probably still be on the ground now,” you said sadly, “or shipped off to some mental institution because I can’t even handle simple shopping and they’d all think I was insane if I told them it was because a witch had kept me captive.” 

Dean looked like he wanted to reach out to you, but stopped himself. “Just because today didn’t go well doesn’t mean that you won’t ever be able to do it,” he said gently. He seemed a little uncomfortable, like he didn’t talk like this normally. It was quite different to his usual macho persona. “It’s just too early, you’re still processing. I dunno, Sam’s better at this shit than I am, but I do know that just because I fuck up killing one vampire doesn’t mean I won’t learn from that and gank the next one.” 

You laughed at his analogy. He never talked about killing monsters to you when you still had the collar on.  

“Do you want to come out and watch TV with Sam and I?”  

“Umm...” 

“We have snacks! I’ll even let you pick what to watch and I won’t complain about it once. You can ask Sam, that is not something I offer willy-nilly.” 

You laughed again and slowly nodded. He looked pleased. 

---  

“Were you bullshitting earlier or could demons or witches or whatever be after me?” You'd been so caught up in your panic attack you'd forgotten about this earlier, but sitting on your cushion on the floor watching a movie, you'd suddenly remembered.  

“Well, we hadn't really been intending to tell you like that,” Sam said with a glare at Dean, “But it's true. We're just trying to work it out.” 

“Bullshit,” you said, temper flaring again. “You never intended to tell me at all!” 

“Y/N-“ Sam tried.  

“No, you two would much prefer to treat me like a child. Tell me to go to bed, hide things from me, the list goes on!” 

“We’re not trying to treat you like a child-” 

“Oh really? The streaming service said parental controls are in operation!” 

“We were trying to protect you when you had the collar on, you were understandably scared of everything. I just forgot to take them off.” 

“No, you just hoped I wouldn't notice!” You stood up and stormed out of the room, marching down to your room. You weren't even sure you believed what you were saying, but you just felt so damn angry! 

---   

“She is a fucking yo-yo,” Dean muttered to Sam when you'd stormed off. “One second she's sweet, then she's sad, then she's screaming blue murder again.” 

“Trauma. Plus, it’s probably like when they say people go through stages of grief. I'm pretty sure anger is in there.” 

“Any idea how long this is going to last?” 

“How long is a piece of string?” 

Dean sighed.  

---  

You paced your room. Those bloody brothers, always treating you like a child. Bossing you around, literally telling you to go to bed like you were 7. Controlling what you ate, what you watched, when you left the bunker – which was practically never.  

Dimly, you were aware that you were conflating their behaviour when you had the collar on with how they acted now that it was off. No one had told you to go to bed since the collar had been removed, although you’d barely been out of your room for them to talk to you. But it was hard to separate in your memories when you had the collar and when you didn’t; it was easier to just remember other people’s behaviour and clump everything together. 

And they should have known! They knew you were a person! They knew you were an adult! What right did they have to act like that even with the collar?! The collar didn’t change anything about you! It’s just their bullshit behaviour that’s the problem here.  

And IF you might have responded differently with the collar on, well they could just deal. The problem is them, is how they’ve always treated you. You weren’t looking for them to boss you around! And…! And…  

Your anger started to get derailed as you struggled to continue buying your own logic. Nothing you were thinking made any sense, even to your addled and confused brain. Your lack of clarity of thought was making you even more confused and worked up. 

But through it all, the anger remained. The ever-present, red-hot anger.  

Screw the Winchesters. It didn’t matter what logic you did or didn’t use, they were still treating you like a child. They were the problem here, not your brain.  

Maybe you’d just go watch an R rated movie later. Yeah, that’d show them.  

---  

Sam had removed the parental controls when you got to the TV, long after they’d both gone to bed. Good. 

It took you a while to work out all of the controls, smart TVs were so different to when you’d last been able to browse for yourself. Hell, prior to moving to the bunker, to when you’d last even seen a TV. But you worked it out.  

You found the horror category. You’d never been super into horror movies and you paused, wondering if this was a good idea. But then the resentful, angry part of you remembered being treated like a child. Remembered your feelings of inadequacy when you couldn’t even buy something in a shop.  

You clicked play.  

It was barely 10 minutes in and you were already terrified. You screamed when something jumped out again, and curled your toes when blood gushed out of a character’s wound. You screwed your face up and hid it behind your knees when it looked like they were about to be killed. 

You turned the TV off. You felt both relieved and morose, unable to do a normal adult thing again.  

You padded back to your room and got into your blankets on the floor. You avoided even looking at the bed, not wanting yet another reminder of how not-normal you were, of all the things you couldn’t bring yourself to do.  

You closed your eyes.  

Your brain replayed the worst bits of the horror movie to you. You tried to crumple up the sketch sheet in your mind’s eye, force it to show you something else, but it didn’t work. You tried to think about other things but that backfired: suddenly instead of being worried about some fictional character being tortured, you were remembering literally being tortured. 

Azaneth. His knife. His orders. Making you cry and scream and beg him to stop, then laughing in your face. You tried to stop your mind dwelling on it, but every time you forced yourself away, somehow your thoughts came back to him again.  

You were sweating, starting to freak out.  

You felt scared, felt like you were cowering in room 14 again, even though you’d never had blankets or a pillow in that room. The room felt both tiny and giant, like it was going to crush you or like its walls stretched on forever.  

Sometimes, for a change of pace, your brain showed you the blood and gore from the movie again. But then it became your blood, circling back around in a horrifying, never-ending chain.  

You didn’t know what to do.  

Eventually, you couldn’t stand being alone in your room anymore. You needed something to remind you you weren’t alone, to stop you going crazy.  

You opened the door and fled to the corridor.  

But now what?  

You crept along the corridor, worried about the brothers seeing you like this, and yet somehow also wanting to see the brothers, to not feel alone.  

You found yourself outside Dean’s room. You could hear him snoring. It was… comforting. You remembered the times he had saved you, like when he grabbed you so the witch couldn’t get her book. You’d felt so much safer in his arms.  

Feeling incredibly foolish, you went and grabbed a pillow and blanket from your room.  

You curled up outside Dean’s door and fell asleep, listening to the sounds of him sleeping.  

[hylfystt]

i think i might've inhaled you

ship: leida valroux (wol) / ardbert hylfyst rating: explicit fandom: ffxiv word count: 3.7k phEW notes: major shadowbringers spoilers. baby's first smut. don't think to hard about the logistics of this, it works because it works. [ao3]

It’s late when she startles from her slumber, a stifled cry on her lips and sweat on her brow. Instinct drives her to throw the covers from her form, to free herself from the confines of her bed and bolt and — 

Leida takes a shuddering breath, burying her face in her hands. She focuses on her breathing, trying to quiet the rush of blood in her ears and the echo of a shattered shield.

The Vault. It’s been a long time since that particular nightmare has come to plague her. She had hoped that she was finally free of it, that the peace she had made with Haurchefant’s death might finally absolve her of her nightly torments.

A vain hope, so it seemed.

“I was beginning to worry you weren’t going to wake up.”

Ardbert’s voice carries easily in the quiet of the room. She isn’t surprised to find him standing before her window, more than accustomed to his near nightly vigil. It’s a small comfort, knowing that he stays. There may be little he can do in the event of something truly disastrous, they both know that, but it is an attempt to ward away the troubles that would seek to plague her regardless. Something stirs within her at the thought. Leida meets his gaze, shuffling to rest against the wall, the cool bricks offering some measure of comfort against her still flushed skin. Ardbert glances away, turning his attention back to the night sky, something like regret flashing in his eyes.

“What time is it?”

“Dunno. Still a few hours before dawn, I reckon.” He casts her a quick glance. “You should go back to sleep. Tomorrow is sure to be a long day.”

Leida smiles thinly. “It always is.” The words sound more cynical to her ears than she intends them, but it doesn’t diminish the truth of them. Her days have been long ever since that quiet grey morning she slipped aboard a ship bound for Limsa Lominsa some five years ago now. At this point she doesn’t much know what she would even do with peace, anyways. “I doubt I’ll find much rest now regardless.”

“You want to talk about it?”

The elezen huffs a laugh. “Not in the slightest.” Leida closes her eyes and lets her head fall back to rest against the wall. “I’ve told you of Haurchefant.”

Ardbert hums in acknowledgement. He understands then. “Aye, that you have.” Silence settles between them, heavy as they contemplate the weight of their respective ghosts. Leida frowns, cracking an eye to gaze at the gentle glow that radiates from Ardbert. The figurative kind, she supposes.

She has seen ghosts before, spirits that cling to this world by sheer force of will or by magicks beyond her purview. Her expertise lies in living aether, in arcanima and the egi. The more spiritual studies of aetherflow have always lain in Y’Shtola and Urianger’s domains, and she’s been more than content to leave it with them in the past, despite her fascination. Run so ragged as she’s been these past years, she’s had little time to dedicate herself to new areas of study. 

Looking at Ardbert now, not at all like the specters she has battled in the past and yet not quite living, she wishes she had never given up that particular thread of curiosity.

“Well,” Ardbert says suddenly, snapping Leida out of her quiet contemplations. “If you’re going to be stubborn about it, might as well make yourself useful.” He crosses the room and settles on the edge of her bed, raising an expecting brow. “Go on, then. You promised me another one of those tales of yours.”

“Useful?” Leida sputters, unable to help the grin that blossoms under his teasing gaze. “Arse.”

Ardbert returns her grin, eyes softening. Leida knows what he is doing, and she is grateful for it—grateful for him and this easy comfort that has grown between them since her arrival on the First. They’ve come a long way from their meeting on the Source, from the cynical jabs and mistrust that marked their meetings after. She’s not entirely sure when the shift happened, but she has come to care for him, and she knows that she is not alone in her sentiments.

Sitting here close to him, a small part of her, quiet and longing and foolish, wonders what it would be like to touch him.

“Let’s see,” Leida starts, shaking the thought from her head and scooting to sit beside Ardbert. She has much she can tell him, much she wants to, good and bad and much somewhere in the middle. But tonight is a night for good, she thinks. “Have I told you of the Churning Mists?”

“In passing, I think.”

Leida smiles fondly. “There are a particular inhabitants there, a rather funny people called moogles—”

Ardbert casts her a flat look. “The First has them too, you know.”

“Shush, you. You wanted a story, I’m giving you a story. Now, as I said, moogles…”

Ardbert listens intently as she tells her tale, of the restoration of Zenith and the misadventures along the way. It’s almost a relief to talk about something that, in the grand scheme of all that she has done since shouldering the mantle of Warrior of Light, seems relatively mundane. Not that she herself would call it so. Her work with Mogzin, Ohl Deeh and Tarresson is something she is proud of and holds dearly to her heart. 

She is glad to share this with him, too.

“I should visit them again when we get home,” Leida says, laying back so that she is stretched across the bed, legs left dangling over the side. She doesn’t catch the brief flash of sorrow her words bring.

I would have liked to have seen it with you. “I would have thought you’d be sick of the creatures after all that,” Ardbert says instead. He shakes his head, forcing a smile. “Honestly. Drunk moogles…”

Leida laughs. “Yes, well, I find them quite endearing.”

“You would.”

Leida rises quickly, casting a look of mock incredulity at the man. She reaches out, shoving him lightly. “Now just what do you mean by that?”

Something shifts in the aether.

Ardbert sits frozen, eyes blown wide. Leida stills, too, when the realization dawns. She looks at her hand, still resting on the pauldron of his armor, cold and rough and so incredibly tangible under her fingers. Her mouth drops open, a small oh slipping past her lips as she stares at the point of contact.

“So it wasn’t my imagination, then.” Ardbert’s voice is more fragile than she has ever heard it before. He can’t seem to look away from her hand. “You can feel me.”

Leida swallows. “Before,” she starts, moving her hand from his shoulder to trail down his arm. She is careful with her movements, as if he might fade once again under her touch if she moves too quickly. She’s not sure she could bear it if he did. “When the Light…”

Ardbert nods, almost imperceptibly. “I thought I had felt something…I thought I had felt you.”

He watches her hand intently, brow pinched as it comes to rest at his wrist. Were it not for his very nature, he would have wondered if this was somehow a dream. He’s still not sure he believes it at all, that he won’t blink his eyes and she will still be lying back on the mattress, ready to expound on the virtues of moogles. 

Instead Leida’s fingers brush the clasps of his bracers and he swallows hard. “May I?” she asks.

Ardbert nods again, not daring to trust his voice.

With careful consideration, she sets upon freeing his forearm, undoing clasps and buckles with a quiet reverence. She sets the gauntlet aside, hesitating only just before she reaches to remove his glove, careful not to touch the expanse of skin now exposed to his eyes for the first time in a century. He feels nearly faint with this simple intimacy. She reaches for his other hand, divesting his other hand with the same tender care until both his hands are left bare to her and the night.

“Leida…” He watches her, intensity burning in those blue eyes of his despite the way that he trembles. After an achingly long moment she moves, brushes her fingers ever so gently across his palm and marvels at the way he feels so solid under her touch.

Ardbert exhales sharply at the contact, trembling still. He feels hot—her touch a searing warmth with every careful brush of her fingers against his. Ardbert flexes his hand, a vain attempt to steady himself. Leida meets his eye, apology ready on her lips, when he surges forward, entwining their hands and slanting his lips against hers.

The result is blinding.

All at once Ardbert is everywhere. Her senses are overwhelmed by him and the impossibility of his touch, of his breath – gods, his breath! – entwining with hers. Ardbert squeezes her hand, near hard enough to bruise and to ground him in this impossible moment.

“How is this possible?” Leida gasps in the desperate break for air, chasing his lips nevertheless.

“Don’t know,” Ardbert grunts as he pulls her into his lap. Closer — he needs her closer. Leida shudders delightedly as his hand tangles in her hair, the other dipping into her shirt as he holds her flush against him. “I don’t care.”

There will be time for questions later, time to puzzle over why her and why him, but right now—

Right now, the only thing that matters is that he is kissing her and she is kissing him back and nothing else in this world or hers has ever made more sense.

Lost in the feel of his mouth on hers, lips parting to deepen the kiss, Leida is inclined to agree; for if this a dream, or a construct of her own longing, she isn’t inclined to be woken.

He has long lost himself in the feel of her when he feels her hands move to his shoulders and the straps of his armor. It’s a clumsy thing, one that has them both huffing a quiet laugh as he moves to help her when it becomes clear that she is close to just burning the damn straps away if it meant divesting him of his armor that much faster. The cuirass falls away, followed closely by his shirt, clumsy hands moving to cast them aside somewhere, and Ardbert pulls her in again.

Her hands explore the expanse of his back, tracing the lines and valleys of whatever scars she comes across. 

Her hands are nearly his undoing. How long has he been without the simple comfort of another’s touch? How long has he been left aching and wanting for her? To touch her now, to feel her warmth and warrior’s strength…

It’s too much, and not enough at all.

“Gods,” he breathes as she pulls a trembling sigh from him. He trails his lips against the line of her jaw, stopping at the base of her ear, the low timbre of his voice causing an eruption of gooseflesh down her spine. “Tell me you want this. Tell me that you ache for me just as badly as I ache for you.”

Leida brings his face back to hers and looks at him through half lidded eyes, desire and affection read plain. Her look only serves to kindle the fire that erupted in his belly the moment he first kissed her.

“I want this,” she says, bringing her forehead to rest against his. “I want you.”

Never before has he heard words so beautiful.

His mouth meets hers hungrily and her pulse quickens, fire racing in her veins as he draws from her a desire she’d thought long since locked away. His hands find her waist, fingers hooking on the bottom of her shirt and she smiles, breaking apart just long enough for him to pull it over her head. He casts it aside, leaving hungry hands to explore her skin freely. Calloused fingers trace every scar and every line, and he pulls away to marvel at her freely.

He wants to ask her about every mark and know every story behind them. He thumbs a particularly egregious mark, the taught pull of new skin indicating it’s newness in comparison to other scars. Leida takes one of his hands and brings it to her mouth, kissing his palm.

“Later,” she tells him with a small smile. “I will tell you everything.”

“Later,” he agrees. He keeps her eye for a moment, caressing her cheek softly as his other hand slides up the expanse of her stomach. He can’t help the self satisfied smile at the shiver the action draws from her. He grins fully at her gasp when his hand finds her breast, thumb swiping teasingly at a hardened nipple. His mouth is soon to follow, drawing a contented sigh from Leida.

“Ardbert…”

She has always been beautiful. From the first time he saw her on the Source—a radiant storm of fury and fierce protectiveness of her world, of her family—to their meeting here on the First, she has been radiant. He thinks she has never looked more beautiful than like this, however, in the way she unfurls for him as he tips them back, rolling to dip her into the mattress. 

All his long years cursing Minfilia for leaving him to wander as a shade has surely been worth it for this sight alone.

Ardbert’s hands continue their exploration, strong hands gliding down the length of her sides until they stop at the waistband of her sleep-shorts. He keeps her eye, noting the high color in her cheeks and the hitch in her breathing as his thumbs dip teasingly below the hem.

“Gods, but you are beautiful.”

Then he is tugging the fabric away, down her legs until he can toss them aside, and Leida can’t be sure if the way her skin prickles with gooseflesh is from the exposure to the chill night air or his hungry look.

He kisses his way down the expanse of her stomach, lips finding every scar, every errant freckle, until he presses a kiss to her hip bone and Leida can’t help the longing sigh he pulls from her. Her breathing kicks higher in anticipation when he lowers himself further and kisses the inside of her thigh as he hooks her knees over his shoulders. He meets her eye, a silent question raised. She nods, almost imperceptibly and his eyes dance. 

She nearly lurches off the bed at the first swipe of his tongue over her folds, a soft moan falling sweetly from her lips. Ardbert’s hands grip at her hips to keep her steady as he repeats the motion, eager to draw out the sound again. He is slow in his ministrations, almost painfully so, as he takes his time to discover what makes her tick. It’s near enough to drive her to insanity, the way he so pointedly avoids her clit. She wiggles her hips, chasing the friction she so desperately longs for and yet he denies, having half a mind to tell him to stop with his teasing her and just get on with it—

As if hearing her thoughts, Ardbert takes the bundle of nerves into his mouth and sucks and it is as if every nerve in her body is alight with lightning. Her hand shoots down, finding purchase in his hair as she is suddenly desperate for an anchor. “Fuck,” she gasps, head falling back against the mattress as she loses herself in the feel of his mouth on her. One of his hands slides from its place on her hips and he teases a finger at her entrance, drawing another moan from her. He feels his cock twitch in response.

He sets upon her with earnest then, dipping another finger into her aching cunt as his mouth and tongue drink from her greedily like a man possessed; like a ghost who has felt nothing, tasted nothing for a hundred long, lonely years. To be seen, felt, loved…

He would do anything for her.

“Please,” comes the strangled gasp as his mouth and fingers work her higher and higher towards the precipice. “Ardbert,” she whines.

“Tell me what you want,” he says, withdrawing from her folds to meet her eye. Want burns bright through her at the sight of him looking at her with such reverence, the evidence of her desire slick on his lips.

“I need you,” she breathes. “Please.”

Ardbert holds her eye as he kisses the inside of her thigh before turning over the length of her body, mouth and tongue tasting every ilm of her until he reaches her mouth. Leida moans at the taste of herself on his lips.

“Tell me.”

“I need you inside me,” she pants, fingers scraping lightly against his scalp as she holds his gaze. “Ardbert…”

He kisses her deep, settling between her legs with a shaky sigh. He feels her hand reach between them, wrapping around his cock and giving it several slow, teasing strokes.

“Easy there, sweetheart,” he groans, nipping at her jaw. “I won’t last long if you do that.”

“Mercy, then.” Leida gives a breathy laugh, kissing his temple as she relents, moving her hand to guide him to her entrance. Ardbert rests a hand against her cheek, thumb brushing her cheek affectionately. Gods, but he loves her.

The first push of him inside her has both their breaths catching. She clings to him, forehead resting against his as he takes his time entering her fully. He wants to savor this, wants to sear the memory of her open mouthed gasps and the feel of her into his memory forever so that not even another century could take this from him.

Ardbert shudders as he sheathes himself fully inside her, marveling at the way she feels so right, like she was made for him and he for her. Leida takes a moment to catch her breath, for she feels nearly faint with the way her very aether seems to respond to him. When she kisses him, silently begging for his movement, she nearly weeps at the first slow roll of his hips.

“‘s been so long,” he groans, head dropping to the crook of her neck as he drags long and slow within her. Leida gasps at the scrape of teeth at her pulse point. “You’re so perfect. So perfect for me.”

“I am yours,” she sighs, legs shifting upward to take him deeper. “From the first, I have been yours.”

She rises to meet him for every movement as he sets his pace faster, deeper, chasing a bliss she never thought possible before. Their union feels somehow sacred, inevitable, like something that should have been long ago has finally shifted into place and now the worlds are in alignment. Later, she will ponder what this means, what the tug of her aether towards him and his towards her means but right now—right now, nothing matters outside of the feel of his skin against hers.

Their shared gasps and moans fill the night, the sound of skin moving against skin a melody sweeter than any orchestrion could capture. Leida feels all at once too hot, the steady drive of his cock working her back to the precipice. She wants more. She slides her arms around his neck, legs wrapping around his waist as she is desperate to feel him closer, deeper. She can feel his answering groan rumble against her breast as he obliges her, arm looping under her back and holding her impossibly close as he shifts to a near relentless pace.

“Ardbert, I—I’m…” She can barely think through the heady pleasure, all means coherent thought thoroughly chased away with each snap of his hips. “Fuck.”

Ardbert places a sloppy, open mouthed kiss at the base of her ear as he speaks. “Let go for me, sweetheart.” 

The rough timbre of his voice is enough to send her over the edge. Ecstasy crashes around her with his name on her lips in a desperate, repeating prayer. He guides her through it, fingers digging into the soft skin of her back as he holds her close and it isn’t long before Ardbert’s hips stutter, thrusting erratically as he follows with a rough gasp of her name.

They fall together, in the aftermath. A tangle of limbs and languid bliss in the wake of their lovemaking. Leida presses a kiss to the sweat matted hair at his temple, Ardbert’s hold around her tightening. She doesn’t know how long they stay like this, holding each other in the afterglow as they struggle to regain their breaths. Eventually Ardbert pulls away, and for a moment her heart aches at the absence of him. He is quick to pull her back to him as he rolls onto his back, and Leida sighs contentedly as she settles against his chest.

His hands trail lazily along her back, playing with stray lilac locks as they languish in the post-bliss haze.

“What happens now?” Leida asks quietly. Ardbert sighs, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “We keep trying to save our worlds. We find a way to keep you from turning into a sin eater. Everything else can come later.”

Leida props herself up on her elbow, small smile playing on her lips as she looks at him. “We?”

“Aye.” Ardbert reaches up, letting his thumb caress her cheek gently as he gives her a faint smile. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me. For as long as you’ll have me, anyways.”

“I would always have you.” 

“Then will figure it out.”

Ardbert cards his fingers through her hair, sighing in content when Leida leans down to press her lips against his in a slow kiss.

“Together,” she says. 

He knows that this could very well end in heartbreak and failure, that they could fail to save their homes. She could lose herself to the Light when she fells the next Warden, despite his best efforts to keep it contained. He can imagine a hundred and more ways in which it could all go to shit before the week is out, has imagined it time and again.

But with Leida at his side, each horrible scenario seems further and further from being inevitable. 

“Together.”

For the first time in many long years, he dares to hope.

[hyenahunt]

Saga: Rivals - 15

Writer: Akira

Season: Winter

Characters: Tori, Hokuto, Chiaki

Proofreading: moricchiichan (JP) & Peace (ENG)

Translation: kotofucius

Tori: I have to ask in a way that won’t drive him further into a corner — Eichi-sama has been hurt enough.

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Location: Soundproof Lesson Room

Tori: …Mm. I got it. Thanks for telling me everything.

Hokuto: It’s not everything, though. Just the general summary of what happened. The war last year was chaos, involving many different factions.

I don’t think anyone had a bird’s-eye comprehension of the whole picture. But the same could be said for the present… Only God knows the truth.

Tori: ……

Hokuto: …What’s wrong, Himemiya? That was a chance for you to chime in with a “God's nose is loose?”, you know.

Tori: I'm not in the mood… But in any case, yeah, I get it.

I've heard bits and pieces from Yuzuru during Starfes, and it's not like I’m stupid or anything…

I’d already picked up on a lot of things from rumors going around, and with your explanation I more or less understand the whole thing.

Chiaki: Is that right? All the same, what Hidaka and I told you were stories from our own points of view, so I think you should hear it from Tenshouin, too.

I’m sure he won’t gloss over it or justify himself. He’ll tell you everything, if it’s what you want, Himemiya.

But keep this in mind — The main character of the revolution last year was fine, Tenshouin. He was at the heart of it, fighting the longest, and that had certainly left him with scars.

He achieved a brilliant revolution at the end of it, but it’s probably not a fun story to tell…

So if you want to ask him, I hope you’ll be as nice as you can about it.

Tori: Yeah. If it’s now, I’m sure Prez will tell me the truth, without trying to look good or lying.

But speaking the truth means he can’t tell lies that protect himself.

I have to ask in a way that won’t drive him further into a corner — Eichi-sama has been hurt enough.

…Ehehe, but I feel like a weight's been lifted off my shoulders. I dunno if it’s because they take me for a fool or what, but nobody would explain it to me until now.

Only hinting that something happened… That only annoyed me and gave me more questions, you know?

Chiaki: Mm… I guess it would.

I’ll probably have to tell my juniors in Ryuseitai about the past too, one of these days.

I can’t keep trying to look cool; it’s a rule that a hero’s transformation must come with a time limit.

But you know… However I try to wrap it, it's just really gloomy and embarrassing, and a bit too grisly as a tale to tell.

I really don’t like exposing my kids to that, if I can help it.

Tori: See? Always treating us like little kids. We’re not even that far apart in age. The upperclassmen in this school are all like that.

Anyway, Sagami-sensei already told us about the history of the idol industry before. If that was like the history of this country, then what you told me just now is probably contemporary history, right?

The story that’s directly connected… with the times we’re living in now.

We’re included in that history, and the future will be written according to the actions we take from hereon, right?

Maybe that’s plain as day, but it’s still so strange to think about~ ♪

Anyway, I wanna organize the facts, so I’ll be summarizing them in my own words. Correct me if I say something strange or get something wrong.

Hokuto: Alright. My father and Sagami-sensei went to the chairman’s room by themselves, for coverage on the show today or whatever it was they said…

The academy probably thinks just having those two, the key people of Project-Saga, would be enough,

But I don’t like it. It’s like they think we’re not worth their time.

Well, let’s not talk about that… We’re excused from afternoon classes to focus on practice, so we still have much time to spare.

Chiaki: Yeah. When the members of Lilith arrive and the teachers come back, we’ll do some greetings to start with and have a joint practice, right?

It’s great that we’ll get to feel the strength of our greatest rival from up close.

Hokuto: I agree. But from what I heard, that Lilith group is basically my father plus Eve — so it’s making my head hurt, personally.

I still haven’t won against Eve, and my father is a constant nuisance.

Tori: Eve… So Hiyori-sama will be here too.

He kinda insulted me around Summer Live, so I don’t have that good of an impression of him…

I was a bit disillusioned, since I’d been his huge fan before that…

Though it was my own fault for mistaking my own idealization of Hiyori-sama for the truth.

Hokuto: Hmm, so Tomoe-senpai insulted you, Himemiya? On the other hand, I don’t have such a bad impression of him —

I was confused at first — he got on my nerves a lot, too — but the things he said were in themselves right…

He wiped us out unsparingly onstage too; it was an admirable feat, and a great lesson.

Tori: Yup. I get that he’s admirable as an idol. It’s just something regarding our families, you see…

Let’s just say we rich people have a lot going on, okay? Commoners like you probably won't understand, senpai!

Chiaki: Yeah. I especially don’t get it. But Hidaka’s plenty wealthy too, so he can probably see where you’re coming from somewhat?

Hokuto: No… My family is a bit unique, we’re not really involved with the others that dominate the area. We’re completely unfamiliar with their conflicts and history.

Tori: Mm, alright. I’ll tell you a bit about it later, then! In return for telling me about what went on in Yumenosaki Academy.

Anyway, we’ve gotten sidetracked. I’ll summarize what you just told me.

The original super idol was a godlike man who created everything in the idol industry…

The many super idols in history tried to succeed after him, by ruling over their respective eras like kings.

But none of them held a candle to their God, the first idol —

Then that God vanished from the public eye, and even passed away, losing his influence…

There was that terrible scandal too, pushing the idol industry to a long winter.

Hokuto: Ahh… SS was a nationwide broadcast, so you also know about that case, huh, Himemiya?

Tori: Yeah. …I wonder how Akehoshi-senpai manages to always laugh like a fool despite his background.

If I’d been in the same position… I definitely wouldn’t be able to recover.

Just imagining that kind of tragedy happening to my dear Papa and Mama… Just the thought of it makes me wanna cry.

Hidaka-senpai, you have to be Akehoshi-senpai’s support.

Chiaki: I ask you the same thing, Hidaka. Of course, I also plan to be a good support for him.

Hokuto: You don’t have to tell me, I will be. …Let’s stop talking about this. I don’t want to pretend it never happened, but I don’t think we should gossip so loudly about it, either.

Tori: Okay. Continuing on… In the wintry times, Sagami-sensei appeared and revived the idol industry for just a moment.

This achievement was the reason Project-Saga kicked off — they expected him to revive the industry once more.

But at that time, Sagami-sensei retired prematurely, and there’s no longer anyone to stop things from going downhill…

Both the idol industry, and Yumenosaki — which stood at the center of it — entered a dark age.

[ ☆ ]

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[musewritingsforyou]

Asked and Answered

I love you sm for this! an adorable little fluffy blurb is here for you, I hope you like it!

1k

tw: none!

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I was never exactly a fan of PDA. More than just the “oh im single and I hate couples showing their affection for one another around me” kind of thing. It was more that I was never comfortable or close enough with someone where I could get to a point in a relationship to be casually touched and not have it make my skin crawl. That was the first thing about my relationship with Harry that my friends and family noticed. The weirdest thing was, I hadn't even realized it was happening. I didn't even think to call it “PDA” , that is, until the boys started to mention it.

We were sitting on the bus together all eating dinner, take-out from some Chinese restaurant we got on the road to our next venue. Per usual we weren't having a formal sit down family dinner, just lounging about in different parts of the bus, eating and doing work, looking at emails, watching tv, just hanging about in some of the only free time that we get. Harry and I were watching friends on the couch together, cardboard containers of food in our laps.

“You smell good” His head was resting in the crook of my neck and I could feel the muscles in his jaw clenching as he ate his food. I rested my own head on top of his.

“Because of the food or because I showered?” Idle conversation. Nothing of importance, nothing out of the ordinary. But that's how we like it. Even when we are sitting close practically whispering in each other's ear, we don't generally do anything but try and be together.

“Think a bit of both. What would you do if I started calling you noodle?” I laughed and placed my close to finished container back on the table in front of us.

“Um, I’m not sure, I guess it depends on why you would call me noodle”

“Dunno, just thought it might be cute” he placed his own container on the table and we nestled into each other pulling a blanket over ourselves.

“Oh god. No. Just no.” Louis walked in and squeezed his eyes shut at the picture of the two of us on the couch. For a second it didn't even occur to me what he might have thought seeing us like that with no one else in the room.

“What? Can we not watch Tv in peace?” I picked my head off of Harry's chest for a moment to speak.

“Only if you want to be tortured endlessly for all of enternity.”

“Okay you're just jealous because you don't have someone to cuddle with. And don't even try to deny it. I know a touch starved man when I see one.” I could feel the rumble of Harry’s chest under me as he laughed.

“You know what. I have had enough of the two of you. Goodnight, I hope you both wake up with bad backs and tingling arms.” The both of us said nothing and merely looked at eachother with raised eyebrows.

Eventually we fell asleep just like that and woke up the next morning to the sound of several boys around us. As soon as I got them to dispel I tried to stand to go to the bathroom but Harry's arm locked me down.

“Haz, I need to pee.”

“Cuddle with me”

“Harry, I’ll come right back okay I promise.” I kissed his forehead and tried again, still not even budging.

“Harry.”

“I want cuddles”

“You're a child” I gave up, ignoring the urge to pee and hoped that the boys heard every single word of that conversation, maybe with enough teasing and a little bit of luck, they could set me free from the warm prison of love I had been caught in.

“Really Harold? ‘I want cuddles’” Liam mocked as he walked into the room. Harry merely ignored him and nestled his face into the crook of my neck.

“This is giving me second hand embarrassment mate i'm not gonna’ lie to ya” Niall walked in as well and sat across from the both of us. Harry picked up his head again and looked at me with bug puppy dog eyes.

“At least one person won't make fun of me” Niall burst out laughing before I started a smirk.

“Well, I don't know that I would go that far, Love, and I'm so close to pissing my pants right now that I very well may break out of the cuddle puddle you have locked me into.”

“I thought you loved me.”

“Harry?” Louis asked from a corner

“What.”

“You know you look and act like a child with a new toy when she's around ya, right?”

“And?” they all laughed at him again

“You think I'm cute right? Coz that's all that matters to me.”

“I think you're absolutely precious. Not matter what they say I wouldn't give up my cuddles for the world”

[ikigaitsuki]

behind closed doors | s.jy

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Summary — Finding an unlocked door in one of your friends’ usual parties provides an opportunity to escape the crowd. But with the closing of some doors, comes the figurative opening of others.

Pairing — Jake x fem!reader

Genre — smut

CW — alcohol consumption, unprotected sex - be careful, fingering (f receiving), tbh it’s very mundane but who doesn’t like realistic sex???, little bit of dirty talk and a lot a bit of praise! like jake basically had a praise kink idk, he also asks for consent bc mmm

Word count — 3,609

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a/n: i’ll tag part 2 here! ask to be on the tag list <3

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Parties aren’t really your thing.

And it’s not that you’d rather be at home, cosy and in bed, a TV series playing continuously on your screen until you feel drowsy enough to fall asleep. It’s really not that you dislike parties themselves, more so the environment that seems to follow every social gathering.

Particularly these college parties.

The ones that leave plastic cups lying around each and every countertop, the ones where people dress up nicely just to spend their evening sat on the sofa of a student accommodation; spend their evening grinding back against some random person studying a degree they had to pretend to care about in order to end up in that position, spend their evening kissing and holding onto someone whilst the people beside them gossip.

It’s the unshakable feeling that rises in your stomach that is similar to that of regret when you sip down the harsh liquid in a cup that Heeseung happily brought over to you.

Of course, it’s one of his regular gatherings - music too loud, far too many bodies against one another and far too much alcohol than the entire room can handle - but you came anyway.

Because what are friends for?

Even if you’re currently sneaking off down the little corridor to locate his bedroom, hoping that the door is unlocked so you can sit on his bed for a while and find some peace - it’s a regular thing Heeseung set up for you because he knows just how much you hate this, yet you still come anyway.

However, you’re met with dismay as the door doesn’t budge.

Locked.

Wonderful.

Wonderful.

Heeseung is usually the careless type, but perhaps he’s learnt his lesson. Of course he would, at a time inconvenient for you.

He probably learnt the hard way, walking in on a couple doing, shall we say, ‘couply’ things.

You suppose that any subsequent unlocked room will have to do.

So you take the next one.

Heeseung lives with 3 other people, and whilst you’ve occasionally been in their flat and engaged in the passing “Hello!,” when you bump into one another, you don’t necessarily class yourselves as friends. Aside from Sunghoon, of course.

But that’s a story for another time.

And really, you should knock on the door, just on the off chance that maybe people are already inside, probably half naked and desperate to fuck. The absolute last thing you need right now is to watch people having sex - well, trying to.

But with alcohol in your system, decreased inhibition sure is intact. You don’t even notice the figure sat idly at their desk whilst you shut the door behind you, sigh of relief escaping your mouth as you enter the room.

Bingo!

You almost jump out of your skin when you turn around and realise the room is already occupied.

Said occupant being Jake, one of the main culprits of the awkward dialogue of, ‘Hello! Heeseung is in his room!’,’ sat at his desk with the reflection of his computer screen dancing in his eyes and illuminating his face.

“Oh, shit. I thought this room was empty,” you apologise once Jake makes eye contact with you, his gaze more intense as he tries to pinpoint exactly how he recognises you.

“And if it was?,” he bites his lip, and it’s purely innocent, but it still throws you for a loop.

“I dunno,” you hadn’t really thought about the possibility of Heeseung’s room being locked, honestly, “Just needed to get away from the crowd,”

“Ah,” he hums, as though he gets it - well, you assume he does, since he’s sat at his desk and sounding out the thumping bass from the music a few walls away, “Parties not really your thing?,”

“Depends on the party. This type isn’t,”

He laughs, “Well, in that case you can sit on the bed for a while. Don’t steal anything,”

He giggles after his last sentence, teeth coming to clutch his lip again and you find it cute. Jake is cute.

His bed feels warm, the sheets feel fresh, crisp under your touch like they’ve not long since been dried and put on. They smell strongly of fabric softener, and you wonder if all of his clothes smell like that. Hopefully.

Jake doesn’t speak much, and neither do you. He’s evidently focused on his computer screen, which by now you make out to be an assignment of some sort. How the man can focus in these conditions - said conditions being his flat mates’ stupidly obnoxious music and the loud chatter of people who quite frankly, don’t even like one another - is unbeknownst to you.

In the silence of the room, you can feel the slight spinning from the alcohol in your system. It’s an accident, you tell yourself, when you find yourself lying on top of Jake’s sheets and basking in the fabric conditioner scent. It’s nice.

Jake is nice.

Jake is nice because he swivels in his chair and smiles lightly as he watches a completely unaware you grip the sheets in your palms. Jake is nice because he won’t say anything, he’ll just let you do it.

“Did you wash these today?,” you ask.

“Yeah, can you tell?,” he knows you can.

“They smell nice,” you sit back on your elbows, “Why aren’t you with everyone else?,”

“Parties aren’t really my thing,” he repeats the similar line to you, relaxing back into his desk chair, “I can’t stand drunk people,”

“What if I’m a drunk person?,”

“Then you’re okay. You’re quiet,” he hums, and his gaze is soft. Nice.

“I don’t have to be,” you knew it would sound flirty, but it bounces around the walls and the sounds linger a little longer than you expected, so Jake’s cheeks glow red.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,”

“Are you worked up?,”

Impossibly more so, his cheeks flush. He reaches for his mini fridge, ultimately choosing to disregard his assignment and cracks open a beer, “Not yet,”

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Time doesn’t feel like a concept anymore.

You rejected when Jake offered you a beer because you don’t like the taste, so he helped himself. He didn’t want to get drunk, but he wanted to lessen his nerves. You’re making him feel nervous.

He finally recognises you as Heeseung’s friend, and he thinks you’re nice, so he wants to ease up around you.

The bed sheets don’t smell like fabric softener anymore - Jake’s cologne replaces it, but you think perhaps his scent is better. Leaning on him, he doesn’t shy away from the touch. It’s innocent and calm, despite the calamitous music still playing.

“You’re warm, Jake,” you muse.

“To be honest, I am sort of hot right n-,”

You slap him, playfully, and he almost drops the half-empty bottle of beer out of his hand. He places it on his bedside table, amongst the other now empty bottles, and grins at you, “Did I say something wrong?,”

“I’m being nice,”

“How is that nice?,”

You stare at him a little too long, and then burst into laughter. He does the same, and it’s endearing. You’re both tipsy, you can tell that much - his eyes a little glossy and he can’t stop grinning and it’s starting to hurt.

When the giggles die down, you’re simply left gazing into one another’s eyes. That, in itself, feels warm.

“You’re pretty,” Jake whispers, still smiling.

Your eyes trace over the details of his lips, of his teeth as he grins with an open mouth.

“Kiss me.”

So he does, and it’s soft and sweet and he tastes a little like beer but you don’t mind it, since it’s coming from him. His hands don’t move as he uses them to lean against.

His lips are soft, sometimes you barely connect because you’re both smiling like idiots and it makes the whole thing endearing. His tongue is soft on yours, and the rhythm of them together is slow.

When Jake pulls away first, he grabs your figure softly to help lift you over his hips. You’re straddling him now, but it doesn’t feel any more erotic than before. If anything, it’s quite calming.

Your heart is beating so fast, you can hear it in your ears now.

“When I drink alcohol, I get really horny,” you admit. There’s a feeling of shyness creeping up, but Jake just bites his lip and hums again and you assume that he’s agreeing with you.

You finally know that he’s agreeing with you when you feel a hardness press between your legs.

That’s because of you.

You move your hips experimentally, searching Jake’s face for signs of pleasure. And sure enough, you find them. He bites his lip again, and you’ve lost count of how many times he’s done that, but now it’s different. Now, you can tell that he’s doing it so to hide noises escaping. But you want to hear them.

“You don’t need to be quiet. Nobody can hear us,” you contradict your point as your voice stays at a whisper, breath soft and light on his lips and Jake simply can’t resist kissing you more hungrily.

Hands dancing around his neck as you keep them there, fingers idly playing with the loose strands of hair at his nape - you keep up your rhythm of moving your hips along one another, basking in the way Jake sighs against your lips occasionally, and the way his teeth catch your skin.

For some time, you’re both content just feeling one another, just letting the remnants of alcohol flush through your veins and translate into confidence, just being here.

But eventually, that’s not enough.

Jake’s hands creep into the hem of your pants, and it’s awkward in the way his wrist has to twist to slide into your underwear whilst you still straddle him. To be honest, the clothes just feel like a restriction. Jake barely has time to feel the lace of your underwear before you’re pulling yourself from him and working at the buttons of your trousers.

“They’re in the way,” you reason.

His lip - yet again caught between his teeth, turns upward into a grin.

“Hurry up and come back here,” he whines, his fingers tracing over the neckline of his shirt before he lifts it off. What a wonderful view.

You don’t even manage to climb back onto Jake as his palm rubs slowly against your clit. His fingers are a little cold as they tease you, and you shiver under his touch once his fingers enter.

He’s a little impatient, so he starts with two. He swears though, if he gets to do this again with you he just might take his time.

Now isn’t one of those situations.

So he immediately curls his fingers inside you to send you reeling. Jake is quick with his movements, wanting nothing more than to hear the salacious sounds of your wetness around him.

And pretty soon, he hears them - alongside the sweet moans of his name and encouragement to keep going. The only light illuminating Jake’s room comes from the computer falling into standby on his desk, and you wish that maybe things were a little brighter - so you could see every flexing muscle on the man’s hand; see in greater detail his tanned and toned torso.

But then again, you are simply in one of the rooms of your friends’ dorm, in the middle of a party.

“Ah, you like that?,” Jake hums in your ear after a particularly loud moan from you, free arm wrapping around you to palm at your breast.

“Mmm,” you nod lightly, “Feels good,”

“Yeah?,” his little search for praise, fuelled with an undertone of eroticism makes you whine out further, giving in to what he wants.

Taking his fingers out for a moment, he brings them to his mouth so to taste you - tongue moving slowly whilst maintaining eye contact with you. Jake knows his actions are fuelled by alcohol right now, but he gains a confidence of his own accord when he sees the way your mouth hangs slightly agape and your eyes are trained on his digits.

He doesn’t give you chance to say anything before his fingers are on you again, rubbing softly on your clit, already building a steady rhythm, “You taste sweet, you know,” he whispers back against your ear, and you turn your head to allow him to fit into the space better.

“Jake…,” you trail off, nails digging into the flesh of Jake’s wrist as he builds up momentum, bringing you closer to bliss.

You can help the way you clench around nothing, a desperation arising alongside the pleasure as you wish Jake would just abandon your orgasm to fuck you through it instead.

What you don’t realise, is that you voiced that out loud.

“Wanna make you cum around my fingers,” he kisses your shoulder, “Then my cock.”

Lifting up your shirt, Jake is quick to pull down the cup of your bra before ghosting his fingertips over your nipple. Again, his fingers are cold, but they soon warm up with the intense heat your body is exuberating.

His fingers move in tandem with the slow rhythm of your hips, a non-verbal request for just a little more, and he moans in synch with you.

The consistent pace of your body being touched builds up the feeling of pleasure - it won’t be long before it’s released.

“Don’t stop, Jake, I’m gonna cum,” you keep his wrist against you, palm flush against your clit as Jake’s fingers work at you faster.

With shaking legs, you heave, breathless whines escaping your throat as well as rasps of ‘Oh my god,’ and Jake thinks he’s dreaming right now.

He removes his fingers to softly toy at your clit one last time before you’re pulling him away, melting further into the sheets and the scent of his cologne.

“You feeling good?,” he purrs.

“So good,”

And you stay like that for a moment until Jake’s figure lay between your legs resting akimbo, lips ghosting over yours as he grinds his sweatpants over your bare pussy, “Are we okay to continue?,”

“Please,” you rasp, hands coming to pull up your shirt, much with the help of Jake’s eager own.

Pulling at your bra straps, he halts, “Can this come off too?,”

You smile, because this is nice. Jake is nice. Nice boys get what they want.

And boy, does he look happy when he gets to see the way your breasts fall against your chest.

“Pretty,” he muses, and you smile wider.

Jake hastily pulls down his sweatpants, cock springing out to hit against his stomach and the thought crosses your mind that maybe this could happen again - purely for the fact you want so badly to have him in your mouth right now.

But that can be a story for another time, right?

Distracting you from your thoughts, Jake rubs his tip up and down your folds before slowly pushing inside, earning a hiss from him.

This is much better than his silly little assignment.

He’s very glad he didn’t lock his door tonight. He’s very glad that this time, Heeseung did.

Jake experimentally pulls out before pushing slowly in, loosening you up slightly and readying you for the rhythm he wants to take.

By no means does he intend to be rough with you, but he wants to go deep. Have you feel him all the way, have you take it and feel good in return.

So he quickens ever so slightly, enough to make you gasp and meet your glossy eyes with his. He looks so good, mouth held open as he rasps almost silently, as his torso contracts and releases with each movement.

It’s like that for a while, deep, harsh thrusts where you lazily kiss one another, moaning into each other’s mouths as you block out the bass from the music and focus in on the sounds of the pair of you.

The headboard slightly knocks against the wall, and Jake usually would mind but he supposes that this time, it doesn’t really matter anyway.

What matters to him is the way your grip tightens on his hips as he pushes himself to the hilt, what matters to him is the way your eyes roll back and what matters to him is the way you have to keep licking your lips for moisture because he’s taking the air so quickly from you that they’re drying out.

Hips beginning to slow down, Jake looks you in the eyes, “Talk to me,” he grunts, “Tell me what it feels like,”

“Oh, Jake,” you move your grip onto his biceps, “Feels so full, so deep,”

Eyes closed and lips between his teeth, Jake sighs, “Fuck, tell me more,” he pushes deeper into you just to hear you whine.

“You’re so big,” you whimper, “Jake! You’re so good,” you throw your head back into his sheets and can smell the fabric softener that first enticed you.

With each bit of praise that rolls from your tongue, Jake speeds up. He acts accordingly, doing anything so to please you, so to make you say more.

His lips attach to your neck, first kissing softly, then licking, before his teeth sink in the flesh and he’s sucking - hard. For sure, a mark will be left there, and it’s something you often hate, but the haze of alcohol over your mind makes you forget just how much you’ll mentally punch yourself in the morning for letting it happen.

“Wow, Jake, please don’t stop,” you cry out.

Breaking his lips from your neck, Jake groans, “Keep moaning my name,”

He resumes his thrusts, arms on either side of your head keeping him upright as he isolates his hips to fuck back into you. His hair falls into his eyes, and you realise you like him like this - this is way better than all of those passing greetings - why didn’t you both do this sooner?

“Jake,” you moan again, legs wrapping and locking around his waist.

“Fuck,” Jake mewls, “Say my name again. Who’s making you feel good?,” there’s such a desperation in his request, wanting nothing more to fall from your mouth other than the title of who’s making you feel so insanely good.

“You, Jake,” you claw at his chest as an attempt to ground yourself and keep in place as Jake’s hips snap against you.

“Yeah, that’s right.” he giggles a little and you find it cute, in a way.

You’re growing increasingly desperate, hips rocking back against Jake’s before you bring your hand to your clit, rubbing in a rhythm you’re familiar with - because it gets you there.

And feeling how you’re slowly convulsing around him, Jake knows it won’t be long before this is over. If he can make you cum first, then he will be satisfied.

With one hand still thumbing at your clit and another softly on Jake’s shoulder, you try to warn him, but instead simply throw your head back as you cum - hard, breathless. Strong, relentless.

It takes every last bit of Jake’s crumbling resolve to pull out of you before he makes a silly little mistake persuaded by alcohol.

Fisting at his cock, it’s one, two more harsh grips before ropes of his release land on your stomach.

Please, don’t get any on the fresh sheets. They just got washed today.

You bask in the view of the boy twisting his fingers around himself before he whimpers in sensitivity.

Perhaps another time it can be you that draws that sound out of him.

For now, though, it isn’t, and the priority becomes cleaning up the mess that’s been made. That comes easily, with Jake already wiping at your skin softly with a wet wipe.

“I should leave my door unlocked more often,” he thinks aloud, and you laugh which lights up his eyes just a little.

He gets up to discard the dirtied wipes in the bin beside his desk. He makes a mental note to empty it in the morning.

There’s a sudden realisation of just how bare you are, and Jake notices. That wonderful scent of his cologne that you’ve discovered tonight engulfs you once more as a hoodie is tossed your way. It’s warm. It smells good.

It’s nice.

It’s nice how Jake stands in the perfect direction for the light of his abandoned computer screen to land on his body - every ridge on display as he haphazardly puts on new underwear.

He tries to pretend he hasn’t noticed you staring at him because it’s making him nervous. He thinks maybe he didn’t drink enough alcohol to suppress his nerves because his heart is pounding even louder - and he’s worried you can hear it.

“Standard procedure says we should cuddle now.” you smile as Jake obliges and flops on top of you. He’s surprisingly light, and his skin is warm.

For a moment, you both forget the party going on just a few thin walls away - if it even is still ongoing, you’re not sure.

Fingers tangle in Jake’s hair, a soft hum of pleasure escaping from his mouth as you aid in lulling him to sleep.

And you’re feeling tired too, eyes threatening to close until a loud noise startles the pair of you.

Bursting through the door that the both of you failed to lock, Heeseung arrives - the man you’d initially set out to seek the room of, walking with confident stride whilst he talks.

“Hey, Jake, have you seen-,”

© ikigaitsuki. no unauthorised copying or reposting is allowed.

[sandbees]

📱 for the first years. I had a thought that as the voicemails keep coming they realize that Yuu sounds older in each one and realizing that time flows differently for them.

_=_

“Hello? Ace? Heyyy! It’s Yuu, did you miss me?!”

“Haha…yeah. This is probably the first voicemail I’ve sent since I’ve gotten back. It’s been…at least a week. I wanted to try it again.”

“I guess you have bragging rights being the first person I contacted, haha!”

“…But seriously, it has been awhile. I’ve been so distracted with life that I almost forgotten to call one of you guys. Granted, it’s a Thursday afternoon, so I didn’t expect you to call back or answer.”

“So…call back as soon as possible, ok?!”

_=_

Ace grinned, looking at the voicemail. Finally, a message from Yuu! After all these years.

But as he listened, he frowned. The voicemail was probably a year ago, so why did it send now? (Maybe dimension travel rules or something?). Still, the voicemail gave him hope. Yuu probably got his voicemail, then.

He sets his phone down, and leaves the room. He should tell Deuce (and brag to him about it. Ha! Yuu contacted him first!)

_=_

“Deuce? Hi, it’s been a long time. Just letting you know I miss you…”

“Uhm…after high school, I never got a message. I think that’s the time where I finally stopped trying to contact you guys.”

“I’m- I’m actually in college now! Yeah, working on finding a career…maybe being a therapist? I’m sort of good at that…”

“Listen, I just- I’m overwhelmed with sadness that I haven’t heard anything on your end. Maybe it’s on my end too, those messages might have not been sent to you guys. So if that’s the case - I hope your all doing well.”

_=_

Deuce stared at his phone, not even reacting as the voicemail ended. His gaze set on the name set, feeling the memories start to resurface.

Did time fly so much faster in Yuu’s world? If so, how long ago was it since they sent this?

…could they be dead?

“Yo, Deuce, I got some news!”, Deuce looked up to see Ace smirking at the door.

Ace frowned as he saw his friend’s expression.

“What’s got you all sad?”

“Ace…”, Deuce sighed, “We need to talk.”

_=_

“Jack? Are you…”

“…No, you would’ve picked up. This is a voicemail, isn’t it? Listen, I’m having a mid-life crisis right now. I- your the first person I thought of since you’re so grounded.”

“I miss you guys. I really want to talk to you; to get all of my troubles right now off my chest. Like not like from a phone, but face to face.”

“It sucks. A lot. I hate this.”

“…I dunno if this is a good idea anyways. I know you’d never respond but I thought…you’re one of the people I can trust, Jack. So thanks.”

_=_

Jack’s heart drops as the voicemail ends. A terrible guilty feeling wells up. He shouldn’t be feeling this; there were so many reasons why.

…but those reasons felt like excuses to him. He should’ve been there for Yuu. They were friends. He wanted to hug them and tell them that everything was ok and no one forgot them and-

He hoped Yuu still lived happy, even after that. He couldn’t bear the thought of anything else.

_=_

“Epel? Oh, Epel…”

“I have a niece now. Remember when I was talking about my family? Yeah, my sibling had a child. I- I might be planning to adopt a kid too but…”

“I wish you guys were here with me. I remember when we talked about the future if I never left. Is it bad that I wish now that I never left? Crowley did go through all the trouble to send me home but…but now I wish he never did find it.”

“I wish I grew up with you guys with me. It sound selfish for me to say this. But I just- I just- We wanted to experience things together, right? We made a summer bucket list and everything.”

“I don’t even remember half of the things we came up with. It might have been pretty stupid, when I think of it. Even so, I tried to complete the things I do remember. Though the only one I remember that I can’t do is visit your guy’s families and travel throughout Twisted Wonderland. I wish I could’ve done that before I left…”

_=_

Epel choked back on his tears, refusing to cry in such a public place. He had gotten the voicemail during his free period. Excusing himself to Vil and Rook, he had left and went to listen to it.

Man aching feeling rushed over him as he leaned against a tree. He clutched his phone like a lifeline as the words repeated in his mind.

Yuu had- Yuu- they were-

“Epel?”

Epel looked up, seeing Vil and Rook. He tried to wipe the tears threatening to fall, but he guessed that they already saw. Rook had went over and pat his head. Usually he would swat away the hunter, but at the moment he didn’t have the energy to.

“Oh, Monsieur Cherry Apple, what happened?”, Rook asked worriedly.

“…It’s Yuu. I got a voicemail from them.”

Rook’s eyes widened as Vil held a breath. Epel shook his head.

“It’s bad news…they…”

_=_

“Sebek? Hello, I- *cough**cough*”

“Sorry, I sound very different, don’t I? I’m actually 84, isn’t that cool? …I’m in a hospital bed, so maybe not…”

“But after all these years, I still…I still have my spunk, right?”

“…”

“I’m not scared, even if I should be. But I’m not; I’ve lived a happy and peaceful life. Even if it wasn’t with you guys.”

“That’s my only regret, not being able to see you guys. Maybe I will, through some magic bullshit. I hope so.”

“But- But I guess the most important thing is to try and send out a last message to everyone. God, I’ve heard the doctors and nurses talking about how physically weak I’m getting. I might not even make it to the next year.”

“I know myself; so I bet I’ll live longer. I have to live longer, if I ever want to see you guys again.”

_=_

Sebek dropped his phone, his hand shaking as he bent down to pick it back up.

As a half-fae, Sebek knew he would probably outlive his friends. But he expected that he wouldn’t see the day they died until a very long time. Now that wasn’t the case; as Yuu had already grown old. Now, he didn’t know if it was their last message, but if it was…

“Sebek?”, Lilia entered the room, “I heard something fall into your room. You’re not the clumsy type, are you alri- Sebek?”

Lilia paused as he saw Sebek shaking violently, phone clutched tightly. He frowned as Sebek tried to straighten himself.

“Lilia…I…”

“…do you want to talk about it?”

“…It’s about Yuu…and our long lives…”

[beewolfwrites]

Do you write requests? I mean... chishiya getting his hair washed by his s/o... and it's so intimate that he really struggles with his emotions... dunno if you'd write that, tots fine if you don't. Just saying... would be cute wouldn't it...

Hello! I'm always happy to write requests, though this is the first one I've ever had :)

I wasn't sure if this managed to get across enough emotion on Chishiya's end (because that boy is like an emotional breezeblock) but I hope you like it all the same!

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

You were never worried whenever Chishiya left for a game. Well, that’s not entirely true. He was smart enough to wriggle his way through almost any situation, you knew that. Rationally and logically, Chishiya would survive. But there was always that tiny voice whispering, ‘What if’.

What if he ends up in a Spades game and isn’t athletic enough?

What if he’s ambushed by other players during a Hearts game?

What if there can only be one survivor, and by chance, it isn’t him?

Interestingly, ‘What if he gets so covered in blood, it forces him to finally wash his hair properly?’ never once crossed your mind.

Half-asleep, you heard the door to your shared room creak open as someone shuffled inside. At any other time it could have been an intruder, or even one of the militants, if not for the beam of light from the hall slicing through the darkness. Chishiya’s features were briefly illuminated, then he shut the door.

You dreamily watched his silhouette as he rummaged through the drawers, dragging them open one by one until the noise woke you up completely.

‘Chishiya?’

‘Go back to sleep.’ He shut another drawer.

By now, sleep was too far gone. Sitting up with a yawn, you switched on the bedside lamp, but when the yellow glow filled the room, it became horribly apparent why Chishiya was turning out all your clothes drawers.

His white hoodie, sweatpants, and even his skin were all spattered with blood. And within an instant, there was only one question pressing on your mind.

‘Is it yours?’

‘I told you to go back to sleep.’

The side-glance he gave you as he reached for a towel revealed that he wasn’t in the mood for this, probably because his favourite white hoodie was stained. But neither were you.

‘Is it yours?’

‘Does it look like it’s mine?’

Eyebrow raised, he turned to face you fully, letting the light accentuate every stain in his clothes. On closer inspection, no. It couldn’t possibly have been his. The speckled pattern of the blood suggested that it must’ve come from someone several feet away. Realising that he was unharmed, you instantly relaxed.

‘Was it those collars again?’

‘Yes, actually.’ He paused, smiling curiously. ‘But the players weren’t the ones wearing them.’

Ah. It was one of those games where one of the others hunted the players down. You’d survived them before, and their lives were almost always pitted against yours.

If Chishiya had any intention of telling you about his game, it certainly wasn’t right now, because he suddenly turned towards the bathroom, giving you a full view of the back of his head.

‘Wait!’ You threw back the covers, managing to catch him by the elbow just in the nick of time. ‘Wait a second.’

‘What is it now?’

You lifted up locks of his hair, inspecting the dry, tangled mess. Aside from a couple of specks at the front, he’d somehow managed to avoid getting blood in it. However, that didn’t mean the overall state of his hair wasn’t nasty as hell.

‘I thought I told you to brush it properly after you shower,’ you said, feeling the damaged stands between your fingertips. ‘And we have conditioner. Don’t you use it?’

He looked at you tiredly, as though he couldn’t believe he was even having this conversation. ‘Conditioner is waste of time and money,’ he said. ’Now go back to bed.’

He tried to shut the bathroom door between you, but there was no way you could let hair like that pass. The moment the door closed, you yanked it open again before he could lock it, catching him by surprise.

‘Nope. You’re not getting away that easily.’ You pushed your way into the bathroom. ‘There’s no money in this place, and no excuses.’

He leaned against the bathroom counter, watching impassively as you started to run a bath. ‘I don’t take baths.’

‘Well, you do now.’

Opening the bathroom cupboards, you pulled out some of the nicer hair products that you’d collected from abandoned salons in the city. Since the only currency in the Borderlands was human life, luxury hair products were free game.

You could feel Chishiya growing more and more irritated. ‘Pull the plug, or I’ll do it myself.’

Ignoring the comment, you pulled gently at his hoodie in a signal to remove it, only he shifted away from you and muttered that he wasn’t a child. Despite his small, reluctant comments, it was surprising how easily he’d given in. Perhaps he was simply too tired to argue, though you knew you’d get an earful about this tomorrow.

Once his bloodied clothes were in a pile on the floor, he uncomfortably climbed in the bath. Neither of you were particularly bothered by nudity, and it was hardly the first time you’d seen him like this. There was just something about baths that he hated, and seeing him sitting grumpily in the water, it was impossible to keep from smiling.

‘I’m sorry,’ you said. ‘If it’d been a shower, I would’ve had to get in too.’

‘And that’s a bad thing?’

‘Pff, stop trying to distract me,’ you snickered. ‘I’ve got so much work to do if I’m going to rescue this mess.’

Tilting his head back, you used your hand to pour water over his hair, taking your time to dampen it thoroughly before squeezing in shampoo. You had never been very good at massage, but you tried your best, rubbing the lather in to make sure every strand was coated, and every drop of blood washed away.

Chishiya didn’t seem to protest. It was a stroke of luck to catch him while he was too tired to put up a fight. You snuck a glance at his face while shampooing his hair, only to find his eyes closed, expression peaceful.

‘Chishiya?’

One eye cracked open. ‘I’m awake. Don’t get any ideas.’

Smirking, you started washing the suds away. ‘I guess my plan to attack you when you were sleeping has been foiled.’

‘What a coincidence,’ he mumbled. ‘I had the same plan earlier.’

Once the shampoo had melted into the bathwater, you pooled conditioner into the palm of your hand and started combing your fingers through his hair, coating the locks while gently easing out the tangles.The silence was comfortable, and neither of you spoke until Chishiya let out a small sigh.

‘I preferred what you were doing before.’

Your hands stilled in surprise. ‘You actually like this?’

‘I wasn’t convinced at first,’ he replied. ‘This is the first time someone’s washed my hair like this. I suppose it’s not too bad.’

Chishiya’s words opened up a lot of doors, and you couldn’t help but ask, ‘Didn’t your mother wash your hair for you? When you were small, I mean.’

‘Ah…’ He smiled wryly. ‘We had a nanny.’

Your hands slowed as you mulled over this new information. Chishiya had only vaguely told you about his parents. He barely spoke with his father, and his mother was no different. But that was all you really knew. Maybe he was raised entirely by staff.

‘Was the nanny nice?’

He hummed under his breath. ‘She was underpaid, and she let me know it.’

Did he mean to say, his nanny took her frustration out on him? The more he spoke, the more unsettled you felt learning about this. ‘She helped during bath times, right?’

‘She supervised.’

It wasn’t difficult to read between the lines. He must’ve been washing his own hair from the moment he was able to, and even then, it would’ve been impossible to remember what the experience was like before. No wonder he was terrible at looking after it now.

Bad habits die hard.

You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around his neck and shoulders, pressing your cheek against his damp skin. To your surprise, he leaned into the embrace. It was a small slip that he would never show anybody else, a fracture in his apathetic facade, and there were no words shared between the two of you. Just understanding.

That was, until the silence was ruined.

‘Hurry up. The faster you finish messing with my hair, the faster I can get out.’

Chishiya really didn’t like baths.

[forever-rogue]

A Bucky request for you queen: Reader takes Bucky to meet her family for the first time, and he’s already nervous, but he’s even more nervous when you ask if he wants to hold your sisters new baby bc he doesn’t wanna hurt the baby and he thinks he’s still damaged.

But eventually you convince him to hold the baby and then he sees how good you are and he thinks about having a family for the first time and things can either get fluffy or smutty, whatever u r feelin

Have a great day love!🤍

A/N: enjoy some soft fluff! 🥺

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: none

PART 2

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Bucky?” you stared at your reflection, putting your earrings in to complete the final outfit touch. You were getting ready to head over to your sister’s house in order to see her, her husband, and their newborn baby for the first time. You were excited to go, beyond ready to see her again and meet the newest addition to your family. Meanwhile Bucky was going through a series of emotions as he tried to ground himself and settle his nerves. He’d been reluctant to agree to go, not because he wasn’t happy to come, but more so because of the bundle of nerves that had welled up at the prospect of meeting a tiny, brand new life. As soon as he’d seen how your face light up in excitement at the prospect of going over, he couldn’t say no when you invited him to come with you. Then again, Bucky could never say no to you, “are you ready to go, my love?”

“I’m ready,” he agreed quickly as he stepped out of your shared bedroom, clearing his throat as he pulled on his leather jacket. You turned, flashing him a dazzling smile that still made him weak in the knees, when you noticed a worried expression on his face. You flounced over, hands going to his shoulders as you offered him a reassuring squeeze. You gazed into his eyes, trying to gauge what was going on in his mind when he let out a small huff. He knew you could read him like a book, “alright. I-I’m nervous about meeting...the baby.”

“James,” you reached up and rested your hand on his cheek, relaxing as he lightly keened into your touch. His hands found purchase on your waist as you leaned into him, brushing your lips against his, “you have nothing to be worried about. She’s just a baby, she’s got no right to judge and she won’t. She’ll see Uncle Bucky and fall right in love. Talk to me, love, tell me what’s going on.”

“You’re going to laugh,” he turned his gaze away, but you reached up and put your hand under his chin and shifted his gaze back to you, “it’s stupid.”

“I’m not going to laugh,” you insisted quietly, “you could tell me anything and it wouldn’t be stupid.”

“I just worry,” he sighed after a few beats of silence passed between the two of you, “what if...what if he’s still in there? Some small part of him and he...snaps. Or something. She’s going to be so small and all it would take it one little-”

“Bucky,” you reached for his hand and squeezed it tightly in your own before lacing your fingers together, “you are not him anymore - he is not you. He never was. You are James Buchanan Barnes and no one else. He is not a part of you anymore at all. You are free of all of that. You are good, you are. I know sometimes it’s harder to believe than others, but it is true.”

“I know,” he closed his eyes for a few moments, lashes fluttering against soft skin as a small sigh passed his lips. He squeezed your hand back before resting his head on your shoulder as you wrapped your arms around his waist, “it’s just...I don’t want to have a moment of...weakness.”

“You won’t,” you insisted softly, “maybe right now you don’t need to believe in yourself, but can you believe in me?”

“Always,” you could feel him smiling lightly against your warm skin as he nodded.

“Good,” you pressed a kiss to the side of his head, “now, trust me because I trust you in you. Now, let’s go, otherwise we’ll be late and then then everyone will be mad.”

“Everyone’s going to be there?”

“Just my parents, my brother, my sister and her husband and the baby of course,” you stepped back and looked him over before leaning in and kissing him quickly, “they know you, Bucky. The real you and they love you. There’s nothing to fear. Might I also add that you look very handsome today. You’ll knock ‘em dead.”

“You look beautiful,” you just happened to be wearing one of the dresses he loved most on you. He’d never commented on it, but you’d seen the way his blue eyes had lit up when you’d first worn it. You figured it would be something to help ease his nerves, almost to ground him as you had a suspicion that he might be nervous. He’d gotten much more comfortable around your family over the last year, but you knew that his general anxiety and fears sometimes bubbled up, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you promised as you held your hand out towards him. He strode over slowly before taking your hand in his and inhaling and exhaling deeply. He could do this - you knew he could and he knew he could too. Your support had meant everything to him and have him that little push he needed to get over the lingering bit of insecurity he had.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“She’s so small,” you said softly as you held the small baby in your arms. She was sleeping soundly, her little lips forming a perfect pout as you rocked her gently, “she’s beautiful.”

“She better be,” your sister joked, “nine months and then 30 hours of labor - she better be beautiful!”

“You’re the worst,” your eyes widened in surprise before you giggled quietly, “how’s she been?”

“Aurora’s been so good,” she said and you traced over her chubby little cheeks, “lots of long days and nights and more dirty diapers than I care to admit, but she’s worth it. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“I can see why,” she was so small and tiny, a new life that had so much ahead of her. The idea made your heart melt, “it must all be terribly scary and exciting.”

“It is,” she agreed as she nudged your knee with hers, “what about you and Bucky? Ever think about starting a family of your own? You guys have been together for a while and it’s something to think about…”

“We’ve...vaguely discussed it,” you confessed, looking up just in time to spy Bucky casting a quick look at you. He was mid-conversation with your father and brother but shot you a soft smile before turning back to the conversation. Your breath caught in your throat as a warmth settled in your belly, setting off a course of butterflies. What you hadn’t seen was all of the other gentle, tender glances he’d been throwing your way since you’d gotten there. You sister cleared her throat before drawing your attention back in, “but umm...it’s never really gotten that far. I dunno what’s going to happen, but I like to think maybe one day we’ll get married. I don’t see a future with anyone else.”

“You really love him, don’t you?” she asked softly as you nodded, feeling a warmth creep up into your cheeks as you avoided looking at her face.

“I do,” you bit your lip as you stared at the small baby that had started cooing softly. Her eyes slowly opened as she nodded before looking around and smiling. She waved her chubby little arm around before reaching for your finger and curling her fist around it. You beamed at her before pressing a kiss to her forehead, “just like you already.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Bucky?” your voice was soft as you walked outside to the backyard where he was standing and watching the sun slowly setting and painting the sky in brilliant pinks and purples. He hesitated for the slightest of moments before turning to you with a half smile on his features.You were holding Aurora in your arms, and she was already back to being half asleep. His nerves shot up but he quickly calmed down when he realized how tranquil the portrait painted in front of him was. You made it all seem so easy and effortless - it was new and foreign to you too, but you were handling it so well. Maybe he could as well, “would you like to meet your niece? To hold her?”

“I don’t...I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he said softly as you both took a few steps towards each other. You offered him a hopeful little smile as the baby opened her eyes and turned to look at Bucky. He met her eyes and she babbled excitedly at him. Suddenly, something within snapped as his whole demeanor shifted and his expression softened as he took in a shuddering breath. He could do this, he realized, he could do this.

“Bucky?” this was more hopeful and optimistic as he came towards you and cautiously held his arms open to you. He only nodded as you looked at him to make sure it was okay. Shifting the tiny human from your arms to his, you watched as Bucky took to water like a duck to water as he made sure she was secure in his grip. It was a sight to behold and you felt your heart beat wildly.

“She’s so...new,” was all he could get out as you laughed at him. He almost couldn’t take his eyes off her as you gave his shoulder a squeeze, “so tiny.”

“That’s kind of what a baby is,” you joked as you stuck your tongue out at him and he jokingly scoffed, “see, it’s all easy squeezy lemon peasy.”

“It’s not as hard as I thought,” he confessed after a few moments, “it feels…”

“Yeah,” you pressed a kiss to the side of his head as you finished for him after a few beats of peaceful silence, “I know.”

“Do you think I could have a few moments alone?” he asked as you nodded, standing back and admiring the sight of your boyfriend holding your niece. It struck up something within you and while you weren’t quite sure what it was, you couldn’t help but revel in it.

“I’ll be inside,” you promised, “dinner will be ready soon.If you need anything, just say the word and I’ll be right there.”

“I know,” he grinned, “I know.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Bucky watched you walk back inside and close the screen door, holding a hand up as he lightly waved back at you. A wary sigh escaped his lips as the baby watched him with nothing but curiosity in her eyes. He’d held babies before, in another life, one which was stolen from him but had led him here. But he wasn’t angry about that anymore; he’d spent many years in anger about it and he was past that. He knew, one of the things that had helped him out of that anger and hatred was you. If his cards had been played any differently, you wouldn’t have been a part of his, and you had slowly but definitely become one of the best parts of his life.

It felt so foreign but so right in that moment as he stared at the small life in his arms. He’d never really pictured himself with a family of his own, once in his old life he might have, but he hadn’t in a long time. With you, something had trickled in, slowly blooming over time to become stronger and stronger. And after seeing you with the baby, there was something in him that had come full circle. And as he looked at her little face, he couldn’t help but wonder what your own child would like. Would they have his eyes? His dark shock of hair? Or would they take after you? Either way, he knew whatever child the two of you might have would be beautiful.

“Hi Aurora,” he whispered to her as he allowed him to touch her cheek, finding the faith and trust deep within himself, “you’re still so new to this world. You don’t know about all the horrors and scary parts yet. But there are so many good things too, lots of beautiful things. I will do my best to protect you from all the bad parts, I promise. Whatever you need, I will be there.”

She smiled at him, a toothless, gummy thing as he beamed at her. Maybe...maybe one day this could be a reality for the two of you as well. Bucky let himself relax as it felt like a weight lifted off of his shoulders at the realization that he was okay. That nothing had happened and nothing would happen. He was okay...he was okay. He closed his eyes for a moment as he remembered how you looked holding her earlier. The sight had sparked something within him too; it was a sight he had thoroughly enjoyed seeing. For the first time in a long time, he had allowed himself to think that maybe he could have this too, that he could have a family and happiness of his own.

A sigh, this one contented and happy, escaped his lips as he cradled Aurora against his chest and watched the sun disappear behind the horizon, “I think maybe one day I could be a dad. I think..I think I’d like that. Especially after today...I feel like it could be an actual possibility. I was nervous about today - meeting you. I know it sounds silly, especially since you’re just...a baby. I wasn’t sure if I could...trust myself - it’s still hard sometimes. Not often but there are times. You helped me to see that maybe it’s not so hard after all. Whatever it is, I-I’m willing to try. Especially with your Aunt. You’re going to love her, you know. I do.I really, really do. I think she’s everything.”

“Bucky?” you poked your head out the door and beamed, “dinner’s ready!”

“Coming,” he slowly made his way back over to you. Opening the door wider, you ushered him inside, a hand going to the small of his back as he handed Aurora back over to your sister. He returned to your side, an arm snaking around your waist as he kissed the top of your head, “hi.”

“Hello my love,” you grinned back at him, “how’d it go? She seemed to like you...you seemed to like her…”

“I did,” he agreed, “we had a good talk. Well, I did most of the talking, but she’s a good listener.”

“Hmm,” you snorted in laughter, “you’re something else, Barnes.You’re lucky I love you so much.”

“I love you, sweetheart,” he leaned in so he could whisper in your ear, “maybe later we could talk. There’s some...things that have been on my mind for some time.”

“Bucky?” you gave him a confused look but he cut you off with a soft kiss to your lips, “everything alright?”

“Yes,” he promised gently, “everything is perfect.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[theonewiththefanfics]

Paranoid (one-shot)

Synopsis: Loki wasn’t paranoid. I mean, that was before he met the Reader. Ever since then, all day every day he can only think of her, what she’s doing, where she’s going and what’s happening to her. All because she’s a grade A dumb ass.

Pairing: Loki x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, maybe toiny bit of angst

Warnings: Reader has one brain cell and even that is not used, swearing, a lil bit of sad thoughts and general idiocy.

Word count: 3430

He was paranoid about her. Always. With every step he took. No exceptions. And it wasn’t how you might think. He’s not paranoid she might find someone better even though he thinks she deserves it. He’s not paranoid to have his heart broken and smashed into pieces because she carries it on velvet palms wherever she goes. No. It’s just that Y/N has quite the knack of getting hurt. And she’s been out on a mission for a month. Without any contact. So it was safe to say Loki was more than worried.

You could say he’s overreacting, but when it comes to his girl, it’s pretty much in the range. In fact, this is the calmest and collected Loki had been during the thirty-two days she was away, all because Y/N was finally coming home, and he could lay his green eyes upon her body to assess the damage.

When they had first met, Loki had had no idea what kind of a tornado he’d let in his life. Even the Black Widow had warned him about the woman before there had been any inclination something more than a friendship could bloom.

“She’s an absolute dumb-ass without a survival instinct,” Nat had said through a laugh, a beer bottle pressed against her rouged lips. “Honestly, I can only hope you two get put together on a mission just so you could see how big of an idiot she is. Bigger than Scott, and that’s saying something.”

In the meantime, Y/N was laughing away, head thrown back and eyes closed. “No,” she’d pointed at the redhead after nearly choking on her coffee as she pressed a tissue against the liquid that had dribbled down her chin. “I do have a survival instinct. I just don’t have a self-preservation instinct.” 

“And what’s the difference?” the Asgardian prince’s black eyebrow rose in question.

“When shit goes down, I do try to, you know, get out in somewhat of a single piece. It’s the before it happens that I don’t do.”

“You mean thinking?”

Y/N clapped her hands in excitement. “Exactly! I don’t do the thinking bit!”

That should’ve been his warning for what kind of chaos she’d bring to his life. 

It started off small with her inability to walk into the adjoined kitchen area without stubbing a toe or bruising the side of her hip against the countertop. Then it evolved into him noticing how Y/N didn’t press the button to release her toast when she thought it was in at prime toastiness level, instead, she grabbed a fork and full-on jammed it down there (DON’T DO THAT), not caring whether she’d get electrocuted or blow out the fuses in the facility. It escalated all the way to her getting trapped in an ex-Hydra base, and her first thought being not to use the window as an escape route, but rather line the sides of the room with explosives and bring the whole floor down while she hid underneath a table. He was genuinely surprised Y/N was still alive. 

But with the chaos also came serenity. She’d sneak into his room with glimmering eyes and a new book in hand, slipping under Loki’s cold sheets to lay against him and explain why the new piece of literature was ‘the actual shit’ and ‘if he didn’t read it right at that moment, she’d gouge his eyes out cause he didn’t deserve them.’

Obviously, they were empty threats, and as Loki rolled the before mentioned green eyes, he’d gently take the book out of her hands while Y/N quickly scurried out of the room to come back five minutes later with two teacups in hand.

Y/N would snuggle up against him and listen to how his voice expertly wove the words into the story, but one time it was different. The day on which the nature of their relationship had flipped upside down, had followed the same routine they’d been having for around three months since they’d become friends, but then not even ten minutes later he felt her wet tongue completely press against his bare shoulder. By that point, after everything she’d done, he didn’t even question it, simply turned the page.

“Did you burn your tongue on the tea, darling?”

“Noube,” she muffled out not letting her tongue off of his chilled skin.

“You know there’s another way I could cool it down.”

“Eah? Ike aht?”

“I could kiss it better.”

Instantly Y/N had peeled herself off from him and stared at the god, the pink muscle hanging out of her mouth like a dog’s on a hot summer day. Loki just stared at the wall. 

He hadn’t meant for those words to escape him; he’d actually always meant to suppress his feelings for the girl until the day the world stopped spinning. In fact, that’s what he’d been doing ever since she’d returned from a mission in East India seven months prior, battered and bruised and his heart had lifted to the heavens at the sight of her simply smiling and breathing.

Loki could hear her swallow harshly, and then she whispered, “don’t offer something you won’t go through with.”

His head snapped to look at her because the tone wasn’t the teasing lilt he’d gotten used to. This woman sitting half-covered by his black bedsheets was no longer the self-assured, confident and no-shit’s-given person he’d grown to love. This woman was looking at him with fear of rejection and yet unmistakable hope in her eyes. 

Slowly he closed the book, not even caring to mark the page he was left on and put it on the side of the bed before leaning over and without hesitation cupping Y/N’s cheeks and pressing their lips together and they sagged against one another at the euphoric feeling. 

Her hands in his hair felt like paradise as she cradled his head in an attempt to pull him closer, and she gasped when he did slip his tongue in her mouth, eagerly accepting the intrusion. But then she just had to ruin the moment by snorting in his face, though Loki couldn’t hide the smile that appeared on his own.

“What? What’s so funny?”

Y/N scrunched her nose. “Your tongue’s really cold.”

“It did the trick though, right?”

She looked like she was pondering it for a bit, and in the meantime slid her legs up so they were now wrapped around his waist. “Dunno. Might need another treatment. You know, so we’re sure it’s cured.”

He didn’t argue for even a second because Loki couldn’t believe his life at that moment. It was filled with giggles, and short breaths as they stole kisses from one another as much as possible, and soft caresses that sometimes turned into biting fingers that dug in the other’s sides whenever a teasing remark slipped past their swollen lips.

His heart flipped in his chest when Y/N threw her head back in a cackle, exposing her neck to him where he laid loving kisses. 

He’d never been more scared of a feeling.

He was terrified of how easily she’d gotten ahold of his heart.

But fuck him, if Loki didn’t love it and wouldn’t dive headfirst into it again.

Though now, when she’d finally returned home after the mission, he was kind of regretting it as Y/N was being wheeled off the Quin-jet on a gurney, one of the hands that had so tenderly braided his hair just a month ago now limp over the side of the stretcher as the other covered a hole in her side that was oozing blood.

White-hot fury blazed through his veins, as he saw the Captain step down the track and onto the landing pad, though fortunately for the blond super-soldier, the god didn’t get to him as he decided to follow Bruce and Tony who were taking Y/N to the med bay. But even knowing the love of his life was being treated by the best of the best, didn’t pacify him especially when they refused him entry into her room. 

“Loki, Loki, calm down,” Nat, who’d been on the mission with Y/N and Steve, pushed against his chest to keep the god away from busting through the door. “They won’t let anyone in until she’s been stitched up, but it’s nothing big… I mean on her scale. She just decided to be dramatic and passed out on her way back.”

He wanted to fight, he wanted to make each person that stood between them crumble underneath him, but he knew it wouldn’t do him or Y/N any good. Loki huffed, letting his shoulders drop and then pressing his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose. “How bad?”

“Umm, Marrakesh level, so, nothing too lethal.”

“By Valhalla,” Loki dragged a hand across his face. “That woman will kill me one day. Not directly, no, but I’ll have a heart attack just because of her recklessness.”

Nat snorted and crossed her arms. “I did warn you.”

“Not enough.”

“Hey, don’t blame me! You were the one that fell in love with her.”

That Loki didn’t have a comeback for, so instead, he just huffed and plopped down into one of the chairs that lined the wall outside of the med bay.

“Our lives would be quite dull without her though,” Nat said, joining the god on the chairs and releasing a restrained groan, as she shuffled into the seat. She most likely had a dislocated hip but had practically bitten Steve’s head off when he told her to go and get checked. She, just as much as Y/N’s boyfriend, needed to know their firecracker was alright.

“Yeah,” Loki sighed. “If only she had one more brain cell in that head of hers, maybe we could live in somewhat of a peace.”

Not even two minutes later, Tony threw open the doors and allowed them to enter, but by that point, everyone had heard the arrival of their teammates, and they wanted to check on them. For example, Thor wanted to see if Loki had murdered anyone yet, but as it turned out, he didn’t need to worry about that. Instead, he needed to worry about his brother’s girlfriend.

“Loki!” Y/N squealed seeing the raven-haired god come into her hospital room. “That’s ma man!” she said to Bruce, who only rolled his eyes already used to the way the woman was while coming out of it. “It’s ma Loki Loki, bo-boki, Banana-fana fo-foki, Fee-fi-mo-moki, Loki!”

She dramatically pointed at the other god standing beside him.

“Oh, and that’s his brother Thor, Thor, bo-bhor, Banana-fana fo-fohr, Fee-fi-mo-mohr, Thor!” Her hands slapped against her cheeks as she squeezed them and wiggled them up and down making her words shake. “My-y-y-y-y fa-a-a-a-a-a-ce fee-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-ls li-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-ke cotto-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-n.”

“That’s 'cause you’re high,” Tony said.

Y/N was instantly on it. It was like she was on crack and on steroids and a sugar rush while at the same time doing a hundred miles an hour. “Hello, High. I’m dad.”

Tony looked at the ceiling in despair. “That’s not how that even works.”

“Why’s she like that?” Loki asked sitting down next to Y/N on the bed, who suddenly busied herself with the reflections of the sun the golden cufflinks of his shirt sleeves threw. Especially as his face went to caress her cheek, but she grabbed his wrist in a white-knuckling grip and moved it in certain angles to create reflections on the walls. 

        The billionaire sighed. “We gave her a sedative cause when we started to stitch her up, she woke up and almost kicked Bruce in the nuts, but after a little breakdown of the situation by Steve, it turns out there was some gas involved in the mission, and I guess the combination of the two chemicals have flung her in the stratosphere.”

        That wasn’t a good word, as it turned out it was almost like Bucky’s trigger words, given how Y/N immediately screeched out, “Walking on air, living in the Stratospheeeeeeeeeeeeere!”.

        “Wow,” Nat sighed. “Mutemath would hate her.”

        Y/N stuck her tongue out at the redhead. “You’re mute math, how ‘bout that? No one likes to be name called, you bully.”

        “Yeah, okay,” the redhead chuckled as she patted Y/N’s foot. “You’ll survive. I’m gonna have a nap.” And with that she left limping on her way, Steve following so he could scold her into getting her hip put into place by a professional, not by him or Clint. 

        One by one the rest of the team did as well, knowing that they could rest with easy hearts as Y/N was safe, stitched up and sound. Well, as sound as being completely drugged up could be.

Tony checked her vitals one more time before turning to Loki, who’d refused to leave her on her own, one, because he loved her and wanted to know she was alright, two, because he didn’t trust normal Y/N to not do stupid things, let alone this version. 

“Speaking of naps,” Tony said, “if she doesn’t pass out in the next ten minutes please do your mumbo jumbo and make her. She needs rest. I’ve put in some pain meds with a sleepy side effect, so hopefully, she’ll be out like a light in no time.”

Loki sighed, as he felt Y/N rub her cheek against the silken material of his shirt. “Of course.”

With that, the billionaire left, muttering something about how her generation would be the last generation if they didn’t stop being so stupid. Not that Loki would disagree, his girlfriend being a prime example of that.

Y/N hummed Loki’s name quietly, which made him look down at the love-sick puppy dog eyes she was giving him. A gentle smile appeared on his face.

“Yeah, darling?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, snuggling against his side. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he muttered, kissing the top of her head. “Do you wanna lay down?”

She scoffed looking up at him and tried to shove him off the bed, confusion riddling his face until Y/N said, “I have a boyfriend who I love very much. I’ll cut you before I sleep with you.”

“Yeah.” Loki groaned standing up. “Alright.” Green seidr appeared to weave around his arms, and with a flick of his fingers, her eyes started to drop closed as she slid down the sheets and snuggled up in the place where Loki had been sitting.

He dragged a hand down his face and huffed, plopping his body in the armchair which was in the room deciding to sleep for a bit until Y/N woke up. Although he was a god and didn’t need as much rest as mortal people did, he’d sure as Hel need all the energy he could gather because once his girlfriend was awake it’d be chaos all over. 

Loki didn’t get much rest though when a light touch on his shoulder disturbed him from his sleep.

Slowly his eyes fluttered open, mouth stretching in a smile as Y/N’s face looked down on him with a happy expression. 

        “Hey there, sleepyhead.”

        “Hello, dove,” he muttered, kissing the inside of her palm. “You up?”

        She nodded, whispering, “Yeah. But do you think you could help me with all these wires? I wanna go to our room.”

        Her words were what hit him, making Loki jump up, realising Y/N was out of the bed when she was supposed to be resting.

        Gingerly, despite all the protests from her mouth, he took her under the legs and put her back in the hospital bed. 

        “But – “

        “I will tie you down here if you try to step out again.” His voice was deep and filled with a threat he fully intended to fulfil, but Y/N in her Y/N fashion just wiggled her eyebrows and Loki handed a carton of juice and stabbed the top with a straw.

        “Kinky. I like it. But let’s leave it for our own private time.”

        Pinching the bridge of his nose had become a motion Loki was now all too familiar with. Not even after all the time, he’d put up Thor’s bullshit had he had to do that. He was quite certain his fingers had left indents on his skin. 

“What happened on the mission?” he asked, placing a pudding cup and a spoon on the nightstand.

“Dude came out of nowhere,” Y/N said sipping on her apple juice. “Like he just appeared behind me and stabbed me in the side. Talk about rude, right.”

“You need to be more careful.”

Y/N raised her eyebrow. “I am careful. ‘S not like I go out to get stabbed on purpose.”

But Loki’s tone had lost all lightness, as she exasperated. “No, I need you to be more careful.”

“I am. I –“ but she didn’t get a chance to finish as Loki racked a frustrated hand through his hair, snapping at her. “No, you’re the most reckless person I’ve ever met and you think getting stabbed and inhaling chemicals is not a big deal, but it is, and I can’t do this anymore… I can’t lose you.”

And although it was said with anger and frustration, Y/N could see the underlying pain and fear. His family had all but abandoned him, and we’re not talking about his biological one. All he had left was Thor, and Loki would never admit it out loud, he dreaded the day his brother would disappear from his life.

“Loki.” She took one of his hands and pressed a kiss to his cold knuckles. “You could never lose me.”

A bitter chuckle settled between them as he looked up at her. “But I could. You’re so carefree and fluttery while doing things that could kill you, it scares me half to death.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But I have to.”

Loki’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

“Because if I don’t all the darkness will just settle on me, and I’ll never be able to get out of it.”

Loki squeezed her hand in encouragement, and after taking a deep breath Y/N elaborated. “I try to ease myself with the thought that I’m saving people, and helping humanity, but at the end of the day, I’m still taking lives. It’s not like they, you know, the bad guys’ think they’re the bad guys. They’re not doing it because they think they’re evil. They’re fighting for what they think is right. That doesn’t mean it is, but we’re all villains in someone else’s stories, and if I start thinking of it, I don’t know if I’ll ever stop.” A shuddery exhale left her lips, and this time it was Loki taking a hold of her hand. “I need to let myself be a bit crazy. Because if I don’t, I don’t know how I’ll go on. I promise I don’t do it because of some wish to get killed in the process. It’s just that… it makes it easier to look at the world, to not think for a moment about the bad.”

“Can you just promise me something?” Loki’s tone was soft as a feather’s touch as he sighed, understanding where she was coming from. More than once his own dark thoughts tended to overcome him, but in his world, it was Y/N who brought in the light to dissipate them. He hadn’t gotten to the point where he could do it himself, so he supposed he had to at least be happy she’d found a way to fight them off herself, even if it made him fear for her.

Y/N nodded. “Anything.”

“Just – just try to think before you do anything.”

That set both of them off into a fit of giggles as she raised their clasped hands and pressed a kiss to his cold one. “I can try.”

“Promise.”

“I promise to try. Though, I’d say don’t get disillusioned. I’m still the same crazy person you met before.”

A soft smile graced Loki’s, face and he brought Y/N’s hand to his lips where he pressed a kiss to her warm skin. “Wouldn’t want it any other way. Though, as much as I doubt, you’ll heed my request, you could do one thing for me?”

“And what’s that?”

 “Stop jamming forks in the toaster.”

“Absolutely not!” she scoffed. “How else am I supposed to get the bread out?”

“You wait for it to be done!”

“It takes too fucking long!”

Although Loki would fight tooth and nail to somehow keep Y/N safe and would use everything in his arsenal to make sure she took care of herself, he’d never change her even if it made him paranoid.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64​ @supernaturalbaesduh​ @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @sea040561​ @staryeyedgirl​ @deathbyarabbit​ @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

Marvel tags: @nerissa98​ @happyseagrill​ @asguardiansoftheavengers​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @wishingforahome​ @pizzarollpatrol​ @desir-ae​

Hiddles/Loki tags: @marvels-queen-bee @julierousing98 @maggiesimps @horrorx570ximagines​ @luluthegreatandterrible​ @bambamwolf87​ @drakesfiance​ @artbysteph87 @beets1bears1battlestargalactica

A/N: I hope everyone’s staying home and is alright during these crazy times.

I’m back writing for ma boy Loki (I had a dream about that Loki - Tom Hiddles look-alike that is on TikTok that we were cuddling, so I’m on a Loki and Tom lovin’ wave)

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. what did ya think?

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream’s Conversation With Tubbo After the Exile

[December 7 2020]

Ghostbur: “And...and -- and you’re President, and you’re doing a great job, and...even Dream -- Dream himself seems happier!”

Tubbo: “He does! He’s being -- he is, he’s been on the server an awful lot. Whether that’s a good sign or a bad one, he definitely seems more positive.”

Ghostbur: “Oh! Speaking of the Devil.”

Tubbo: “Dream actually, the other day, declared L’manburg actually a recognized official state, which is��”

Dream: “Hello!”

Tubbo: “Hello!”

Ghostbur: “Hello, Dream! How are you?”

Dream: “Hello, Wilbur!”

Tubbo: “Hi! This -- he’s just showing me some cool new stuff, showed me…”

Dream: “Cool!”

Ghostbur: “Have some blue, please.” (He throws Dream some blue)

Tubbo: “Yeah, you’re gonna -- you’re gonna need some of that.” (He throws Dream some blue as well)

Dream: “Thank you.”

Dream: “Um, can I give you a real quick update on the walls?”

Tubbo: “Yeah yeah yeah, of course! I saw they were gone, I was over the moon!”

Dream: “Oh, yeah, well they’re not completely gone yet, but unless someone has finished the job, which -- ooh, they might’ve! But yeah, there’s still some back there--”

…

Tubbo: “Dream, it looks great! Thank you so much for keeping your word.”

Dream: “Yeah! No problem! Um, I thought there was one thing I didn’t technically keep my word on, so I thought I’d be upfront about it.”

Tubbo: “What?”

Dream: “The obsidian? I have another thing I could use it for, so it was all used up -- you can ask Sam, um…”

Tubbo: “Ohhh, okay. That’s okay! I don’t think we’ll need any obsidian, we don’t need to defend or hide anything or seal anything away, so I think we’ll be fine. I mean, that’s the only uses I can think of, so.”

Ghostbur: “If Tommy’s in exile, why don’t you put the obsidian around him?”

Tubbo: “Wilbur, you’re meant to try and cheer him up, here. I don’t know if that would be the best for his mood!”

Ghostbur: “You said that would bring peace! Having Tommy out has brought peace to everything.”

Tubbo: “Yeah, there is currently peace right now, except for -- I was told there was a war yesterday, but hey, I don’t…”

Dream: “Oh yeah, that -- I mean I -- we resolved it semi-peacefully. Quackity did some dumb stuff, I’m sure he’ll tell you, but--”

Tubbo: “Oh, okay, okay.”

Dream: “We resolved it pretty quickly.”

Tubbo: “I don’t have to exile him too, do I? Please for the love of god.”

Dream: “No, no we resolved it, we resolved it.”

Ghostbur: “You can still leave when there’s obsidian around you, can’t you?”

Tubbo: “Yeah, but it takes a while, and no one wants to mine that crap.”

Ghostbur: “Oh, oh! I didn’t mean to imprison him, I just meant put it around him, you know? To keep his goods, and like we did with L’manburg.”

Tubbo: “Ohhh. Oh yeah, that -- I mean I guess the walls could’ve been seen as a way to keep the goods in. Yeah. The lanterns are nice...”

Dream: “I wanna say, I really like the way...I wanna say, L’manburg’s been looking so nice recently.”

Tubbo: “Have you seen under the water!”

Dream: “Yeah, the water’s insane, yeah!”

Tubbo: “Like, oh my god, it’s got coral, and sea pickles…”

Dream: “The whole nation’s just incredible.”

Tubbo: “Thanks, Dream! You’ve never been this positive about it before.”

Dream: “Well, I said this, I mean I’ll be honest with you, I said this to Quackity the other day, but I truly think that with you as President, L’manburg can thrive! Because before that, I mean, I -- no offense to…” 

(he looks at Ghostbur) 

“Before that, I don’t think there was...there was Presidents that may not’ve...been so good. But...but you! I think that you are fair, and you are just, and I think you proved that.”

Tubbo: “Thanks, Dream.”

Dream: “And here, I’ll take my armor off.”

Tubbo: “Oh, yeah yeah yeah -- thank you! -- You’ve never honored the laws of L’manburg before! Oh my god!”

Dream: “Well, I never recognized it!”

Tubbo: “This is a big day! Holy crap!”

…

(Tubbo and Dream discuss where the borders of L’manburg lie. Dream leaves it up to Tubbo to dictate where the borders fall, as long as he doesn’t encroach on parts that are specifically Dream SMP territory)

Tubbo: “We should probably write up a treaty as well, declaring open borders.”

Dream: “Yeah! That’d be good.”

Tubbo: “So then, for the next President’s term, the treaty still stands. Unless I’m...overthrown.”

Dream: “Yeah! That sounds good to me. When’s the next -- is there gonna be an election?”

Tubbo: “Yeah, the 2nd of February is actually the end of my first term. I do plan on running again, but I know that other people are showing interest.”

Dream: “Mm. Very cool. Yeah, it definitely expands out past here, so...I’ve noticed -- I think, obviously, I think Tommy...eh, I dunno, I think it’s been a bit better since Tommy is out of here, since he...you know, he creates all the conflict and stuff, but...I think sometimes, it’s like time out, you know. Like maybe he can come back one day, you know?”

Tubbo: “I hope one day he can come back.”

Dream: “I always think forever, but…”

Tubbo: “Just for a real note, while we’re on such good terms, I was hoping one day in the future -- not necessarily soon, but just...you know. Visitation rights. If you know what I mean?”

Dream: “Yeah, I think that’s maybe something -- you know, at least a few weeks, probably, before we can discuss that, but I think a few weeks pass, we discuss it, maybe he can --”

Tubbo: “After things cool off a bit.”

Dream: “Yeah, yeah. I think if things cool off, maybe he could get visitation, but I couldn’t see him ever coming back, but being able to, you know...he did request visitation on Christmas day, so.”

Tubbo: “Oh! That would be quite nice. We’ll have to wait and see.”

Dream: “Yeah, that sounds...do you have any big projects planned? What is this?”

Tubbo: “Well, for today, I was gonna be going around putting up billboards -- this is a chess board.”

“Have you ever played chess, Dream?”

[creepling]

the shape of you - (smut)

pairing: din djarin x fem!reader

word count: 5.1K

summary: the mandalorian saves an intergalatic sex worker from a prison ship and brings her on board the razor crest. tensions begin to rise between the two as one night goes in a direction the other did not expect.

rating: EXPLICIT (minors dni) -- mentions of sex work/slavery, sexual dancing, oral (male receiving), masturbation (female receiving), doggystyle, begging, rough sex, breeding kink??, cursing.

a/n: this is my first time not writing in first person for a fanfic so sorry if it’s hard to read at some points!!

alternative link: ao3.

Ever since you were saved by The Mandalorian from the prison ship, for reasons that are still unknown to you, a sense of relief and freedom coursed through your body. If only The Mandalorian knew about your fate, he may sympathize with you more. All throughout your life, ever since your adolescence have you been bought and sold by many throughout the galaxy, either for entertainment or pleasure. If the authorities had not raided the trading ship you were on board upon you were to be in the hands of Jabba The Hutt; a grotesque-looking crime lord you were certainly relieved to be rid from. But alas, luck then comes with its flaws and instead you were trapped in a cell in the nowhere realms of the galaxy -- beginning to wonder if your body would wither away and die in the cell for years to come.

You had never set eyes on a Mandalorian until that day, not even as a client. You thought them more mythical than their opposing Jedi Knights. The shine of his helmet and his strong arms whisking you to safety brought a sense of optimism into your world view. It made you realise that there are some good people in the galaxy. And once you were on board his ship and encountered The Child, the sight of something so precious gave you a nurturing urge. The Mandolorian’s protectiveness over The Child was so rare to you. It made you yearn for his protectiveness, for a man like him to defend you at every corner. It made you want to be noticed.

Once arriving to a planet, The Mandalorian promised to bring back supplies, one of them included fresh clothes to replace the revealing garments you wore. You asked if the lack of fabric was distracting, showing your natural alluring nature. To which The Mandalorian replied with a bluntly logical answer, saying the clothes will not be suitable for travelling. As much as you agreed, you wished that he loosened up with you a bit more, beginning to wonder if The Mandalorian was even finding your company pleasant.

That night he returned with a sack-full of supplies. He arranged supper for the night, feeding The Child first before it grew too tired to eat, shortly after putting it to bed in its shut-off container within the ship. You had requested The Mandalorian some spotchka if he could find any, to which you looked through the sack to see an untouched bottle full of the glowing blue liquid. A smile came to your face and you immediately poured two glasses of the liquid. When the Mandalorian entered the room, you held his glass with an outreached hand, beckoning him to drink it. Then you said some words:

“I wanted to make a toast, in celebration! To thank you for saving my life yesterday. I would have gone out and gotten the beverage myself, if you hadn’t forbidden me to leave the ship.” You said, a sweet smile creeping onto your face, feeling a little bashful as you stood in front of his towering figure.

“That’s very thoughtful of you.” He said, his helmet tilting down as he glanced at the drink in his hand. “But I shouldn’t drink on the job.”

“I only ask for one drink, Mando. Just for tonight. I’ll look away when you take sips of it.” You promised, hoping he will feel more at ease with that statement.

He gave a low hum in agreement, bringing a smile to your face. You wished you could see his smile, see his face. See how he reacts to your presence. You clinked your glass against his and immediately turned around, taking a sip of your drink. Your inner voice urged you to turn, to take a glance at his complexion. Yet, another voice also commented on how the mystery of his identity fills you with arousal. You shook the feelings burning inside and whisked the rest of the blue liquid down your throat, gasping in quenched thirst. You hesitated before turning, “Can I turn around now?

“Oh um- Yes. Thank you.” He assured. Oh my, he was so polite. Possibly the only gentlemen you have encountered with such manners. You turned around, pouring yourself another glass of spotchka to go with your supper. To save Mando some rest you prepared the food and served him by a small table in the corner of the ship’s small room, taking a seat next to him.

Once you cleared up for supper, The Mandalorian willingly sat with you for a few more minutes. He seemed to be curious about you, asking questions that you were obliged to answer, if you wanted him to trust you. You wanted to reassure him that you were not a threat.

“How did you end up in the prison ship?” The Mandalorian asked, trying not to allude to your clothes giving away that information.

“I have been a slave ever since I was an adolescence. When I came of age, I began to do dancing and sexual service for whoever bought me. I was on a trading ship to Tatooine when the New Republic raided and took prisoners. I lost count of the days, but I was roughly in there for over a month.” Telling your story felt hesitant. You wondered how he would take to you being a sex slave, as a lot of people frown upon it. You wondered if he was disgusted or sympathetic, it was hard to tell his reaction with his helmet on.

“Why did you save me? I am internally grateful, of course. But what made you do it? You seemed to be in a rush to escape.” You asked, your eyebrows furrowing in question.

“I have seen many women like you.” The Mandalorian said, “I have done bounties for crime lords who keep their own sex slaves. As much as I needed the credits, it always pained me to leave with those women trapped with that life forever. I recognised your clothes; it was the ones they wore too. I thought, if I save someone like you once in my life, I would feel less guilty.”

His words moved you. It is very rare to see someone talk to you as a human. Many treated you and other sex slaves like objects, like droids without feeling. They did not care what you liked or adored, they only cared about their gain. The work has taken an emotional toll on you as much as it was hard to admit. Every day you wished you could be free, live in a home on a peaceful planet, fall in love, raise a family. That is not hard to ask for, is it?

“Well, you have made one more slave happy.” You said, reaching your hand to place it on top of his. He stared into your eyes, entranced for a moment, before nodding his helmet and giving your hand a gentle squeeze before retrieving it back onto his lap. After a few seconds of content silence, admiring him for a moment, you spoke up.

“Want to see some of my dancing?” You said, trying to lighten up the mood. “Don’t worry! I won’t touch you or anything!”

“I um- I dunno . . .” Hesitation dominated his voice, the first time you detected emotion from him. He leaned back on his chair and rubbed the back of his clothed neck.

“Honestly, it’s not as raunchy as you think it would be. I know how to be graceful when I need to be.” You said with a hint of light-heartedness. Once your words convinced him, he let out a low sigh and nodded his head.

“Go on then. Show me what you’ve got.”

A smile erupted on your face and you rose to your feet, positioning yourself from a comfortable distance in front of Mando. You raised your delicate arms outward to begin your routine. A routine that you have memorized for years, one that showcases your grace and beauty for audiences. Counting mentally in your head, you begin to move your arms softly either side of you. Your hips began to sway, your head held high to show your face. You moved your feet to slowly turn around, showing all the lines and bends of your body. The fabric of your dress swayed with the motions and complimented your skin. You stepped from side to side, giving graceful twirls, lifting your leg in a cursive shape like a ballerina. Your arms still moved like a dignified snake, going from up other your head to around your waist and along the small of your back. A content smile lay upon your face and your eyes peaked towards The Mandalorian through your winking eyelashes; a habit you took up to intrigue watchers and make them bashful. Even without music, you fell into your element and became lost in your movements. When being a slave is a horrible life to live, the dancing made you have a passion.

The Mandalorian could not take his eyes off you. He sat content at first, until your movements made him shift in his chair as he watched how your body moved with such beauty. Under his helmet, he bit the inside of his cheek. Yet, his eyes stayed traced on you, knowing you would have no idea where his eyes lay from the blockage of his helmet. He could not stop the thoughts that flowed through his mind, thoughts relating to your body. How you were posed so perfectly from the core of your body to the ends of your fingertips. You never slouched or tripped over your feet; every movement was without failure. And your hips, God, he could not take his eyes off your hips. And when you would turn and expose your backside; your rich-colour underwear cloaked under the sheer fabric of your dress revealing your smooth skin. The deeper he got into his thoughts, the more he became out of tune with his surroundings. And when you stopped dancing, his eyes were still fixated on you.

“Sorry if that wasn’t the best, I’ve did better before.” You humbly said, oblivious to the state you have put The Mandalorian under. Your voice knocked him out of his trance and out of shock, he shot up from his seat so quickly it startled you. His armour clanked against the table clumsily and his body grew stiff to keep himself steady. The bewilderment in your eyes lingered as you observed his tall body towering over you. You looked so petite next to his stature.

“Mando- Is everything okay?” You asked, a shiver running down your spine as your eyes trailed down his body. Only now did you realise how tense he was, noticing the fabric of his uniform clenching to his toned body. You could see how strong his arms were, your eyes darting from either side. If only you could just reach out and touch them, fall into his embrace. Your legs grew weak at the thought of being so close to him. Yearning for the proximity between you to come to a close.

The Mandalorian feared to move, until a sensation ran through his body like moments before. His face grew worrisome under his disguise and he slowly looked down. That is when he noticed the tent formed between his groins. A rush of fluster grew on his face and down his neck.

“I-I’m uh- I’m going to bed.” He called, rushing towards the door of his small chambers, leaving you dumbfounded by the dining area. His sudden goodbyes made you frown, and your head turned abruptly towards his door, only capturing the wisp of his cloak and the door closing shut. Suddenly a wave of anxiety flew over you, convinced that you offended him. As you were desperate to state an apology, still naive to his situation, you marched towards his chamber door.

The Mandalorian marched in panic up and down his small chamber. A situation like this has never happened in a long time, at least not in front of another individual. He unbuttoned his trouser bottoms in a panic, peaking the front of his boxers down to make sure the worst never happened. As he did so, he released his hardened cock as it popped out the removed fabric. Witnessing his erection made him sigh in frustration. He prayed that you would go off to your bunk and call it a night so he could deal with the matter. However, as you appeared in his mind once more, his erection pulsed and twitched and Mando let out a low moan from his lips.

“Mando- please open the door. I’m sorry if I offended you, it wasn’t my intention.” You called, loud enough in hopes he could hear your voice. You knocked gently on the door, getting a clank of metal in response. As the silence deafened you and left you impatient, you looked to the control panel and pressed all the buttons in hopes one opened the door. Once the metal door came flying open, you were greeted with The Mandalorian once more but in a position, you thought you would never see him in.

He stood there with his head flung back and his gloved hands stroking his member. Once he heard the door open, he flinched and attempted to hide his erection. It was already too late; you had seen what you needed to see. Your mouth lay gaped in shock, your hands grew tense beside you and a wave of embarrassment engulfed you. Mando began shaking his head, backing himself up against the wall, his massive, gloved hands guarding your eyes from his exposure.

“I’m sorry- I’m so sorry-” Mando kept repeating. “Why did you open the door? Why didn’t you knock?”

“I did knock!” You exclaimed, “I wouldn’t have opened the door if I knew you were doing that!”

“Okay, okay. I am really really sorry. Let’s just pretend this never happened!” Mando said, looking anywhere in the room that was not you. As your breath became heavy, the sight of The Mandalorian became your focus. He looked so vulnerable in that moment, seeing him in an act so sexual caused a wave of arousal upon you. You wondered; did I do that? Was your dancing so mesmerising to him that it excited him to this point? Is this why he left the room? My stars, you felt guilty for being so turned on in this moment.

Your feet began to take steps and approach him, your movement making him tense once more. He beckoned you to not get away closer, but you could not hear his words. You were drawn to his arms again, the ones that looked so defined-- even under his clothes. This time, you had the courage to touch them.

The Mandalorian fell short at protesting against you. He observed your small, soft hands gliding against his arms. Your touch bewitched him, making him bite his lip to contain noises of pleasure. Your eyes drew up to his gaze, his helmet blocking the intimacy. He was so mysterious, the thought of whatever facial features being under that helmet creating a sense of sensual excitement within. As your eyes left his gaze and looked downward to his hardened cock, you felt the burning sensation muster in between your legs.

“Won’t you need help with that?” You asked, the glint in your eyes growing promiscuous as you looked back up into his gaze. The Mandalorian was shocked, even if you were probably an expert in all things sexual matter. As much as he tried to protest his thoughts, he could not help making an image within his head of your lips wrapped around his cock. 

“Are you sure that is a good idea?” He asked, a hint of taunting in his voice. A smirk came upon your face and you shrugged your shoulders, your hands trailing up his arms, across his shoulders and slowly down his chest.

“I’m willing to do it if you want me to.” You beckoned. Not only were you willing, but you were also begging. The dirty thoughts running through your mind became fuel for your desire. Imagining his large cock pressed into your mouth, blocking your throat; his fingers entangled in your hair. As the Mandalorian gazed down at you, he gave a sign of approval by nodding his head timidly.

Instinct caved in and you began lowering yourself to your knees, your hands trailing down his abdomen. Slowly, Mando shifted his hands away from his cock, the release of pressure causing his member to spring up once more. Your eyes fixated on his length, gulping back excess saliva as you wondered if you could take his length without feeling any pain. You bit your bottom lip in thought, looking up towards Mando for reassurance. You observed him slipping off his gloves to reveal the skin of his hands. His olive-skinned tone becoming the first exposure to you. His fingers crawled under your chin, cusping your face, admiring the position you were in. Stars, you were so beautiful.

Your fingers curved over his cock, your sudden touch letting a shuddered moan escape The Mandolorian’s mouth. His free hand pressed against the wall to keep himself balanced, the other one continuing to cradle your face as your hand began to move up and down his cock, peeling back the foreskin to reveal the tip of his cock lubbed with precum. You caught the precum that fell underneath with your tongue and entered the head of his cock into your mouth, wanting every ounce of his seed in your mouth. The Mandalorian let out a ragged moan, the feeling of your warm saturated mouth upon his member sending shoots of fulfilment up his body. His strong hand motioned along your jawline and his fingers combed through your hair, resting at the nip of your neck. You began to close your eyes in satisfaction and slowly easing his cock into your mouth, every inch deeper causing him to tighten his grip on your hair. As you opened your eyes The Mandalorian could not help but notice the lust in your eyes, your stare becoming vacant. Your left hand guided itself upwards to his abdomen as the other had a grasp on his thigh, your fingers massaging into the fabric of his clothes. The softness of your touch soothed The Mandalorian into submission, his hips slowly bucking towards your face as he longed for the feeling of your warm tongue running along his shaft. Feeling his desire, you closed your eyes once more to indulge more into his length, cockwarming him as your nose reached near his lower stomach and stayed in place. A gasp left Mando’s mouth, his other hand reaching towards your face as he gained more grip of you, holding your head in place to have his cock bathe more into your warmth. When he heard a light choke conjure up your throat, he quickly released his cock from your mouth to give you access to air. The sudden release made him look down to admire your face, clocking the string of spit connecting the tip of his cock to your bottom lip. My stars, that image was now burned into his mind and sending his instincts into overdrive.

“What name should I moan while you pleasure me, Mandalorian?” You asked, your voice airy and deep with lust. You motion your hand to his cock once more and pleasured him. The Mandalorian hesitated, still drunk with your touch, his mind becoming cloudy and unresponsive.

“Din -- my name is Din.” He managed to conjure up. This new information was so subtle, but you cherished it. Having his name roll off your tongue while feeling extreme waves of pleasure, the thought of it gave nurture to your pulsing heat.

“Nice to meet you -- Din.” You hummed. Vocalizing his name made his breaths much heavier, the sound of your soft tones interwoven into his name giving him even more ideas of what he could do to you. As primitive instincts commenced, you suddenly felt his strong arm wrap around your waist and lift you off your knees. He held you at such a great height that you were able to wrap your legs around him, your arms clasping around his neck for support. Din suddenly pressed you against the wall and held you in place, his hands grasping onto the back of your thighs. He now had the high ground, lifting you as if you were as light as a feather. The tip of his cock was perfectly aligned at your entrance, feeling the friction between you as he grinded his hips towards you. Your skimpy underwear was soaked with arousal. In all your years of sex work have you never been as titillated as you were now. No credits in all the galaxy could satisfy you as this moment did. Your legs wrapped tighter around Din as you beckoned his body closer to yours, your hips grinding against him -- begging for his cock. You noticed Din’s fingers inching closer to your heat, his fingers shifting your underwear to one side and exposing your swollen clit and dripping walls. Then, his fingers nudged at your entrance. His sudden cold touch made you gasp for air and cling tighter to him, your head pressing back onto the wall. Din rested his bulky helmet onto your shoulder as he motioned his fingers towards your clit, drawing light circles around. The stimulated sensation shot up your stomach, your legs lightly quivering. The tip of his cock still poked at your entrance in a teasing manner, and you could not help but grind against Din’s touch.

“Oh my God . . . Din.” The sound of you gasping his name sent tingles down his back, encouraging his fingers to put more pressure onto your sensitive clit, his moves hitting all the right spots. The sensation began building within you, convincing you were near your climax. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.” Your words encouraged, sending Din’s actions into overdrive as he pinned you closer to the wall and his body. His rhythm picked up pace and low grunts escaped his mouth. As he your legs secured around him, he let his free hand grasp onto your breast. His touch stimulated you further, a giggle leaving your lips at the sheer pleasure.

Suddenly your climax began, and an uncontrollable moan escaped from you, your legs turning to mush as you clung onto his body. Din admired your reaction, seeing your eyes turn vacant, his fingers roaming your vulva before taking his hands to hold your delicate thighs, sensing you grow weak from overstimulation. Your eyes trailed across him, leaning your forehead on the cold shine of his Baskar helmet. A subtle smirk drew across Din’s face as he exalted your complexion, noticing an ardour glow come upon your face. 

It did not end there. At this point, Din felt edged on. Basking in your presence, he also bucked his hips closer to you. One hand clasped your warm cheek softly, a sense of gentleness soothing you into submission. You could sense his eyes staring at yours and at the intimacy, you had a sudden urge to kiss him. However, you knew there was no type of charming in the galaxy that would convince him to remove it. Until you got an idea.

“If I promise to close my eyes, will you kiss me?” You asked through heavy breaths, your fingers resting either side of his neck. Din thought of your offer, hesitating for a while. No living being should be able to see his face, not even in the heat of desire. Yet, if you close your eyes like promised, his oath would technically not be broken. Even if he just lifted the helmet up a little bit . . .

“You promise?” Din asked, grasping onto both your hands, interlinking his fingers into yours. You vigorously nodded your head, a smile on your face.

“I swear by all the stars in the galaxy.” You promised, pressing a little kiss on the tips of his fingers. You began to close your eyes shut, giving Din the clear to proceed and guide you to his lips.

Din slowly raised his helmet to expose his lips, guiding your legs to fall to the ground. Your feet landed on the floor, hands grasping his shoulders for stability. You never opened your eyes, keeping your word. Din slowly leaned down, pressing his lips against yours. The surprise to his touch inched you closer into him, deepening the kiss. Hesitantly, your fingers reached up to the nip of his neck and played with his hair. Din stiffed up, but softened just was quickly, tasting the flavour of his cock in your mouth. He grabbed your ass and you moaned into his lips. Your hands then reached back down his cock, stroking his member that was still hard as before. A growl left Din’s mouth, vibrating against your lips and he leaned off the kiss. Quickly dropping his helmet back into place, he lifted you back into his arms. The sudden movement made you flash open your eyes, noticing the helmet back on and Din carrying you to his bed. 

As the bunker bed was too small for the both of you, Din took your hands and placed them on the bar between the two bunk beds. Keeping you in place, he began to expose your backside by rapidly pulling off your dress and underwear. Din’s sudden dominant actions formed a flutter in your mind, putting your thoughts into what was to come. My Stars, you wanted him to fuck you hard. So hard that it knocks all common sense out of your brain. The sudden fleeting shift of how he handled you said so.

That is when he began to enter your cunt, stretching your walls as they tightly pressed back against his cock. The feeling of him filled you up instantly, a light whimper fleeing your mouth as you handled his length. Din had a similar reaction, his grip tightening on your waist as he felt drowned by the feeling of your insides. The tightness of your cunt encouraged him to get into motion, pumping his cock out and back inside.

“Din -- fuck me.” You breathed out, your grip tightening around the bars. You prompted one leg up onto the edge of the bed, so he had more gateway into you, which aided his full length to fill your pussy. Din leaned forward, pressing his stomach into your lower back so the entirety of his cock was inside you. In measurement, you knew that once he started moving, he was big enough to hit your g-spot without a doubt. Excitement engulfed your senses, and you began to beckon him.

“Fuck me, Din -- fuck me hard.” You granted permission. His name mixed into your vulgar language made him flustered from arousal but smirk mischievously.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” He groaned into your ear. And with that, Din did not hesitate to begin fucking you. Just like you wanted it, hard. His unrefined thrusts in and out of you sent your thoughts into hyperdrive. Your vision unfocused, basking in the pleasure. Just like you anticipated, the tip of Din’s cock knocked your G-spot with every thrust. Din watched as your ass jiggled from the friction, encouraging his hand to fall and smack against your backside. You gasped at the pinch of pleasure, biting your lip hard to contain yourself from screaming. Din detected your muffled sounds and was displeased. He wanted to hear you from for him. Beg for more. Say his name and plead for more pleasure. So, his hand gripped the front of your neck and seized you back, pressing your body against his. His thrust never stopping.

“Fucking beg for it.” Din demanded, “Tell me how much you want this.” He did not know what came over him in this moment, and you did not either. But you would be lying if you said you did not like this side of him.

“I- I want this so bad, Din. I need you to fuck me like this.” You choked up, feeling intoxicated as his grip around your neck lightly tightened.

“You want me to fill you with my cum, huh? Or should I cum all over your pretty little face?” Din taunted, another hand crashing down against your ass cheek which made you whimper again.

“Oh God -- come inside me. Please.” You begged, tears collecting in the corners of your eyes as all your feelings conjoined into one overall feeling of complete smut. Your mind felt like a mess, like you could pass out from enjoyment. Never in all your life of service have you felt so much pleasure.

When Din’s primitive instincts deemed you pleads redeemable, his thrusts became faster as he felt his climax coming. The sound of his skins slapping against yours became a dominant sound in the room. He still held your body close to his, his hands roaming over your body, gripping your breasts, smacking your ass, wrapping his fingers around the small of your waist. God, the way he held you was stimulating enough, every touch completely possessive of your body. Din was engrossed in the shape of you, how every inch of your body fit perfectly against him. How tight your walls clenched around his cock, enchanting him to fuck you harder with each thrust.

“I’m gonna come.” Din exclaimed, “I’m gonna cum in your pretty little cunt. Got it?”

His words excited you. “Yes -- please fill me with your cum. Please, please, please.”

Din could not hold it any longer. When he felt his release, he held your hips in place and deepened his cock into you, letting your slit cockwarm him until his climax came to a close. His body collapsed onto yours, causing him to shift your body on top and sit on the edge of the bunk, placing you gently on his lap. You rested your exhausted head on his shoulder, a smile of approval appearing on your face. Din wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a gentle embrace.

“Um -- Sorry I was so rough. I dunno what came over me.” Din apologised, his tone a little bashful.

“Don’t apologise. I’m sorry I enjoyed it so much.” You teasingly said, reaching your hand under his helmet to cusp his scruffy jawline. Din leaned into your touch, pressing a small kiss on your thumb.

“Now’s a good time for you to change into those clothes, huh?” Din light-heartedly said, causing you to chuckle and playfully nudge his side.

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[writingsoftheghost]

Oblivious

Analogince get together story

Logan and Roman had been together for awhile, and they loved their relationship. But...when Virgil started joining the group more and more, the pair couldn’t help but let their attention wander.

It’s not that they loved each other any less, they just...both liked Virgil too. Roman felt bad about it, that is until Logan brought it up.

“I’m sorry!” Roman cries, “I didn’t mean to-”

Logan holds up a hand, “I’m not angry, Roman. Quite the opposite, actually, I’ve also found myself”-he coughs slightly, a red tint dusting across his cheeks- “Captivated by Virgil.”

Roman grins, “Really?”

“Yes, I have to say I find him quite endearing. Do you think it’s at all possible for him to engage in a romantic relationship with us?” He cocks his head to the side, a thoughtful scowl on his face.

Roman nods excitedly, “Oh, I think it’s possible.”

***

Virgil was sitting on the couch, when Roman decided to strike first.

“Hey, Hot Topic.” Roman plops down next to Virgil on the couch, closer than he’d ever sat before.

Virgil looks up from his phone for a second rolling his eyes slightly, “Aw, you think I’m hot.” 

“Mm-hmm,” Roman nods. Virgil nearly chokes. “What are you up to?” The prince continues smoothly.

“I...um-nothing?” The anxious side answers. 

“Well, that doesn’t sound very fun,” Roman purses his lips in a half pout, “What do you say we watch a movie?

Virgil shrugs, beginning to regain his composure, “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Roman nods, he looks at Virgil for way too long and the anxious side can feel his face heating up again, “Why don’t you choose a movie?”

Virgil shrugs, “You can pick, we should invite Logan, though.” He’s hoping he doesn’t come across as desperate as he actually is. He knows bringing the prince’s boyfriend into the mix would take most attention away from him.

“That’s a lovely idea, I’m sure he’d love to join us.” Roman disappears for a brief period of time, returning with a smiling Logan.

“Hello, Virgil. How are you?” He smiles at Virgil warmly. 

“Good. Do you want to pick the movie?”

Logan hums, “Roman and I would rather have you pick.”

Virgil looks at them both strangely, but he picks out a movie, nonetheless.

Twenty minutes into the movie, Virgil notices both Roman and Logan glancing over at him periodically.

He tugs at his sleeves anxiously, had he done something wrong? They were acting weird. 

He wanted to leave the room now, it felt too tense and it was making it hard to focus on the movie.

He makes a small show out of glancing at the clock, “Oh, I should probably get to bed...” He glances at them, hoping he sounds convincing. His heart drops when he sees Logan’s brow furrow.

“You don’t usually go to bed this early, is everything alright?

Virgil tries to mask the massive breath he sucks in, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I didn’t sleep great last night. I’m gonna try to make up for it tonight.”

Logan’s frown deepens and Roman’s face falls too, nevertheless they let him go.

“Goodnight, Vee,” Roman calls up the stairs, “See you tomorrow.”

The couple turn to each other as soon as they hear the door to Virgil’s room shut.

Time for plan B.

*****

Logan packs a simple lunch pack, he smiles as he makes Virgil’s favorite finger foods. This plan was much more practical, he told himself.

Roman has left to ask Virgil to “hang out” for the day, Logan hopes he’d be able to convince him, he seemed uneasy the other night during their movie. Roman and Logan spent the last day coming up with this plan, as simple as it was, they thought it would work, Virgil preferred things to be simple after all. He and Logan were alike in that regard.

Logan smiles softly at the thought, however, he was quickly pulled back to reality by the sound of Virgil and Roman approaching.

“Im sure you and Logan would have more fun without me,” Virgil was saying.

“Nonsense, Logan and I both wish for you to join us.”

“Unless you really don’t want to,” Logan interrupts the pair as he steps into the living room.

“I...” Virgil’s eyes fall on the basket of food, “What did you two have planned?”

“We were just gonna go have a quiet lunch in the imagination,” Logan explains.

“And you two,” Virgil looks between the couple, confused, “Want me to come with you?”

Logan nods, “We would greatly appreciate your company.”

Virgil takes a deep breath, “Okay, I guess, as long as you’re both sure.” He glances at both of them, searching for any hint of malice or dislike, he felt bad about ruining their alone time, why would they want him to join them?

Roman smiles at him softly, “It’ll be fun, Virgil. The fresh air will be good for you.”

Virgil shrugs, “I don’t need fresh air, Princey.”

Logan grabs their lunch and Roman’s hand, “Are you both ready to go?”

Roman nods enthusiastically, “Been ready for hours! You take forever to make food!”

Logan rolls his eyes, “I like things to be done well, Roman, sometimes that takes a little extra time.”

Roman huffs, “You need anything before we leave, Virge?”

Virgil shrugs, “I don’t know, do I need to bring anything?”

“I wouldn’t think so, I’ve packed and prepared for just about everything that we’d need,” Logan assures.

“Okay,” Virgil mumbles, “‘Guess Im ready.”

“Wonderful!” Before Logan can stop him Roman reaches out and grabs Virgil’s hand.

Virgil flinches, but doesn’t pull away fully, he tries not to let Roman see the look of shock and confusion on his face.

Roman loosens his grip on Virgil’s hand slightly, worried he may have upset him, but then Virgil gives a soft squeeze and then, just like that, they’re holding hands, and Roman is leading the way to the imagination with the biggest smile he thinks he’s ever had.

Logan and Roman had already scouted the area they were going to eat at, a nice open field, perfect for easing a certain side’s parano-vigilance. The field contained a total of six trees, so it wasn’t like there could be anything lurking in the shadows.

Logan laid out a soft blanket, one with a texture that they knew Virgil liked, under the biggest tree.

Virgil sat himself on the edge of the blanket furthest from Logan and Roman. It was a big enough blanket for the distance to be noticeable, it made Logan worry that Virgil didn’t want to be there with them.

He had expected Virgil to be a little suspicious, even a little distant, at least at first, Logan knew this would be strange to him, he doubted the socially distant trait had ever been courted before.

“Virgil?” He asks in a calm tone, “Would you like some juice?” He’d been careful to avoid caffeine, knowing it could potentially highten Virgil’s anxiety.

Virgil shrugs, “I guess.”

Logan takes out the bottle of grape juice and the glasses he’d packed carefully earlier that day. When he offers Virgil a glass, he realizes that either he will have to move, or Virgil will have to move, go bridge the distance across the blanket.

Virgil makes the decision rather quickly, darting over and taking the glass from Logan, “Thank you.” He starts to shuffle back to his corner when Roman stops him.

“Why don’t you sit in the middle, Vee? That way you can reach the food?”

Virgil looks to the ground, “Didn’t want to invade your space.”

Logan frowns when he notices the hesitancy in the other’s voice, as if he isn’t sure he’s wanted. Which Logan couldn’t help but groan internally at, they’d invited him and he still feels like an intruder, anxiety truly was devoid of any logic.

“Virgil,” he holds out his hand towards the other in invitation, “You know we want you here, don’t you?”

Virgil won’t look at him, Logan sighs, “You’re more than welcome, here. We invited you, why would we invite you if we wanted you to just sit by yourself quietly? Hm?”

Virgil shrugs, “Dunno,” he mumbles.

“Is there anything we can do to make you more comfortable, stormcloud?” Roman interjects in a gentle tone, he’s aware of the tension in the way Virgil’s sitting now.

“I’m sorry,” Virgil says shakily, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“It’s alright,” Roman whispers, “You wanna go back? I’m sorry we pressured you to come.”

Virgil shakes his head firmly, “I wanna stay, I just…don’t want to be in the way. It kinda feels like I’m intruding on a date, why was I the only person you invited? You know Patton loves outdoor lunches.”

“We know, Virgil, we just…” Logan looks at Roman, Roman gives a small head shake and Logan sighs, “We just wanted to spend time with you. We didn’t mean to make you feel awkward, we’re sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, I don’t know why I’m being so weird about it, but,” and he slowly slides his hand into Logan’s open one on the blanket, “I think I’ll be okay, now.”

“Are you sure? It really isn’t a problem if you want to go home?” Roman assures.

Virgil nods his head, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Logan smiles and squeezes his hand softly, they all know Virgil likes physical reassurance sometimes, and they’re glad he’s started accepting, and even asking for it on occasion. Patton has to remind himself constantly that Virgil has to be the one to initiate it, however.

Roman pulls out plates and food from the pack, Virgil tries to give Logan back his hand, but he’s quickly stopped, “Please don’t let go until you’re ready, okay?” Logan smiles at him, “My right hand is fully capable of doing this alone, I promise.”

Roman hands him a plate and asks Virgil what he’d like.

They eat comfortably, Virgil relaxes enough to let go of Logan’s hand, but moves closer to him and Roman anyway. Virgil talks about Halloween coming up and Logan tells him that he’s already put horror movies into the schedule for that month.

When they finish their food they continue to sit there and talk quietly. A soft breeze blowing through the field making the place even more peaceful. They were all enjoying a moment of quiet when…

Hic!

Roman sits up and stares at a blushing Virgil in shock.

The emo side ducks his head, “Shut up, Pri-hic!-ncey,” he says in an attempt at a growl.

Roman smirks, “Is there a problem, Virgil? You seem to be having a bit of trouble.”

Logan giggles, “You don’t need to be embarrassed about the hiccups, Virgil. Everyone gets them.”

“I don’t—hic—have the hiccups!” He grumbles.

Roman laughs and Logan laughs, Virgil glares at them both for a moment, but he can’t hold it for very long before he’s laughing too.

“Stop laughing at me!” He shouts between giggles.

“I don’t think,” Roman wheezes, “I’ve ever seen you hiccup before.”

“Shut—hic—up!” Virgil shoves him off the blanket with a laugh.

Roman sits back on the blanket, “Gosh, you’re adorable.”

Virgil and Logan both freeze, Virgil glancing nervously at Logan, Logan and Roman both looking at him, horrified at the thought that they’d just blown it.

“I—uh—”Virgil is still staring at Logan, a look of fear in his voice. Virgil looks at him, the face of logic not giving him any ideas as to what he’s supposed to do. He shakes his head, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Virgil,” Logan says softly.

Roman sucks in a harsh breath, understanding the apology as a gentle rejection.

They sit in awkward silence for an eternity.

“Perhaps it’s…time we head back?” Logan suggests in a quiet tone.

Virgil’s heart drops as he decidedly believes Logan hates him now. “Yeah-Yeah, sure.”

They walk back in silence. Virgil stuffs his hands in his pockets to hide their shaking. Roman and Logan keep glancing at him, both taking his silence as a sign of discomfort.

They allow him to go to his room, wincing at the sound of his door shutting softly, not even a slam.

“I ruined it,” Roman whispers sadly.

Logan shakes his head, “We still have a chance, Love.”

Roman shakes his head, “He wouldn’t even look at me.”

“He couldn’t stop looking to me,” Logan whispers back, “I didn’t know what to say, I chose a cowards way out. I fled.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Roman places a hand on his shoulder, “I’m sorry I messed this up.”

“You didn’t mess anything up,” Logan wraps his arms around Roman’s neck and kisses a tear sliding down his cheek. “We should give him some space, we can check back in tomorrow.”

Roman nods and allows Logan to lead him to bed, not really believing any of the logical side’s attempts to reassure him.

*****

Virgil stays in his room through breakfast. Roman liked him. He should be happy! He likes Roman! But…he likes Logan too, and he’d never wanted to get between them like this.

Logan told him it was alright, Virgil took that to mean that he didn’t really blame him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t upset. He can only imagine the fight he and Roman probably had last night.

Virgil’s heart skips a beat when he thinks about the two of them breaking up.

He didn’t know what he did to ever catch Creativity’s attention but he wished he hadn’t done it. He felt truly awful for doing this to them.

“Kiddo,” there’s a knock at his bedroom door, “You need to eat lunch, it’s almost 1:30.” Patton sounds worried, Virgil hasn’t locked himself in his room like this since he ducked out.

“I’m not hungry, Pat. I’ll eat later.”

Patton frowns, “Virge?” He asks hesitantly. “Is everything okay? You know you can talk to me if you need to?”

“I’m fine, Pops.”

Patton isn’t convinced, “Hey…you don’t have to talk about it, but if you don’t want to be by yourself you can come to my room? Might help to be somewhere else for awhile?”

Virgil sighs, “you sure?”

“Of course.”

Virgil opens the door and Patton gives him a sad smile, “come on, I’ll get you something to eat and some tea.”

Virgil nods, “Thank you.”

Patton sits down on his bed next to Virgil, passing him a sandwich and some chips.

“I messed up,” Virgil whispers as he takes a chip.

Patton looks at him in surprise, “What did you mess up, Virge?”

“Logan and Roman, I messed up their relationship. They’re fighting and it’s all my fault.”

Patton scoots closer, “I didn’t know they were fighting. How is it your fault, honey?”

“I just…I don’t know why, they invited me out to lunch with them, and it…it was weird! But then it wasn’t, and it was nice, but…Roman called me adorable and I…I like him, but he’s Logan’s boyfriend and I never wanted to hurt Logan because I like him too and I just… Logan probably hates me now, and Roman and Logan might break up and it’ll be all my fault and there’s no way I can ever make it up to him!” Virgil’s breathless when he finishes. He doesn’t know when he started crying.

Patton shakes his head, he remembers when Logan and Roman told him they liked Virgil. When Logan had asked him what Virgil’s favorite foods were. How Patton made them both promise they would be patient and gentle with Virgil’s already shot nerves.

He can’t help but be a little upset with them for letting Virgil wallow in this all day. He pushes that feeling aside, and decides to help his three hopeless friends out.

“Virge, I can assure you, Roman and Lo are gonna be just fine. But I think you should go talk to them about this. I think there might’ve been a bit of a mix up.”

Virgil cocks his head, “What do you mean?”

Patton shakes his head again, “They’re not fighting, kiddo. I promise, just go talk to them.”

“But I—”

“Trust me.”

And with that Patton is nudging him towards the door and Virgil’s in the hall.

He glances worriedly back at the father figure.

“They’re in Logan’s room last I saw.” Patton shuts the door.

Virgil feels a slight sting of betrayal at having been abandoned to face the pair alone, but he approaches the door anyway.

He stands there for two and a half minutes before knocking.

“What is it?” Logan calls through the door.

“It’s—um—it’s me, I think maybe I need to—”

The door swings open, “Virgil?”

The logical side looks as if he hasn’t slept well, Roman is standing behind him in a similar state. Virgil can just barely see the whiteboard on the back wall covered in incomprehensible diagrams and cluster graphs.

“Hey…” he gives a weird little half wave for some reason he doesn’t understand.

“Are you…alright?” Roman asks hesitantly.

“Me?” Virgil asks in confusion, “Are you two okay?”

Logan nods, “We’re dreadfully sorry, we didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that, we—”

“I got carried away, Virgil. I’m sorry,” Roman cuts Logan off.

“You couldn’t help yourself, I shouldn’t have chosen such an intimate activity for us,” Logan defends his boyfriend.

“No, this is my fault. I’m the one that put the pressure on him.”

“Love, I should’ve planned for this. I know you can’t help yourself when it comes to your feelings.”

“You can’t plan for everything. I should’ve—”

“Hold on a second!” Virgil interrupts, “Did I miss something? What are you two arguing over?”

“It doesn’t matter, Virgil,” Logan composes himself, “We both apologize for making you uncomfortable. It was not our intention, regardless, we understand if you do not wish to go on anymore dates with us”

Virgil stares at him in complete in total confusion. “Dates?”

Roman’s eyes widen, “Surely you’re aware of what we’ve been doing. We took you to a romantic lunch! We’ve been flirting with you constantly! What did you think was happening?”

Virgil looks at Logan, the logical side gives a small smile and a nod. “I thought,” Virgil starts, “I don’t know, I guess I just thought we were hanging out, and then I guess I thought Roman was hitting on me. I didn’t realize Logan was.”

“So that’s why you acted so upset,” Roman mumbles.

“Ah, I see. My advances are less…direct,” Logan explains sheepishly.

Virgil nods, “Yeah I got that now, but I thought…that I’d ruined your relationship! That I’d broken you up or something! Oh my god I hardly slept at all last night!”

Logan winces sympathetically, “We didn’t either, but we’re very sorry for distressing you.”

“It’s fine,” Virgil shrugs it off. “But you guys…both of you…want to date me?”

“Of course, if you’d allow us,” Logan smiles, “We both find you quite endearing. Would you be willing to let us continue to romance you?”

“Logan, you make it sound so formal,” roman laughs, but he has an excited gleam in his eye, “You wanna date us, Virgil? You can say no, it’s okay, but if the answer is yes we’d both be delighted to have you as our boyfriend.”

Virgil can’t help it, he’s skeptical, this feels too much like something he’d dream up, he looks both of them in the face, hunting for any sign of a joke or a lie. There isn’t any, just encouraging smiles.

“Yeah, I’d…I’d like that a whole lot.”

He’s quickly wrapped in two pairs of arms, happy laughter filling his ears.

—————

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