#eugh rough morning

[intotheelliwoods]

You will never guess who is back on the Huggy Leo train...

(me its me. per usual I am on the huggy leo train <3)

[jermer10]

TF2 relationship hcs + miss pauling

suggestive, gn reader | silly romantic hcs

drabbles under the cut :P

Scout:

- the most emotionally immature out of all the mercs, also the most inexperienced with dating so he can get pretty jealous over stupid things - a demo flirts with you? dead. a medic pockets you for too long? whoops didn’t see that enemy sorry medic. god forbid another scout even breathes in your direction - ironically he used you to make Pauling jealous and eventually realised he actually likes YOU (fake dating trope my beloved) - non-stop rambles about you to his ma, when she meets you she’s already calling you her child in law - dates with scout usually consist of going to baseball games or getting lunch together, he’s pretty simple and won’t plan anything too extravagant unless it’s an occasion (with spy’s help ofc) - not huge on pda, will hold your waist or sling an arm around your shoulders on occasion, in privacy however he is HUGE on physical affection he loves you sm <333 - stroking your hair and running his fingers along your back, kisses on your neck, throwing in a couple of cheesy pickup lines here and there - pretty much only refers to you with pet names, “doll, babe, toots, handsome, etc” he’ll only use your name when he’s emotional or during intimacy

Soldier: - the most dense man on god’s green american earth so unless you’re similar to zhanna, chances are he won’t even bat an eye at you. you need to be batshit and violent for this man to notice you first - wakes you up at 5am sharp every morning for “training” (forcing you to workout with him whilst he yells at you….lovingly?) expect to be buff as hell after a couple months because his routines are intense - “DROP AND GIVE ME 20 CUPCAKE” “GOOD JOB SOLDIER. HERE IS A KISS FOR YOUR HARD WORK” “PUSH THROUGH THE PAIN SWEETHEART” - his kisses are really rough, he lifts you up into the air and spins you around or dips you and it’s genuinely super sweet, he enjoys picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder as well :3c - he has no jealous bone in his body, only random accusatory statements towards anyone who shows kindness towards you and it deters them enough for soldier to never have to worry - dates with soldier usually consist of working out or going to war museums, will never plan fancy dates so that’s all up to you - does not care about public or private affection, he will makeout with you anytime, anywhere and is unapologetic about it, much to everyone else’s dismay - “EUGH! GET A ROOM YOU TWO!” “AFFIRMATIVE, WE WILL MOVE TO THE LIVING ROOM”

Pyro: - i hc pyro as being aroace so a romantic-platonic relationship between you guys would be more mushy and cute than anything else - going out on ice-cream dates and buying matching colouring books and seeing how differently you each colour the same scene - cheek kisses no matter where you are is a must!!! holding hands around the base, tapping on each-other when bored and to show affection <3333 - the other mercs have no fucking idea what your relationship is but none of them care as long as you’re keeping pyro in check - you’re the first and only merc to see pyro without their mask on, one of the most tender moments shared between you and something that they treasure - pyro doesn’t get jealous, but they will harm anyone who makes you uncomfortable, no questions asked - cuddle buddies!!!! you guys can be seen lying around the base in a sleepy huddle, i can see demo joining and medic or engie tripping over y’all 😭 - they are super attentive of your needs and compromise despite having trouble feeling romantic or sexual attraction, as long as you enjoy it, they enjoy it

Demoman: - more of a flirt than scout is, and that’s saying something. demo will chat you up at any time of the day, whether it be in the privacy of your bedroom or straight up on the battlefield - has died MULTIPLE times because he just cant keep his eye off you, he makes mental notes of how attractive you look while bashing an enemy spy’s brain in and uses it later (WINK) - a solid 80% of your relationship is shared in silly drunk moments and the other 20 is rooted in insecurity. demo being jealous? likely. demo being scared of you leaving him for someone with two eyes and their head on straight? definitely - there are nights where he feels completely sober just holding you in his arms and acknowledging that you’re here and you love him, warts and all - SUPER BIG ON PDA!!! he wants the entire world to know that you’re his, also super big on cheesy nicknames “beauty, my love, handsome boy/beautiful girl/gorgeous partner” - messy kisses, lazy cuddles, dragging his fingers along your body feeling every dip and curve <3333 even if the affection seems half assed, his heart is devoted to you - offhandedly mentions you to his mum after dating for a year or so, to which her response is to slap him upside the head for not telling her sooner and then asking about grandbabies - you’re demo’s rock, if you asked him to go sober for you he probably would. he adores everything you do, words are unnecessary just look at his face

Heavy: - the stern and silent type, he generally doesn’t show public affection towards you unless it’s to protect you or to calm you down - in private he is the most gentle merc, holding you close to him and stroking your hair, playing with your fingers and mentally squealing at how cute and small they are compared to his, rubbing your back with his palm - he is a man of few words, but it’s pretty obvious that he is completely enamoured by you just from the way he touches you and how his gaze softens when he sees you - would plan the most personal dates, things that he KNOWS you would enjoy doing or seeing just so that he can see you smile up at him - “Любимая (darling), Дорогая (dear), Любовь моя (my love)” are the most common pet-names you’ll hear him calling you, he’s a more traditional guy - heavy is not a flirty man, he’s too blunt and would rather say what he means in the most direct way possible. thaaaat doesn’t mean he discourages you from flirting with him however - his family is extremely weary of you to begin with, heavy doesn’t talk about you much and so they’re going to be on guard (despite the fact that he could crush you with one hand if you did have malicious intent) - after a while though they warm up to you and consider you apart of the family- baking with you, teaching you how to hunt bears, making bearskin clothing, cooking the bear meat, talking about marriage and children, ANYTHING they can do to include you

Engineer: - it’s tough dating engie - he’s either working or passed out from the exhaustion of working, so you never really get quality time with him - he still takes every chance he can get to show you a good time, whether it’s cooking dinner with you or writing songs for you, he is much more romantic than he leads on - “darl, darlin, sweetheart, honeybee” sweet and simple names that roll off the tongue - the merc most inclined to shower with you. not even in a sexual way, he just enjoys the calm heat of the water and how intimate it is to share such a space - creates devices to make your life easier; need a new weapon? no need to buy a faulty mann co one, he can build you anything you want. need your very own kitchenette so you the other mercs can’t keep stealing your food? he was already drawing up the plans a week ago - the type of guy to bring you breakfast in bed every morning, putting on some slow romantic music and peppering your face with kisses to wake you up - always keeping tabs on you in battle, making sure that you’re safe and unharmed (despite knowing that you can respawn he still hates seeing you hurt) - the least jealous man to exsist, he is completely secure in himself and knows that if you didn’t wanna be with him, you simply wouldn’t

Medic: - another workaholic over here, it’s a mission getting him away from the operating table, or his desk right next to it - quiet, soft moments are few and far between, but when you do get them they are spent in each other’s arms lazying around the base - medic isn’t the romantic type and would likely just take you out to a traditional dinner or would want to teach you how to perform certain medical procedures on dates - don’t get him wrong! he loves you entirely, he just doesn’t see the need in being overly romantic with you, his way of showing love is letting archimedes anywhere near you or letting you lie on the operating table while he finishes up his paperwork - his pet names for you include “schatz (treasure), maus (mouse), meine taube (my dove)” - will pocket you 1000% and the other mercs HATE it - they have to strategise a way to keep you separated from eachother during battle - it wouldn’t matter if you were invincible or on the verge of death, this man would protect you to the ends of the earth. that being said he is also a massive shithead, will tickle you randomly or poke fun at you when you’re in a bad mood. its sweet. usually - in that middle ground of jealous but also chill af, he will only really become jelly if you’re flirting with someone else, but if they’re flirting with you he does not care unless you’re uncomfortable

Sniper: - simultaneously the most chill and anxiety ridden person on earth, the way he can go from 1 - 100 in five seconds should be studied - it takes him a VERY long time to actually warm up to you, let alone DATE you, so be wary that you’re in it for the long haul if you want this man - the first 6 months of dating are torturous for the both of you, he is far too nervous to touch you and instead of telling you this he will literally just ignore you, but once you start being physical he is one of the most touchy mercs - you will have to be the initiator in most situations until he becomes more comfortable with affection, this man has spent most of his adult life in a van isolated from society so its no kidding that he would be awkward with you (even though he adores you) - “love, babe, darling, honey” generic nicknames, if he’s feeling more comfortable he’ll use “sweetheart” or “roo” if you’re getting on his nerves - he doesn’t do dates. like sorry to burst your bubble but he would consider eating dinner together in his van or even just having a bath together a date - extremely jealous but will never admit it and it is VERY obvious. this could be said for most of his feelings though and reassurance is all he really needs - will spy on you using the scope on his gun during battles, killing enemies who might try to sneak up on you <3

Spy: - spy is by far the MOST romantic merc out of the bunch, will take you out on date nights every week, intimacy regularly, affectionate both in private and public, etc he is the dream - in saying that he is also a player, he needs a partner who can keep him feeling fresh, and someone who is just as cunning as he is - will intentionally try to make you jealous in order to get a gauge on the kind of person you are. he is entirely mind games babe and will play it off as if he doesn’t care about other people trying to flirt with you (he wants to kill them with his bare hands) - he is either going to be obsessed with you or mildly attached, there is no in between and it will be strikingly obvious which it is - often refers to you as “mon amour (my love), beau/belle (handsome/beautiful), mon bébé (my baby)” - most likely enemies to lovers, if you’re good at your job he sees you as competition, if you’re not he sees you as a nuisance, either way you’re initially a problem to him - but then he starts to wonder: why can’t he stop thinking about your skin? and the way you say his name? and the way you bashed that sniper’s brains out? he is smitten without even realising it - occasionally cloaks and follows you around to keep you safe from enemies, but mostly sticks to trying to win the match

Miss Pauling: - if you thought engie or medic were bad you have NO idea with pauling, she quite literally has one day off a YEAR - and you bet your ass she is spending it in bed all day cuddling with you - doesn’t use pet names, she’ll either call you by your last name, or some nickname variation of your first name. she called you “babe” once and cringed so hard she couldn’t even look at you - as much as she doesn’t want to put you in any danger, she LOVES bringing you along for missions. she gets to finish earlier and spend time with you, its a win-win situation - coming home from work and eating dinner with you is the highlight of her day, she could be completely exhausted and yet you bring life back into her with just a smile - yes you had to “fight” scout for her and there was absolutely no competition, he didn’t even know you two were together until she rolled her eyes and kissed you in front of him (he was surprisingly supportive) - she’s far too busy to be jealous, if someone was flirting with you she wouldn’t even notice until it escalated and the person was on the floor with you standing over them triumphantly - she dreams about being able to go on museum dates with you one day, but for now bubble baths, dinners, and morning kisses are all you both get <\3

[brewstersbru]

Uh-oh have some more; i have a problem ! Huskerdust pt. 2 🕸️❤️‍🩹

It’s stupid. Really, it’s fucking insane, nonsensical, and the worst goddamn idea Angel’s had since he sold his soul. Still, though, he can’t stop humming the song.

“I’m a loser, baby…” He sings to himself, curled around Nug as he stares out his window into the neon lights and building fires that ever burn throughout the city. One thing he likes about the hotel- aside from actually having people who care about what happens to him, and a safe (and free!) place to sleep- is that he can’t see Val’s from his room's window. He can fall asleep without his sword hanging over his neck, without the constant reminder of what he’s allowed himself to become.

Before tonight, before Husk’s surprisingly uplifting little song and dance number, Angel hated most of what he was. Yeah he likes sex, but he doesn’t like being a whore. Doesn’t like being Val’s whore, especially. 

And it didn’t make anything better, not really. Not in any way that matters. But it was nice to smile at Husk and not be expected to put out for it. To dance and sing without a leash, and instead gentle fleeting touches to guide him through the steps.

Angel curls further into himself, Nug makes a soft squealing noise at the jostling. 

Husk was so careful with him. They were on the side of the goddamn street, next to a puddle of bum-puke (which Husk had prevented from getting on him!!) and Husk chose to be kind with Angel. What an idiot. What a gentleman.

They’d never work out, Angel has to remind himself of that when a shiver of a feeling he’d thought had long been fucked or beaten out of him by now works its way through his body. Warm and sugary. 

Both beholden to contracts they’d signed, pets to egotistic psychopaths entirely too eager to make them suffer. What now feels so comforting could very quickly turn into something agonizing and painful. Plus, Husk doesn’t want him. He’s made that abundantly clear by now. Sure he’s being nice now that Angel’s ‘respecting his boundaries’ or whatever but the boundaries are there for a reason. He doesn’t want Angel. So much that it makes him uncomfortable if he gets too close.  

Angel can feel his eyelids getting heavy, but there’s a jittering in his chest that signals a rough night. Shit, even with a night as good as this one, he can’t sleep in peace? 

He’s a loser. Damaged goods. Maybe he’s not alone, but fuck if he doesn’t feel it right now. 

Nug wriggles out from the lax cage of his arms and jumps off the bed. 

***

There are texts from Val waiting on Angel’s phone when he wakes up. 

He was right, it was a rough night. Only managed a cool three hours of fitful tossing before his alarm rang for the hotel’s ‘daily activities’. Say what you will about him, he’s nothing if not punctual (and Charlie had looked real pitiful when she asked him to come down in the mornings more, it’s really impossible to say no to her face). 

The texts are a long eternity of scrolling pink. Angel sighs at the few words he manages to catch as he makes his way to the top, “whore” (unoriginal), “bitch” (overdone), “ungrateful” (points for accuracy), and a whole myriad of other demeaning things that his exhaustion addled mind can’t be assed to fully compartmentalize.

He didn’t know how much he’d miss being called “baby” in that smooth low baritone until now; being called all the regular stuff makes his stomach churn in comparison. Or maybe it’s just who’s calling him what. He’d let Husk call him whatever he wanted if he kept being all gentle with him. Shit, it hasn’t even been a day and he’s already mooning like a whiny romance protagonist. Eugh. 

Looks like he’s got another long shoot today. He’s expected over in an hour or so, and Val had signed off with an “xoxo” which really means “or else”. God, he’s really punishing him for stepping out of line this time. Angel can feel a twinge of something in his back as he stands from his bed. Even with an enhanced body, fourteen hours nonstop took it’s toll, and it’s just going to get worse from here. He winces to himself and moves to rub at the sore spot. “Fuck.” He mutters, casting around for a decently sexy outfit so Val doesn’t have another thing to nitpick about. 

It doesn’t take long, after the first several years of coming home sticky and itchy Angel had curated his closet to be both sexy and comfortable. Every piece strikes that balance perfectly and nothing clashes when combined. He’s quite proud of it actually, but it’s not something that comes up often in conversation so he doesn’t really ever have the occasion to brag. 

Husk is- as he always is- shining glasses behind the bar when Angel makes his way down. One has to wonder if the dishes he’s cleaning are actually dirty, or if he just needs something to do with his hands. Angel would put a lot of money on the latter, no one here- even with all the alcoholics- could possibly go through glasses that fast. 

Husk’s eyes dart up to his when the stairs let out a sharp creak, announcing his presence. With a small, private smile he waves him over.

“Mornin’ Angel. Fancy a drink?”

It’s really pathetic how much Angel has to fight to not give in. Not to walk over and settle at the bar, letting that warm, even voice soothe all his decades old aches and pains. He smiles, but it’s tight and untrue. Husk glances down at his lips for a moment, frowns, then goes back to shining.

“Sorry, Kitty, got a shoot. Raincheck?” He hopes he says yes. What he would give to be able to see Husk at the end of the- long, painful and entirely exhausting- day and share a drink. He’s never been to heaven, never even tried thinking about what might be up there because, well, look at him. It’s not really his kind of place, is it?

Still, though, a drink with Husk at the end of today’s misery has got to be pretty damn close. As close as Angel can ever hope to get, anyways. Husk sets the newly polished glass down, and leans against the countertop.

“Sure thing. I’ll have a cosmo waiting.” Angel can tell he wants to ask, that he wants to say something about Val and the fact that this is the second day in a row Angel is going in for a long shoot. About the bruises that are still visible, having just started purpling against Angel’s skin. But he doesn’t, he bites his tongue and offers what solace he can. The feeling that bubbles beneath Angel’s skin at this realization is hot and dangerous. 

He nods, curt and with another stiff smile before scurrying off. He hates that Husk has seen him like this. 

“I can’t wait.” Angel mutters- more to himself than anything- at the cusp of the doorway. 

And it’s the gospel goddamned truth. 

***

It’s late, definitely later than whatever ballpark time Husk had in mind when he accepted the raincheck for tonight and though Angel knows Husk’s not really one to give much of a shit about punctuality-  when you have eternity ahead of you, ‘on time’ becomes pretty damned relative- he still feels like shit for keeping him waiting.

He’s fidgeting in the back of a sleek, pink limo Val had been kind enough to provide him when, at the end of today’s shoot, Angel had found himself frighteningly unable to walk. Of course, nothing is ever free in this unlife, so Val had taken a cut of his earnings to ‘compensate himself’ for having to cart Angel around, when, if he’d just done as he was told, he wouldn’t have gotten himself hurt enough to need it. 

Angel doesn’t want to buy into the idea, but Val has a point. He needs to be more careful if he’s going to continue being of any use to the hotel. As much as he pretends to be an uncaring freeloader, something itches beneath his skin at the thought of actually becoming one. He can pull his weight. He can pull his goddamned weight.

The limo swerves in front of the hotel and lets him off with little fanfare; Angel gingerly picks his way up the hill to the large front doors, wincing and trying to ignore the stabbing agony going on below his waist with each step. 

He doesn’t expect to see anyone when he walks in, it’s late, and they have ‘redemption’ exercises to do in the morning; even Husk has to have a bedtime and it’s late enough that Angel assumes the time has already passed. Hell, if Angel didn’t have work today he’d probably be asleep by now. 

And yet- as he tiptoes past the threshold, gently pulling the door closed behind him- Angel hears a low rumbling sound. The lights in the lobby are off, as expected, but there’s just enough ambient light to reveal a small lump curled up on the couch. Upon closer inspection, Angel realizes that the sound is purring, and the lump is Husk. 

“What the fuck…” He mutters to himself, as Husk’s purring is interrupted by what Angel can only describe as a hitching snore before resuming with even more force. His wings, which have been wrapped around himself in a facsimile of a blanket, tremble and shudder with the power of the vibrations. Angel has to strangle the coo that tries to escape his lips at the sight. 

Fuck, that’s adorable. He really is just a kitty underneath all that jaded bullshit, huh. Unwitting, Angel’s hand reaches out to coast over the fur on his head. Not quite touching, but close enough to feel the warm shudder of contented purring. It’s enough to make Angel forget about his injuries for the moment, too enamored with the rare sight of a pleasantly sated Husk in the throes of sleep. 

Alas, the bliss of the moment is short-lived, and before Angel can tug his hand away, Husk snatches it out of the air, scrambling up into a sitting position to glare at him and hiss. Okay, even his hissing is kind of cute, but that might just be Angel’s fucked up-ness talking. 

“Hey… Huskie…” Angel eeks, trying to pull his hand away from Husk’s bruising grip. His body’s already got its work cut out with his other injuries, it doesn’t need more paltry bruises to expend its energy on. 

Husk shakes his head and, after a moment, his eyes clear of the film of sleep. Once he recognizes Angel in front of him, he drops his arm, as if burned. 

“Fuck, Angel. Y’can’t sneak up on me like that.” Having regained his senses, he takes a moment to apprise himself of the state of Angel, eyes roving critically over each exposed patch of skin in the dim light. His expression gradually hardens as he becomes more and more aware of just how much damage there is to contend with. Angel, desperate to talk about literally anything but his bleeding body laughs hollowly.

“Yeah, sorry man. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sleep before, though, did you know you purr?” Husk gives him a blank look at the obvious attempt at deflection but, after a moment, shrugs and scoots over, patting the space beside him on the couch. “I was aware. Must’ve passed out waiting for you.” He scratches at the chops of fur just below his chin as he speaks, seemingly unconcerned with what he’s just said. That he waited for Angel to come back so they could have their raincheck; that he waited up and Angel was late. 

Angel feels a little sick, the mixture of butterflies and sinking despair in his gut creating something entirely new, and entirely nauseating. He winces, but settles on the couch, curling into himself. “Sorry about that, Tuts. Got a little caught up at the studio… Y’know you didn’t have to wait up, right? We can always raincheck another day.”

It’s quiet for a long, excruciating moment, before Angel feels Husk’s eyes on him again. He can’t bring himself to meet them, instead staring further into the relative safety of the knotted wooden floor. Husk sighs.

“I know. I wanted to.” 

Oh. Oh, fuck. Angel is infinitely thankful for the fact that the lights are off because he can feel the aggressive flush working its way up his cheeks and knows it would be incredibly obvious, if it isn’t already. He coughs into one of his hands. 

“But… I was late…? It’s- it’s like four AM. I wouldn't blame you for just going to bed.” Angel isn’t really sure why he’s arguing with Husk about this, all he knows is that none of what has happened since he walked into the hotel has made any goddamn sense, and it’s making his stomach churn. Husk’s tail swishes, hovering lightly over the span of Angel’s hunched shoulders, not touching, but close enough to feel. 

Finally, after another long minute of silence, Husk speaks.

“I just wanted to make sure you got back okay.” Part of Angel swoons at the gentlemanly sentiment, the rest of him bristles at the implication that he needs that. That he can’t make sure he gets back okay on his own. That he’s weak. He whips around to glare at a startled Husk. 

“And you don’t think I can get myself back safely? Fuck you, man, I’m not some weak little damsel in need of saving.” He spits. Husk shakes his head, eyes wide at the vehemence in Angel’s words. His hand raises from his lap- perhaps to reach out, to comfort- but at Angel’s expression, he brings it to his own arm to rub at his tricep sheepishly. 

“Stop putting words in my mouth, Angel.” He scolds, brows furrowed, “I don’t think you’re weak, I just don’t want you to feel like you’re facing this alone.”

Angel scoffs and turns away. Evidently, that’s the breaking point for Husk, because he huffs and snarls, “What? I can’t care about you?” There’s a static to his movements, a ruffling to his fur that indicates real irritation. For some reason, that makes Angel angrier. 

“Not if you’re not fucking me! Not if you don’t get any fucking thing out of it! Fuck!” His wounds give a valiant, biting twinge at the end of his sentence, causing Angel to hunch over himself and press a hand against his side while he struggles to catch his breath. Through the haze of agony, he hears shuffling, and feels the couch straighten as Husk rises to leave. 

Good fucking riddance. Angel knew it was all talk. He knew it. 

His breaths remain ragged for a long time while he tries to get ahold of himself again. Enough, at least, that he can drag himself back to his room. He curses Husk, but more so he curses himself for getting himself into this situation in the first place. What was his one rule? Don’t get attached, don’t let them lure you into thinking they care because they never do, and you’re just going to end up getting your feelings hurt if you keep being stupid about it. 

The pain does not abate, even as his thoughts spiral ever downwards into despair. 

After an excruciating, indeterminate amount of time, he feels the couch dip again and, unwilling to face whatever well-meaning do-gooder it is this time, Angel shakes his head. 

“Leave. Me. Alone.” he grits, each word more painful than the last. The person does not leave.

“Are you gonna let me help you now, or is it going to be another fight?” It’s Husk’s voice. He’s back. Fuck, why is he back? The noise of confusion that bursts from Angel’s lips is entirely unwitting. He opens his mouth to offer a scathing rebuttal, but can only manage a soft groan. Husk scoots closer. He’s warm. Fuzzy.

“Just nod or shake your head. Can I touch you?” Angel takes a moment to think about it, but has to acquiesce to himself that if he doesn’t let Husk touch him, he’s going to be in agony for the rest of the night. With great effort, he nods. A heavy breath punches itself from Husk’s lips, fanning warmly across Angel’s head. 

“Okay. Good. I’m gonna lay you down so I can get a better look.” Angel desperately wants to make a joke about the phrasing of that, but doesn’t get the chance before he's being manhandled onto his back. It’s a familiar situation, but the usual spike of fear in his throat is noticeably absent this time. Angel doesn’t dwell on what that might mean. 

Husk works quickly and efficiently on Angel’s wounds, soothing him with a warm hand through Angel’s hair whenever the pain gets to be too much- punching miserable little sounds from him- and keeping his touches strictly clinical. When he finishes, he sits back on his heels with a sigh. Settling back at the other end of the couch and allowing Angel his personal space again. Angel’s eyes feel surprisingly heavy. He catches a soft look from Husk before they flutter closed. 

Husk chuckles, soft and low.

“See? Doesn’t always have to be a fight.”

[indouloureux]

hi, first of all i love your work sm, literally everything you write is amazing and you never disappoint <3

sorry if you’ve already had something like this, but could you do something abt watching the sun rise with joseph quinn? maybe the reader just wakes up in the early morning and she wakes up joe to watch the sun with him, maybe something like going out to the balcony as well and sharing a cigarette.

tysm ily <33

mixing it with this request <3 also ily thank you for requesting

the waves move freely, the mellifluous sound of swishing from the sea tickles your ears just the right air. the salt air caresses your ample skin, and sand titillates the soles of your feet as they seep through the cracks of the wooden floors on the balcony.

he's wearing that lilac shirt he loves so much, unbuttoned to expose his front. his silver chain doubled, hanging loosely around his neck. and as you expected, there's a cigarette between his lips.

your footsteps alert him, turning his head over his shoulder to half smile at you. you tug on the ends of your borrowed shirt, coming up to wrap your arms around him from behind, nose dug on the wrinkles of his purple shirt, his musk of rich perfume and cigars filling in your nostrils.

he grunts, followed by a small laugh when he slithers a vacant hand across your forearms to lace his fingers with yours.

"good morning," he rasps, a gentle laugh leaving him. "how was your sleep,"

"‘was alright," your speech is muffled by the thin fabric of his shirt. "didn't expect to wake up so early though,"

his arm moves behind to maneuver itself on your back, moving you in front of him. you slot yourself against his chest, his strong arm wrapped protectively around your waist, pressing you against the balcony.

joseph kisses the top of your head, feeling you go lax in his soft touch when lethargy still adds a heavy weighted blanket over your shoulders. "still tired? we can go back to bed,"

you say nothing, reaching up to pluck the cigarette from his hand with your thumb and index and place it in your mouth. you inhale, sucking the smoke until it reaches your lungs, puffing it out slowly.

"i wanna stay up,"

he mutters a small okay, rubbing his rough palm along your bare arms. your own vacant hand runs across his stomach, thumb grazing his happy trail, clasping on his torso beneath the shirt as you exchange the small cigarette. and he can't stop touching you, even with the cigar in his mouth.

the hand around your waist slithers itself beneath your shirt to massage your hot skin chastely, umber eyes watching the sun appear from beneath the broken sea, a gaussian blur of yellow, orange to sky blue at the dawn of a new day.

a sizzling sound when he takes another hit. "what'd you wanna eat for breakfast?"

"mcdonalds,"

"eugh," he scrunches his nose. "we're at a hotel. don't you wanna try, i don't know, sausages? eggs! they make good eggs, baby. you've been eating to much mcdonalds,"

you hit his thigh with your bum. "if we eat mcdonalds, i'll take you to where the dolphins are,"

you look up, top of the head on his chest, his chin on your forehead with his overgrown stubble tickling your skin. joseph thinks for a moment, sticking the cigarette between your lips without you even asking.

"i get you mcdonalds, and we swim with the dolphins. deal?"

he smiles when you nod. "that's a deal, button."

reblogs and feedback are appreciated <3

[dy6nsty]

Posion Tree.

{Mountain Ghoul x GN! Reader} /// mentions of anger issues, burn out, depression, self harm, reader goin through it ngl, reader has a slight fear of touch[?], fluff & comfort, somewhat vent post. Enjoy :)

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

You were unsure with how this all started. You loved the job and the church, doing ministry work. But suddenly, it all stopped. You didn’t feel the same afterwards.

Your hard work began to feel like pressure. All you could think of was how and why. Why can’t you suddenly work like you used to? Why is it that your stomach feels hollow, pools of guilt swirling through your gut with seconds that dropped from the clock. It all felt like hours, your life feeling endless and exasperating as you terribly carried yourself through.

Eye-bags, acne, smile lines, it all became too noticeable. Staring at the mirror endlessly in your uniform as you craved touch and sensation yet were so deeply afraid of it.

When was the last time you felt pretty?

The last time you ever felt excited.

You can’t even recall the last time you felt fulfilled.

You simply weren’t doing this for yourself any longer. This work, this effort, the time you had, it all went for others that a good portion don’t even recognize. There was praise every now and than, and it felt so good. But you always remembered that this work may not even pay off later.

How you try so hard to make a schedule? But it never works, does it?

Back to the start;

You wake up.

Slide out of the bed even to your minds dismay and shrieking of thoughts.

Your robes. You slide them on with slow movement, staring down at your body.

Your fingertips brush over scars that align your skin. They aren’t pretty you think to yourself.

Yet, you know why they’re there. Because no one would listen to you. Where times were rough our you couldn’t comprehend. When your hands would shake as you cried through nights with no moon nor stars, darkening clouds that clutter the sky.

Right. You put your uniform on.

You walk to your rooms bathroom. Staring down at your form—mainly your face. Sluggish, it looks.

Your hands come up to touch it. You can feel the bumps and indents of acne scars, blackheads, and all the clutters your pores and more. You let out an audible ‘eugh’, as you run a finger over your eyebags. They droop down and darken your face, you hate them but love them, it’s hard to explain.

You don’t feel like brushing your teeth. You should. But you can’t pull yourself to do it.

Your hair? What do you do with it. Nothing. You let it sit and be tangled if it even wants.

No one will compliment you so what is your point to trying?

With groggy pace you walk out of your bathroom and out into the halls of ministry. No makeup, no skincare, not even breakfast. You just want this day to end so you can sleep.

It feels like everything upsets you in the morning. The voice of constant chatter and orders are just annoying. They play into everything that could just piss you off.

But those voices still belong to humans.

But, it never feels like it.

Eventually the day has to begin, you’re entitled to do this. What is your choice now since you chose to do this, there’s no arguing with it or yourself.

Planting flowers, raking leaves, moving boxes, doing prayers and chants, being yelled at, sweat clinging to your body, eyelids heavy with the heat that grows, settling things for altars, shifting paintings, rushing down hallways, conversations, ease-dropping, drawing and renewing paint, gifting jewelry to podiums, working from indoors to outdoors, and feeling tired.

This was everything you could’ve dreamed off, right? You’re being sarcastic with yourself.

You’re so caught up in everything you have you pay no mind to what’s around you, who’s around you. Mountain, the people you work with, even yourself you’ve almost forgotten.

All you can remember is that feeling on your arms, how tired you are, the exhaustion you’ve been feeling since 6AM, but you weren’t selfish for it.

There was just.. no alone time left for you now. You didn’t even bother to call in sick.

You work yourself off since you want a purpose.

As the sun sets and the ombré in the sky begins to stir with its purples and oranges that ranges to yellow, you’re finally free to head back to your room.

It’s scattered in trash, atleast thats how you feel.

By the time you’re in that room your hands are on the collar of your uniforms upper garment.

You backup to feel your back pressed up against something.

You quickly turn around–flinching, but it’s only Mountain. Looking down at you with his gentle eyes.

His mask is off, so it’s less intimidating to say the least. His height still makes you uneasy but you’ve learned to love it.

“Dear G….” Read the room. “What brings you hear, Mountain?” You practically sighed out with just had the Ghouls face melting more as his tail flopped against the floor.

“Whats been happening? Has papa been having you work more? It’s been weeks since i’ve seen you.” Mountain said with a desperate plea in his voice.

Your mind saddened up with this as the cherry on top being guilt, finally toppled onto your mindset.

You bit down on your tongue and held it back. How could you be so positive that you could just–entrust–him with this information? The fear of being mocked grew into your head.

“Busy…” You mumbled, piping up to look at him. “Busy, i’ve been busy, Mountain. Plus, I just wanted to help around.” You said as a calm smile rested onto your face even if you were stressed to hell.

“Busy?” Mountain repeated with suspicion.

“You don’t look calm- Y/N- don’t you want to talk?-“

“I am calm.” You snapped before sighing. Everything was just too hot and talking with him made your head ache.

“Y/N, please.” Mountain said with a frown on his face. Dammit. You thought to yourself.

“What, what do you want?” You asked with irritation but Mountain’s look didn’t falter. “Why have you been avoiding me?” He asked.

“I’ve just–“ You paused.

“I really don’t know.” You murmured gently, head hanging low and arms limp by your side.

Mountain’s hands gently cupped the sides of your face, stroking his thumb against your cheek before kissing the temple of your forehead.

“C’mon, lavender, let’s get you cleaned up?” He offered. His smile was dumb… but you loved it.

His hands went underneath your armpits and on your ribs, the subtle twitch of his hand made him pull away.

“No touching, got it.” He made a mental note, aloud.

You nodded, eyes softening down to be content. You adored how he could read it so well, even though he could practically smell sadness from you.

“Bath?” He asked gently. The soft nod of your head was all he needed.

Now that you thought of it. Lavender was the plant that was popular for its tranquility and how it soothed people. You somewhat like the nickname. But you wouldn’t tell him that.

Before you knew it you were in the bath tub, as it filled up almost to the top of Mountain wasn’t quick to turn it off.

His clawed hands combing through your hair, shampoo foam building up into tufts. It felt nice. This felt rewarding.

Mountain had no words to say, he was quiet and allowed the silence to build within the room.

Conditioning your was—surpassingly easy. You thought with all its texture and its knot it would take ages but with Mountain combing through it, it was only a minute.

With a towel wrapped around you, smelling like his body wash, he fluffed your hair up with a smaller towel, as you dried yourself off.

He had gone through your drawers to find something comfortable, even if the clothes you had been sulking in for days on end were comfy, he wouldn’t allow it. He wanted you to feel clean.

It only made you feel better when he had nothing to say about the scars on your body.

Dressed in a t-shirt and shorts that were both loose you felt uncomfortable mentally but comfortable physically.

Maybe too much was showing.

“Look at you, pretty!” Mountain said happily, appearing behind you in the mirror. A small smile cracked onto your lips.

With the pitter-patter of rain on your bedroom windows, you felt relaxed. Mountain was trying to help you with washing your face, brushing your teeth, and he applied vaseline to your lips. It was nice. They didn’t feel so rough anymore.

You finally felt… clean.

That hollow and vast void that had been living in your gut finally felt gone!

That tingling on your arms and thighs had vanished, your mind wasn’t focused on the past.

Mountain walked your back to your bed and layed down with you. Your back pressed up against his chest as his finger curled through your hair.

“Now…” He mumbled, his tone making you uneasy, “can you talk to me?” He said quietly.

That pit. You could feel it forming.

“I…”

“Please.” Mountain insisted.

Your mouth stayed pursed shut as you could feel your throat run dry.

“I’ve been tired, lately, always, really.” I started off slow and steady to see how he’d react. He nodded along.

“I know I don’t work.. really-“ “You work plenty, Y/N.” He cut you off, apologizing after to let you continue.

“But i’ve felt tired. So exhausted. My body is tense with every muscle and movement, my skin is so rough to the touch, eye-bags and wrinkles just litter my face. And.. I know it’s not healthy but I just want to do it again. My scars are ugly, I know that, anyone could know that. But.. sometimes I wish I didn’t quit-even though that’s wrong and it was the better situation. And- every noise.. it makes me become intolerable. I know i’m being dramatic but when there’s so much going on I just want to break something but i’m to afraid to express that, I’ll feel guilty, and than I yell at someone, knowingly that i’ll regret it later on.” You ranted and rambled on, your breathing was so slow yet so shallow with every word you formed.

“What do you do when you get- or feel angry, Y/N?” Mountain asked quietly, leaning forward to hear you.

“Nothing..” You mumbled meekly.

“And your scars?” He continued.

“They disgust me. I don’t understand why I would do this! I look at them all day, they shape my skin and I feel them constantly!” You replied frustrated.

“I like them,” He whispered in a hushed voice, “you made it through a time where you barley survived. You were struggling and no one would listen. I like your scars because they tell me you’re strong, that you carried on. And that you’re here with me now.”

Corny…. but sweet.

“What about how i’ve been feeling lately? I’m just dramatic.” You murmured into yours hands as they covered your face.

Mountain frowned slightly.

“Dramatic? You work, you have to get down and run all over the damn place. Waking up before the sun and making it home what feels like a day later. Plus, the ministry is hard enough. You should be resting, not pushing yourself further.” Mountain said with a gentle and calm voice that made the knots in your back relax.

“But what does that make me.” You murmured. “It makes you better, mentally and physically. You wouldn’t be titled as weak because you wanted to focus on yourself, it’s something we all need.” Mountain replied, he was coming back with these in seconds, Jesus Christ.

His hand gently traced out the scar on your wrist, laid right under your thumb. You leaned into his chest, the exhaustion and insomnia catching up to you.

“Sleep, please.” He murmured gently, his fingertips pushing back your hair as your eyes felt warm with sleep.

The feeling in your chest, you knew sleep was there. Slowly falling into its embrace as Mountain gently kissed up and down your arms, his hands gently moving them up and down.

You couldn’t describe it. But it felt nice.

“Sleep, lavender.”

Corny.

A smile complete your face as your head hit the pillow. Mountain’s arms wrapped around you.

“What about papa?” You asked before Mountain shushed you.

“This is worth it than whatever he has to say to me tomorrow.” You would’ve tried to reason with him.

But. The room was quiet and slightly cold, sheets finally felt right. You finally felt right.

Your eyes met with onyx black, finally asleep. Better than anything.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

5:32AM , 3/31/24 ///

Author here, I really want to say that i’ve lacked posting. But i’m glad to finally be righting as I truly love it. Recently i’ve been feeling sick of it and tried to force myself into it which is something I regret. But i’ve been feeling better :)

[elliexmylove]

Let me care for you

PAIRING: Peter parker x GN reader (I imagined tom hollands Peter while writing but it works for any)

SUMMARY: You're sick and Peter wants to take care of you even if you don't let him at first

WORD COUNT: 1.8k

WARNINGS: none :)

NOTE: I changed the first person pov half way through for some reason sorry and idk how I feel abt this but enjoy<3

Being awoken to the vibration of my phone was annoying to say the least, my head hurt, my eyes were watery and puffy, and my nose was runny and slightly blocked. 

"Hello?" I croaked, 

"Y/n? Are you okay, why do you sound like that?" Peter's voice came through the other end,

"oh, hey Pete, I'm fine, I just woke up."

"Okay, well, I'm about to come over," 

"By that do you mean like a normal person would, or do you mean swing over?"

There was a pause,

"Does it matter?" 

I slightly smile, "No, but I'm sorry you can't come over,"

"Excuse me?" 

"Not today Peter," I say as kindly I can,

"I've never been told I can't come see you y/n, this is like freaking me out what do I do if I can't see you-"

"Bye Pete, love you." I say needing to blow my nose badly,

"No y/n wait-!"

Hanging up, I reach over to the tissue box my mum bought this morning, although they feel soft of my hands they feel rough on my red nose from doing it so many times.

To sum up how I feel is the word eugh.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

An hour later I had fallen asleep watching a movie on my laptop, so failed to hear the gentle knock on my window. The knock was louder the second time, and a little louder the third time.

With a crying groan I sat up, squinting my eyes to the window in my dark room, Peter?

There he crouched on the fire escape, spider suit on, mask in hand.

I peeled the blankets off of me and got up, seeing white for a second as I regained my balance, obviously I got up too fast.

Window now open I spoke, 

"Peter, what are you doing? I said not today."

"I've never been told that by you! You can't just expect me to stay home and not see you all day," he waves his hands around, and you feel the need to sneeze, 

don't look at the light, don't look at the light, don't look at anything light.

Well, too late, you turn around and sneeze into your arm. Ah frick. Gross.

You race to get a clean shirt, that being an oversized t shirt. After getting changed and throwing your pajama top in the wash Peter now sits on your bed in the dark room.

"Are you sick?" 

You give up on acting as though you're not, he basically knows now anyways.

"Yeah,"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Becuase I knew you would want to come over and take care of me, as sweet as that is I don't want you getting sick as well." 

"Well I don't care about getting sick, c'mere," he opens his arms up,

"Uh uh, you're not getting sick because of me, it's a really bad cold." 

"Exactly why I should comfort you." 

"No."

"Yes."

I begin walking put my door, to which Peter puts a stop to by shooting a web and pulling you back. 

"You wanna watch movie?" He asks once he has you sat in his lap, chin resting on your shoulder.

"Already watched one."

"Do you want snacks?" 

"Don't feel like it."

"Cuddles?" 

"Nope."

He puffs his cheeks and blows the air out.

I make a move to get out of his embrace,

"No." He tightens his grip around you, leaning slightly to get to back in place.

"I need to blow my nose," he narrows his eyes at you suspiciously but allows you to get the tissues. Once done you lie back onto the bed, 

"Hey," the boy whines, 

"You can stay, but we're gonna keep our distance so you have a better chance of not getting sick." 

He doesn't look happy.

"Can you imagine spiderman being sick? You would have to swing through cold wind, and fight people with a stuffy nose, not to mention the mask feeling disgusting and getting other people sick,"

"Don't care." He webs the box of tissues to you, and suddenly you need to sneeze, so you take one just before you do.

"How did you-"

"Spidey senses." 

"Thank you,"

"You wanna repay me?"

"By doing what?" 

"Cuddles,"

"No Peter."

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

I had been playing pocketlove on my phone for the past while while Peter had a shower because I "so rudely refused to do anything with him". 

A knock on my door made me lift my head up, mum appeared checking if I'm okay, 

"You alright hun?" 

"Yeah, thank you," 

"I'll be in the lounge if you want anything," 

I smiled at her and she closed the door, one second later another opened and Peter walked out with wet hair, he walked to my clothes draws and rummaged through them, 

"You can turn the light on if you want, 

"No its okay, do you still have one of my hoodies here?" 

I scoff, "check the third draw," 

As he does five hoodies come into view and he gasps, 

"I wondered where this was!" He holds up the last one I stole, he yanks it over his head and it falls a little below his waist, Peter also bought oversized things, just not as much as you.

I tap on my phone bringing up my heartstopper lockscreen, and also the time, 3:02. 

"Quiet day on crime huh?" 

At this Peter looks a little guilty, 

"I don't know,"

"Aren't you a little obsessed with this stuff?" 

"Wha- pft no," 

He crosses his arms playing it off, 

"Yesterday you were looking for stuff to help with, and stopped a guy from stealing a bag of sweets." 

"It was a bad thing to do!" He defended, 

"I would have done it,"

He collapses onto the bed, 

"You put on the spidersuit just to do it-" 

"okayokayokay, shhh." He holds his hand against your mouth,

"get off, my germs are going to spread onto your hand," your words echo a bit, and he rests his hand back by his side,

"You needa wash them now," 

He sighs and goes to the bathroom, leaving you and pocketlove to spend quality time together.

Peter emerges from the bathroom one minute later, "what're you doing?" He lies on the bed behind your back, 

"PocketLove," You say eyes intently focused on the game, 

"Do you want food ye-"

"Shh, I'm going on a date with my partner," 

"Well alright then." He fauns being deeply hurt, 

"You could download it, actually please do." 

"Okay, gimme a sec," 

He shoots a web to his phone lying on your desk.

A few minutes later and he's chosen his character, 

"What should I name my boyfriend?" 

"Uhmm, Jupiter? 

"Jupiter it is."

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Both of you were very focused on the game, obviously Peter had taken a liking to it as well, 

"Can I see your house?" He rested his chon in the crook of your neck while you lie on your side.

"C'mere," You shuffled around so he could lie his head on your chest. 

"I originally had a normal house but I decided to recreate places from heartstopper." 

"oh no-" 

Peter webbed a tissue to you, 

ACHOO

"Thank you," your voice came out croaky.

"Back to your house?" 

"You're going to get sick." You whine, 

"What places in heartstopper?" 

You were a little obsessed with the comic and now series, and he knew this, he also knew asking about it would get you ranting about it which is exactly why he did it.

"Okay so, this room is from Charlie's birthday at the arcade, and this is the cinema, I haven't got all of the stuff for it yet,"

"Oh my god it's amazing,"

"and lastly the uncompleted beach room." 

You seemed pretty proud, and for good reason.

"Its amazing. My house has plants, chairs a bed and a frog mat."

"Oh! I still have that," 

"It must have taken so long to get all this stuff,"

"It did." You smile, 

"Oh sorry Pete, sit up for a minute,"

He reluctantly does as you asked and you turn away coughing into your arm. 

"D'you want some water?" 

"Yeah I probably should." You get up and walk towards the door, 

"Huh? Wait no! I meant it would get it," 

He quickly scoots off the bed, 

"Just come with me," You walk out into the light and he trails behind you like a puppy.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

"Peter, I didn't know you were here!" Your mum says, rather surprised from the couch, Peter flinches a little not knowing she was there.

"Haha yeah, I'm here." 

"But I didn't see you come through the door-"

"Hey mum, do we have any lemons?" You intervene, relieving Peter.

"Yeah in the bowl on the bench hun."

"Thanks." You croak out feeling worse again.

Squeezing the lemon juice into the water you try to make sure no seeds get in it. Turning around you see Peter, arms filled with snacks, ready to go.

"Just in case." He defends himself.

"Okay let's go I need to blow my nose." 

Back in your dark room Peter let's the snacks fall onto the bed and you get a tissue your head was pounding and you felt very sick again. 

"Can we cuddle?" You finally give in wanting to feel love and comfort,

"Really?" Peter's face lights up and you nod, without wasting time he fell onto the bed taking you with him,

"Pete," 

"Sorry."

A little more gentle this time, you two got comfortable, Peter's arm was under you allowing you to lie on it and his other was wrapped around you.

"Do you wanna watch Narnia?"

"Mhm." You sigh, 

Peter shoots a web to your laptop lying on the ground then sitting right on his lap, "what's your password?"

"That's top secret information." 

"Y/n what's your password."

"Itsallbanterinit"

"You're crazy," 

"There's no helping my obsession Peter,"

He grins and squeezes you with his arm lying under you.

"Is it on disney+?" 

"Yeah I think so." 

The comforting movie starts playing and you already feel better, but still sick. 

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

As Lucy meets Mr tumnus you feel the presence of marshmallows calling you from the end of your bed, trying to ignore the urge doesn't work, 

"Petee,"

"Yeah?"

"Marshmallows? Please?" Once again he uses those amazing webs of his and pulls the packet right to you.

"Thank you love." You kiss his cheek, 

"Wow so now you're trying to get me sick?" 

"No I'm sorry I just thought-" 

"No wait wait I'm sorry, I was kidding!" 

You let out a quiet, wheezy sigh, one second later sirens sound from below, on the roads, 

"You gonna go spider man?" 

"And leave you? The chances of that are very unlikely." 

"Wow, an avenger, not doing his job so he could take care of me, I'm in love." 

He scrunches his nose in a dorky little grin looking at you, 

"Edmund made me want a Turkish delight." 

"Would you trade me to the white witch for one?"

"Yeah probably." Peter gasped,

"Sorry Peter you know I love them, and you know I got slytherin in the pottermore quiz." 

"Yes yes okay."

"In fact I would probably trade you for her coat too."

"Okay I get it."

"Maybe even her crown."

"Y/n!"

"Love you."

[iridescentghoul]

-Burning Passion-

Originally posted on my wattpad account-PlaugedGhost. This is a little older so may not be the best

Sodo x Male Ghoul reader

Genre: Smut

Prompt/Plot: Sodo is in rut, your his mate boom

TWs/WARNINGS: Mentions of mating cycles (ruts), Ghouls not seen as humanoids, smut, possesive sodo, reader called "pretty" by sodo, sodo calling reader "mate" , SMUT, Sex, not super rough. Please tell me if i missed anything!

Do not read if any of that bothers you.

Sodo had told you weeks before that he was expecting his rut anytime soon, and to stay away from him during it as he could get aggressive. You had told him you refused to stay away from him, and as his mate you were supposed to help him. He didn't like your answer, but excepted it.

You didn't expect his rut to be so soon though.

You were talking to Mountain, he was talking about the Poppies in the gardens, their varying colors, how beautiful they were this time of month.

"The red Poppies will always be my favorites, but the white ones are always my second favorites.." Mountain said, watching you nod Before speaking "I like all pf them, no matter the color they are all pre—" You were interrupted by a clawed hand grabbing you and pulling you to his chest, Sodo's scent invading your nose.

Mountain had backed off, hands raised when Sodo growler at him before grumbling a possessive "Mate" into your ear. The fire ghoul had started to drag you to his room, telling you how he was gonna mate you.

You whimpered softly as you reached his room and Sodo threw you on his bed, crawling ontop of you.

"All Mine~ My mate~" He growled possessively, diving down to kiss you hard on the lips. He enjoyed the whimpers coming from your mouth. The fire ghoul started to toy with your waistband, diving down to stroke your thighs which made you moan softly.

He tossed your pants off, leaving you in boxers, your cock straining against them. He purred happily before starting to lick and suck on your thighs, relishing in your moans and soft whimpers of his name.

"Do you want this mate?~" he asked, now toying with the waistband of you boxers after discarding of your shirt.

"Y-yes Sodo..! P-please..!" You begged, arching your back as he licked and nibbled at your perked up nipples, hos hand diving under your boxers to stroke your hard cock. He quickly disposed of his own pants and boxers, his 7 inch cock erect and leaking precum.

He pulled your boxers off swiftly, purring and stroking your cock a few tomes before moving to circle your hole.

"So pretty~" He purred, dipping the tip of his finger in and back out, teasing you.

"Aa-ah!~ s-sodo p-please p-please..!" You begged, tears in the corners of your eyes. He laughed, plunging a finger in and thrusting in and out your hole,

"N-ngh~! A-ah!~ e-eugh!~ s-sodo..!~" you moaned, arching your back as he added a second finger and thrusted faster and harder.

"You ready my pretty little mate?~" He purred, readying his cock at your entrance. "P-please S-so—" You were cut off by your own moan as he thrusted all of him into you in swift thrust. You grabbed onto his shoulders, clawing at them as he thrusted faster and harder, needing to mate you.

"S-so tight~" He growled, grabbing your cock and starting to jerk you off, kissing you passionately. You could feel his cock twitch in you, signaling he was gonna cum soon.

"P-please S-sodo I-in..!" You begged, moaning as you released into Sodo's hand, he kept thrusting in you, chasing his own release.

"Gonna mate you real well pretty boy~" He growled, thrusting as deep as he could in you before cumming in you, moaning.

"So g-good pretty boy...so good..~" he panted, dropping beside you and wrapping you up in his chest.

"I love you [Name], thank you.." Sodo mumbled, "We'll clean in the morning.., love you to Sodo" you mumbled back, curling into his chest and drifting off

A/N: Their may be mistakes in this, i do not have a beta reader and i do it all myself. I suck at catching my mistakes and i apologize

[lightdash]

LITTLE MUSE FACTS.

Instructions: fill out the questions about your muse, repost, and tag as many people as you want!

1) What does your muse smell like?:

Whatever the word "outside" smells like; it's that first day of summer, when you've got grass stains on your knees and the wind in your hair. Add a touch of lemongrass in there for some citrusy notes (lemon, mint...) and that's the vibe!

2) How often does your muse bathe/shower?:

Blue dude spends the majority of his time outdoors, so he's more likely to dip into a lake or river for bathing — and it works! He tries to stay fresh, but every now and then life gets in the way and he'll go a few days without. It's just some dirt and leaves, anyway.

Sometimes a proper shower is a necessity, though, like when you fall into the sewers underneath Station Square... eugh.

3) Does your muse have any tattoos or piercings?:

Nope, but he's not against the idea! An ear piercing or two might suit him... tattoos on the other hand are more difficult, since he's covered in fur. Hm, it'd be similar to dyeing hair.

4) Any body movement quirks? (EX: tapping heel, shaking knee)”

Anyone whose familiar with Sonic knows about his inability to stay still. You might find him tapping his foot during a bout of impatience, but he's got a whole array of quirks and stims; wringing his hands, rubbing his nose, itching an ear, twisting the bracelet on his wrist — list goes on and on. It's equal parts expressive and ADHD.

5) What do they sleep in?:

Nothing unique! Just his sneakers and gloves, since he doesn't "go to sleep" like a normal person at a normal time.

6) What’s their favorite piece of clothing?:

He rarely ever wears clothing by choice, aside from a jacket during the colder months; not his style! But if he had to pick a favorite, he's got this retro looking sweatshirt...

7) What do they do when they wake up?:

Sonic loves a bright and early morning! He'll wake up before the sunrise to race it across the horizon. There's no better view.

8) How do they sleep? Position?:  

Sonic will sleep anywhere that's suitable for him. He's a no fuss kinda guy and takes a ton of naps, so it isn't unusual for him to be climbing into trees for an afternoon siesta. There's a hammock back at Tails' workshop with his name on it, but it collects more dust than it does hedgehog. His favorite place to doze off, though? Lounging on the beach, right in front of the ocean waves.

The usual position you'll find him in is one leg crossed over the other, with both arms behind his head — simple, effective, and makes balancing easier. Sonic isn't much of a side sleeper... it's a vulnerability thing? Quicker to stand (to react) if he's on his back. Did he cuddle up on his side around you? There's trust established.

The less common way of snoozing is when he curls into a ball. It's saved for times of stress, or if he doesn't trust the environment he's sleeping in... careful, those spiky quills hurt!

9) What do their hands feel like?:

Well, you'll never feel them without the gloves on, so mark that down /j.

They're surprisingly soft for all the roughness they endure! He's got paw pads (one in the middle of his palm and smaller ones on the ends of his fingers) so that contributes to the soft factor. There's a few scars from where his gloves have been ripped over years of battle, but they're all healed up under his fur.

tagged: @ghostbustingreen / tagging: @badnikbreaker @cynicallyscorned @eternasci @chaosresolve @stardusted-hearts

[rasshu-benaio]

🫧Trivial Things🫧 (a #GyutaroxRasshu short)

Trudging angrily through the thick forest, Gyutaro parts his way through bushes and leaves until he finally makes it to the familiar mansion with warm lights shining from it. Harshly sliding open the doors, he startles the human that awaits his arrival; Rasshu. Gyutaro stomps sternly to Rasshu whose washing some dishes in the sick. With his chest brushing against the woman’s back, his expression melts as he embraces the busy woman. Melting within her presence, the stress from a long day wafts away as Rasshu begins to rub his rough arms. It seems like Gyutaro had a rough day…

Putting up the remaining dishes for later, she turns to face the lowly demon as she gifts him a gentle kiss, but as she looks upon his body, she sees scars… With a look of concern, Rasshu leaves Gyutaro’s cold arms prompting him to follow his hashira. Walking outside, Gyutaro finds her standing in a stream as she signals him to get in. Gyutaro’s face scrunches up but he reluctantly enters the shallow stream of water… Gently, Rasshu rubs the demons back as she runs cool clean water on his cuts…

Rasshu: Gyutaro… what happened?

Gyutaro: Nothing concerning you.

Rasshu: If thats so, why am i washing your cuts?

Gyutaro: Because you’re a pitiful human that can’t comprehend that this is useless.

*Rasshu a bit frustrated from that comment*

Rasshu: Gyutaro… You need to better care of yourself

Gyutaro: Rasshu, demons don’t need to do these trivial things… I don’t need to take care of anything

Rasshu: Well I need you to because I’m not dating some dirty low life am I? Plus, I don’t like it when you don’t take care of yourself, you need better self worth, you know?

Gyutaro: Why even bother with it… Im nothing special. You don’t need to waste your damn time trying to make me feel better.

Rasshu: Why bother? Because you’re everything to me. Plus, its my job to keep you healthy, why do you think I capture demons the way I do? Anyway, what happened to you? These cuts are deep…

Gyutaro: Demon ambush… Its not uncommon for non ranks to gang up on a lone ranked demon… either desperate for food or a rank of their own.

Rasshu: but how come these cuts are still here…

Gyutaro: I can choose whether I want to heal those benign injuries or if I want them to heal on their own… Those demons didn’t do any real damage and I really don’t give two shits about those cuts. They’ll be gone in the morning I suppose.

Rasshu: hmm

Without thinking much, Rasshu takes out some bandages and wraps up the demons back, covering up the cuts as much as she can. Gyutaro puts his hand on the bandages, feeling a bit of a happiness but then a stressed Rasshu speaks.

Rasshu: eugh… I know it wont help much for you… but i still feel like i need to… i know you’re a demon but you still need care, even a smidge of it. Please let me do this for onc-

Gyutaro: Thank you…

[anicyz]

Chapter 3 of Speed Run at Your Own Risk is up! I took that one prompt I made about Warriors at the start of the month and just kinda ran with it for the first scene so that’ll be under the cut :)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38836362/chapters/99847989

Warriors woke up cold.

A chill seeped through his torso, the warmth around his neck making it all the more apparent that something was not as it should be.

After a few more unmoving, cold minutes, he squinted up at the ceiling in dismay.

He could feel a breeze prickling against his skin, the rough fabric of his bedroll.

Wait…Where the heck was his shirt?!

He shot up, eyes darting around the semicircle they’d formed near the still intact side of the room the night before. The rest of the group was sleeping peacefully, exhausted from the previous days' happenings.

He scanned the ground around him, slowly rising to his feet. Something else felt off as he stepped forward.

These weren't his boots.

He scanned the group again, this time looking closer at each individual pile of blankets.

Speaking of blankets.

Warriors broke off his search and turned back to his bedroll.

Nothing.

There should have been a dark green blanket with blue detailing along the edges there next to him. He often kicked it off at night so its absence in the morning wasn’t unusual. The total lack of it entirely, just the bedroll and his travel pack which had substituted his pillow remaining, meant thievery.

Whoever it was, they’re dead.

Another breeze blew in and the soft sounds of muffled grunts and yawns alerted him to his companion’s awakening.

Standing was causing his arms to break out into goose bumps so Warriors sat down and wrapped his arms around his body in the parody of a hug. The action did very little to stave off the wind which was starting to pick up as the sun continued to rise.

Legend was the next individual to wake, he rocked upright in a smooth motion that almost hid the abruptness of the end of his sleep. Haggard eyes flicked over each member of their crew, cataloging them. He stuttered to a stop at the sight of Warriors, now actively shivering, in nothing but his pants and what Legend recognized to be an old pair of his boots.

Legend proceeded to do the only thing his early morning brain was functioning enough to do. Which was to snort air so hard through his nose he started coughing.

Warriors launched one of the ill fitting boots at the chortling hero.

Legend unfortunately ducked to cough again and it sailed past to hit Hyrule who flailed awake through the layers of blankets that covered him. One such blanket flapped open to hit Wind who lay on his other side and the boy startled upright. Around his shoulders was a very familiar shade of red.

“C’mere you little pest!” Warriors launched himself at the smaller boy who dived to avoid the collision.

“It’s not like you were using it!”

Warriors caught a handful of the blankets and started tugging, trying to get a good look at Wind, “You’re not even going to deny you stole my blanket?” He shook Wind a little and reached for where the pirate held the blankets clasped under his chin. All that resulted in was a pink tongue sticking out and trying to lick his arm. He pulled away quickly, “Eugh, you’re disgusting. Where’s my shirt?”

“Why would I have your shirt? That would never fit me!” Wind wound his fingers around the ends of the blanket, refusing to be unwrapped from the warm cocoon he’d formed while Warriors rolled him across the floor, narrowly avoiding fallen pieces of the roof. “Quit pulling at me!”

“Give me my stuff back!”

Their trajectory had them rolling over Sky who groaned once in complaint but didn’t shift from his veritable nest of blankets.

Twilight, now fully awake due to all the screaming, picked up Warriors' forgotten search for the shirt.

[awlumii]

eugh, this morning is already off to a rough start... had to look my old roommate in the face :T but whatever, i'm going to get some good coffee and start my day off right

[ranhaitanisgf]

❝ mornings with ace trappola ‼ ❞

↪ otherwise read as: the various ways ace will make excuses to get close to you

[𖤐] hey twst nation .... how r we 2day !! my first work ever for twst! ive just been having too much ace brainrot okay, i needed to write this. i promise i'll get back on the tokyo revengers + nanbaka grind and finish all the reqs but JUST LET ME HAVE THIS OKAY. anyways. fellow ace luvers PLS ENJOY !! xoxoxo

masterlist

♡ i think out of all the twisted wonderland boys, ace is the one who is the most chaotic to wake up with in the morning. he's not very much of a morning person, but the consistent wake up call at heartslabyul has transformed him into a morning person, (quite against his will).

♡ before his antics though, obviously, the first thing he will do is admire your sleeping figure beside him, treasuring all the details of your face while you rest. he swears, it's not in a creepy way! he just gets a fuzzy feeling in his chest when he looks at you, and this is the only time he can unabashedly stare at you without judgement from anyone, (deuce already gets on his case for being so flirty with you, so he doesn't need anymore of that).

♡ however, once he's finished admiring you, he will immediately try to wake you up. he'll start off small, whispering your name in your ear, then slowly increasing his voice in volume. if that doesn't wake you up, he'll proceed to stick fingers into your ear, nostrils, and even your mouth. if that doesn't wake you up, then his last resort will be roll over onto you, his full weight never failing to wake you up lest you get crushed by him.

"a-ace, can't breathe..." "finally, you took so long!"

♡ (although he will never admit it, the reason he goes to such lengths to wake you up is because he misses hearing your voice and seeing your eyes; he also loves seeing the various expressions you make in response to whatever is going on around you at the moment. put shortly, he's impatient. he doesn't want to wait for you to wake up on your own).

♡ he will often sneak out of his dorm and make his way over to ramshackle, calling you in the middle of the night to come and open the door, greeting you with a mischievous grin, (despite your grumbling and sighing about him invading your dorm, you know that you'll let him in every single time).

♡ there are exceptions to ace's antics, however; even he knows that it would be cruel to wake you up early after you've had a rough day, and especially when you've been studying late or when you've had exams. he likes to tease you, but he's not heartless after all! on these mornings, he will brush his lips against your forehead, admiring you for a moment before heading downstairs, doing his damndest to keep quiet, (it is very hard with how creaky ramshackle is). he'll do his best to make breakfast; it won't be anything fancy, but the cute grin on his face as he hands you a plate will be more than enough.

♡ spending the morning with ace will never not feel domestic; the two of you will banter playfully as you eat, ace cutting off your words with kisses, (multiple times, and no, he will never ever get tired of it). grim will eventually wake up as well, joining the two of you in breakfast and making a disgusted face every time the two of you do anything remotely romantic.

"eugh, don't go kissin' my henchman so casually! hands offa them!" "oi, (y/n)'s mine, cat! go get your own!"

♡ when you're getting ready for the day, ace will scoff at the way you tie your tie, getting closer as he teases you for not being able to tie it right, (even if you tied it perfectly fine). he'll undo the knot, flipping your collar up and adjusting everything properly before he redoes the knot, claiming that it's a million times better than how you did it, (it's an excuse. an excuse for him to get closer to you without you making fun of him).

"there! now you look like an actual student!" "ace, it was fine before-" "nope! i perfected it! riddle making us practice those knots was actually worth doing!

♡ sometimes, he'll pull you in by your tie when he's done with it, his lips crashing into yours for a few moments, then abruptly pulling away with a proud smirk on his face. he'll walk away after that and pretend like nothing happened, telling you to hurry up or you two are going to be late for class.

♡ if the two of you have enough time, he might just let you attempt to do his heart makeup. however, he will absolutely insist that you have to sit on his lap, saying something about how you have to have a good angle to apply it, (it's complete bullshit; he just wants to to be close to him without actually saying it. you'll always let it slide, after a little bit of teasing).

♡ if you ask him, he'll also do his own makeup on you so that the two of you can match! (it makes him a bit more flustered than he will ever care to admit, especially when he sees the giddy grin on your face, simply because the two of you are matching). deuce will give the two of you so much shit for it later, but ace will just make fun of him for being single.

♡ of course, every time he spends the night at ramshackle, he is bound to get an earful from riddle. he tries not to make a habit of it, only coming around once a month in the beginning of your relationship. after a couple of months though, his visits will increase until he's coming by once a week, if not more (he's turned it into a habit despite telling himself he wouldn't). sure, he sees you during classes and after school, but there's something about being with you while you're sleeping that makes him sleep so much easier, (he knows that you're right there in his arms, safe and sound). if he's ever asked though, he will immediately say that he only does it because of deuce's snoring waking him up.

♡ he's just a big softie who loves you so much, (also a big tsundere though...)

[mika-shion]

Small Vent, hope everyone's doing well~

Properly concerned that I'll never have a social life like I did before again.

I don't blame Addie and I don't blame Clay. It's my own fault and I wish there was something I could do to bring it all back to just before.... Before I met her and deluded myself into thinking that "this was the right person" or that "I can handle this".

I subjected everyone to my emotional fits because I was too caught up in my own head to realize what I was doing to the people around me.

I've been working hard the past several months to get to a more stable/mature place, but there's no one still left to talk to about it so it feels like it's too late.

I can't say that I ever really learned how to make friends, I just... Existed and some people gravitated towards me.

2 people stuck around since I was little, then one of them decided they were done and the other doesn't know how to communicate, so they might as well be gone.

Nobody I'm in contact with seems to be in remotely the same boat I am, which just makes everything feel all the more lonelier.

Anyone who knows me well enough who might see this probably just thinks - "eugh, not this shit again" because it all sounds the same at this point.

I'm impatient, partially due to my anxiety and another part due to my trust issues, so the majority of my life has just felt like waiting through all of the rough shit alone.

I'm so tired of being alone, but anybody who knows me wouldn't want to be around me right now...

I'm fighting the urge now to apologize to everyone I know, curl up in a corner and hide again. It's toxic and it doesn't solve anything.

I know what I need to do... I just wish I didn't have to do it alone for the thousandth time.

Ah well... Tonight's just another rough night, it'll be better in the morning.

[thebluemoonwolf]

The Mourning Save

Summary: After crash landing in the modern world, Oromis has to figure out a way to support the first person he's been stuck with in the last 100 years. What better way to do that with something easy like streaming? Everything is going well until he can't ignore the call to his own time anymore. What he didn't expect to happen though, was bringing along extra baggage.

Chapter 11

In the morning Glaedr gave Epona instructions on where to go as you readied the elegant saddle. Anxiety gripped your gut at the thought of battling someone with a sword, especially an elf. You had practiced earlier in the morning, but it felt like studying the night before a test in which you didn't study for in the first place, rushed and exhausted. You only stopped because Oromis advised against rushing something as important as wielding a sword. 

   Eugh I can already feel the judgemental stares from the others. I've never wielded a sword Epona, and what I know, I stole from Eragon. I am a fraud. A copycat, a thief. I have no talents of my own. 

Epona huffed a small flame from her mouth, it had gotten stronger since she first breathed in back in Hedarth. You felt how she was both angered and irritated at the path your thoughts were taking.  

   No other creature in this world has done what you had! You come from a different place, an entire other reality with easier living and boundless knowledge! What did you do when that was stripped from you? You adapted! 

She nudged you rough enough with her snout that you could feel her scales catch your clothing. 

   No rider I willingly chose will have these thoughts. You are you and I am me, and together nothing will oppose us! Let us fly! 

You smiled, and with the sword strapped to your back, you climbed onto your soul bound partner, her wings spread wide as she lurched off the ground. You looked behind you at the hut, admiring as it became smaller and smaller. You were a little wounded when Oromis didn't see you off, but you felt it was such a small thing that you tried to banish the little poison from your mind. Tried. 

You admired the landscape that was the Crags of Tal'naeír, it was beautiful and Oromis was right when he said people desired something like this when the end of their life draws near. Spending the rest of your now long life here didn't seem so bad. 

I will bite you without mercy if your thoughts wander too far into the gutter. She warned with gnashing teeth. You feel your face grow hot as Epona starts to descend into the trees. 

   Oh yeah? What makes you so innocent, Epona? I bet that shelter you found the night of the storm was Glaedr's wings! 

You felt your stomach drop as she purposely dipped down to the ground. The realization was laughable. 

   I am right, aren't I? Ha!

Epona trotted over to the training field where you could see various elves practicing their weaponry. Epona refused to let you off her back until you both reached the elf you were supposed to meet. 

  In the affairs of the heart, said Epona, we are in the same shipwrecked boat. 

You didn't know what elf to specifically look for, but you saw Eragon and let yourself slide off Epona and take a stand next to him. You touched your mask to make sure it was in place before speaking. 

   "Who are we sparring with?" 

Eragon pointed to an elf, the same as all the others. Nothing was really special about him, but expanding your senses, you could feel a suffocating aura of pride around him. You mentally rolled your eyes as he introduced himself to Epona, but not to you. Epona was about to loudly correct him, but you stopped her before she could bare her teeth. 

   Let him be ignorant of the mistake. He will realize it when his flesh is between your teeth. 

First, he challenged Eragon, and Eragon could barely hold his sword against him. You watched carefully, as the elf who you learned was Vanir, moved with the grace of all elves. Untouchable and hypnotic. He battered Eragon into the ground again and again. It was so bad that Eragon suffered one of his fits. You were about to step in and help, but Epona stopped you. 

   Remember what Oromis said. We cannot help him, but why does Saphira let him be berated so? I will tear his arm off if he tries his mouth with you. 

You silently watched, moving your sword in slow moments as the duel continued on. Finally, when Vanir casted Eragon away as if he were a mere bug, and sent him and Saphira away, his eyes landed on you. 

   "Two humans chosen by the dragons? Truly, there must be little hope for us."

You felt Epona rumble, but otherwise she kept still, and you drew your sword. The duel commenced immediately, and you could barely handle the hard blows he was dealing you, but you knew how he moved, so each step you took back you made sure he took twice as much. You don't suffer attacks like Eragon does so you could hold out, but not forever. You danced along the ring, taking blows that you needed and delivering some of your own. Neither side was gaining ground. 

   "Your blood is as thin as your will, rider."

Swords clashed again and again, your arm was tired and screamed at you, but you couldn't give in. 

   "You know not my blood, for the defining features I hide. You, however, have lost something important in your need to appear better than Eragon."

Once more your swords clashed, a few more and your arm will betray you. 

   "And what is that, O hidden one?"

You hooked his sword with yours, and spun the blades wide. Vanir lost his sword, and so did you. 

   "You think yourself better, but really I think that they tested the eggs among all of you. You take your anger out because the egg did not choose you."

Taking a deep agonizing breath, you continued.

   "The dragon didn't choose you because it knew you were not worthy. Your pride poisons your entire being, it will consume you. The thing you lack, Vanir, is empathy and that makes you no better than the king. "

You heard Epona give a throaty laugh and blow smoke at Vanir for good measure. The hour was up by then, so you grabbed your fallen sword, tucked it away and climbed back onto Epona, heading to Oromis hut. 

On the way back, Epona was fuming. Literally. Smoke escaped her nostrils and covered your face, causing you to cough constantly. Landing, you noticed that Eragon was already listening to the forest, and Epona's mind was open, recounting the morning to poor Oromis. 

   Can you BELIEVE his nerve? Nobody will stop me if I wish to have him as an evening snack!

You got off her, and she was getting ready to take off to where Saphira and Glaedr resided in their teachings.

   "Ah, but if you ate him, then there would be nothing more you would want to eat more than him." Said Oromis. 

Epona scoffed and took flight. You sat outside, as Oromis was drinking some tea, he offered you a sip, and you were surprised to find it tasted blueberries. 

   "I didn't take you for a blueberry type of man."

You handed him his cup back, but he refused, so you downed the rest of it, glad that it burned your throat on the way down. 

   "And I did not take you for the confrontational type. Did you really say that to Vanir?"

You shrugged. 

   "He was acting all high and mighty. I just wanted to hurt as much as the words he spoke."

He looked disappointed, and that burned your gut more than the tea did. 

   "You let your emotions cloud your judgment."

   "I wouldn't say that, ebithril. I felt him, he valued his pride more than being a decent human."

Both of you locked eyes and just like the swordplay, neither moved. 

   "You let him bait you into retaliation. Does that not bother you?"

   "No, not really."

   "He is playing a bigger game here that I fear you're missing, not all elves are as patient as me."

You rolled your eyes at him and realized how grateful you were for the mask. 

   "I've learned that, but he doesn't have the right to stomp my race into the mud!"

Your voice was riding higher than intended, and you drew back, shocked with yourself.

   "Then," said Oromis, taking both of your hands in his. 

   "Do not let it. His words mean nothing to what you have accomplished. You know what you have done, he does not. He has heard the stories that you created around yourself, he does not know the story that I do. Do not let this happen again."

He held your hands tightly, until your anger subsided and you were able to think clearly. 

   "I will steel my mouth where my tongue fails, Oromis."

Only then did he let your hands gently go. 

Eragon finished his meditation sooner than you expected, and everyone was in the hut enjoying lunch. You tried your hardest to not wolf it down after all the sword fighting earlier. You were so busy, you barely heard when Eragon said he had an answer as to why he fought. Oromis motioned for him to continue. 

   "Because… Galbatorix has already caused more suffering in a hundred years than we could in a single generation."

He didn't look very happy with that answer, but Oromis continued to ask him what he considered evil. This moved into whatever Urgals, a shade, and a Ra'zac were, so you mostly kept quiet as you had never seen or dealt with any of those races before. 

Then Oromis moved on to magic, which you studied almost to an obsession. You wrote, too and even started to converse in the language as well. Every mistake you made didn't go without a correction though, which you were proud of. He then spoke of wards, of which you understood as some sort of protection that uses the user's energy until it is no longer needed. 

The conversation moved back to the Ra'zac, and, having already tuned the two out, were shocked when Eragon asked you a question. 

   "Do you think the Ra'zac came from your home?"

You laid your scroll down, and really thought about it. If you could somehow switch dimensions, couldn't something else?

   "Where I come from, only humans exist. We have explored all there is, besides the deepest depths of the ocean but even then, nothing sentient, and intelligent other than a human exists in my world."

Oromis was quick to add on,

   "And, we are mostly sure the Ra'zac came from whatever land your people abandoned Eragon. But let's move on to more pleasant topics if it pleases you."

He took you both outside, and then explained what a fairth is. You understood it as a magical painting. But then a very curious thought entered your mind. You whispered into Oromis' ear, since you didn't want to explain to Eragon what you were trying to accomplish. 

   "Master, is it possible to create a gif with the fairth?"

Oromis gave it some serious thought, handed you the blank fairth and said, 

   "I didn't know moving pictures existed until I entered your world. Try it and see what happens."

So you looked at the Crags of Tal'naeír, and all its beautiful moving trees, and uttered the spell needed to create the fairth. When it finally settled into the image you created, you found that the trees did move in the wind like they did now, but everything else remained blurry, but recognizable. With a sign from Oromis, you handed him the fairth and he examined it under his careful eyes. 

   "Well, this is interesting. You accomplished what you wanted, which I doubt was possible, but you focused too much on the motion of the world. You must take everything into consideration. Create another one."

Just then, Orik and Arya appeared from the forest, startling you. You hadn't spoken or really seen Arya after the incident in Hedarth, and that made you feel all prickly. Besides Orik, everyone else exchanged the traditional elf greeting. Orik said how he wanted to see how Eragon's training was going, so you assumed he dragged Arya to take him here. Arya seemed very focused on everything that wasn't Eragon, but you made no comment as your focus was back on the fairth. You tried again to get the picture of the fairth to move, this time taking more focus on the area around you rather than just the movements. The image came out more clear this time, but the movements were not defined. Giving your creation to Oromis again to examine, he said you were getting closer, but were not quite there. 

You were getting bored with the single image, so to cleanse your mental pallet, you looked around for something new to make into a fairth. You noticed that you were far enough away from everyone that you could get them all into a single fairth, so you did. You watched as the wind moved their hair, how Orik was serious, studying Eragon, how Arya was distant, how Eragon seemed troubled. Then you noticed Oromis last, in the middle of the pair he was watching everything. You let your magic expand and wander, feeling everything and anything, and finally, when you felt the fairth was done, you looked upon what you created. It was moving, that was for sure. Hair was blowing in the direction of the wind, and everyone and their expressions moved as the wind did, only to repeat after a second or two everything was clear and understandable. What shocked you, was how the picture had a clear epicenter. Oromis was the most bright and vibrant, and it seemed that his vibrant image leaked into what made everything else so clear and precise. You were shocked at what you created, and how personal it felt. It was like you were choosing to put salt in an open wound, raw and unbearable. 

Then you heard a shattering noise and flinched. When you looked up, Arya was already heading toward the forest from where she had appeared. You couldn't tell what was on the fairth that she destroyed, but it unnerved you as you pocketed your own as if you had committed some unspoken crime. 

Oromis subjected Orik to leave, and come back tomorrow when training would resume. Eragon had left by then, and you could feel how confused he was as he and Saphira left. You were just as worried about your creation, and shared it with Epona, hoping to somehow lessen your guilt. 

   It looks fine, I do not understand what has got you so worked up. 

You tried to explain how it looked, how it showed feelings that you never voiced, but still Epona was unconvinced of the issue you had caused yourself. 

   I do not understand. You shared a bed before right? This should be nothing. 

You jolted at her bluntness. 

   Do not say it like that! We did nothing but share heat. 

   Aye, as most people intend to do when they share their sleeping quarters.

You shoved Epona's shoulders playfully, and went to grab your sword for your nightly training, your arm was still sore so Oromis said to use your other hand. You looked at him as if he had just said the sky was a bright green. 

   "I don't- I won't be able to do my best with my other hand."

Oromis readied his golden sword, and waited for you. 

   "Yes, that's the point. You must be as good with your dominant as well as the non dominant."

And so, you sparred, pretty pitifully. He was able to bruise and nick you as he wished, and more than once your sword flew out of your hand. You kept going until the sword felt comfortable and less alien in your non dominant grip. Your sparring only ended because your hand cramped so badly that it refused to grasp the sword anymore.  

   "It was easier to knock Vanir's sword from his hands earlier today, but now I feel as if you purposely beat me around like a child."

You heard his musical laugh echo across the glade, and it was beautiful as it was haunting.

   "Yes, I feel just as you did about Vanir. You needed a lesson in being humble."

You scoffed at him, and put your sword back in it's covering. Without warning, Oromis shot a ball of water at you, which you caught purely on instinct, and a short single word from the ancient language. Getting an idea, you shot the ball back at him, but purposefully let it splash the area he was standing on. With a quick dig through your knowledge of the language you said,

   "Let the water freeze where it has landed."

And we're happy with the result. Oromis' feet were stuck to the ground, encased in a frost that covered the bottom of his feet.

   "Good! Keep going!" 

He sent more water toward you, which you sent back in kind. It was an unspoken rule, but whoever was touched by water would lose. Each blast of a spell would cause a beautiful cascade of droplets to cover the area, and both you and him seemed to dance as each of you dodged the spells that were too fast to form a sentence to banish the motion. The moon was high in the sky by the time you called it quits, exhausted and soaking wet. Switching to the ancient language, Oromis was helping you up from a nasty fall that was caused by one of his attacks. 

   "I have not fought like that in years, it was fun."

You laughed as you wobbled back to his hut, shaking off the water you could before speaking some words to dry yourself before you stepped inside. 

   "It was an amazing fight! I haven't had a water fight since I was a kid. We have to do that more!"

He seemed more alive, his eyes filled with a distant passion for magic. It made your heart contrast painfully.

   "We will, each night after the sword practice. You are getting better faster than I could hope for, and Epona only grows bigger. You will rival Eragon soon enough."

Taking off your mask, you set it back in the satchel you carried, finally free of hiding from the day, but you noticed the raised skin on your forehead burned with the recent use of magic. You felt for the fairth that you had created earlier, nestled inside the satchel. 

   "You created the mask to hide my entire identity, right?"

You couldn't meet Oromis' gaze, but you twirled the unbroken fairth in your hands, outside of his view. 

   "I did, why do you ask? Are you still upset that it cost so much of my energy?"

   "No… no I'm just curious…."

You could feel his gaze burn into you as you found the courage to look up. 

   "About?"

   "Well, people see me differently, Orik sees a man, Arya sees a woman…. Vanir… well I'm not sure he saw beyond the fact that I couldn't be an elf… but… what do you see?"

He went back to the scroll he was illustrating, quiet and calculating. 

   "You are asking me how I see you with the mask on? Or how I see you in general?"

   "Uh… both, really."

It was quiet for such a long time after that, you almost just went to bed and pretended you never asked the question. 

   "I see you as I have always seen you, with or without the mask it does not change, because I saw and experienced who you were before it was created. To me, your vixe does not change, nor your appearance because that has never mattered. I look at you, and all I see are the priceless memories we created before we were both taken here. Does that answer your question?"

It was all spoken in the ancient language so you knew he was telling the truth. You placed the fairth you created earlier today in front of him. 

   "Yes, I suppose it does."

Then you went to bed. 

————————————————

Tags: [@overlordspirit18] [@raiikuii] [@panic-based-riot]

[beckzorz]

What Happens in Vegas

Pairing, Words: Bucky Barnes/Reader, 1.1k Prompt/Warnings: A drunken night in Vegas leads to more than you care to take on. A/N: Written from a prompt from @prunes-said-bucky​ for @the-ss-horniest-book-club​’s quarantined drunk drabbles. Thank you so much!! I hope you enjoy!

Is it five minute or ten before you can blink your bleary eyes all the way open? You can’t tell. The world’s a warm, groggy haze, heavy over you as your eyelashes brush against a strange-smelling pillowcase. You shift a millimeter towards the edge of the bed and groan.

The heaviness over you moves.

You turn your head on your neck and look.

Oh. That’s… that’s an arm.

That’s the arm.

The arm, and your skin, and not much else.

You press the heel of your hand against your forehead. It’s still dim—no lights on, just a crack of cloudy day from the gap in the curtain.

There’s something on your finger.

You force your eyes to focus on the glint.

Oh.

A ring.

—

Painkiller. Shower. Ginger ale from the fridge. Clothes pulled carefully back on.

All that, and Bucky hasn’t moved an inch. That liquid poison of Thor’s must be powerful stuff. You don’t dare touch it, and looking at the Winter Soldier drooling lightly onto the pillow, you don’t regret that decision a bit. He’s totally helpless right now. If you shot him in the head, he wouldn’t notice.

But you need him alive.

You rub the back of your neck and look at the man sprawled over a little over half the bed. You’ve seen him naked before—you can’t be on a team like the Avengers and not have seen the whole team naked within two weeks—but never like this. Awake, yes; while changing, of course; sleeping alone, sure. Even the few times you and Nat and Wanda have walked in on him going at it with someone else, which always makes Nat laugh and you blush and look away.

It’s only natural to lust after him, really. Him, and everyone else, at least when you’re in a mindframe straight enough to separate your imagination from reality. When no one else is real…

Well, of course you fixate on your team. They’re your everything.

You wouldn’t have minded ending up in Bucky’s bed on a normal day. It happens sometimes. Even normal friend groups get incestuous, and with all the tension and death and blood and sweat and tears...

You turn your hand, and your ring sparkles. Your stomach heaves, and you yank the thing off and slam it on the nightstand.

This isn’t a normal day.

Behind you, Bucky groans.

“Eugh?”

A little laugh escapes you. “Guess that mead really did a number on you, Barnes.”

“Fuughrbshl.”

You twist and grin down at the back of Bucky’s head, at the way his back arches to shove his face further into the pillow as he muffles curses. Your eyes drift down his spine. With his eyes covered, you have no qualms in admiring his bum.

Of course, he’s the Winter Soldier. He doesn’t need eyes to see.

Bucky reaches down and pulls the sheet up to his waist. “Didja come here to gawk, to poke fun, or are ya here for a reason?”

So he’s forgotten. Damn, that mead really did do a number on him.

You don’t know how to answer, so you don’t. You just look at the ring on the nightstand. It’s a nice ring, a solid band, traditional. But… yikes. It shouldn’t be yours.

Bucky shifts. His breath catches, and you let out a slow breath of your own.

There it is.

“I thought I musta dreamed that,” he murmurs. The bed creaks as he sits up, and you finally look back at him.

He’s close—so close, his face a scant foot from yours, and you’re tempted to jerk back. But you don’t. Your memory is hazy, but only hours ago those lips were on your own, against your skin, between your legs.

Bucky swallows and licks his lips.

Yes, he remembers too.

You look aside, cheeks warm. “Anyway, obviously we have to undo that.” You jerk your head towards the ring on the nightstand. “I don’t have legal’s number handy. Do you?”

“Course I do.”

He doesn’t move. You can feel his eyes on your face. Seconds crawl by; goosebumps prickle up your arms, your spine.

“Well?” you ask.

“Well what?”

You swallow and meet his gaze. “Why aren’t you calling legal?”

Bucky lets out a breath. He shifts until he’s next to you, his modesty forgotten as he cups your cheek in his hand and picks up the ring you’d discarded. His skin is rough, but his touch is gentler than a sigh.

“I don’t want to undo this.”

You gape. Bucky traces your bottom lip with his calloused thumb; your chin trembles.

“I want to be with you.” He leans forward to press his forehead against yours, his eyes still wide and bright and drawing you in. “I want to treasure you. I want to relish you.”

You push him away. “I’m not a condiment, Barnes.”

A silent moment, and his lip twitches. So does yours, and then you’re smiling because you can’t help yourself.

“Even if we are in a serious pickle.”

Bucky laughs, and in a heartbeat he’s standing, naked as the day he was born, swinging you around in his arms like you’ve just made all his dreams come true. “God, you’re perfect! What kind of idiot would I be to let you get away?”

You were almost giddy yourself, but now…

You nudge him until he sets you down, his eyes wide and hopeful.

“Bucky, I’m not a fish in your net. You don’t get to decide if I swim away.”

Bucky’s face falls. He sits heavily on the bed, elbows on his knees, jaw clenched, eyes anywhere but on yours.

Your heart breaks.

Has Bucky Barnes been dreaming of you? Has he been wanting you, beyond the drunken haze of last night? How could you have missed it?

Is it such a bad thing, to be wanted by this man?

You consider him, top to bottom and back up again, and swallow down your desire. “You don’t get to decide if I swim away, or if I swim back.”

Bucky doesn’t look at you. But his jaw loosens, and he sits up straighter, and he holds out his hand to you.

You take it.

“When I get married,” you tell him, “I want to do it with my whole self present. I don’t want to do it drunk and foolish.” You sit beside him and lay your head on his shoulder. The wedding ring is still on the nightstand, still glinting in the morning light. “Both of us deserve that.”

Bucky turns to kiss the top of your head. He blows out a long breath.

“Okay.” He sits up straighter and squeezes your hand. “Well then, fishy. Can I take you to dinner?”

[banashee]

  CW: - swearing - exhaustion - longing / loneliness

Late night and early morning

 In all honesty, it could have been much, much worse. At least, this is what Jon keeps telling himself as he is wide awake in a hotel bed and doesn't even react when a heavy arm is swung over his shoulder, almost hitting him in the face.

 He sighs, not for the first time that night. Jon simply moves the hand out of his face and closer to his shoulder in slight irritation, knowing it won’t stay there for long.

 Predictably, the only answer he gets is a long snore, about as gentle as a chainsaw.

 Eyes heavy, Jon tries to make himself more comfortable. But once again, this proves itself to be a lot harder now that Tim, fast asleep and dead to the world, seems to have chosen him as his own personal pillow. Or teddy bear - it’s a bit of an even tie so far.

 Truth be told, this is not at all what Jon had expected from this work trip.

    A few hours earlier     -

     It isn’t that big a deal, really. Jon and Tim have been sent to a small village up north, in order to investigate an old, abandoned farm building. Strange things are supposed to happen, and well, given the nature of their job, it is on them to take a close and personal look at it.

 Truth be told, the two of them are happy to get out of the city for a bit, especially since it’s on the institute’s dime. They just have to be there, wander the old abandoned farm and then make themselves a few nice and comfortable evenings. There is a small pub, right next to their hotel, and a lake that is nice to sit nearby.

 All in all, it is a rather nice and idyllic place.

 “This is great, I almost feel like we’re on a holiday. Well, minus this part here, maybe.” Tim gestures around and in the general direction of a very old, ragged scarecrow to prove his point. It really is an ugly thing.

 “The village, certainly. Him over there? Not so much.” Jon nods over to the scarecrow, and for a moment, it feels like it might be staring back. He shakes his head - what a silly thought. He continues,

 “I have a feeling we’re wasting our time here. I cannot see anything out of the norm, this place is just… Old. And abandoned. “

 “Well, it adds to the…      Spooky     factor.” Tim grins at the disgusted look on his friend's face as soon as the word leaves his mouth - he knows that “spooky” gives Jon the hives, and admittedly, he’s having way too much fun with it.

 “Eugh. I wouldn’t put it like that, but… Yes. Yes, I think it does.”

 “It’s a psychological thing… But then again, people did disappear here. I’m just not sure if it really is something paranormal or simply, well, crime.” Tim shrugs, and bends forward to take a closer look at some dusty artefacts in a lopsided shelf on the wall. It’s mostly fertilizer, watering cans and all sorts of small tools - nothing that would look suspicious on a farm at all.

 “And as far as we know, Police never found any signs here that would indicate crimes. Still… I’m really not sure about this… Hmm...” with a thoughtful noise, Jon peaks around the corner of a dusty, cob-web covered tractor. Careful not to touch anything, he searches the corner with a torch and almost jumps to the ceiling when the light cone lands on a fairly large spider in her net, surrounded by several egg sacks in the corner. Jon could swear the bloody thing is staring right back at him with way too many hungry eyes.

 “Jesus! Fuck no…”

 “Everything okay?” Tim asks from behind him, and Jon can hear him stepping closer as his heart is about to beat out of his chest. He      hates hates hates    spiders with a passion, and for good reason… But he isn’t willing to discuss this right here.

 “I- yes, I’m fine… I just got startled, is all. Huge spider.” Jon shudders in disgust, and is ridiculously proud that he doesn’t jump at the touch from hand on his back. Mostly because he knows who is coming up behind him.

 “...That’s one big Nope in a web.” Tim agrees, peering over the smaller man’s shoulder and then makes a face.

 “At least there is nothing else to look at there… No hidden doors or anything strange as far as I can tell.”

 “No, it doesn't look like it. Come on, let’s call it a day. We still need to check in to the hotel.”

 “...Right.” quietly thankful for the excuse to leave,  Jon easily falls into step with Tim. They only arrived a few hours earlier, but they knew that once they checked in, they wouldn’t want to leave anytime soon. So, they make their way to the hotel right after the first, very rough investigation.

 It’s a small village and the hotel is easily found. It’s an old, but well taken care of building. Clearly, it is a very central place and looks pleasant enough from the outside. It is definitely a lot nicer than anything either of the researchers would have booked for themselves. But since the institute is paying… Well, they intend to enjoy the stay while it lasts.

 From behind the service desk, Jon and Tim are greeted by a clerk who is of friendly and helpful nature. This is probably why it takes the two men a second to catch on when he reads back the booking information to them for confirmation.

 “So, that is one double for three night’s then, gentlemen. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

 “No thank you, this is fine - wait, a double? Not a twin?”

 The smile on the clerk's face seems to freeze into place, and he begins typing, slightly more panicked than before.

 “I am so sorry, there must have been a mistake in the booking.” Apologetically, he looks up and back and forth between Tim and Jon.

 “...Usually, I’d offer to rebook but as it is, we’re full for the next two weeks. I’m really sorry for the inconvenience, gentlemen.”

 Jon glances over at Tim.

 The two of them have been working together for a while now, and it is safe to say that they’re friends. There might even be something like a mutual crush, but… It’s not like either of them is talking about that part. Instead, they share another quick glance and come to an agreement.

 “That’s alright, we’ll take the double. Please, there is no need to worry.”

 Clearly still embarrassed, the man behind the counter sends them on their way with not only the keys to the room, but also a generous handful of vouchers for the in-house restaurant.

 The evening itself is quiet and comfortable, spent with good food, conversations and friendly banter. It’s easy to forget about the job, now that they’re done for the day. And thankfully, it seems to be a bit of a bust - as frustrating as it is to find that, they still have three nights booked here and they’ll be covered back at the institute for the time being.

 In all honesty, both Tim and Jon could think of plenty that would be worse than being stuck in a nice little village with a friend.

 As the evening is getting late, the two of them make their way up to the small but comfortable room.

 And this is how the two of them end up in the double bed.

     At first, they’re back to back, with a tiny bit of casual distance between them. It’s their careful attempt to not remind themselves of feelings that may or may not be mutual. But that lasts for about five minutes, which is about as long as it takes Tim to fall asleep that night. As soon as he is out, Jon is informed of that fact when the first wave of snores shakes the bed. Or at least, that’s what it feels like.

 “Psst. Hey. Tim. You’re snoring.” he presses out between clenched teeth, but it’s useless. Jon sighs, but he doesn’t try again. For one, he doesn’t want to make a fuss, and he also doesn't really want to wake Tim up.

 Lord knows, he is aware that sleep doesn’t always come easily to him. It doesn’t come easily to Jon himself, either, and that’s not even taking into account someone who clears an entire forest in their sleep right next to his ear.

 And this is when the shifting back and forth begins.

 Arms are flailing, elbows collide with ribs and shins are kicked - Jon does his best to rearrange himself in order to be somewhat comfortable, but it never lasts long.

 That is, until Tim turns over onto his other side and slides his arms around Jon. He shifts a bit, until they’re pressed flush against each other and Jon can feel the warm, even breath on his neck. At least, Tim’s snoring is now way more quiet - more like a soothing white noise instead of the offensive chainsaw.

 Even though it is dark and no one else is awake to see it, Jon can feel the deep flush creeping up his cheeks. But apart from that, he is… Comfortable - happy even.

 His heart is beating faster now, almost hammering out of his chest. It feels like it must be deafening, and Jon is almost surprised that the sound of it doesn’t fill the entire room.

 He didn’t expect any of this, but there is no denying that it feels good to be held, to be close to someone he cares a lot about. But Jon doesn’t know how to address any of this in the future. He is well aware of his ever growing feelings for Tim, but this… This is much more.

 Jon feels warm, happy and comfortable. Laying here like this, surrounded by warmth and with the breathing, sturdy body of his friend pressed against him, the idea of actually talking to Tim about this doesn’t seem too bad anymore.

 Almost without noticing, one of his hands finds its way to Tim’s forearm slung over his chest. Skin brushes against skin, and it feels just right.

 “You couldn't have come up with that position like an hour ago, could you?” Jon asks sleepily, but he smiles. Unsurprisingly, all he gets in response is another quiet snore as Tim tightens his hold around him. It only makes Jon smile wider, but he already drifts off into sleep and doesn’t answer. .

     Sooner rather than later, the next morning comes. The first rays of sunlight creep in through the half closed blinds, tinting the room into a soft glow.

 Tim is the first to wake up, and he is pleasantly surprised when he realizes that there is a weight on his chest and hair tickling his chin. It’s been a long time since he woke up with someone else, and truth be told, he’s really missed that feeling.

 He is especially happy since it is Jon of all people who is currently fast asleep half on top of him. There is something between the two of them, and has been for a while actually. A feeling that seems to grow every day, and yet, neither of them has initiated a conversation about it as of now.

 Tim glances over at the clock on the bedside table - it’s still early, so he closes his eyes again and lets himself drift back off into sleep.

 The next time he wakes up, the sun is completely up in the sky and the clock informs him that they were asleep for longer than they probably should have been.

 Despite all that, Tim doesn’t make a move to wake Jon up, too happy and content to be close to him. Instead, his hands start combing through his hair absentmindedly until eventually, Jon stirs awake. He blinks a few times, clearly taking in the situation, but he doesn’t move away.

 That fact alone makes Tim happier than it probably should.

 “Good morning.” he says, carefully casual while he continues to gently untangle a knot in the other man’s hair.

 “....Just five more minutes…” comes the sleepy response, muffled into his chest.

 “Five more minutes.” Tim agrees, and leans in closer. He’s perfectly fine with that - it’s not like this is a hardship. Not at all.

 But as it is, the idyllic morning can’t last forever. The next time Tim looks at the clock, he realizes that now they really are late - it’s not like anyone would care or find out, but the responsible adult part of him already feels slightly guilty.

 “Jon, wake up. We’re late.” he regretfully informs him, and Jon shifts a bit while opening one eye. He looks like a sleepy cat, and Tim finds that endearing as hell.

 “I suppose we are… But it’s not like anything would wait for us out there.” And grumpy, too. That’s good to know, he figures.

 “Oh wow, I’m sure Creepy Frank over at the farm would be disappointed to hear that.” Tim quips at him, the smile clear in his voice.

 After a beat of silence, Jon lifts his head off of his chest and squints at him through messy strands of his hair.

 “You named the…? You know what, nevermind.” he flops down again and decides to not-care. He’s too tired to deal with this.

 “Well, we’ll spend some time at that farm, we might as well give our ugly friend a name.”

 That actually gets him a laugh.

 “How very charming of you. What time is it?”, he asks then.

 “Half nine.”

 “Half - okay yes we really should get going….” Regretfully, Jon peels himself off of Tim and feels across the nightstand with one hand, searching for his glasses without actually sitting up. Even though they haven’t even left the bed yet, he already feels colder.

     Their day is largely uneventful. Mainly, the two of them keep investigating and walking around the old farm, talking and bantering like they always do. Occasionally, they throw a quip towards Creepy Frank, just for the fun of it, but they still can’t find any evidence of anything that would be relevant to them and their jobs.

 They discuss this while sitting by the lake, comfortably in the shade of a large tree while they’re having a late lunch.

 It’s idyllic and comfortable, and under different circumstances, “romantic” would be a word that could come to mind.

 But as it is, neither of them mentions the last night or the way they woke up. It still doesn’t stop them from sitting closer together than usual, close enough even, so that their legs bump together.

 Maybe, one day, they can come back here together - it's a daydream well worth entertaining.

 When the darkened night sky stretches out over the village, Jon and Tim climb into bed next to each other. But unlike the night before, they don’t even try to keep a distance. In quiet agreement, they shuffle close to one another and rearrange themselves until they’re both in a comfortable embrace. They fall asleep fast that night, listening to each other's heartbeat and breathing until sleep pulls them under.

 By the time morning comes, both Tim and Jon are once again happy, warm and comfortable as they wake up wrapped around each other. Sleepily, they enjoy the gentle physical contact for as long as it lasts.

 They are well rested - better so than either of them has been in a long time.

     Their remaining days in the village are pretty much the same. There is nothing noticeable going on in the old farm and Creepy Frank is unsettling as always.

 Around lunch time on the last day, they have once again made themselves comfortable by the lake. They write their reports there, because there is no point in going back to the farm or the hotel now - they’ll leave later that evening, their luggage already stashed away in lockers at the train station. They’ll miss this place - despite it being technically a work trip, It has been a nice change from their busy everyday life in London. Not to mention the other, more private parts of it all.

 Neither of them has made a move to talk about The Thing between them yet, and maybe that won’t happen until they’re back home - who knows. Just a few times, Tim opens his mouth as if he isn’t sure what to say, but then he always comes around with some sort of joke or teasing.

 Jon picks up on it, but he isn’t great at talking, either. He wants to - but as it is, he remains silent and chews on his words without getting any of them out.

 At first glance, it looks like nothing has really changed, but when Tim and Jon walk to the train station in the early evening, they hold hands the entire way. Once they have found their seats, they continue to do so, but still, neither of them mentions anything. For now, it is perfectly alright. Neither of them wants to have this potentially awkward conversation in public.

 They keep up their conversation and occasionally squeeze the other’s hand in silent acknowledgement.

     The everyday life in London and the Magnus Institute gets them back into its claws almost as soon as they return to work. There isn’t a lot of opportunity to start a serious personal conversation, and so they fall back into their old routine. They work on opposite desks, they share lunch breaks and walk to the library together, and things should be as they always are.

 They are not.

 Jon notices it in himself first. In the short time he’d been away with Tim, those three nights sharing a bed with him had been the best sleep he’d gotten in months, if not years. It had been only three nights - but Jon misses him already.

 When before, he’d been faintly aware of, and mostly ignoring his feelings for Tim, now he lays awake at night because he feels cold and lonely without him.

 Jon stares at the ceiling of his bedroom, eyes itching from tiredness. He’d give anything to fall asleep right now, but he knows it is useless.

 Sleep has always been a difficult topic for him, as insomnia, nightmares and circling thoughts about everything and anything tend to keep him awake on a regular basis. But those three days… Those three days had been special, and Jon isn’t sure he can ever get back from the way that makes him feel.

 One night, about a week after returning back home, he is staring at his ceiling again, half-tempted to text Tim, who always looks tired and worn out when he sees him at work. But Jon doesn’t want to take any chances - what if he does manage a bit of sleep and then gets woken up from a text in the middle of the night?

 His thumb hovers over the send button in their ongoing text conversation.

     Hi,  

     Are you awake?  

 It’s short, but Jon knows it will tell Tim an awful lot. He sighs, unsure what to do. But then, he accidentally moves wrong, and he hits SEND without meaning to. He shoots up into a sitting position in his bed, cursing out loud as he stares at the screen. After the first shock, he calms down. it’s not like he didn’t want to send the text, it’s just that he isn't’t mentally prepared for it. Not really.

 Before he can go down another rabbit hole of thoughts, his mobile phone vibrates in his hand, and a text from Tim appears on his screen.

     Hi, I sure fucking am. Can’t sleep. You?  

     Can’t sleep either. Not since. Well.  

 Jon doesn’t even think as he types his reply, and he sends it off before he can stop himself. He is half tempted to ask if Tim wants company, although he doesn’t know how to phrase that over text. Not with all the feelings they haven’t yet talked about.

 He is saved from agonizing over it when Tim himself asks him the very same question.

     Do you want company?  

 It would be an understatement to say that Jon is relieved.

     Yes, please. I’d like that  

     Tell you what? I’m already on my way. I fucking hate sleeping on my own.  

 That last text makes Jon’s heart beat a little bit faster once again, but he is more relieved than anything. And to his great surprise, it doesn’t take as long as he’d thought it would until his doorbell rings.

 He scrambles out of bed and into the hallway to open the door. It doesn’t occur to him just how frazzled he must look. Deep purple bags under his eyes, hair standing up in every direction as it has escaped from his braid and clothes that are way too big on him and hang off of him like potato sacks.

 He is tired - so, so tired.

 Only a short while later, Tim shuffles out of the lift, and he looks just as exhausted as Jon feels. He must have rolled straight out of bed, put on shoes and a jacket and that’s it.

 Instead of making one of his usual quips, Tim simply slumps into Jon as he hugs him, his head resting on top of the smaller man’s.

 “Hey.” He hugs back and remains standing in the doorway - he is pretty sure they’re both going to fall over if he tries to move now.

 “Hmmm… Much better.” Tim squeezes him a bit tighter, like he always does when he is showing affection. it’s very much him, and Jon finds he is long used to it by now. Even more so, he needs it. It makes him feel warm and reassured.

 “Wanna come in? It’s much more comfortable than the hallway.” he tries to reason, and yawns. All he wants is to get back to bed, preferably with the warm presence that is Tim.

 Quietly, he nods and let’s go of Jon, but very reluctantly so.

 The two of them shuffle back into the dark bedroom, where the covers are kicked aside in a messy tangle. Clear evidence that Jon himself has trouble sleeping as well, even though it is obvious by now.

 Almost wordlessly, the two of them climb in, much like they did the other week in the shared hotel room, and simply hold each other close.

 “Thank you.”

 The words are so quiet, Jon almost misses them. But he doesn’t, and he knows exactly what they mean. As bad as he is with communication and interpersonal relationships sometimes, he understands. He understands and he feels the same.

 “Of course. I missed you, too.” he answers, just as quietly, and without thinking, presses a quick kiss on top of the bright purple mop of hair resting on his chest. It’s ironic, really, how their positions are now in reverse to what they were back on the work trip, but they don’t mind either way. All that counts is that they are close now.

 They don’t talk any more than that, because they are both way too exhausted to hold a conversation.

 As they drift off into sleep, they remain wrapped around each other, soaking up each other's warmth and company like a sponge. Being together feels just right.

 Tim and Jon have been friends for a while, and neither of them could tell when the romantic feelings had first started to show themselves. But they know that they care deeply, and most of all, need each other.

 Falling asleep together is bliss, and it makes them feel safe and loved. It really shouldn’t have been surprising that the two of them had so much trouble after getting a small taste of what could be.

 Jon and Tim hold each other close as they finally fall asleep. Fingers brush softly over beard stubble, hair and exposed bits of skin while their lips quietly find each other in the dark. And really, for now that is worth much more than words.

        “I can’t sleep without you anymore.” They don’t say that night, but they do so the next morning when they wake up, almost in the same embrace as they have fallen asleep in.

 They face each other, and their words are sealed with another kiss. It feels different, in the light of the morning, but it feels just as right as searching for one another at night, exhausted but safe together in the dark.

 “I love you.”, the two of them blurt out pretty much simultaneously soon after, and really, what else is there to say?

 Both Jon and Tim are happy, after all. And so they make their way into the kitchen for breakfast, hand in hand and with a warm, quiet and content feeling spreading throughout them.