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starlightsearches · 8 months ago

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Heloooos! I've been sober from using tumblr for almost two years but your recent Hux post has me relapsing and its all your doing in the best ways possible. If it gives you any inspo, could you mayhaps write a modern!hux who has reader as their personal guard? My current job has me babysitting a higher up as punishment (the guy makes my life miserable but if was The Armitage Hux I would bark if he asked). Like an enemies to lovers and refusing to just be his friend due to too many feelings ?????

Sleepless Nights

Thanks for the request, my love! Sorry if it's not "enemies" enough for you, I have this insane fear of people being angry with me so I've never been good at the whole enemies to lovers thing. Anyways, let me know if you like what you see :0) Comments, likes, and reblogs are very cool!

Warnings: Kind of slutty, kind of rambly, hux is kind of toxic, language. I think that's it!

You're about three bites into your wilty Caesar salad when the alarm on your phone chimes.

You fiddle with the volume buttons for a second before silencing the noise completely, steeling yourself in preparation for the look you just know Veronica is sending your way.

It's worse than you'd anticipated. You actually flinch a little when you meet her eyes.

She stabs at her own food ferociously, but doesn't take a bite of the pad thai she ordered, bringing the fork level with her gaze. Being on the business end of those tines makes your heart beat a little faster.

"I thought you had twenty minutes for lunch."

You sneak the lid of your Tupperware in between your fingers, slipping it back over the top what's left of your food.

"No . . . I said the meeting would be twenty minutes. I have to be back at my desk before he's done."

Veronica chews at her bottom lip, and you just know that—if you were sitting anywhere that wasn't right outside her boss's office—she'd be cussing you out for, once again, letting Hux take advantage of your truly incredible work ethic.

Lucky for you, if there's one thing your friend likes more than violent outbursts, it's office gossip. The urge overtakes her, and Veronica leans in closer with a passing glance at Phasma's open door, lowering her voice conspiratorially.

"What's his deal lately, anyway?"

Interesting. You thought you were the only one who had noticed a change in Hux's temperament.

He had a reputation, of course—there was a reason he'd had five different executive assistants in the past year—and everybody checked over their shoulders before they bitched about him in the break room.

It hit you hardest—always in the blast radius, so to speak—with your desk just outside his door. You'd spent plenty of time rolling your eyes behind his back, or muttering curses under your breath when you heard his door latch.

But you'd put up with a lot more for a lot less, and you found you were able to take most of your boss's asshole-ish tendencies in stride.

So what if the hours are long? Sitting at your desk late into the night, filing memos and typing up emails between coffee runs was lonely, but your nights before the job were, too. At least now you were getting paid.

The past few weeks had been strange, though. Longer hours, later nights. His presence hovering over your shoulder or watching you through the crack in his door, that nervous energy always focused on you, waiting for you to misstep.

Then there were the calls during the few moments you were outside of the office, filled with reminders for routines you'd never once forgotten. Hux had been fidgety and restless during those morning debriefs and stumbling over his words half the time he passed your desk with some new directive.

"What's his deal ever?" you counter, and she snorts—then when that feels too mean, "he said he hasn't been sleeping."

Veronica purses her lips, smiling around the next word.

"Oh."

You really don't have the time to wait around for an explanation—the elevator up to the top floor already takes three minutes on its own—but, god, the way she says that word stops you like an ice pick to the heart.

"What?"

"Come on," she rolls her eyes, wondering how you could be so obtuse, "everybody knows that when a guy says he can't sleep it's because . . ."

She waits for you to fill in the rest.

"Uhhhhh . . ."

"It means," Veronica sighs, yanking you closer by the arm so nobody will overhear, "that he's been thinking about you. You know, like—" she mimics the beat of some cheesy porn intro, with the bwops and the chicka-waahs.

As if you didn't already get the message.

Your stomach rolls, and not with hunger—although you're wasting valuable time you could have to shovel the rest of your lunch into your mouth on the way back to your desk.

It takes a moment, but you manage a weak laugh, shaking yourself out of your stupor.

Hux didn't think about you like that. He didn't think about you at all unless he was reading his dictations over your shoulder while you were still writing them, just in case he needed to preemptively correct your mistakes.

"Uh, okay, you're insane."

Veronica's brows come together at the challenge—you know she won't stand for that. She scans the immediate area until she narrows in on a victim.

"Hey, Stephen."

The new intern's on his third trip past her desk since you got here, turning so quick to the side you're surprised his head stays attached to his neck.

He's been waiting for this moment all day.

Stephen's cute—dark, fluffy hair and big eyes—eager like a puppy with his clumsy, loping walk . . . and he's got no fucking chance. Veronica would chew him into pieces.

He runs over to her desk, totally clueless to that.

"What's up?"

Veronica smiles, leaning over her desk so the top of her button-down starts to split open. Stephen develops a twitch in his eye trying to keep his gaze level with hers.

"What does it mean when a guy tells a girl that he's having trouble sleeping?"

He relaxes visibly, like someone just asked him the color of the sky.

"Oh, yeah. It means he wants to fuck her."

Stephen gives the answer to you—well aware of his role—then looks to Veronica, waiting for a good boy and a dog treat and a pat on the head.

You feel like you've stepped into the twilight dimension. When the fuck did that become common knowledge?

"Okay, you're both insane, and now I'm running late."

Your steps are harried on the way back to the elevator, begging the engine to move faster or the second-hand on your watch to tick slower. Trying not to think about your boss, thinking about you every night, twisted up in his sheets.

Because, yeah, you had your daydreams. Everybody needs something to distract from the drudgery of all those fucking emails. It never mattered much to you who had you pinned against the shelves in the supply closet of your mind.

Just a little entertainment to wake you up during the afternoon slump—feverish hands and desperation and the crisp smell of copy paper.

But you've always had a thing for a well-cut suit. And Hux had plenty of those.

So what if you were kind of into him and his weird little hard-ass routine? You never believed it would go any further than your daydreams.

But was he going further? And what did that look like?

Your palms are sweating when you get back to your desk, and you can't get the image out of your head—Hux with sweat beading down the taut skin of his neck, with his arms caging you against a wall, with his hips pinning yours against the hard edge of his desk.

You hardly have time to plant your ass in your chair before you hear the tell-tale footsteps around the corner.

Speak of the devil—or, you know, daydream about fucking him.

"Any calls?"

Hux barely glances in your direction—always on the move lately—no room in his schedule to actually stop at your desk and speak to you. You'd guess he's only got time for three directives before he's out of earshot.

Good news. Maybe you could make it out of here before midnight.

"I'm still working through them, sir, but I'll let you know if anything important has come through."

Total lie. You haven't even looked at the phone. And you can't look him in the eye either, feeling flushed and frantic.

Oh god. Do you look flushed and frantic?

Hux doesn't notice either way. Maybe Veronica was wrong and decided to ruin your entire life on a whim.

"Make sure you have a car prepared for the event on Friday. I won't stay longer than twenty minutes."

"Of course, sir. I'll call and let him know."

You had already made that call, but you'd have to update Mitaka, still. That's ten minutes less than the original time you gave him.

He's half-way into his office when he turns back for his last demand, "and I'll need you late, again, tonight."

Fuck. So close. You'd have to reschedule that date with your vibrator.

"Of course, sir. Whatever you need."

I'll need you late, again, tonight?

Could he make it any more fucking obvious?

Hux feels like slamming his head against the wall. He would, maybe, if he wasn't sure you'd hear the rattling window and come to see what his problem was. And that would only present more opportunities for him to make a fool of himself.

He certainly doesn't need any more of those.

It seemed like good advice when it was first given to him—"spending more time together" would be an easy first step, if it didn't also involve time-and-a-half for you. The paychecks he was signing were starting to look as ridiculous as the little infatuation he's been carrying.

Not that it mattered. If money was what you wanted, he'd give it. Anything to endear himself to you.

But the extra time—and the money—aren't helping. You're as distant as ever, maybe moreso, with the fog of sleeplessness and your inevitable irritability at his constant demands.

It's his own damn feelings that get in the way. He can't concentrate, not with the shape of your legs in those pencil skirts. He spends most meetings in wondering how to find out the name of the perfume you wear.

And where he can find a bottle of it for personal use.

Nights, still, are worse.

That's where this all started. Hux hardly ever had dreams, and the few dreams he did have in those short, unconscious hours were never memorable.

Then he woke with the feeling soft skin enveloping his cheeks, tasting you on his lips. And god, those noises you were making for him, your fingers through his hair, begging for him to come closer, to give you more.

It flipped the switch. You went from a passive—albeit attractive—body in a chair to a person. A someone.

A need.

He knew it was wrong. He knew, even with his sweat soaking the sheets and his heavy hand resting on his abdomen that this would ruin so much for him.

The mind can be reasoned with, if the body is hungry enough. And Armitage is so, so hungry for you.

On the nights he manages to resist, he imagines, wonders. Are you alone? Do you think of him? Or are you warming someone else's bed, rolling from their sheets with a heavy sigh every time Armitage's contact pops up on your phone screen?

That worry has him sick to his stomach.

So it's best to keep you close. Keep an eye on you.

Hux looks up from the stack of reports he's been reviewing, shifts in his chair just right until he can see you through the window outside his office without you noticing him.

It puts a god-awful crick in his neck if he sits like this too long. His chiropractor commented on it during his last appointment.

Normally there's not much to see—a Solitare window pulled up when you think he won't notice, the shape of your back curved gracefully. Sometimes your bra visible through the fabric of your thin, white shirts.

Not today, though. You're sitting ram-rod straight, one hand brushing some loose hair behind your ear. All your attention focused on the towering man in front of you, his arms propped against the top edge of your desk and a leering grin on his face.

Ren.

Armitage almost falls with the force of his shock, and then settles along with an empty rage in the pit of his stomach.

Of course Ren would have noticed Hux's preoccupation. And of course he would wield Hux's feelings against him.

There's an animal inside his chest, clawing to get out, giving him half a mind to stomp out there, chase Ren away with some biting remark and a hand on the back of your chair.

But there's a fear that runs deeper. Maybe you'd prefer someone like Ren.

A man who is in every way Hux's opposite. Volatile. Domineering. Powerfully built.

Could Armitage compete?

His inadequacy floods him with a distasteful anger. Armitage will put an end to it immediately. Call you into his office and berate you for socializing during working hours, shame you for inappropriate and obvious mooning over a superior.

He'll make you feel small, ashamed. The way he feels right now.

Too late for all his bravado. Ren steps away from your desk with one glance back, a knowing smirk on his face. Hux almost feels like it's a look meant for him, like Ren can find his gaze through the wall.

Armitage stands from the chair, unsure what his purpose is and knowing he'll defer to anger, as always. Knowing it will make you hate him more than you probably already do.

You don't start immediately when the door opens, and he can't tell from his view of the back of your head what you're thinking.

How many times had he wished he could delve into your mind, pull out gauzy strings of your memories, any thought or emotional tug you'd had in his vicinity? How many times had he hoped you might give him a hint or a sign that you felt anything for him at all?

Armitage coughs, and you jump, turning in your chair until you meet his eyes.

"My office," he tells you, and turns back without waiting to see if you'll follow.

Your steps are quiet in the already quiet office. Everyone else has gone home by now, leaving the two of you alone, and the lights buzz menacingly over the sound of your heels rustling against the carpet. You take your usual seat across from his desk. Armitage stays on his feet, hoping to channel his anxious energy somewhere, liking the way it feels to tower over you.

"Did you need something, sir?"

He knows you're nervous. You don't try to hide it, fidgeting with your fingers, chewing at your lip, avoiding his eyes. Armitage wishes that it was him that made you feel that way, not his position, not his reputation for anger.

"What did Ren want?" he asks.

Your lips part, and then come back together in hesitation, planning an appropriate answer, wondering how he'll react.

"His assistant put in her two weeks notice today," you tell him.

He hums, waiting for more. Your lips flush a lighter shade when you press them more tightly together, and he knows you'll acquiesce.

"He offered me the position, sir."

Armitage sees red, feels his hands curl into fists where they rest behind his back. That arrogant, underhanded, low-life bastard. Hux would . . .

He keeps a cool tone, arches a brow. "And?"

"I told him I appreciated the offer but I'd prefer keep my current position."

And that gives him pause. Has the strange, effervescent hope alight in his chest, but something else snuffs it out.

"Why?"

Hux can't hide the skepticism in his voice, the aching disbelief that you would choose him in any context, but especially this.

Everyone knew working under Armitage was . . . trying. He saw the looks of pity you received from other secretaries as they packed their bags for the night, knew they were taking some solace at your misery while sipping on their happy-hour cocktails. He's well aware that he is demanding, and stubborn, and so exacting.

He's like that in his personal life, too. Which is why he is always alone.

Your brows come together in an obvious but uncharacteristic sign of anger.

"I'm not afraid of hard work, sir."

"I am aware of that, but—"

Why is he so desirous to argue against himself? You are the best assistant he's ever had. Unfortunately, pushing people away is a skill he's mastered over and over and over again.

"Do you want me to leave?" you interrupt him, arms crossing defensively over your chest.

Part of him wants to say yes. To rid himself of this weakness you've blossomed in him, to keep everything under his control and eliminate all other variables.

Your lips press tighter together—Hux would assume he's hurt you, if he thought he had that kind of power.

He's been silent too long. You stand from your chair, brush your hands over your skirt to smooth out the wrinkles.

"Alright, then." You speak without meeting his eyes, heading for the door.

Armitage isn't sure what makes you stop, not until you glance down at your wrist, and he mirrors the movement, sees his own hand circling it.

A perfect fit.

"Sir?"

Your voice is hazy, blurred out by the warmth of your skin and the smell of your perfume and the way your eyes go wide when Armitage makes his approach.

Without saying a word or offering a hint of an apology, Hux is kissing you.

#armitage hux x reader #armitage hux x you #armitage hux au #general hux au #general hux x reader #general hux x you #star wars fanfiction #star wars fic #my writing

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avelera · 1 year ago

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Avelera's Dreamling Fic Status Update:

Keeping Sanctuary (subscribe for updates here) - Giving Sanctuary Sequel follows Dream and Hob from the events of the altered meeting in 1689 up to the modern era. (aka, What if they hooked up after the 1689 meeting?) Current word count: ~7,000 words across several chapters. Realistic progress update: 1/10 complete total, Ch. 1 is about 1/5 complete.

(The rest are below the cut!)

Come live with me and be my love - Dream and Hob fall in love during the Regency Era when Dream loses a bet to Desire. Shenanigans ensue. (aka, What if they hooked up after the 1789 meeting?) Ch. 16 is at 2,500 words, probably about 1/3 done. Current plan is to wrap up Part 1 in the next few chapters then create a part 2 which finishes out their "1 year of marriage" on a month by month basis instead of following them day to day like Part 1 done. Probably won't be a separate fic though, just a change of format.

This Rough Magic - My take on "Hob rescues Dream from Burgess" with a twist that Hob ends up on Burgess's radar himself when he picked up some occult magic skills in the hopes of contacting Dream after 1889 and apologizing. Now he has to pretend to be friends with Burgess in order to get them both out of there, because Burgess thinks Hob can help force Dream to give him immortality. (aka, What if they hooked up after the 1889 meeting?) Ch. 9 is about 800 words in. Story is still very much in progress I just have a lot of WIPs, as you can see.

Joke's On You (I'm Into That) - The 1589 meeting goes very different when Hob proposes to Dream, who is so offended that he just can't let the matter go. A very angry, very horny competition kicks off between them. (Aka, what if they hooked up in 1589 when they were both at their absolute worst as people?) I have literally 40,000 words written for the rest of this fic. The problem is, there's big gaps in that first draft I have to fill in and scenes that need to be added. This might be my favorite WIP but it's also the hardest to write with all the smut scenes so it'll arrive whenever I can manage, I'm afraid.

Banana Daiquiris Ch. 2 - Comic-canon compliant (mostly) - Dream fakes his death to go on a vacation with Hob and Destruction. They end up in Tahiti. Destruction plays matchmaker. Hob doesn't know whether to thank Destruction or strangle him. Current word count 6,000 words. I've been playing around with adding on to this fic for ages. One of these days, I'll pull it all together.

Great Triumphs and Tragedies - aka, "Dream Accidentally Cursed Hob with a Normal Life" Fic - Dream learns that from 1689 on, Hob's life has been safe. Too safe. Improbably safe. Nothing bad or extraordinary or even terribly special has happened to him since Dream began to consider Hob his friend. He knows this because during his imprisonment, Hob's life became exciting again and suddenly went back to normal the day Dream was freed. Hob is not convinced that Dream is the reason for this, Dream disagrees. They talk about it. And fight about it. And some things that they've probably needed to talk about for a long time finally get said. (aka, sometimes the author just needs to write their weird headcanon into a 20,000 word fic that's almost entirely dialogue). Current word count: 19,000 words and about 80-90% finished, 3 of 4 chapters written. I'm hoping that posting what I've got will help push me through the final stretch. Real life interrupted for a bit though.

Unraveling Centuries, aka the Hob Amesia Fic - Dream and Hob are dating officially now in the 21st century when Hob gets hit with what seems to be a memory loss curse, shaving off 100 years of his life each day until Dream finds a cure. This effectively grants Dream a walk down memory lane as he is reacquainted with the Hob of each era and, in the process, learns how much longer Hob cared for him than Dream ever realized. Current word count: 40,000 words. Currently writing 1489 (1889-1589 are done) and re-writing the opening. First chapter is posted!

And for fics that haven't been posted anywhere yet (you can subscribe on my Ao3 author page for alerts about them):

"Fairy God Marlowe" - 1589 fixit fic where Hob and Kit Marlowe strike up a conversation while Dream and Shaxberd are talking. Hob and Marlowe talk about plays, and faith, and salvation, and queer love, and what it means to live forever. Hob gets a second chance at a first impression. Current word count: ~5,000 words. Sadly, it's all dialogue in script format. I'd need to convert it into prose to publish which would be a slog. So it's a bit shelved until I find the energy to do so. No, I will not post it in script format, I'm allergic to the thought.

I've got a few other concepts kicking around, but these are the ones that actually have (*does a quick calculation*) over 100,000 words written that I haven't had the chance to post yet?? And it's driving me insane????

Anyway, I should probably pin this post for those curious lol. Feel free to ask me any follow-up questions, I love talking about WIPs even as they ruin my life!

#dreamling #maggie's writing progress #dreamling fic update #1689 fic #1589 fic #arranged marriage au dreamling

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codfanficedits · 2 years ago

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Being with you too.

CW: A little bit of angst? Portraying of an unhealthy relationship/a break-up

Fem!reader x Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Little note: I've posted part one on another platform too and people requested a part two. I hope this doesn't suck ass!!

Part One here

Being with Simon meant you had to go to quite some gatherings with him, but you didn’t mind at all, you enjoyed socializing with people, especially new people. It meant you could tell people all about him, about how handsome he was, how the two of you met, how he was different from all the men you had met before. Not a bad word you leave you lips when you would talk about Simon. After all, how could you badmouth the man that had been nothing but good for you?

Being with Simon caused you to come into contact with the Los Vaqueros, one of the forces he had to partner up with in order to keep the world a better place. Alejandro was a nice man to talk to, a bit of a dominant type, talking over you all the time, but you didn’t mind it, after all, he was praising Simon for his good work, and that brought a smile to your face. You did like his counterpart, Rudy, a lot more. The man was quiet, but his eyes were bright, attentive even and you liked how you could tell how well he listened to you, it was way more active than Simon would listen to you, Rudy’s eyes would never leave your face, not even when you somehow got to your favourite TV show. It was so different from Simon and it brought a weird knot to your stomach. You felt bad for even thinking such things, especially when Simon loved you so much. Of course Simon listened to you, he just showed it different.

Being with Simon was reason enough to break off the conversation with Rudy, leaving him with a puzzled look on his face when you came with a lame excuse to go to the open bar. The internal war of feelings still going on, and to ease yourself you decided to bring Simon a drink, to make the feelings of guilt go away.

A smile on your face as you approach him, his back turned to you while he talked to Gaz. You could feel your heart drop when you heard snippets of his conversation.

“….talks too much…”

“…even after….missions…”

Your mouth runs dry, your hands tremble but you take another step towards him, needing to hear what Simon is saying. It couldn’t be about you? Right? He would never say such things.

“I’m telling you Gaz, she just never, ever shuts up. After our last mission I came home and the moment I stepped foot in that house, she was next to me. Like a goddamn leech sucking away the life out of me.”

Being with Simon was the reason why your heart just got shattered into your chest, the fragments piercing through your lungs as you struggle to breathe properly, hot tears forming in your eyes as his words engrave in your brain. He was supposed to be your safe haven, he was supposed to be different. You want to do all sort of things, scream at him, throw the beer in your hands to the back of his head, cuss him out, call him his father. But you can’t. Instead you turn around, silent steps away from him.

Being with Simon became a lesson on how you couldn’t even trust the person you loved so dearly, it taught you that you do indeed talk to much, making you a flawed human that should learn to shut up. You can’t even remember how you came home, the drive was a blur. Getting into the apartment was a blur, but there you were, sitting on the couch, all alone.

Leaving Simon was the hardest thing you’d ever done. Part of you wanted to change for him, chat less, talk less, shut up more. But you knew you’d advice friends to leave a man who would dare to talk shit about them like this. And you knew you would never trust another word that would leave his lips again. Those same lips that had kissed you so much, and again you could feel that war in your chest going on, your heart chattering, your lungs struggling to breath, your stomach flipping. But you couldn’t let a man break you like this. Because excusing the way he had mistreated you would be a mistake.

You made yourself the promise that no one would ever knock the wind out of you again, not like that, not like him. When you pack your stuff you wonder how you should let him know you’re leaving. Would you wait for him? Call him? Text him? Give him the chance to explain himself? Maybe it would just be one big mistake. But your heart knew better, your mind knew better, you knew better. The sadness in your chest makes way for anger. Calm anger, no more tears running down your cheeks anger, but a I’ll fold my clothes neatly in the suitcase while I leave you anger. You won’t call him, text him, wait for him, no you’re disappearing out of his life. Erasing yourself out of his narrative, and part of you wants to be there when he comes home and find everything stripped from your existence, you’re taking as much as you can load into your car. The spoons you bought? They’re coming with you, the toilet paper you bought two days ago? It’s yours and loaded into your boot. That PlayStation you got him for Christmas? Into the passenger seat it goes. Even the duvet covers are coming with you. You’re content when your car is full with all of the stuff you had bought in the years the two of you had been together and you start the drive to one of your friends. Leaving Simon would be the hardest and easiest thing you had done.

Being with you meant that Simon had to drag you along to the gatherings from work, each one more annoying than the others. You would always be so happy to talk to people, and for him it was a nice break, every word you said to others, was a word you didn’t have to say to him. He would know what you’d tell people, always boosting about how much he loved you, it made him sick to his stomach, the happiness on your face while all he could feel was disgust.

Being with you caused Simon to dread it whenever you had to meet new people he worked with. He could see you talk to Alejandro, seeing you narrow your eyes whenever Alejandro would interrupt you and talk over you, a smirk on Simons face. Because now you knew how annoying it is whenever someone talks so much. Simon could see you talking to Rudy, the poor sucker was being caught in your whirlwind of words and Simon was just really happy he wasn’t in Rudy’s position right now.

Simon turned around when he saw Gaz approaching. “She just never shuts up huh?” Gaz was the first to make a snarky remark.

“Never, she just talks too much.” Simon said with a sigh. “I’m never at peace, not even after I come home after a my missions.”

Simon shook his head. “I’m telling you Gaz, she just never, ever shuts up. After our last mission I came home and the moment I stepped foot in that house, she was next to me. Like a goddamn leech sucking away the life out of me.”

A soft chuckle leaves Gaz. “Man I don’t even know how you hold up.”

Being with you was the reason why Simon could drink this night, after all, you would be his ride home, so he had nothing to worry about. He hadn’t even noticed you had left, no instead Simon was too busy having fun with the people that he actually cared about. While you were struggling at the apartment, he was dancing and drinking. While you had made up your mind and had found the strength to leave, Simon was too busy cracking stupid jokes with Price. While you were content and driving towards one of your friends, Simon was finally ready to leave, and it wasn’t until that moment that he noticed you had left. All he could feel was annoyance, because this meant he had to take an expensive cab home.

Being with you was the reason why he dreaded going home, stepping foot into that house again. But this time it felt different. The apartment felt colder than usual, not as warm, not as cozy. And you weren’t there to greet him at the door. Maybe you were asleep? He stumbled to the bedroom, but it was empty, too empty. Simon noticed the duvet covers missing, he opened up the closet and noticed your clothes missing, his heart starting to race when he realized something was wrong. Did someone break in? No, it would be weird for a burglar to just take the duvet covers and your clothing. Did you leave? No, you wouldn’t have the balls to do so. Maybe you just went to a friend?

He stumbled to the kitchen, opening up the fridge. His eyes widening when half of the groceries were missing. The orange juice you had bought was gone, the meat, the cheese, even the beers you had bought just for him were gone. The realisation that you might’ve left finally dawned up on him, and it brought him a lot of peace. He could just spent time without have you yap an blabber all the time, he didn’t have to listen to your constant talking about those dumb shows you watched. It nearly felt as if the Gods had blessed him. Being left by you turned out to be harder than Simon had thought. He had enjoyed the silence for a while, but when he woke up in that large, empty bed, he couldn’t help but miss you next to him. He thought he would enjoy eating his breakfast in silence, but the silence that lingered in the apartment was an eerie one, and loneliness crept up to him. He tried to reach out to you, but you had blocked him on every single platform he could reach you on and for the first time since he had met you, he found himself longing for your words, the way you spoke, the way you were so passionate about all the topics you talked about.

Being left by you made him realise how much he loved you.

Leaving Simon broke you down, but you managed to pick yourself up again. It took you a while, but you slowly found yourself trusting other again, and although you were still weary of talking too much, you still had that some passion in your voice whenever you talked about something, even your silly TV shows. You went to the store, getting yourself a tub of ice cream before your favourite show would start. Your cart bumping into someone since your mind was busy with the cliffhanger of last episode. “I’m so sorry.” You mutter quickly as you look up.

Rudy.

His eyes light up a little too quickly as a smile forms on his lips. “You never told me if Big Edd and Rose ended up staying together.”

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galaxywrites · 3 months ago

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Freed Revenants AU incorrect quotes since it's been awhile!

───

Kitana: I truly believe that water can solve all your problems.

Kabal: Weight loss? Drink water.

Stryker: Clear skin? Drink water.

Smoke: Want to get rid of someone? Drown them.

Kitana: I don't dab. I stab.

Liu Kang: This is a very powerful artifact. You’d be messing with some forces we don’t fully understand.

Smoke: That sounds like a dare to me.

Liu Kang: Oh my god.

Smoke: All the sudden I got a random burst of energy, and I think it's my body's last hurrah before it completely shuts down.

Smoke: Stryker, why are you crying?

Stryker: This book is so sad!!

Smoke, picking it up: But this is my diary-

*Smoke falls through the ceiling, landing near Jade*

Smoke: Hey, Jade!

Jade: Hey, Tomáš

Jade: …that hurt.

Nightwolf: Kabal keeps forgetting which Netherfi network he's supposed to use.

Nightwolf: So I renamed ours to "Kabal, use this one" to help him out a little.

Smoke: Why shouldn't you put a toaster in a bathtub full of water?

Jade: Because your toast would get soggy!

Liu Kang: Kabal and Stryker introduced Tomáš to country music. Or 'cuntry' as they keep calling it.

Liu Kang: Please send help

Kabal and Nightwolf: *accidentally set the kitchen on fire*

Kabal: We need an adult!

Nightwolf: Kabal, we are adults!

Kabal: We need an adultier adult! Get Jade!

Stryker: I’ve done a lot of dumb stuff.

Liu Kang: I witnessed the dumb stuff.

Smoke: I recorded the dumb stuff.

Kabal: I joined you in the dumb stuff.

Nightwolf: I TRIED TO STOP YOU FROM DOING THE DUMB STUFF!

Kitana: What are the hardest things to say?

Liu Kang: I was wrong.

Nightwolf: I need help.

Smoke: Worcestershire sauce.

Liu Kang: Why are you two always out during rainstorms?

Nightwolf: It’s so peaceful and refreshing. I love the smell of rain.

Smoke: Stryker bet me I couldn’t get struck by lighting, but he's WRONG.

Smoke: Jade said its my turn with the brain cell.

Kung Lao: Square up.

Nightwolf: Does immaturely insulting me make you feel better about your sad single life?

Jade: It actually does!

Liu Kang: Seriously, Smoke, how many people would you have killed if we’d asked you to?

Smoke: That’s not important

Liu Kang: I DISAGREE.

Smoke: Could you guys at least try to see this from my perspective?

Kabal: *crouches down*

Liu Kang: *kneels down*

Nightwolf: *sits on the floor*

Smoke:

Smoke: I hate all of you.

Kitana, gardening: Hey, can you bring me the hoe?

Kabal: Yeah, sure.

*A few minutes later*

Kabal: Here you go.

Kitana:

Kabal:

Liu Kang: Why am I here?

Smoke: Which country has the most birds?

Smoke: Portu-geese!

Liu Kang: That's a language.

Smoke: Portu-gull?

Liu Kang: Good recovery.

Kitana: I think you mean good re-dovery.

Stryker: TURKEY. HOW DID WE MISS TURKEY?

Nightwolf: I'm gonna eat the chicken breasts

Stryker, snickering: Yeah, eat what you lack.

Smoke, deadpanning at Stryker: Then maybe I should order brains on delivery for you.

Kung Lao: Who would you kill out of the four of us, Stryker?

Stryker: Smoke, easily.

Smoke, laughing: As if you could.

Stryker: Well, Kabal would be too easy. He'd probably be into it.

Kabal, now standing in the doorway: What the fuck, man!?

Smoke: This bloodline ends with me.

Stryker: That's the fanciest way I've ever heard someone say "I'm gay"

Kabal: I fell down the stairs today...

Nightwolf: I hope you're okay.

Jade: Stop falling down the stairs.

Smoke: How'd the ground taste?

#mortal kombat #freed revenants au #tomas vrbada #kabal #jade #stryker #incorrect quotes #liu kang #kitana #kung lao

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light-of-delphi · 1 year ago

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Apollo, My Beloved

Perhaps I couldn't wait any longer before I finally addressed my beloved patron and godspouse. Both of which are terms I will define in this post. Apollo has been part of my life, well... since birth! Being my Patron, he has been around for all of it. He's seen me at my best and at my worst, he's seen me through my relationships and my hardships. He saw me through my hardest moments, through the easier times, and through the trauma I've faced.

So yeah. He and I are pretty close. Let's get into it, this is going to be a long one.

Who is Apollo? ☀

I have heard Apollo referred to as the God of many things, and this description of him is not incorrect as much as it is a gross minimization of the things he takes Godly precedence over. He is the god of:

The Sun; Light; Poetry; Music and the Arts; Healing / Medicine; Plagues; Knowledge; Order; Prophecy; Truth; A God of Beauty; Agriculture; and Archery.

Some of these things are not as well known as others, and there are absolutely some things missing from that list. Again. He rules over a lot of things.

Apollo, in my life, has been more present as the God of music and the arts, and prophecy. A major part of my practice is the art of prophecy and divination, the concept of time and the future. Of course, I do not have as much time as I would like to delve fully into the concept of time as much as I'd like, but I still like to dip my toes into the concept of prophecy. It took me a while to accept the fact that prophecies do, in fact, exist, and they are things that can be accessed by someone who is not the Oracle at Delphi.

Apollo is also known for having many lovers and, more nuanced, has been claimed as a patron God of Queer individuals. He has had his fair share of gay lovers himself, and in fact, is quite known for having a series of lovers who have then turned into plants. For example:

Hyacinthus, who was turned into a Hyacinth. Daphne, who was turned into a Laurel tree. Cyparissus, who was (unwillingly) turned into a Cyprus Tree.

At a certain point, it is almost comical.

Apollo, as a Worshipper and Devotee.

Of course, everyone starts somewhere. And for a good portion of my practice, I started as a worshipper and devotee of Apollo. This meant that I was dedicating certain acts to him and gifting him little trinkets and leaving him offerings. My favorite instance was when I left him a pack of cookies for about a month. After a month, I went to eat them as to not waste them. The cookies gave me static and shocked me. Apollo and I had a conversation about boundaries following this.

I have been devoted to Apollo my whole life, I like to say. Ever since I could improperly hold utensils within my digits, I drew on things. When I first learned how to make illegible sounds, I sang. When I learned how to create poorly worded poetry, I crafted it. By no means am I a lyrical genius or a poet laureate. In fact, I'm horrible at writing song lyrics and I have only ever written one catchy verse, and in all my years of playing Ukulele, I have never been able to play and sing until November of last year.

However, in my early childhood, leading up to college, I was nearly prodigal when it came to musical instruments. I graduated high school knowing how to play clarinet, bass clarinet, saxophone, flute, xylophone, euphonium (my favorite), bass guitar, acoustic guitar, ukulele, trumpet, trombone, and kalimba. I'm sure there are people out there who know more instruments, but all things considered, this is a damn collection of instruments that I'm pretty okay at. In 8th grade I was the back-up singer in my military schools rock band, I was the acoustic guitarist.

I've also been acting for about 9 years (I'm about to be 20), which is a good portion of my sentient and cognisant life. I've done work both on stage and off, but yet still have not managed to be in a musical. They scare me.

Not to mention my history with other forms of art. In fifth grade, I painted a still life that was elected and ended up in a local art gallery. In the first week of May, one of my photos from study abroad was selected as being the best in its category and I won a prize. My history teacher hung a drawing I did of her daughter in the classroom because she adored it so much. However, that may have just been because it was a picture of her daughter.

This laundry list of artistic endeavors is not meant to be a flex or a brag. It's meant to showcase my extensive history in the arts and my devotion to Apollo. He has been an important part of my life. Before every performance, I pray to him. Before every concert, I'd ask him to send me humility and patience. Before every drawing, I ask Apollo for inspiration and a dash of creative whimsy. I also say hi to the sun every morning, wishing him a good morning while I drink my morning coffee.

Apollo, as my Patron.

As my patron, Apollo is my biggest mentor. He is there for me through thick and thin. When the going gets tough. I know I can lean on and rely on him.

My mother calls me Sunshine (my hair sticks up and gets all frizzy, and so she calls me Sunshine because she considers my hair to be rays), she always has. This is reflective of Apollo's presence in my life, in my opinion. A little ray of the sunshine that he emits.

But back to the mentor thing. Apollo has always been someone I can look to whenever I need guidance. Whether that means consulting the cards and asking him for some guidance, or using a pendulum and having an asinine round of "is that a yes or a no" with him, or him sending me a sign.

Very recently, I asked him for a sign that he's still there. That he hasn't gone anywhere or left me. I asked him to send me something bright orange, out of the ordinary, that I wouldn't expect to see. About two days later, at the beach, one of the friends we had been waiting on shows up wearing a bright orange dress. And I mean neon. And she never wears bright colors like that.

But, enough hyperspecific personal anecdotes. If I keep going, this post would be an autobiography.

Apollo, as a patron, is a very hyper and mischievous guide and mentor. He will say things that don't make sense in the moment, but will eventually make sense. He likes his riddles. He likes his complex-meaning messages. That is why it's important to write things down, of course.

Apollo, as a Godspouse.

So, let me start with the definition of a Godspouse. A godspousal to a God, Goddess, or any divine being with the intention to devote yourself to them wholly and fully for the rest of your life. This can look like a lot of things. It can be entirely platonic, it can be romantic, it can be a continuous boss-employee work style relationship, pretty much anything. The only difference between this and a normal worship or working relationship is that it is sort of binding. It is not a light decision to make, and it should be a decision you make after years of already devoting yourself to the divine being.

I am of the unpopular belief that you can start deity work at any time during your practice, not just later on. Apollo started my practice with me, and I am of the firm belief that I only understood parts of my practice and have made so much progress with his assistance. It obviously depends on the deity you work with, which deities you accept help from, and who you let into your life. But this is an entirely separate post for another time. Apollo and I have developed a strong, firm bond over the past 10 years. And in the grand scheme of my practice, we've been godspoused for only a short while.

Our relationship is more of a romantic kind, in the sense that we have our affectionate nicknames for one another (he calls me his songbird and sunbeam, and I call him Sunspot / my sunlight). We flirt back and forth and send one another gifts (I, in the form of offerings, and he, in the form of signs and literal gifts through people in my life). It's a sweet little give-and-take we have. My end goal, though, is to become a sort of oracle for Apollo. Again, this loops back to my obsession with time and prophecy.

The End (Finally)

If you read all of that, you rock! Apollo is important to me and he has left a major imprint in my life. He is a major source of light for me and to not ramble about him this much would be a cardinal sin of which I would have to repent for. Plus, he loves and adores attention. But I will stop running my mouth. As usual, if you have any questions or requests, feel free to comment them here or submit an ask via my tumblr. Blessed be, may the sun be your guide! A domani!

#apollo devotee #hellenic pagan #paganism #witchblr #eclectic witch #hellenic worship #paganblr #apollo deity #your witchy brother #apollo #apollon deity #apollon worship #godspouse #godspousal #patron deity #pagan witch #deity work #pagans of tumblr #pagan

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queen-of-deans-booty · 1 year ago

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Reichenbach: Final Part

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst

Summary: You're done with Dean and his antics. You want to leave and you're going to do whatever it takes to make him understand that he doesn't have the power here. You do.

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

Dean walks off without another word and approaches the piano in the corner of the room where the stage is. He sits down and plays some keys as if he knows what the hell he's doing. Your hand twitches because you'd love nothing more than to smack the shit out of him. Your gaze moves from him to the door behind him because it opens, and Sam steps through it.

Dean smirks because he knows he's there.

"Hiya, Sam." He turns and sees the bruises and cuts on Sam's face. "Who winged you?"

"Does it matter?"

"Not really. I told you to let me go."

"You know I can't do that. By the way, your pal Crowley sold you out."

"It sounds like him," Dean nods.

Dean gets up and faces his brother to fight him but you're quick to jump between the two men. Dean looks at you before turning his gaze to his brother.

"Dean, hold on a second. You don't have to do this. Look, we know how to cure demons. Do you remember that?"

"Little Latin and a lot of blood. It rings a bell. Did you ever stop to think that if I wanted to be cured, I wouldn't have bailed?"

"That was Crowley."

"It really wasn't," he smiles.

"It doesn't matter, alright? Whatever went down, whatever happened, we will fix it."

"Will we? Right now. I'm doing all I can not to come over there and rip your throat out with my teeth. I'm giving you a chance, Sam. You should take it."

"He's telling the truth," you say to Sam.

"I'm gonna have to pass."

"I'm not walking out that door with you. I'm just not. So, what are you gonna do? Are you gonna kill me?"

"No."

"Why? You don't know what I've done. I might have it coming."

"I don't care because you are my brother, and I'm here to take you home. Both of you."

"You're my brother, and I'm here to take you home," Dean mocks. "What is this, a Lifetime movie? With your puppy-dog eyes?" Dean laughs hard. "Oh, thanks, Sammy. I needed that."

Sam takes out a pair of sigil-etched handcuffs. Ones that will hold a demon no matter how powerful.

"You really think those are gonna work?"

"There's one way to find out."

Dean will kill his brother, and you can't have that happen. You don't care what happens to Dean and Sam, but if Dean kills Sam, then all you're gonna hear is Dean's whining when he's finally cured. You really don't want to deal with that so you turn to Sam with a glare.

"Get the hell out of here, Sam."

"No."

"I can handle Dean just fine. I don't want you here." Sam holds his ground but you're not done with him. "GO!"

For some reason, Sam trusts you. He doesn't know what's going on with you but he trusts you have some sort of plan to take down his brother. Plus, he's going to be nearby anyway so he decides not to make a scene and leave.

"Aw, you love me," Dean smirks.

"No, I just didn't want to hear you whine about your dead brother later."

You leave his side and go to the bar to order a drink while Dean goes back to playing the piano. Two ladies come up to him and flirt with him which he's into. If you're going to leave and trap him, then now's your chance. All you have to do is get back to the motel and you'll have everything you need to take down Dean once and for all.

You down two shots of the hardest liquor before grabbing your jacket. To get to the exit, you have to pass by Dean, and when you do, you lean in close so he can hear you over the music.

"I'm leaving you."

You only have a few minutes before he comes charging after you, so you have to be quick. The motel is right across the street from the bar, so you sprint to your room and slam the door open. The first thing you grab is the demon knife and stick it in your boot for later. You open your duffel bag and start throwing shit in there just to get it in.

Seconds later, the door to the room slams open and Dean is standing there with an angry look on his face.

"You're not leaving."

"Watch me," you laugh dryly. As you grab another handful of clothes, Dean grabs some from inside the bag and throws it on the bed. "Real mature."

"You're cute if you think you're actually leaving me."

"Are you really that insecure?" you ask and face him.

"Maybe if you had your magic, you'd be able to stop me. You don't, therefore, you're not leaving."

"Stop fucking bringing that up! God, you're so fucking annoying. You think you're better than everyone else because you're a Knight of Hell. Well, guess what, you're not that special. In fact, you're bottom-of-the-barrel shit that no one wants, and it's kind of pathetic to watch you act like you're not."

"Is that any way to talk to your husband?" Dean glares.

"You're not my husband," you laugh. "You stopped being my husband the second you got black eyes." You take off your wedding ring you used to love so much and throw it in the nearest trashcan. "There is nothing worse than being your wife, and I'm kind of glad I'm free from that burden."

Dean teleports to you and slams you against the wall. His right hand grabs your throat to let you know that he could crush it if he wanted to. His eyes are pitch black but that never scared you.

"I won't hesitate to kill you."

You smirk.

"You don't have the balls."

His grip on your neck gets deadly tight, and for the first time since he stole you from the Bunker, you actually think he's going to kill you. If you don't do anything right now, he is going to take your life without a second thought.

You reach down to grab the handle of the demon knife and stab him in the stomach with it. He lets go of your throat with a groan of pain. You suck in a lungful of air and shove him away from you. You take out the knife and stab him in the chest. This time, you leave it in there. Dean gasps in pain and falls to his knees, giving you the opportunity to escape.

You grab your gun, your phone, and your wallet. Everything else can be replaced easily. You're not sure where you're going to go but you need to get the hell away from him. The parking lot is nearly empty but you run toward the street as fast as you can. Maybe you can hitch a ride with someone if you can get there in time.

You look back at the room to check on Dean while still running but you don't see him there. When you turn back, you run right into his chest. You back up and aim your gun at him, but all he does is smirk.

"If the demon knife didn't kill me, what makes you think a gun will?"

"A gun with special bullets might," you smirk.

You shoot him once in the shoulder but it doesn't cause him any pain. All he does is look down at the wound in curiosity.

"I really do think humans are the dumbest creatures on Earth."

He goes to take a step toward but it's like he's frozen in place. He can't even move his arms. He's stuck there and a mocking smile appears on your face.

"You were saying? Devil-trap bullets really come in handy when you're dealing with demons. You can thank your granddaddy for this one. You're not so tough now, are you?"

Seeing him try to move makes you laugh.

"I'm gonna kill you."

"Yeah, okay. Don't hurt yourself trying. You know what's funny? Knights of Hell are supposed to be badass and fearful. Cain is one scary dude. Abaddon might have been an asshole but at least she knew what to do with her power. You? You're failing at something that's supposed to come naturally to you." Dean is seething with anger but you won't let him go easily. "It makes sense, actually."

"What does?"

"Why you're such a shitty demon. You were a shitty human, a shitty husband, and a shitty father. I've always been the better parent. I see now why our kids have disappeared. I bet they're happier wherever they may be because they don't have you to watch over them."

"Like you're so much better," he spits.

"Oh, I am. Do you know why? I never had John as a father. Talk about being shitty," you scoff. "I guess it's genetic." You turn to leave but aim your gun at his leg and pull the trigger. "One more for good measure."

You toss the gun to the side and leave him to stand there on his own. It's not hard to find Sam since he needed to stick around for whatever you were gonna do to tame Dean. He's outside the bar with Crowley, and even though they were across the street the whole time, they didn't hear or see anything.

"If you want Dean, you can have him," you say. "He's stuck in the motel parking lot."

"How?" Sam asks.

"Devil-trap bullets. Two of them, in fact."

You lead the two men back to the motel where Dean is. He has a much deadlier glare on his face which you ignore. Sam takes his wrists and cuffs them knowing it will hold him once the bullets are removed. You walk to the front of him and dig your fingers into his wounds to take the bullets out.

You make sure to make it hurt.

Sam places Dean in the back of the Impala while you gather your things from the motel. You pass by the trashcan and notice your shiny diamond ring still sitting there. Without thinking about it, you grab it and place it in a small pocket of Dean's duffel bag.

Once he's cured, he's going to find it in there. Maybe your point will come across then. Sam has the First Blade in his hands since he's considering giving it to Crowley for safekeeping.

"Pleasure doing business."

"What are you gonna do with it?" you ask and toss your bags into the back seat.

"Toss it into a volcano or leave it on the Moon. I'll get creative. Believe me, I don't want you or Dean getting your hands on this any more than Sam does." He turns to Sam. "Your brother knows I ratted. He tends to hold a grudge. I don't want to get boned."

"This doesn't make us square," Sam says and hands over the Blade. "If I see you again--"

"Oh, stop it, Samantha. No one likes a tease."

Seconds later, Crowley disappears from sight.

"Well, this has been eventful."

You two pile into the front seat and Sam starts the journey back home. One of the things Dean didn't do is keep his car neat and clean like he has since he was eighteen. It's filled with fast food wrappers, a few condoms, empty drink bottles, and other trash.

"This thing is filthy."

"It's just a car, Sam."

"Just a car? Wow. You really have gone dark."

"You have no idea," Dean chuckles.

"You claim to be a big bad demon who's strong and smart," you say and turn to face Dean, "but look where you are. You got outsmarted by a human. How does that make you feel?"

"Don't poke the bear, Y/N."

"Oh, I'm not worried. He doesn't scare me," you smirk and keep eye contact with Dean.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary�� where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester angst #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural angst #spn #supernatural series rewrite #supernatural season 10

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bigblueoctoling · 1 year ago

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I think one of the most baffling thoughts I've seen circling around the Splatoon fandom- not the most wrong, but the opinion that's the hardest to understand- is the idea that Splatoon as a franchise is going to- or even should- end after Splatoon 3.

I know the source of this idea, it's the line from the splatoon 3 trailer in the direct that said it's the end of the squidbeak saga.

But on every single level, the idea of splatoon as a franchise ending after Splatoon 3 just feels crazy. Like I gotta walk through every level of this hypothetical to fully explain how crazy this seems to me.

Narratively: It makes no sense for Splatoon to end at this point because it's really, really, really not like we've explored everything there is to explore in the splatoon franchise. Even putting aside the potential of new story paths to explore... We still know so so so little about daily Octarian living, and nothing about Splatoon 3 is any sort of conclusion to the story of Octarians. If you think Octavio helping to save the world from utter annihilation is a redemption for being a totalitarian dictator you are wrong. Deep Cut got damn near zero focus in this game. Everything we know about them is extremely surface level- the only deeper thing we know about them, their charitable nature and looting, has literally only ever been spoken about once.

Being able to explore everyday life in inkopolis or splatsville would also be illuminating? Like we know literally nothing about the governing bodies of inkopolis or splatsville despite having gone about saving these places several times. How do non-inkfish play turf wars? What's it like for someone who physically can't play turf wars since it seems to be such a pivotal cornerstone of the economy?

The story of salmonids still feels incomplete. Like yeah we're fighting the triumverate, but Splatoon 3 seems pretty clear set on showing us that invasively hunting down these sapient creatures is morally wrong (in case that was somehow something you needed explained), but Grizz Co's functional status quo is completely uneffected by the events of Splatoon 3.

There are more indulgent concepts worth exploring but just speaking about the surface level narrative elements that any player can recognize as important, these are still easy directions to go in.

Developmentally: It's quite clear Splatoon as a game still has a LOT of room to expand. Even just in the core gameplay, Splatoon 3 has sort of left a lot of stones unturned, to put it politely. ...But, with Side Order, the splatoon devs have explicitly stated in interviews that they are interested in exploring more alternative styles of engaging with Splatoon, and frankly, I feel like that's the single most important thing for Splatoon. Even putting aside how much I like the world of splatoon narratively, Splatoon's base gameplay has SO much room for experimentation and growth, and Side Order displayed that potential in full force. No shooter really matches Splatoon's elegant diversity, and that's not even getting into the potential of spin-offs in different genres entirely.

Business-wise:

Nintendo has absolutely zero reason to stop making Splatoon games. It has an extremely devoted fanbase who relishes in any merch they can get, and they've even held real-world concerts which as far as I can tell are very successful, at least successful enough that they've done it several times.

It's a franchise which not only has zero mechanical conflict with any other Nintendo game, but it's also their only venture into what is currently an EXTREMELY popular genre- it's obvious business sense to make a game that's a shooter, so why would they put an end to their existing shooter franchise that has already proven to be popular?

Politically: Frankly, I think the fact that Splatoon, a game which openly outright has LGBT themes, among other things, is a popular and significant franchise, is a pretty huge deal. Like the two most popular characters in the franchise are a gay interracial couple, and they're presented in such a genuinely well-spirited way- it genuinely means a lot to me, and frankly I think it would be a tragedy if the series just decided to end now after their relationship was canonized (more than it already was in splatoon 2).

In conclusion- I'd love to hear any actual reasoning as to why splatoon would, or should, end? Like it feels on par with thinking that Zelda as a franchise is gonna end now that TotK is out.

A friend of mine argued that splatoon as a series would be better off ending because of how toxic the fandom is, but, to be blunt, I think the fandom is only going to get better as the people currently making the fandom a horrid and toxic place grow up and grow out of their bigotry.

The tide of progress stops for nobody.

#bluetext #splatoon #splatoon 3

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kangshxrtie · 2 years ago

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8 ➳ "personal photographer"

➳ ➳ ➳ ➳ ➳ ➳ ➳ ➳ ➳ ➳ ➳ ➳

after you picked yujin up you two went to a cafe in a plaza that you planned to walk around with her later. you went up to the counter to order two americanos for the both of you as yujin sat down at a table towards the back of the cafe. once the drinks were done and paid for, you grabbed them and took them to the table yujin chose. you sat down her drink in front of her and sat down across from her.

"so" yunjin took a sip of her drink before speaking again, "what's the plan for today"

"well since you're like successful and busy all the time. i thought we could walk around and explore" you explained.

"oh so you're my tour guide" yujin said with an amused smile on her face.

"yep i expect a nice tip after this" you joked.

"what forms of payment do you accept, because i can think of a nice one" yujin winked.

"like what?" you asked.

"something like a kiss" yujin boldly said.

"you have to earn it" you leaned forward over the table, "i don't just kiss random people"

"then what am i here for then?" yujin joked as you leaned back and laughed.

"so you don't enjoy my company, you're only using me for your own pleasure" you faked an annoyed tone.

yujin began to panic thinking she messed everything up, "wait no! i didn't mean it like that-i was just saying-"

you cut her off laughing, "i know yujin i was just joking"

"ah-okay" yujin visibly calmed down.

"you're also not a random person to me; you could kiss me anytime if you want to" you offered.

"even right now?" she asked to which you nodded at.

yujin looked around to make sure nobody was looking before leaning over the table and giving you a quick kiss. she sat back down on her chair and took a sip of her drink to hide the blush forming on her face.

➳ ➳ ➳ ➳ ➳ ➳ ➳ ➳ ➳ ➳ ➳ ➳ ➳

eventually, you two got bored of sitting in the restaurant you two decided to go outside and actually explore.

as you two walked down the street, yujin subtly tried to hold your hand, letting her hand brush against yours. you apparently didn't notice so yujin boldly entangled your hands together, your heart speeding up at the action.

you pointed out random shops and the best places to eat hoping yujin would note that down for future reference.

when you two stopped in random stores to shop around for things you were interested in. if you looked at an item for too long yujin would immediately offer to buy it for you.

yujin took a hat off the rack trying it on. she looked at you for approval to which you responded with, "yujin-ah, so pretty" you took out your phone taking multiple pictures with the flash on to act like paparazzi as yujin did some poses.

at that same store, you two tried on some more random accessories and took pictures together in a mirror.

➳ ➳ ➳ ➳ ➳ ➳ ➳ ➳ ➳ ➳ ➳ ➳

later on you two were at a convenience store for snacks. once you were both done picking out snacks, you went to sit down on a bench outside of the store.

"so, how are you enjoying my tour of the city?" you asked.

"i enjoy doing anything with you" yujin flirted.

"good because i tried my hardest today. i even gave you a personal photoshoot" you said.

"best tour guide i've ever had" yujin commented.

"i have so many photos of you now" you laughed as you scrolled through the spam photos you took of yujin from the day.

"i could sell these and make a lot of money" you mumbled to yourself.

yujin leaned over your shoulder to look at the photos while you swiped, "you're actually really good at taking photos"

"it helps my subject was extremely pretty" you complimented.

yujin laughed lightly, "you should always take my photos from now on"

"shittt, i'll always be willing to take photos of you"

yujin's voice turned playful as she responded, "you wanna become my personal photographer?"

you began to think about it, "hmmm, what do i get out of it?"

"for starters, you'll get to be around me" yujin smiled at the thought.

"is that really a perk though?" you commented.

"secondly, you'll see me more"

"sounds the same as the first one to me"

"third, you'll get to take pictures of me"

"all these reasons don't seem beneficial to me at all"

"fine what would you want out of this?" you thought for a second trying to remember the connections yujin had.

"oh, can you introduce me to yena and minju!" you exclaimed catching yujin off guard with how excited you were, "please... i've been wanting to meet them for the longest time"

"i don't know if i want to after that..."

"sorry i'm just a really big fan"

"it almost seems like you like them more than you like me"

"it's just a slight celebrity crush" you shyly told yujin.

"do you have a celebrity crush on me?" yujin asked.

"well you're more of a regular crush" you tried to explain.

"but i'm a celebrity" yujin pouted.

"but we actually know each other so it's different"

"you like me the most though right?" yujin turned to look at you.

you grabbed yujin's hand, "you know you're my favorite person though right"

"am i really?" yujin asked cutely.

"definitely i've never liked anybody as much as i like you" you admitted as you squeezed her hand.

yujin grinned, her mood improving almost immediately, "in that case, i guess i can tell them i want them to meet somebody important to me"

you tried to hide your excitement from yujin so she wouldn't get pouty again.

"you really are the best yujin" you said with a smile on your face.

"i know it's almost like you should date me or something" yujin said in a joking tone but she was 100% serious.

"chill. you gotta ask me first" you chuckled.

"will you accept when i actually do ask?"

"maybe we'll see" you definitely would say yes no matter what though. she could even ask you right now and you would say yes.

"i'll make sure you say yes" yujin stated.

main ➳ next

#ahn yujin #ive x reader #yujin x reader #yujin smau #ahn yujin x reader #ive #kpopidol #gxg #kpop #kpop fanfic

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vervainvoyage · 9 months ago

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MR5, woot woot! THAT test was the hardest of them all- they wanted me to hack 6 things in a row. Never ask me to do this again. PLEASE.

I'm done with farming for now and getting back to quests, and I have a weird feeling that I got spoiled with some info too soon by doing the Heart of Deimos mission and

being told that apparently, those huge people made me? cool. Nice to know. I like the look of their old buildings, very gold and white, so I can vibe with that. OH and it suddenly makes sense why the extraction points in Orokin ruins look so conveniently designed- because they were designed to be landing points for Frame aircraft. Neat.

Me and Daughter are really vibing, mostly because I applaud her choice of blasting a boyband at full volume on a moon entirely taken over by eldritch mutated meat growth. The horrors persists but we stay silly.

Despite having now... 20 hours in the game, wow, I still run face-first into walls and fall off the map. I applaud Lotus for still wanting me on any missions despite that, though considering how often she tells me to "Focus, Tenno" she might have figured out I just have ADHD and usually forget to put on glasses. She scares me with some of her warnings though- when raiding Vaults, she sometimes says "something's wrong" and DOESN'T ELABORATE. MA'AM. PLEASE. DETAILS.

Also it took my bro a few tries to hammer it into my head that during the drilling missions, when Lotus tells me "The scanner has picked up a target. Go to the dig site" I'm supposed to STAY exactly where I was. Lotus please WHY are you telling me to go somewhere else and then nag me about my excavator getting destroyed 😭 I'm just a little gal, I can't receive this many orders at once, you already know I woke up from the coma a bit uh... uncalibrated.

Anyway, I just finished Stolen Dreams and... well that was a plot hook if I've ever seen one. I am more confused than before that mission. The Codices sound like a random MacGuffin, but I must assume they will show up later and this was just a set up that they even exist. The message though? About "the womb of the sky" being empty? Yeesh thanks ominous machine. Good to know. I'll just. I'll just leave you to it, thanks.

So. It's fun playing a warmachine that goes through enemies like a lightsaber through butter, even if I'm clearly one that lost some vital brain matter during the coma.

#Warframe #voyagepersonal #anyway I have some sketches in the works but finishing them requires uh... stopping the game...

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leevingthisplace · 7 months ago

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"Would you mind telling me… why are you still here?"

She nodded to the leather bound book on the table. "Because that is still here. That is me. I am it. I am a journal."

Unwillingly, I had to laugh. "You very much look like a person to me."

"Do I? Well, I am a person. But I am also a journal. I suppose I was more of a person once."

"'Cause you died."

She sighed. Even as the traces of a human being, she had this weariness about her that was almost tangible. "Death is a strange thing. It's not something we ever get to experience fully. This is the closest I got."

My throat tightened. "Ever?"

"The assumption is not… totally proven, but it seems that way. You should know best. Honestly I'd congratulate you if you had managed to die." She flashed a grin. "But you did achieve quite a close reincarnation of what you were before, so I guess congratulations are in order anyway."

"… Thanks. I suppose I did have… help."

"You did, didn't you?" Her gaze lingered on the sigil on the inside of my forearm.

Suppressing the urge to hide the tattoo, cover it with my hand, press it to my body out of her sight, I got out the question pondering in my mind for weeks. "Why… why did it happen, that way? Why didn't I die? Why can't we die?"

Her shoulders sank, taking in my demands. She didn't look at me, instead staring blankly at a random point on the wooden floor.

"I- I don't really know.", she almost whispered. A thought fluttered through my mind — that it must be the hardest thing to admit for a journal made for recording knowledge; to not have the answer.

I sat up. "But you can make an educated guess, right? If anyone, it would be you."

Her eyes flickered back on me. "I suppose so." She pursed her lips in thought. Then she began slowly. "You know we are remnants of demons. What is left of them. Well, those — they couldn't be killed. They were the closest thing to immortal. Until they weren't."

I nodded. I was familiar.

"We — we half-demons, you know how vulnerable we are. Or seem to be, at least. The actual dying, that's what's often prevented. But when it happens… something remains. When I was alive, I was afraid of that. Of being warped into something that wasn't me, something I couldn't control, with no knowledge of what it would be. So, I took precautions." She placed her hand solemnly on the journal. "When I would die, everything I knew, my thoughts, my wisdom, my memories, would stay. In here. Forever encased. That would remain. That is what I am now. And the rest… I allowed the rest of me to die. And when that happened—" She took a deep breath, eyes closed, quietly contented. "— I've never felt more free." She opened her eyes.

I stiffened. "How do you know? You aren't even fully her."

"Hm. Maybe not. Almost though. I am almost-her. And still, I feel whole. I wasn't whole while I lived. Because one part of me would wander around in a prison made of brittle meat while the other was safely engraved in paper, bound, tied together, unchanging, unyielding. It was the part that would endure. It was the part that was me. But I was still not whole, I was never finished. I was always tied to her. I was dependent on her feeding me information, instilling her memories into me, so I would grow to be fuller, to be better, to be more her. Now it's done. Now, I'm free." She grinned again, that grin that seemed almost like the one in the photo, but never quite right.

"So you and the one who made you are different things?"

"We are the same. She is me. But she is also dead. She was a human. I am a journal. I am her." She shrugged. "Don't think about it too hard. That's what killed her."

I didn't really know what to respond to that. I felt uneasy conversing with this almost-her that took delight in her death, but I needed to know more. Plus, who was I to judge something for being creepy and not quite human? "Right. So why am I still alive? Like this, I mean. Fully with a body and everything."

She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. "I would reconsider the last part of that, but I think we can put it down to that neat little pact you made. Who was it that killed you?"

A shudder had passed through me. Or, what was left of me. Maybe almost-me. This time, I withdrew my arm from the table, hiding the tattoo. "Owen."

She looked at me intently. I could almost hear the pages flicking in her mind. "You trusted this Owen." It wasn't a question. "Interesting." Her gaze was that of a curious academic, just presented with an unforeseen case, but one that would fit neatly into their research and they couldn't wait to study.

I shifted in my seat. "If death would be so terrible for us, why haven't other half-demons done this? Wouldn't you know of that?"

"Not necessarily. Plus, the circumstances in which you died in where quite… unique, that you have to understand." Her expression shifted. For a moment, I could almost glimpse in the face of the woman who created this journal in her life time, a life too full of grief and tragedy, buried deep down, but still ringing out with every syllable of the words she spoke. "And there's always a second side to a working death pact. Most half-demons don't have someone like that."

This was a one-shot scene from my WIP. I plan on posting more about it in the future. I'd love your thoughts:)

#writeblr #writing #my wip

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cosmicoceanfic · 5 months ago

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I just want to take a second to let you know how much your writing means to me. I've reread Revenant about six times, and every time I can't help but get emotional about how well it's written and how much care and detail you've obviously poured into it. Thank you 💕

This is really sweet.

Revenant is probably the hardest I’ve ever worked on a creative project. I didn’t think about it too much when I first had the idea- it was kind of a stray thought I had, I wrote two pieces of it, and then I didn’t think about it for a couple years. Around 2022, I started to think about it a little more and was like. Well. Maybe there’s something there after all. It took me about two years to map it out and put it together, and I worked on other projects in between, but honestly they were mostly completed when I hit a stumbling block in Revenant and needed to work on something else for a while. Nearly my whole creative life that didn’t involve something to do with my hands circled Revenant for two years. It was a lot of work, and while there’s things I worry I could have done better, I’m more proud of it than almost anything else I’ve ever written.

I would be remiss in answering this ask without mentioning Mike. I texted Mike when I was about forty thousand words into Revenant and really stuck and was like “hey you have a good eye for Star Wars do you have time to read forty thousand words of something I’m working on” (which he would have been fully in his rights to politely decline: it’s kind of an insane request to make). Mike shaped so much of that fic from that point onwards. He had ideas for directions for the fic to go, he wrote the fight scenes (objectively the thing I’m the worst at when I write), he helped me develop characters. Malefic is almost entirely down to Mike. I had the loosest concept of what that character should be, and Mike really helped me flesh out what he became. He’s @punkpuppydragon on tumblr, and without him, Revenant would not be half as good. We still talk about Revenant (lots of memes) and whenever I add a little bit to the post-arc of Revenant, it goes through him first.

Reading Revenant six times is crazy. That’s so many words! I read the main arc of Revenant through over and over again while I was editing, and I still go back and read it sometimes. It’s always taken me days, and I’m no slouch when it comes to my reading speed. I’m honored that it means so much to you that you’re willing to put that kind of dedication into it. I have two other Revenant stories in the works (one which handles Snoke, and the other which handles dispatching First Order cells across the galaxy) and while my priorities are currently the Rey Djarin AU (finish line in sight!) and a sequel to a fic I’m currently publishing where Finn adopts a baby girl abducted to be a Stormtrooper, one of these days I’m gonna finish those stories and get them posted. I really loved writing Revenant, and coming back to it always feels natural, even when I struggle with what exactly I want to say.

Thank you for this ask, and for loving Revenant enough to read something roughly the length of The Return of the King (I did actually look it up once) over and over again. This was a delightful ask to get.

#star wars #revenant #ocean speaks #ocean answers asks

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xticklemeemox · 1 year ago

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The Love You Want: III, Part Eight

so uh yeah… smut warning. first time ever writing smut im so sorry and also i feel like the second smut scene is better than the first but Moonshard gave me an idea and i ran with it. sorry if its unrealistic too, im a single, virgin cisgender woman sorryyyyy

word count: 15.5k

ao3

Masterlist

Previous Part

Next Part

Things do not seem to change much after that night. Vessel feels as though he is walking on eggshells around the other vessels, trying to be so careful about asking for too much affection even if he craves it like oxygen. III has been relentless in his affections, though. Asking at all hours of the day for kisses that steal Vessel's breath and leave him aching for more. Vessel finds II and III in the kitchen making breakfast in the mornings as III hangs off II's back, arms wrapped around his waist and aches for that same closeness. His empty chest aches when III coaxes II into a short dance that II tries to shy away from, stumbling awkwardly as III hums along to the radio he brought down from their room. III's boisterous laughter and encouragement to have some fun with them, even as II complains about the food beginning to burn is endearing and Vessel feels like an outsider, lingering at the kitchen door trying his hardest not to be noticed.

He wonders what would have happened if he'd had the courage to join them.

II and III have picked up a brand new routine of giving each other, and then Vessel, in no particular order, kisses when they wake in the morning. None of them have seemed to sleep in their own rooms since they officially started dating, which wasn't too far off from the way things were before. He aches for the way those two cuddle close at night or just lazing about, II's head on III's chest or the other way around, unafraid to be that vulnerable with someone else.

Vessel is happy when II and III ask to kiss him. So, so happy. He never refuses, always eagerly agrees. He wants to soak in every ounce of affection they'll give him like a sponge. Vessel knows he will never tire of it, needs to take in all of it he can while they still wish to give it.

Just a few days after Vessel got revenge for III, he sits on his piano bench, writing down chord changes as he works on a song with his guitar. Already, he has a few ideas for lyrics inspired by a certain bassist, though Vessel isn't sure the song will ever see the light of day. It's no where near completed, merely a base melody and a couple lyric lines he needs to work off of. A knock on the doorframe startles him from his concentration, and lo' and behold, one of the objects of his desire stands at the door with a smile.

"Hey, Sugar, y'wanna head out to see my garden? I started it the day you were... gone. I was thinking we could go on a walk after, see if Two wants to join?"

There's a nervous flush to III's cheeks that Vessel doesn't usually see. Vessel nods, already beginning to put his guitar away. III lights up, smile growing wider as he practically vibrates in place, trying to keep still to not make Vessel too nervous. III meets Vessel halfway to the door, eagerly offering up their hand that Vessel takes with a smile, swinging their hands between them gently as III practically pulls Vessel towards the living room.

II lays on the couch playing on his phone, tired eyes watching the screen with a furrow between his brow as he scrolls through something with utmost concentration. "Doll, did you wanna go on a walk with Vessel and I after I get done showing him the garden?"

"Are you asking me out on your date with Ves?" II inquires curiously, turning away from his screen, and Vessel startles a little, faltering behind III.

"Yes! I don't really want to go outside of Sleep's realm yet so this is all I've come up with." III grins, nodding along with II's words.

Vessel splutters, eyes a little wide, not realizing that this is what III was aiming for. They were asking him on a date? Vessel didn't realize, didn't even think-

Feeling Vessel's surprise over the bond, III turns his sheepish smile on to Vessel, as they nervously run a hand through their hair. "I thought you realized. My bad, Sugar. I would like to take you out on a date, if that's alright?"

Vessel is nodding before he can think better of it, and III grins, bringing Vessel's hand up to plant a kiss over his knuckles. "Still not talking much, sweetheart?" II asks, watching the both of them fondly.

"Voice..." Vessel's voice peters out as he continues, clearing his throat, "Does not want to work sometimes, still. I apologize."

"Don't apologize, pretty. Its not your fault. You're doing so well." III refutes, pressing another kiss to Vessel's knuckles.

III enjoys the way Vessel's face goes pink at the term, at the praise. He hates how easy it is, just a little bit of affection goes so far with him, and yet he loves it at the same time.

Who made him like this?

What tragedy led Vessel to becoming entangled with Sleep in the first place?

And is there a way Sleep can give III the chance to snap their necks after kicking their teeth in?

"I might join you later. I've been trying to figure out where we are in the country now, and if there are any small places we can play at." II says, shaking his phone a little for emphasis.

"Do you think we're ready to play a show?" III asks, curious.

Even as II says that he thinks they are, as they have at least three songs they can play, and III fits with them so naturally and is well on his way to perfecting his parts, Vessel wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

"Will you be able to sing, sweetheart?"

Vessel nods slowly, even if he isn't sure himself. "Mask- helps."

"Have you heard him sing much, Three?" II asks, suddenly not quite sure.

"A little. His voice has been failing him a lot, whenever we practice so I'm not sure I've heard him clearly. We'll be keeping our masks on, right? I've never seen Vessel sing without his."

"Can't without it." Vessel says, feeling ashamed of his cowardice.

"That's alright. It's better we all wear the masks anyway. Anonymity seems to be the best choice for us, with our Sleep given features and all." II is quick to reassure, not liking the self-deprecation in Vessel's tone.

III is putting a little braid in his hair as they all talk, cursing when they realize they lost their rubber band. Vessel taps their shoulder, handing them one of the rubber bands he keeps in his pockets just for a situation like this. III smiles, thanking him with a peck on the cheek as he ties the braid off.

"Will you be playing the guitar, Ves, or will we need to find a guitarist?" III asks curiously.

"We'll need to find one." He replies hesitantly, and there is a strange lilt to his tone that does not go unnoticed by the others.

Vessel does not want to find a guitarist, but knows he cannot play the instrument on stage. It will be hard enough to get himself to sing, let alone do so and play an instrument. In his soul, he knows that the position is meant to be filled by the fourth vessel. It is not something to be given freely to anyone, no matter if they're good at the instrument or what they're looking for. Sleep has made no mention of a fourth yet, so they are left to find a stand in. Vessel has no reason to refuse the other two when he knows they need someone else until their Fourth comes to join them.

"Alright, we'll get to that later, as well as picking a name for the band. Oh, Three, before you go, I think we can take the bandage off your palm now, and I need to check your fingers." II says as III takes Vessel's hand again and starts to turn around to leave.

III agrees easily, apologizing to Vessel for making him wait. "Take... care of yourself." Vessel manages before grimacing, bringing out his phone to type on.

'You insist I take care of my wounds, I insist you take care of yours. I can wait.'

II has III sit on the couch as he places a bookmark in his book and grabs a small first aid kit from one of the many bookcases, smiling affectionately at the little labels III had done on the wooden furniture.

II unwraps the bandages with care, trying to make sure he doesn't pull scabbing away in case there is any. There is a thin, nearly invisible scar that blends in with the lines of III's hand, striking right through the red question mark where it is only slightly more noticeable. Vessel's guilt slides like oil down the bond at the sight of it, tainting the tether binding their souls with his rising self-loathing. "Do not feel guilty for this Vessel." III demands, "I do not regret what I did."

Vessel does not answer, his guilt remains, but he moves to sit close to III, taking care not to touch him. III is the one that reaches out to hold Vessel's hand without a thought, seeking the comfort and the familiar chill of Vessel's hand in theirs. II moves on to III's fingers next, taking off the bandages and redoing them after applying a bit of burn cream. The redness of the skin and the little blister at the tips did not look serious, well on their way to being healed already, but Vessel is curious as to how III received them in the first place. He doesn't dare ask.

II kisses each fingertip as he smiles, "You're done, sweetheart. Now, Ves, what about your fingers?"

Vessel's own fingers still bear the bandages around the distal phalanges like III's, from where he'd ripped and split the skin around his cuticles in his anxiety a few days prior. They'd bled too much for II's liking and insisted Vessel let him bandage them.

III is the one who did it, though. They insisted, profusely, with shaking hands and a terrified face. Vessel felt absolutely horrible the entire time, as II held a hand on his thigh for comfort just as he was doing to III. III's leg had morphed in his fright, as thin as spindly as his arm had been, as he looked at Vessel as though he was seeing something else, eyes squeezing shut. The relief that slammed through the bond when they unwrapped the first finger and found that the wounds had healed almost entirely, and there was nothing but faint scabbing left, was immense and immediate. III's hands slowly got less shaky after that, still held tightly to Vessel's long after they finished until the tremble was gone and III's smile turned genuine.

"Go on and enjoy your date, you two. I'll be here if you still want me to join you for the second half."

III leans forward and kisses II shortly, standing and pulling Vessel up with them. "Thanks, Doll, appreciate it. We'll be back soon enough. I expect you to be dressed and ready to go!" III wiggles his pointer finger at II in a premature reprimand, or perhaps a joking threat.

They stop in the foyer so III can put shoes on at the door, and then they're on their way. The sun is bright above them, and Vessel winces at the first bit of sunlight that meets his eyes, blinking to remove the multitude of white spots that swarmed his vision. His outfit is a little unusual for the warm weather, a pair of loose, black, billowing pants with a brown belt to hold it up, his mask attached, and the flowing, victorian-esque shirt III had picked out for him at the thrift store. His feet are bare, and as the roots of the large trees surrounding the manor move away from III's path so he does not trip, Vessel consequently remains safe from the same fate. III walks beside him in a knee-length skirt and a cropped tank top with frilled straps, swinging their hands together as they pull him down the little path they'd made that leads along the side of the house.

The little plot walled in with red brick is unassuming, tiny sprouts already beginning to grow from the soil.

"Did not- help like I was supposed to. Apologies." Vessel says as they come upon it as III grins proudly.

"Its alright, love. It kept me from being too worried while you were gone. The plans we made meant it was far easier, besides." III tries to assuage the guilt Vessel seems to always carry around like a second skin, even if they have to understate just how worried he and II were.

"You did well by yourself." Vessel says genuinely, voice catching a little as he forces himself.

"Thank you, Sugar. I planted some daffodils and bellflowers. I intend to offer them to Sleep and keep them on the altar. It will be a while yet before they grow, though." III explains, pulling Vessel down to crouch with him.

Vessel thinks back to the flowers III had left on his nightstand, how he had restored them to perfection. He wonders if he can do the same now, but... Will III be alright with it if Vessel were to try? Knowing he couldn't speak enough to explain properly, Vessel takes out his phone to type it out.

'Thank you for the flowers you left me. They're very pretty though I'm unsure of some of their meanings. I think I've discovered another ability and want to test it on your garden. Am I allowed?'

Vessel fiddles with the phone case, biting and pulling at the skin of his lip before he offers the phone to III to read.

"You're welcome, Sugar, and thank you for asking. Go on ahead, they aren't much to look at right now anyway. I don't mind planting something new if I have to." III waves Vessel on, sitting back on his haunches to watch what Vessel does.

Nervous now, Vessel takes in a small breath to steel himself for failure, reaching out and planting his hands palm down in the dirt. He concentrates on the sprouts just barely tickling his palms, willing them to grow. They follow his command easily, surprisingly, leaves and stems sprouting from under his hands that he has to lift to avoid squashing the flowers blooming before he and III.

"Shit, Ves, that's amazing! I'm really proud of you!"

Vessel keeps his hands near as more and more of the flowers begin to bloom, marigolds and bellflowers but also others that III didn't plant, like amaryllis as Vessel feels a bit of pride swell up within him. He looks over to III in excitement that only grows when he sees that same excitement mirrored on III's face.

"Beautiful job, Sugar!"

III is elated, picking one of the bellflowers and placing the stem in Vessel's hair, behind one ear. One side of Vessel's mouth tilts up into a smile baring a fang, turning back to their work as a couple more daffodils bloom up from ground, glowing a gentle yellow the color of their petals. They snap a quick photo before Vessel can see, leaning forward to kiss him when he turns to see what III is doing. Vessel loses his balance, concentrated expression morphing into surprise, falling over onto his ass in the dirt from where they had both been crouched before the garden plot. III follows him down, a hand on the back of Vessel's head to protect it from the fall and dirt, amusement and adoration flowing so heavily down the bond that Vessel feels consumed by it, cannot deny that III is genuine in those feelings.

III laughs in amusement, pulling away to do so. "I love you." They grin, and Vessel sends some of his down the bond with purpose, needing III to know that Vessel loves him in return.

Flowers start blooming around Vessel's arms where one has fallen to rest at his side, a line of blooming petals between the cracks in the bricks that glow gently under the sun's rays leading back up to the garden itself. White poppies for peacefulness or calm, and daisies for loyal love. III looks down at Vessel, taking him, and all the flowers beginning to grow around his head, in and feels overwhelmed by the love they have for him.

Vessel watches III intently. Watches how the sun turns his blonde hair golden as it peeks through the canopy of trees, not yet noon. His question mark freckle by his eye has disappeared into the creases his skin makes when they smile, and Vessel is enamored, completely and utterly. "You're beautiful."

III's smile turns into a grin, pretty blue eyes surrounded by a sea of black that makes the color pop going mischievous. III leans down to kiss Vessel again, pausing right before their lips touch, moving up to plant a kiss at the tip of his nose instead. All six of Vessel's eyes go cross-eyed as he watches, and III huffs a small laugh of amusement.

"Thank you, pretty. Forgot to ask for that kiss, sorry, love. Can I have another?" III asks, and Vessel nods eagerly, murmuring a quiet yes that gets lost in the sounds of the birdsong around them.

The bellflower has barely remained in Vessel's hair, hanging on by his ear for dear life. III takes two careful fingers and fixes it, leaning down to kiss Vessel as they thread their fingers through what of Vessel's hair is loose from his half-up, half-down hairdo, with a small braid that III had done for him earlier that morning.

As Vessel is finding common for III, the single kiss turns into two turns into three turns into full on making out, all careful teeth and ravaging tongue. Vessel's takes in short, panting breaths between kisses as his lungs burn and still he longs for more, anything and everything III will give him. The smell of the soil and the flowers are strong in his nose, sucking deep breaths in when III gives Vessel a moment to breathe. More and more flowers begin to bloom, all glowing their respective colors gently.

Vessel does not want III to stop kissing him, he fears if he does not figure out how to stop the flowers from growing, the line between garden plot and the rest of the yard surrounding the house will be nonexistent.

When III lets Vessel breathe again, Vessel says as much, in stilted, breathy words as he catches his breath. Flowers are still blooming; bellflowers, daffodils, poppies, and now, pink magnolias that III must know mean shyness. Vessel is certain he will explode from that shyness with how flustered he is, blushing and still breathless but overcome by III's single-minded affections that Vessel cannot deny are genuine. Not when Vessel can feel III's giddy excitement and something else Vessel cannot name, does not properly recognize. Its warm, and feels safe. It feels a little like Vessel's love for III, for II. He wonders if it is their love for him, wonders if he can dare to hope. He wants them to love him, wants that love to last. He wants to be worthy of it.

He asked to be loved, and now, faced with that possibility, Vessel is afraid it is not real, that it is real. Because that means that he was never truly loved before them. And Vessel cannot handle that truth, not now. Cannot handle what that means for him and his past and how he suffered and suffered.

Because II and III love Vessel, with their hearts and souls and everything beyond and between. They love him easily, like breathing. It can be hard, yes, to love Vessel, to love every part of him when their very souls ache at any sliver of knowledge he gives them about his past, at seeing what that past continues to do to him as Vessel mutilates his arms. It makes their blood run cold to think of what he must have suffered, the stories he never told and may never tell. Loving Vessel is to hurt for Vessel, because hurt is all Vessel knows. They love him, far more than he loves himself, and they're going to help him love himself. They do not even know just how far that hatred for himself runs, but their love is endless, something tying their souls together beyond Sleep, and they know it is fate that brought them together, and not only the measly whims of a God.

Because Vessel loves II and III, with his heart and soul and everything beyond and between. There are ten-ton weights attached to his feet, one is by his own hand, and the other has been placed there by his parents, then they tossed him into the ocean and no one ever told him not to breathe. And with every person who had ever willingly hurt him, ruined him, picked his heart to pieces, a new link of the chain only further weighed him down. And so he sunk beneath the waves, and sunk, and sunk, until all he knew was the crushing darkness of the depths as he drowned over and over and over.

Vessel knows what it is like to drown. Knows the burning in his lungs as they beg for air, the way his body fights his hearts desire to die. Vessel had survived that attempt, and did not attempt to drown himself again.

His own weight is loosening, but the other is so hefty, and he has only known its weight for so long, Vessel does not remember what it is like to be weightless.

"What are you thinking about, baby?" III asks, voice soft as they take in the purple hyacinths beginning to blossom around Vessel.

III knows that purple hyacinths are most often used to express sadness.

"Before." Vessel murmurs, and III moves off of him, letting Vessel sit up.

The nickname rubs Vessel the wrong way. He... he hates it, he realizes. It... shit, it reminds him of his past partners. At some point, every one of them had called him a baby. For crying when he was upset or after they'd hurt him. For not being able to go into stores alone, for getting anxiety over basic things at home... It hurts for III to call him that. Vessel wants to ask him to stop. Wonders if III would listen, or would only continue to use the nickname more now that they knew Vessel didn't like it.

There are a multitude of petals in his hair, and as Vessel moves to try and figure out how to get all of these flowers to stop growing, III begins carefully plucking them out of the mess Vessel's hair has become.

"Do you want to talk about it?" III asks, taking note of the small bit of dissatisfaction that splattered like ink over Vessel's bond when III called him a baby.

Vessel wiped it away easily, as though it had never been there as the flowers listen intently to Vessel's silent command to stop, stop growing.

"No, it- it doesn't matter, now. I- Thank you though."

"Of course, love, Two and I are always willing to listen, if you ever need to get something off your chest."

Vessel wants to believe him. Wants to slice open his empty chest and show III what Vessel cannot speak... but Vessel knows that neither the Second nor the Third vessel will continue to love a man who has no heart in his chest to give, no matter if it still beats, just not in his body.

Vessel nods, unable to lie to III, to agree to something he cannot uphold, not again. Little things had become easier to say. It had been easier to go to them before they all got in a relationship, but now Vessel is afraid one wrong move will cause this happiness he feels in his chest to crumble like a stack of cards.

"Let's go grab Two, Sugar. I wanna show him what you've done with the garden. It really is beautiful, I've got to find some pots to move these to. Oh, and I can put some in vases around the house." III helps Vessel up, planting a small kiss on his temple after, and that happiness Vessel had been feeling before his mind started running without him seems to come back, a little.

III wanted Vessel to say that he would talk to them, just to hear it, even if he won't.

"You could offer some to Sleep now, like you wanted." Vessel offers quietly as he and III walk hand in hand back towards the front of the house.

He gently fingers the bellflower in his hair with a smile, and misses the look of complete adoration that slides onto III's face.

Vessel does not recognize the love, sweet and thick, coating the bond. Just because Vessel does not recognize it, does not truly believe it is there or that it will remain, does not mean that it is not there.

"I'll do that later, maybe tomorrow." III hums, swinging their hands gently.

II is on the phone when III and Vessel enter the house, pacing back and forth in the living room. He smiles a little at them as he raises a single finger for them to wait a moment as he continues talking to whoever is on the line. III shrugs, pulling Vessel up the stairs with an unbothered grin.

Vessel follows, enjoying the gentle touch of III's hand clasped in his own, reveling in the attention. III takes him to their room, and when they enter, III pauses long enough to close the door until only a crack remains. Leading Vessel over to the bed while he is simply content to watch, III sits them both at its edge, idly fidgeting with the screensaver in the ensuing silence.

"Wanna make out?" III breaks the silence at random, and Vessel's face goes beet red, not expecting the turn in conversation.

He nods though, ever eager, and lets III lean forward to kiss him. Soon enough, III is slowly pushing Vessel back towards the mattress, climbing onto the bed after him to straddle Vessel's hips.

III's fingers fiddle with the waistband of Vessel's pants, one thumb sliding beneath the fabric to rub sensually over a scarred hip. Vessel loses count of how many kisses III gives him, and wishes he could keep that count to cherish every one.

III's shirt has ridden up over the span of their extensive kissing session, exposing more of their skin to Vessel's enraptured gaze. One pair remains on the exposed flesh of their stomach, another watching III kiss him with abandon. The top set is open, watching III curiously just the same as III is watching him. It should unsettle Vessel for III to like keeping their eyes open when kissing, but it just seems another of III's quirks, just another thing for Vessel to love about them.

Vessel cannot stop staring in hunger, bottom pair of eyes traveling lower, eyes shining as arousal stirs low in his gut. He doesn't expect it to go anywhere further, expects it to be stomped out if this continues the way Vessel thinks it will. The way III seems to be heading.

"Sex on the first date, Sugar? How scandalous." III jokes, and Vessel almost apologizes.

He pauses though, considering, and pointedly does not refute III's joke. If III wants to have sex, Vessel will not deny them. He is good at keeping quiet, he's had so much practice. He can even fake the noises if he works hard enough.

This is what all the kissing has been leading up to, right? One didn't kiss another just for the fun of it. III had just been playing the long game all week, just for this end result. Vessel had been expecting it, had wondered when this would happen. Wondered what III would look like over him, in him.

"If you want to... Just- My... my shirt. Can I keep it on?" This is all Vessel will ask for, he reassures himself.

Only this. Only to keep his heartbeat, or lack thereof, a little harder to detect...

Shit, there's something else Vessel wants too. He needs to tell III. Needs to.

III pulls away entirely, weight held up on by his knees to watch Vessel for a moment, to check for any signs of hesitation. The only sign of uncertainty seems to be with keeping III's hands off of Vessel in all the places he keeps away from touch.

"Of course you can, Ves, if you want to. You look so pretty in it, I could never refuse." III reassures as they strip out of their own shirt and skirt, deliberating for a split second before taking their underwear off too.

All of them is exposed to Vessel, including the markings over their pelvis, black, shadowy flames with an ever shifting little golden question mark pointing towards each hipbone. It gets lost a little in the hair leading down to his dick, but it is no less beautiful.

As Vessel admires him, he divests himself of most of his clothes. Vessel is quickly left in only his shirt and boxers, and III has never seen a more ethereal being in his entire life.

"Kiss me. All that you want. Please." Vessel states, sending his reassurance down the bond.

"Are you sure, my love?" III asks, searching Vessel's face for any uncertainty.

"Yes. Please."

III goes in for a kiss, all tongue and sharp-fanged nips as he shoves Vessel back on the bed. III hopes he isn't being too rough but Vessel never breaks the kiss, letting III maneuver him as they please as the arousal he was feeling ever so slowly begins to grow.

"Are you sure about this, Vessel? I'm perfectly content with getting dressed again and just watching something on my phone with you until Two is done." III pulls away to ask, fixing the flower in Vessel's hair.

Vessel does not respond for a moment, staring up at III with something akin to confusion. He doesn't understand why III is asking. His other partners never asked.

"Yes?" Vessel responds, more of a question than an answer, head tilting just so to the side.

III frowns, sitting up to straddle Vessel's waist, careful not to put any of their weight on him. Vessel hurries to correct himself as III tries to keep an eye on the bond for a lie, "Yes. I am. I want this."

The lie feels like ash on his tongue, and Vessel keeps the spike of panic at lying hidden under the reassurance he shoves down the bond to overshadow it. It matters more to Vessel that III enjoys himself, that III will be satisfied and happy with him. Vessel had never found enjoyment in sex, but that means nothing to him. He's curious how III will sound, hopes it doesn't hurt too badly.

III narrows his eyes in suspicion, and leans down halfway. "If you want this, then kiss me."

"Kiss you?" Vessel murmurs, "You want me to kiss you? Will you not grow tired of me if I kissed you as much as I wish?"

"I will never tire of your lips on mine. If you want to give, then give me all that you can give. I want to taste you better."

Vessel's decision is quick and if his heart were in his chest, he is sure it would pound right out of his skin through his ribcage. Vessel is being so bold, so selfish. But he wants III, anything he will give him.

II and III make him want to be brave, even if he knows he is a coward at heart, even if he knows that their inevitable departure will ruin him like nothing else ever has.

Vessel surges up and plants his lips right on III's, a hand coming to hold their shoulder in another daring action. III moans into the kiss, one hand coming up to grip Vessel's at his shoulder. There is a moment of panic in Vessel's chest as III rips Vessel's hand off of their shoulder, but it is dashed away faster than Vessel can latch on to the emotion as III takes both of Vessel's hands, clasping their fingers together, and shoving them to either side of Vessel's head.

III's tongue is ravaging, exploring Vessel's mouth with haste, and Vessel dares to lean further into it, to shove one thigh up to III's hip just to feel them close.

"I love you." III says when they pull away, "I love you. I love you."

When III says those three words like that, looking down at Vessel with the most adoring expression Vessel has ever seen, Vessel almost believes him. Can almost fool himself into thinking this is real.

"Can I take your underwear off, Sugar?" III asks, and Vessel responds by beginning to wiggle them off his hips with haste.

III reaches to help, planting soft kisses to Vessel's cheeks sporadically, just because they want to. III does not shy away from Vessel's scars peeking over the bandages on his thighs, finding them a safer place to hold than the bandages themselves. III does not want to hurt Vessel by not being careful with his self harm.

Careful not to loosen the bandages on Vessel's thighs, III pulls them up and apart so Vessel is spread before him. Enraptured by the sight of him, III moves their body forward to slot himself between the meaty limbs.

"Gonna get you ready for me, love." III says, circling the tight hole of Vessel's ass with a finger slick with pre-cum taken from III's own cock.

He pushes two in when Vessel nods, not noticing the quickly stifled confusion that Vessel tried to keep at bay. It feels good, Vessel realizes, even as III is hasty with it, adding a third as Vessel sighs at the unfamiliar knot beginning to build in his gut.

Downstairs, II gasps, face twisting as he feels Vessel's pleasure and is nearly overcome by it, quickly making an excuse to call back later to whoever he was on the phone with. II is going to absolutely wreck III when he gets his hands on them just for nor giving II a warning that he'd be bombarded with the other vessels shared pleasure. They were supposed to wait. II just hopes III knows what they're doing. Soft footsteps pad up the staircase, room door closing quietly behind him, fingers already beginning to unbuckle his jeans. Fuck, a warning would have been nice, II thinks as he practically jumps into bed, focusing in on III and Vessel's bonds to relish in the pleasure bleeding into II's own bond.

III fingers Vessel open, and the pleasure that builds in him is consuming every rational thought in his head as III thrusts his fingers quickly. Vessel has never been prepped beforehand, didn't even know it was something one did before having sex with another man. III continues to surprise him, and Vessel thinks that maybe sex could be something he enjoys, if its with III. If it stays like this.

III is kissing Vessel again, gently taking one of his angel bite piercings between their teeth and pulling before going back to kissing him with abandon, and he has lost count of how many times they've done so since this started. Vessel grins into the kiss, unable to help himself. Kissing them is one of the greatest joys in Vessel's life and it never fails to pull a smile out of him, despite his insecurities.

The pace of III's fingers is fast and deep, working Vessel open quicker than III had intended but he was so eager, so desperate. Desperate to be inside Vessel and finally know what it feels like to have the other man under them, to see what expressions will befall his expressive features after III gets their cock into him.

III swears he could cum from the sight of Vessel alone, hazy eyes unfocused as his bond tells of his pleasure, hair splayed out around him as III finally slips their fingers out, deeming Vessel's ass thoroughly prepped. He is the picture of beauty, covered in his own self-harm scarring and bandages, markings gifted by Sleep peeking out from the open V of his shirt.

"Putting it in now, Ves." III warns as he lines himself up, and Vessel only nods, one pair of ruby eyes managing to catch III's pretty blues as the top pair tries to also take every inch of III in at once.

The bottom pair trails down from III's face to their neck, down their chest, catching on their happy trail and the markings clearly visible, and then watches as III starts to push his thick cock into Vessel.

It's a slow, agonizing push, but Vessel expected it to hurt worse than it did. He supposes the prep work III did was useful after all, and feels a tiny seed of bitterness sprout in his soul that he stomps out with ease, but the thought remains. That is all his first lover would have needed to do to make sure it didn't feel like Vessel was being torn open every time they had sex? Vessel doesn't deserve the kindness III has shown him already, and definitely doesn't deserve to feel this good as III pushes in at a snails pace.

Vessel wants to ask him to go faster, to hurry up, because Vessel has never felt like this before and desperately needs more, needs to feel all of III inside of him right now. Vessel will not allow himself to ask something so selfish, no matter how greatly he wants to beg and plead and moan for more, more.

III works into Vessel slowly, a little to be a brat, but also because he likes the expression of pleasure on Vessel's face and wants it to last a little longer. They like the impatient little furrow to Vessel's brow that he tries to rid himself of before III can notice. III thanks Sleep for every little punctuated breath they pull out of Vessel with every inch of his cock sliding into him. The bond speaks of the ecstasy Vessel is feeling, and it seems heightened as the both of them feel it over the tether, almost sharing in it, heightening it, it seems like.

Nearly half way in, III pulls out, leaning down to kiss Vessel again at the same moment he shoves back in, bullying himself a little further inside. They swallow the surprised huff that spills from Vessel's lips with glee, pulling away as they slowly push their cock in further.

"You're so pretty below me, Sugar." III groans, enjoying the way Vessel's already flushed face goes even redder as III finally bottoms out, thumbing over the wet tip of Vessel's dick with intent.

"My pretty boy." III continues just to see how Vessel reacts, squeezing Vessel's hand as they very slowly pull out and then push back in to the hilt.

His ears go red next, six eyes unable to focus on anything as III continues thrusting into him, holding his dick in their large hand and squeezing gently, the bed creaking lowly below them. Golden tears bead at the corners of his glowing red eyes, slipping over as Vessel's cums into and on III's hand with a silent shout, panting at the ecstasy coursing through him, embarrassed it had hit him so quickly. III leans down to kiss him, hand leaving Vessel's own to tangle in his hair, not pulling at first, merely resting between the strands.

"I love you." III whispers against Vessel's lips, watching every minute change in Vessel's expression intently as III continues thrusting.

Vessel can barely manage to repeat the phrase with such reverence, words punctuated with every thrust of III's hips into the backs of Vessel's bandaged thighs.

There is a brief moment where III groans, pulling out and shoving a little deeper to grind his dick into Vessel a little further as Vessel lets out the closest thing he's made to a moan, more of a harsh wheeze, and III pulls his hair. It is barely a pinch of pain before III lets go entirely, taking a second to massage the spot they pulled before that hand comes to wipe away some of Vessel's tears. Vessel had been reminded of his third partner, for that split second, but III did not pull so hard that Vessel loses strands between their fingers like Vessel had expected. III had then soothed the spot lightly even if it didn't even truly hurt.

Vessel's chest heaves on the tail end of a sob, so silent as his shoulders shake, III fucking him so good he sees stars, and yet he doesn't make a sound. Not a sound of pleasure or pain. III almost stops fucking him to ask if he was alright, but Vessel grabs III's hips and forces him to stay inside, begging quietly for III to keep going.

Vessel can't believe he was so selfish to ask for something like that. Never before had he had the urge to keep going, not when his partner was being so rough. Though, Vessel finds that there is a stark difference in roughness, between III and his first partner. This doesn't hurt. There is an ache in his muscles, yes, as III pulls one thigh, then the other over their shoulders to somehow go even deeper inside of him, an action that causes the pleasure he is feeling to heighten exponentially. There is a slight sting on his lip where one of III's fangs nicked the skin, but Vessel enjoys it.

There is overwhelming ecstasy in Vessel as III's cock hits a spot in him that Vessel didn't even know he had, sending stars across his vision as a tiny little keen slips out, lost in the beautiful sounds III is making above him.

III is a little gentler after that, a little slower as Vessel's bond is filled with mind-numbing pleasure. III leans further into Vessel's space, arms reaching around his shoulders to pull him up, squeezing a little too tightly as Vessel wiggles enough for there to be a little space between their chests as III kisses him again. Release hits Vessel quickly when III hits that previously unknown spot in him, tipping Vessel over the edge again as III cums inside him and Vessel's release splatters over III's stomach. III's lips are on Vessel's again, and again, as they grind their cock and cum into Vessel slowly, murmuring softly, "You did so good for me, Sugar, so good. Such a good boy."

Being called good lights Vessel's nerves on fire, and he feels like he's floating in the aftershocks of his orgasm, smiling happily. Vessel didn't realize sex could feel this good.

III stills, finally, panting and satisfied as they pull out, dropping to lay beside Vessel, shoulders pressed close.

Vessel longs to feel III back inside him already. Longs for that closeness.

They lay there for a few minutes, basking in the afterglow and catching their breaths. III's heart pounds in their chest, hand reaching down blindly to find Vessel's hand, clasping it tightly to bring it up to kiss the back of it, letting their hands fall to rest on their touching thighs.

"That was- It was... It was good." Vessel murmurs, a little in awe, a little confused.

"Yeah, it was. I didn't mean to hold you that tightly towards the end, sorry." III apologizes, "And I think I was a little rough overall. Held you when you asked me not to touch your chest. I'll try not to do that again."

Vessel finds himself surprised, again. III thought that was rough? He didn't hurt Vessel, only shoved him around once or twice, he actually prepped him to take his cock, it felt- it felt amazing.

"No, no, it was... it was good. Better than any other time I've-" Vessel forces out before catching himself, realizing with some anxiety that III could have felt Vessel's lack of heartbeat.

No. They couldn't have. The pounding of III's heart alone must have been enough for them not to notice before I pulled away. Right?, Vessel tries desperately to convince himself.

Vessel will need to request something else. He doesn't know how to ask them to keep the touching to a bare minimum during sex, but he cannot risk something like that happening again. If III was a little more aware... Vessel's secret would be out and they would abandon him.

"I know I'm good but that good? You're overexaggerating, Sugar." III laughs, before a concerned frown just slightly graces his lips.

They hope that's all it is, but with Vessel, he knows he shouldn't expect most things to be just whatever.

Vessel doesn't say anything for a while, only turns onto his side to draw contemplative circles on III's shoulder, still a little lost in the pleasure they had just partook in. He... wants to open up to them more. He... wants them to know him. Truly know him beyond what he has allowed, beyond the mask (ha) he hides behind. Vessel knows he will regret this when given the time to overthink it, but he has never been subject to such pleasure before, and his mind is still a little scrambled in the aftermath, still shaking with the aftereffects of his orgasms.

"My first partner was a man. He was rough, and stronger, and didn't care if it was pleasurable for me. He only cared about himself." III stiffens at his side, bond filling with a sense of wrongness and anxiety.

Vessel's own bond is anxious, but he needs to say this. II sends down feelings of question and Vessel shoves back reassurance quickly, feeling II ease up on his worry in reluctant acceptance.

"Vessel, did I hurt-" III starts, frantic as he moves to sit up, but Vessel cuts him off.

"No. You didn't hurt me. You weren't even particularly rough, I'm fine. I enjoyed it. A lot, actually. I would... like to do it again, if you'll still have me." It's difficult to get the words out when Vessel is still struggling with his voice, but he manages and is, as usual, surprised when III does not rush him, or tell him to shut up.

III sits up, rolling over to cage Vessel in their arms below him, gaze intense and needing Vessel to believe them as he struggles to shove down their fury. "I'll always have you, as long as you're willing."

Vessel smiles, and it is a small thing that barely exposes a fang, that barely scrunches his lower pair of eyes. "I'll be willing as long as you'll have me."

"Do you mean that or are you just scared I'll be upset with you if you say no? You can say no to sex, whenever you do not want to have it." III argues gently, using one hand to brush some stray hair off of Vessel's sweaty forehead.

Vessel averts his gaze, unable to meet III's eyes when he knows they've hit the nail on the head once again. When Vessel becomes vulnerable, and shares things about himself, they seem to be able to pick up on more than what is said.

"I mean it. I really do. I promise." And Vessel does.

He means it with his entire heart and soul. Vessel didn't know sex could be... didn't know sex could feel good. So, so good. Vessel wants more, wants to feel III inside him again, needs to. Needs it like breathing. Needs III's lips on his and their cock ruining him.

Vessel didn't think he would ever want to have sex, let alone multiple rounds of it. II and III were so different from everyone else Vessel had ever known, you'd think he would no longer be surprised by it. When they first started this encounter, Vessel only agreed for III's benefit. It very quickly became something Vessel enjoyed too, and this dubious consent turned into enthusiastic consent very quickly, whether III knew or not.

"Can... we go again?" Vessel asks, after a moment, a blush staining his cheeks. "Right now?"

III stares intently for a moment, feeling down the bond and watching Vessel's face. Vessel really does want more, III realizes, as a bit of giddiness creeps up on him despite their worry. III answers by slowly sliding back in with help from his hand, watching Vessel's face crease in pleasure with a harsh breath as he writhes ever so slightly from under them, hands held close to his stomach. Even now, he makes no sound. One day, III promises, one day III will fuck Vessel so good he'll make the most beautiful sounds without being able to stop himself and they will eat it up like a man starved.

"I wonder if II ever finished that phone call." III muses, realizing they'd not seen nor heard from him since they'd come back in the house from the garden.

Oh well, unless II comes knocking, III will continue as long as they please, as long as Vessel wishes.

Vessel lets out a hum as a response that turns into a long, drawn out breath of pleasure as III uses one hand to hold both of Vessel's to the best of their ability, rubbing over a knuckle with their thumb, thrusting deep and quick while the other hand holds the headboard for stability. Again, Vessel lets out little, punctuated huffs as his face twists in pleasure, body moving with the force of III's thrusts and all III wants is to take a photo of him. Wants to worship him, caress every inch of Vessel's skin with their hands, their mouth. Lavish his body in attention. Wants to make Vessel forget every time he'd been fucked before and replace the memories with III.

III wonders sometimes if he is being too clingy, too forward, with his kisses. They ask for them all the time, especially with Vessel. With II, III can worship him however he wants. Run his hands over his arms, down his sides, touch him. With Vessel, there are so few ways to physically show just how much III adores him. Kissing him seems like all III can do, sometimes. At least now, III has this.

III fucks Vessel again and again, and the last time, as Vessel and III cum with III's breathy, overstimulated whine, III leans over close and kisses his forehead tenderly, trying to shove as much of his love into that single action as possible. III remains close as they continue slowly fucking into him with deep, slow strokes to ride out the last of his high. Vessel reacts completely out of instinct, mind muddled from the multiple rounds with barely a break between, grasping a gentle hand around III's hair and pulling his head a little to the side, sitting up with core strength alone and biting the space between III's neck and shoulder.

III moans as Vessel freezes under him, bond going a little distant to hide his distress as he tries to pull away in the sudden panic that shoots through him. His hand quickly releases III's hair, laying back on the bed, head bowed submissively to watch III through his lashes with expecting eyes.

"Do that again?" III asks gently in light of Vessel's panic as he stops moving inside of Vessel.

Confused and still panicked, Vessel very slowly shakes his head in refusal, eyes wide and alert. "Okay, Sugar, that's fine. If you ever want to bite me again, I don't mind. I really liked it."

Vessel pays very close attention to III's voice, to their bond, to see if they are lying but Vessel cannot detect an ounce of uncertainty or untruth, but he is sure he's only missing the signs due to his scattered thoughts. III's dick twitches in interest from inside of him and Vessel lets out a little pleasured, pained huff at the overstimulation it brings.

"I think I'm gonna call it quits for now, Sugar. I'm tired and you're looking a little pale. So pretty though, all fucked out." III coos at the end as they slip out, brushing some messy, sweaty strands away from Vessel's face, just to watch Vessel get all flustered.

The brat in him just can't help it. He'll say or do anything, within reason, to get Vessel to blush. He'd kept himself on a bit of a leash today, not knowing how far he could go with his brat tendencies. III isn't even sure they'd be able to explain it to Vessel, certain that Vessel had no clue what a brat even was. III himself was a little unused to topping, but they figure they can get some pointers from II. There's no way that beautiful little man isn't a top, if not a dom.

III needs to talk with II, after they clean the both of them up and get some water and food into Vessel and themself. While not needing it to survive, III figures it would help return some color to Vessel's pale, exhausted face. Anything would help, III is sure, since Vessel cannot sleep his exhaustion off.

III frowns at that thought, trying to stifle the negativity they can feel creeping up on them. Vessel didn't need to feel it. Maybe fucking Vessel a few times in one go was a bad idea, since there is no rest to be had for him afterwards.

Sitting up, III scoots to the end of their bed, stretching. They turn their head to look back at Vessel, finding him still laying down quietly, an arm over his face to hide his eyes, though III can see the bottom pair is closed. Attuning themselves to the bond the vessels share, III focuses on Vessel's specifically, finding it a mix of confused and anxious and utterly exhausted, but also happy. So happy. While the happiness III is glad for, the others worry them a bit. Maybe Vessel didn't want to have sex with III. They asked, of course they did, but did Vessel just go along with it? Damn it all to Sleep. They need to talk to II.

First, they need to clean themself and Vessel up. III's stomach and dick is covered in sticky white cum, and a brief glance shows Vessel's ass is leaking III's release. As much as III doesn't want to have to clean himself off of Vessel, it must be done. For hygiene, III pouts, standing.

"Gonna go get some water and a snack, love, you should shower. I'll bring it to you after." III urges, and Vessel hums noncommittally, bond only getting more weary.

III's frown grows, pulling their shirt, underwear, and skirt back on after wiping themself off with some tissues. He makes sure to clear it off their face before turning to Vessel.

They turn to wipe Vessel down next, his eyes still closed and breathing even. III knows he isn't asleep, couldn't even if he wanted to. Vessel's eyes blink open slowly, half-lidded and tired and bond still radiating confusion as he watches in silence as III wipes their cum off him.

"What're you doing?" Vessel asks, so quietly III is sure Vessel didn't mean to speak it aloud.

"Cleaning you up, love." III responds, not pausing in their task.

They're gentle as they wipe Vessel off, as he visibly struggles not to squirm away when III cleans off his over-sensitive dick. "There you go, Sugar."

Vessel's confusion has not left, but the happiness he has been feeling remains, stronger than his unsurety. He nods, taking his underwear from III when they hand it over. III watches as Vessel crawls to the side of the bed, sitting down to slip his underwear back on. III is so busy taking in his lithe form that he almost misses Vessel's wince of pain as he stands, stretching and yet keeping the space he takes up while doing so small.

"Do you need help?" III asks, already standing with their arm out to help Vessel walk, but the other man shakes his head quickly in refusal.

"'m fine." His voice is a little hoarse, still quieter than it's already quiet cadence, but Vessel's words are less stilted than they'd been the past day or so since his voice came back.

"If you're sure." III says lightly, fighting to keep the frown off their face.

Vessel slips his pants back on, walking with a limp out of the room. III follows, catching Vessel by the hand and pulling him back, "Can I have a kiss, Sugar?"

Vessel desperately needs III to stop asking, wants III to kiss him whenever they want, even if Vessel knows he doesn't deserve them. But he doesn't have the courage to tell III to do so, and so Vessel merely nods, leaning in as III does. This kiss is shorter than usual, but no less fierce. Once again Vessel feels consumed by III, and loves it.

"Enjoy your shower, love, I'll see you in a minute." III says, pulling away to plant a kiss on Vessel's forehead, before ever so gently taking him by the shoulders and urging him downstairs.

Vessel goes with that limp still present, and III wishes he could enjoy the fact he'd fucked Vessel so well he could barely walk, but finds himself to be more concerned than anything else. III goes to knock on II's door when he thinks its been long enough for Vessel to get down the stairs, and enters when II gives the go ahead from the other side.

"Were you listening, Doll? I like to think I put on a good show, though Ves is quiet even in bed. So pretty though. So expressive." III says, leaning against the doorframe with a sly little smile.

II's face is flushed, splayed out over his bed in nothing but a tank top and his underwear, and III is sure this is the most flustered they've ever seen him.

"You're a little brat. Did Ves give you that on your neck?" He asks, gesturing in III's direction at the teeth indents in their skin.

"I wouldn't exactly call myself little, Shortie, and yes, he did. Pretty, is it? I've not seen it yet."

Vessel blushes, continuing down the hall from where he had stopped to curiously listen to II and III's conversation, making his way to the restroom for that shower III insisted he take.

"It is, yes, and not really surprising Vessel has a biting kink." II starts, seeming to not notice III's slight against his height, but sighs after a moment, "I thought we agreed we were going to talk it over before we had sex."

III's guilt floods the bond, and he hopes Vessel doesn't take the emotion the wrong way, knowing the other can feel it. "I know, we rushed into it. He agreed before we started though."

"Did you at least set some form of safe word or color system?" At III's bond growing more guilty and the way they can't meet II's searching gaze, II frowns in clear disappointment.

"Such a brat." II admonishes again with only a little heat, "Those are important. Did anything happen that you think Vessel might have needed to safe-word out of?"

"He explained some stuff about his first partner." III tells II what Vessel had said about his first partner, frowning, "He did look a little freaked out after he bit me though. I tried reassuring him over it, but I'm not sure the message got through to him."

"Three, this is why we needed to have a conversation about it before we actually had sex with each other." II groans, burying his face in his hands before looking back up in exasperation, "Did he seem okay when you left just now?"

"I mean, I think so? A little confused when I cleaned the both of us up. Seemed alright when I said I was gonna get a snack and some water."

II sighs again, beckoning III closer from where he has remained laid out on the bed. He smiles as III climbs onto the bed curiously, sitting on their heels beside him. One hand reaches up, caressing III's jaw, tracing their swollen lips with a thumb. One hand goes to wrap around their nape, pulling him down into a kiss as II sits up to meet him. "Good boy for taking care of him. I'm proud of you. You're to come back here, tonight." II orders, and III's eyebrows raise in incredulity.

II hurries to correct himself, "Only if you want to, of course."

"I was planning on that anyway?" III says, confused.

"Not to sleep, sweetheart. Not at first, at least."

"Oh. Oh."

After III realizes what II meant, excitement starts to buzz under their skin. "We're talking with Vessel tomorrow, and I am a little upset at how overeager you were... but, hm... Was he as pretty as I imagine?"

"Ethereal. Like a gift from the Gods. I'll have to see if he's okay with pictures. Not right now, of course. This is still new. But in the future, maybe." III waves their hands with the words, excited at the prospect.

"I should've known you'd be into lascivious photos with what you'd said before." II hums with a smirk that puts his dimple on display. "Well, I'm not against photos as long as you behave."

"Aww, I could've gotten that photo of you flushed and spread over your bed when I came in." III whines into II's chest with a pout.

"If you're good, I may let you take one or two later. Now, off with you. You need a shower and Vessel should be done."

"Fine." III drags out the word dramatically, pulling away from II with one last kiss, pulling gently on his lower lip as he goes.

II's amused laugh as he picks up his phone follows III out of the room. III makes his way down to the kitchen, humming the whole way. He can hear the water running from down the hall, turning just in time to watch Elvira chase a spider down that direction, and gets to work on figuring out what snack to bring Vessel. While they do so, they hear the water turn off and the bathroom door open. Like usual, Vessel's feet make no sound as they tap along the floor, but he does leave an accidental trail of water droplets, hurriedly wiping the mess up before escaping upstairs.

III knocks on Vessel's door, finding it unlocked when Vessel calls out a quiet 'come in.' In their arms is a couple water bottles and the same amount of granola bars.

Vessel is drying off his hair more thoroughly when III steps through the door, and his middle pair of eyes slides over to him when the door creaks open.

His shirt is yet to be worn, sitting in front of him. All he is wearing is a pair of pajama pants with the band peaking over the waist and a pair of pink socks covered in pale blue jellyfish. He looks beautiful, III thinks as they walk forward to place their items on the bed.

"Can I kiss you?" III asks, and smiles in amusement when Vessel lets out a quiet huff of mock irritation.

"Yes." He replies, and III leans down to do just as they had requested.

They keep it short, pulling away to shove a granola bar into Vessel's hands. "You're still pale, Ves. Eat this."

Vessel nods, and as III lays over his bed beside Vessel, kicking his feet in the air absentmindedly as they scroll on their phone, Vessel contemplates something as he chews.

"Can you..." Vessel swallows a bite, then continues, "Can you braid my hair?"

III lights up, "Of course, Sugar, let me go get- Oh. Thank you."

III sits up quickly to go get a couple rubber hair ties, but is stopped short when Vessel pulls some from the pocket of his pajama pants. They sit behind Vessel, brushing through his hair with gentle hands to make sure there are no knots that Vessel might have missed, and then begin braiding Vessel's hair.

III takes his time, being careful with every strand of hair they pull into the braid so that they don't tug on Vessel's scalp. Vessel has become putty in their hands, leaning back towards III and eyes fluttering like he could fall right to sleep. Of course, sleep does not come for him, but he sits in the drowsiness anyway. Enjoys the way III's fingers ran through his hair, the way III would lean forward at random to kiss Vessel's bare shoulder. The shiver that would travel down Vessel's spine at the warm breath against his skin, every time, without fail.

If III wanted to take him right then, Vessel would let him, eagerly.

Vessel is confused when after III finishes braiding his hair, III doesn't ask for sex again. Is that not what he came to Vessel for? Is that not why he stayed after bringing the snacks? Vessel is confused when III simply wants to hang out as they each do their own thing, sitting beside each other on Vessel's bed as he reads and III scrolls through memes and funny videos on their phone, occasionally showing him the ones they deem peak comedy. III's curls tickle Vessel's nose from his heads place on Vessel's shoulder. Vessel is content to let III stay there for as long as they wish, no matter how confused Vessel has become.

None of his other partners ever came to simply exist with him after they'd had their fill of Vessel's body. They always rejected any of Vessel's attempts, and when he got with his third partner, he had stopped trying to ask for affection after sex even if he ached for it. For it to be so freely given, for III to simply turn their head to place a kiss against Vessel's shoulder at random- Its jarring.

It makes Vessel feel warm inside.

III leaves just before dinner to take a shower, parting from Vessel's side with a kiss to his forehead and a loving goodbye tossed over their shoulder as they bounce out of the room. Over dinner, Vessel does not miss the glances III keeps sending II as he reads through a book on physics. Does not miss the frustrated, flustered blush spreading over II's face as III does something with their socked foot under the table. Startles when III yelps, knee banging into the table and shaking the liquid in their cups after II kicks him hard in the shin.

"Please stop that." II demands in a calm voice, and Vessel turns all six eyes to glance nervously back and forth between II and III.

III smirks, acquiescing easier than II expected. II narrows his eyes as III goes back to eating, a mischievous grin on their face. Vessel can only continue watching in confusion, as nothing seems to go the way he thought it would. There was no fight or argument, and II didn't even seem genuinely upset by whatever it was III was doing.

These two are nothing like any partner Vessel has ever had, and his head can't quite seem to wrap around that information. Maybe it's different because there's three of them, all dating each other. Maybe it's different because they are all no longer completely human. Maybe its different because Sleep brought them all together. Whatever it is, Vessel cannot seem to process it.

When dinner is over, II and III offer for Vessel to join them in the living room for a movie. He politely declines, leaning into the kisses they give his cheeks and shyly echoes their 'I love you's, and heads off to the practice room to continue writing that song he had been working on.

Vessel realizes, as he sits down at his piano, guitar in hand and journal placed beside him with its pen, that he had had his first date today.

A smile pulls at his cheeks subconsciously, and for the umpteenth time that day, Vessel feels warm. Feels cared for. Feels... wanted.

III can barely pay attention to the movie playing on the TV. He is hyper aware of every brush of II's thigh against their own, hyper aware of II's hand on their thigh that squeezes every so often.

III, in their impatience, keeps messing idly with the braid in their hair, pulling at it and turning it around and around their finger until the rubber band snaps. The sound startles III and he jumps, which doesn't escape II's notice.

"Just can't wait for me to fuck you, can you Three?" II says, pausing the movie with an exasperated sigh that III can tell is lighthearted.

"So impatient." II states, standing as III laughs.

III's laughter is abruptly cut off when II reaches down and pulls them up by their arm and into a searing kiss. Its adorable that III has to hunch over so far just for their lips to meet, even if II gets on his toes.

"We have to talk to him tomorrow about the sex. As good as this is gonna be, sweetheart, we shouldn't be doing this either, but someone's impatient and can't keep their dick in their pants. And I'm weak to your hypnotizing wiles."

III pouts as II leads them up to his room, "I said I was sorry. You're both just irresistible. I couldn't help myself."

"I know you're genuinely apologetic, Three, but we need to be careful with Vessel. Our relationship is still so new, and he has shared so little of what his past ones were like. We should have been more careful."

"I know. I would have stopped if he'd asked it of me. I probably should have anyway, but I think he's still hiding his emotions away. He kept any indication of discomfort well away from my notice, except for what I've already mentioned, and he'd asked me to continue. Asked for more, even. I know for a fact he was genuine in that. Any hesitation was at the beginning."

III lets their words sit in the air, watching II idly pace the length of his floor.

II sighs, running a hand through his hair. "It seems the only way to get Vessel to tell us anything is if we make him feel like he has to. I hate it. I want him to trust us enough to tell us when he is ready, but I know he will only keep everything that hurts him inside so we never have to see it."

"We don't ask him about his past, Doll, but for things like sex, this is stuff we need to know so we don't hurt each other."

"I know, I know. We only sat down for that conversation about that sleeping ability that isn't his because he was hurting, changing himself for us."

III let's II pace for only a minute longer before stalking forward. They take his hand in theirs, halting any further movement as II stops to look at him. "You need to relax now, Doll. Use me to de-stress."

II sucks in a shaky breath, and lets the rest of his anxiety out on the exhale. III is right. Things will go alright tomorrow, they'll explain things if Vessel is confused about anything. It'll be okay. It always ends up okay, as long as they have each other.

II nods, and reaches out with his available hand to pull III down into a chaste kiss.

"Get on the bed, sweetheart. And close the door behind you, open just a crack in case Vessel wishes to join, if he has the courage at this stage." II says, turning on the bedside lamp and fixing the sheets.

III watches II to make sure the other is really okay, before nodding in return, bringing up a playful smile.

"Who made you the boss?" III taunts, smirking as they move to get on the bed as requested after completing their given task.

II raises an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face to reveal his single dimple as he watches III mess up the sheets he just fixed. Oh, II sees how it is. He should've known. Especially after how knowing III had looked when II had called them a brat earlier.

III climbs onto the bed just as II asked, but then they stand, needing to duck to avoid hitting their head the ceiling, smiling all the way.

At II's other eyebrow raising in incredulity, III responds innocently, "You said to get on the bed."

"Yes, well, lay down now." II demands, moving forward slowly like a predator eyeing its prey, catching the mischievous glint in III's eyes.

III eyes him for a moment, considering, then says with a wider smirk than before, "No. I don't think I will. I quite like it up here. You're even smaller from this angle."

II contemplates how likely it is that III will bang their head or something on the way down before grabbing their calf, pulling them down and towards II. They let out a small shout of surprise, landing on the bed with a laugh.

"You asshole!" They exclaim, before pausing, letting go of their snark for a moment, "I mean that lightheartedly, lovingly."

"I know you didn't mean anything by it. Of course you'd be the type to curse at someone as a term of endearment." II chuckles, grabbing III's other calf as they try to wiggle away futilely.

"Finally letting yourself show just how much of a menace you are, huh Three?" II croons with clear affection, using one hand to pin III's arms above their head.

"Is this okay?" II asks, tapping III's clasped hands with a finger in question.

III nods, but II isn't satisfied. "Use your words, Three."

"Yes."

"Good boy." II says, and III feels a zing of arousal shoot through him.

Damn, no wonder Vessel seemed to like being called good. It felt amazing. Especially coming from II.

"Now stay still. Do not move an inch, Three." II commands, and III nods.

"Words, pretty."

"You can't use that term on me, I use it on Ves." III frowns in mock irritation.

"You're both pretty, Three. Would you like me to stop calling you that, though?"

"No... I like it." III refuses to meet II's searching gaze, pout still present.

II wants to kiss it off of him, and so he does, nipping gently at III's lower lip with his teeth.

"Alright, pretty. Now, do not move, understand?"

"Yes."

"Good, Three."

II takes his shirt off, exposing the golden filigree markings just below their collarbones, the only other marking he gained from Sleep aside from the ones on his arms and legs. Realization dawns on III slowly as they notice how II's markings, the black of his forearms and up his calves do not travel as far up the limbs as it does on III or Vessel. It must be a byproduct of not eating the entirety of the apple of Eden, the reason II did not get more than superhuman strength and a weapon as his gifts.

III is only given a moment to ogle II and his beauty, the visible strength in the muscles of his arms from rigorous drumming, before II is on top of III, strong thighs caging III in as II straddles them. II has divested himself of his pants too, III realizes, as his boxers strain from the hard line of his cock. Arms on either side of them to serve as further entrapment, II says sternly, "I'm going to keep this nice and simple. We're using the color system tonight. Do you know it?"

III nods, meeting II's eyes with a mischievous glint.

"Words, Three." There's a hard edge to II's voice that III is going to enjoy hearing more of.

III laughs, wiggling out from under II. They both know II allowed it. They both enjoy it when II reaches out and grabs III by the calf again, pulling them back and grabbing their shoulder. II wrestles III under him, superior strength making it easy. The first thing II notices are the markings spread over III's back, creeping over their shoulders to their collarbones, like Vessel's own markings. II is fascinated by the markings fanning out over their back, crawling up their spine in swirls of black ink, his skin adding the detailing of moving flame with a few little golden question marks swirling throughout. The flame seems to flicker and change before II's eyes, ever shifting. He watches as one of the question marks fades like smoke, reappearing upside down.

II takes in the beautiful sight below him, and the red sigil right above III's tailbone with excitement, color system momentarily forgotten. "Three, sweetheart, I found your mark from Sleep, among other things."

"Really?" III exclaims, squirming in II's hold. "Where is it?"

"Stop moving, pretty. I'm trying to take a photo."

III pouts for a second before a grin spreads across their cheeks. III presses his ass right up against II's cock, grinding on it just to frustrate II. "You're being bad, sweetheart." II warns, trying to keep the phone steady and focused on the sigil.

"What are you going to do about it, Doll?" III smirks as II just takes a photo, not caring if its blurry or not as he tosses it somewhere on the bed.

The expression is quickly wiped off his face as a hand tangles in their hair and pulls back harshly, straining his neck. III grunts as II presses close, "Punish you, honey."

II loosens his grip a little, leaving a little more leeway between his fingers and III's scalp, "Not pulling too tight, am I?"

"No... Sir." III tests out the name, knowing they chose right when a spark of arousal shoots down II's bond. "Thanks for asking. You can pull a bit harder if you want." II does not respond, only does as requested, and enjoys the breathy little groan it pulls out of III.

"Perfect." He moans, and II revels in the sound, leaning over to trail kisses down his spine.

"While you didn't respond verbally like I asked, you did show you knew the color system. I expect you to use it if I do something you don't like or aren't sure about." II states, pulling just slightly harder on III's hair to elicit another moan.

"I'm going to get you ready to take me, sweetheart. You will tell me to slow down, or go faster. Whether I listen is up to how good you are, how well you beg. You will tell me if you even slightly slip into the yellow stage. I will stop and we'll talk over what made you feel that way. Alright, sweetheart?" While II is speaking, his fingers have been slowly tracing down III's spine, along the vertebrae and down his tailbone.

"Yes, sir."

II groans, cock kicking at the term so he shoves it right up to III's ass to grind against for more friction. "Good boy."

II pulls away enough to prod at III's hole with a finger, "Have you ever bottomed during sex with a man before?"

II slips one finger in as III responds, then another, "I think so, though I obviously don't remember faces or names. I usually only bottom."

"Good, so you know what it feels like to take a cock." II hums, thrusting his fingers slowly.

III's answer agreement is breathless, his own arousal heightened by being able to feel II's.

"Tell me, sweetheart, did you open Vessel up just like this?" II asks, scissoring his fingers just once and relishing the moan III lets out.

"N-not quite. Too eager. Finally had him under me. Wanted to be inside him so badly." III grinds back into II's fingers after a particularly rough thrust.

Fuck, II wants to hurry and fill III up.

"Stay still."

III lets out a whine when II suddenly removes his fingers, the warmth of his body pulling away as III's body falls softly down to the bed. He turns his head to see where II has gone, finding him slipping his underwear down his thighs.

III's eyes immediately fall to rest on II's thick cock, hard between his legs.

"Do you think you're ready to take me now?"

"Yes, sir." III responds obediently, tearing their eyes away to meet II's soft blue's, staring down at him so lovingly that III can't help the adoring smile that pulls involuntarily at his lips.

"Kiss me, please, sir?" III asks, as II crawls back onto the bed, lifting III's hips back up, level with II's dick.

"Of course, pretty, since you asked so nicely." II responds, gently taking one side of III's face to pull him over just enough for their lips to meet.

"I love you." II says into III's mouth, pulling away.

"I love you, too, Doll. Now, please fuck me." III smiles, which then turns into a wry smirk.

"With pleasure, brat." II lines himself up before he speaks again. "Describe it to me. Tell me what he looked like when you creamed inside him."

"He- His eyes- They rolled upwards-" III moans at the slow stretch of II's girthy cock filling them up, "Glowed when he came all over my stomach. Sleep, he was so pretty. Covered in gold from his tears- Agh."

II sinks in as far as he can go on a low groan at just the thought of Vessel below III. Fuck, II wants to see it.

II starts up a slow pace, strong hands holding III still with ease. Every moan that he pulls from their lips is labored, and fuck, II loves how vocal III is.

"He must have been a sight." II murmurs, leaning down to mouth at III's nape after pushing his hair aside.

"Jealous I was the first to see him that way?" III muses, grunting when II reaches around III's hip to grab their dick.

"Why would I be? I'm the first to see you this way. Moaning under me as I ruin you on my cock. You're currently getting the most, though, out of the three of us. Fucked or been fucked twice already." II smiles in faint amusement, not really dejected as III moans from below him.

II would have waited for Vessel forever if III hadn't come along and stolen II's heart too, hadn't come along and been the catalyst for all three of them finally getting in a relationship. What's a little more waiting for sex, if Vessel even wants to have sex with him, in the face of their foreseeable future as lovers? II gets to kiss Vessel... He gets to love him as he wanted, gets to tell him whenever he wants.

II grinds his cock into III a little deeper and they writhe, completely losing the last shred of any snark they'd had when they started.

II keeps a careful eye on the bond he shares with III. Its useful, II finds, to tell when III is getting close to cumming. It allows II to stop thrusting right before he or III falls over that edge and II basks in it, thanking Sleep for the bond.

II makes a game of it, fucking into III just until the other is about to cum, then pulling out nearly to the tip. II revels in the begging that follows, only starting up his thrusts again when III's voice gets suitably desperate, clawing at the sheets with tears in their eyes.

II loves the way III feels around him, slowly stroking their dick in hand, just enough stimulation to keep them at the edge of release as he slows his thrusting down again.

"Color, honey?" II asks, stopping his thrusts entirely.

It takes III a moment to open their eyes, lost in the way II feels inside him. He pants against the pillows, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead. "G-green."

"Good boy." II praises, leaning over to place a kiss into their shoulder.

He pulls out nearly all the way, shoving himself back in before starting a slow pace, watching the red sigil directly above III's tailbone shimmer in the low light. "You're going to explain the color system to Vessel. Got it, sweetheart?"

"Mm." III hums, blinking to get rid of some of the stars dancing in their vision, "Yes. Sorry, didn't mean to forget."

"Apologize to Vessel, not me, honey." II continues fucking into III slowly, building upon the orgasm he can feel nearing. "The color system is important for setting boundaries."

II stops moving, ignoring III's desperate begging for him to continue, ignoring the placating apologies so that II will continue, though II knows III really does mean them. II is well aware III regrets not talking things through with Vessel, but they were clear that Vessel wanted it, for sure, after they started. Its that initial hesitation, what Vessel said to them after the first go... the brief stint of panic that II felt from Vessel before it was smothered completely that worries II.

"You've came enough today. You should've listened to me." II admonishes, and III lets out a pitiful whine in response as II pulls out and away.

III whines again, rutting their cock into the bed for any sort of friction.

"You're not allowed to get yourself off either, sweetheart." II states, reaching down and pushing III into the bed with a hand over the sigil on their lower back, holding them there. "I'll know with the bond, so don't even think about trying. And please, do not do as Vessel does and hide it." II tries to keep his tone light at the end, but isn't sure he managed.

III lets out a moan that is a mix of distress and pleasure as II's hand keeps them from moving but also sends lightning up their spine and straight down to their cock, rock hard and aching trapped between their own body and the bed. "Oh, the sigils cause pleasure." II notices, rubbing a gentle thumb over one of the lines that makes up the outer part of the rune.

III moans again, louder this time as they try to move under the hand holding their hips down. "I said no, Three."

"I'm going to have to teach you to have more patience. This is just sad, sweetheart. Color?"

"Green, damn you. This is just mean." III groans, head pillowed on their arms as they pout.

"If you do as I ask, I'll let you cum tomorrow." II says, wiping himself off with a towel he'd gathered just for this, though there wasn't much to wipe away in the first place.

"Can I get you off at least?" III asks, hair splayed out around him as he looks back and up at II, the picture of beauty.

"You don't have to. I went into this with the full intention of neither of us cumming tonight. Unlike you, sweetheart, I have patience."

"So you're into edging, got it." III smirks, "I'll keep that in mind. Never tried it before, until today that is, but it has seemed to give me some kind of rush."

II reaches down and pinches III's cheek, pulling at the flesh until III whines playfully, words coming out a little off, "Owie. Stop that."

"Drink this, pretty. Your voice is a little hoarse." II grabs a water bottle off his nightstand, twisting off the cap and handing it to III.

III winces as they sit up, turning to lean against the headboard, taking small sips. He picks up II's phone to look at the most recent photo, finding his own smirking face staring back at him, but its the markings over their back that catches III's attention. Sleep really gave III some beautiful markings, but they can't help but wonder what is up with all of the question marks?

III looks up just in time to catch sight of it while II slips on his shirt. Resting between II's shoulder blades, below his nape, is a red sigil. Sleep's symbol, a visual representation of II's ability to turn his drumsticks into axes, of his unnatural strength. Parallel to the sigil, on either forearm is the same type of marking on his collarbones, golden filigree wrapped around each bicep like an arm band. III had already known of the arm bands, how could they not, when II had been walking around in tank tops as the weather warms. The sigil though, is a surprise, despite all three vessels having one. It was only a matter of time before their locations became known.

III lifts up II's phone to take a picture of his back, "Hold still, Doll."

II does as asked, turning around with an eyebrow raised in question when III gives him the go ahead to move. III shows II the sigil, and takes the ensuing hum as all the response they're getting.

"Hey, Doll, do you think you could teach me how to top? I'm not experienced in it. I want to make sure I'm treating Vessel right."

"Sure, honey. Its probably best all three of us are there for it. We'll talk about it after tomorrow, okay?"

"Yes, sir, thank you." III nods in agreement, already excited at the prospect of having a threescore.

"You don't need to call me that outside of scenes, Three. I don't require it." II says as he slips his sweatpants back on.

"I don't mind using it sometimes outside of the bedroom." III assures, a little embarassed to admit it, "And I like you calling me a good boy. I wasn't sure I would, since I don't use exclusively male pronouns, but I like it."

"Alright, sweetheart, thank you for telling me. I'll be right back. Do you care what pajamas I grab?" II leans over the bed as best he can to kiss III's cheek, before heading towards the door.

"Oh, you don't have to-" III starts, but II only waves him off, "Fine. Um, just a tank top and shorts is fine."

II leaves, coming back with a tank top as requested, and III's shortest pair of shorts. A blush spreads over III's cheekbones as they slip them on with some difficulty.

"Did you have to grab this pair?" III mutters in light exasperation.

II climbs back into bed with III, plopping himself down onto III's chest as the taller man lets and an 'oof!'

"You walk around with your midriff exposed, sweetheart. Its not so unusual I want to see a bit more thigh than usual, now that I've gotten to see all of you." He smirks, "I love your body."

"I love yours too." III says as he hides their face in II's hair, kissing the crown of his head.

III wraps their arms around II as he listens to III's heartbeat below his ear, content to simply bask in each other presences.

"We need to go buy lube." III pulls away after he deems it enough time after the last conversation had petered out.

"We'll go into town within the next few days. You should rest, Three. You really wore yourself out on Vessel."

"Is that why you went easy on me?" III gripes, pushing their hair back from their face.

"Oh, not at all. I just wanted to watch you squirm." II laughs, reaching up to hold one side of III's face tenderly.

"You're so mean to me." III sulks, leaning into the touch.

"You're a brat." II refutes, big tired eyes soft with affection.

"Should we go see if Vessel wants to join us?"

"No, let's leave him be. He seems pretty concentrated over the bond. Must be working on something. The door is cracked if he wants to join later." II replies, yawning as he snuggles into III's chest.

They fall asleep wrapped in each others arms. They do not wake all night, resting peacefully and exhausted. No movement disturbs them, no silent steps treading over the flooring to climb into bed. Vessel does not join them, instead working on his music well into the morning, deep in thought. The day has given him much to think about.

#sleep token fanfiction #sleep token #vessel sleep token #ii sleep token #polyvessels #sleep token fic #sleep token iii #poly sleep token

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vixletserenity · 1 year ago

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Although Celeste had made it obvious that she would be shifting her focus onto the upcoming exam for her music course, that wasn't the only thing on her mind.

Perhaps this John man knew, she wouldn't entirely know.

She had called her representative for the Paldean Parliament about addressing them all in the next session; which ironically or coincidentally was right after getting out of her quarantine.

The woman had told her that part of the discussions would be about the Crater; to which she somehow was able to squeeze Celeste having time on the floor.

When that time arrived, Celeste was dressed in the usual dress suit she had worn when sitting in these sessions. She walked up to the speaking podium, her body language being bitter as her mouth opened to speak.

"I would like to announce that I will be stepping down from the position given to me as the expert and top researcher of Area Zero."

There were voices all over the room from all the adults in the room. Some were panicking at this and telling off at her before Celeste put her hand up to continue speaking.

She only had a certain amount of time on the floor, and she was not going to waste it by this backtalking.

"I will no longer be your pawn in order to gain power in the international fields. And I no longer tolerate the pathetic attempt to make me; one of the few initial people who knew of Professor Turo's passing, into Paldea's Regional Professor by force.

The Academy here promotes the students to choose whatever path they want; to find their own Treasure. And yet, the adults here in this very room are so selfish and power hungry that they want to steal that away from one who moved to this region after her family was given enough sympathy by the isolationist government to give refugee status during the Great Freeze years ago."

There were more voices of protest. They're growing. Saying how disrespectful she was being until Celeste slammed her hands the hardest she could on the podium.

"I'M NOT FINISHED YET! BE SILENT AND STOP INTERUPTTING THE TIME I HAVE BEEN GIVEN TO SPEAK TO ANY OF YOU!" She yelled; her voice echoing across the chambers and quieting almost everyone in an instant.

"My childhood was robbed from me by a person who should be there to protect me, yet he chose to hurt me for selfish and petty reasons. And now that's happening all over again by the people who should've known how damaging to the mind it is to see and experience what I have!

I refuse to let that happen ever again! Even if I have very little time to still be considered a child in some people's eyes, I choose to take that and finally live for myself! Just as what the teachers and Director have wished for students like myself!

You know enough about the Crater through everything I've done and the clearance you've given Ms. Briar at Blueberry Academy. There's nothing more you need to know about down there! Leave it alone and pay attention to the people that you should be serving as public servants!

To the youth you've abandoned for so long to the point that they've had to take the pain they've felt into their own hands because the literal adults in the room failed them in multiple and severe degrees!

It is time to bring this era of conquesting the Great Crater much like the ancient emperor whose kingdom came to a demise for his own greedy desires and keeping it secret from the public to an end! The people of Paldea and the rest of the world deserves to know what this oh so sacred and all knowing governing body has been doing while the region's systems were degrading beyond recognition."

She took a deep breath in and out as the timer started to indicate that there wasn't much time left for her.

"As my parting words...I will say this. Think more about the consequences of what you all have done in the perspective of fifty years; even a century from now looking back at these events in hindsight!

The mysteries have been solved; it's futile now to only think about them. Use what time we have on this planet to think on how all this will impact those yet to come and people like me who will have to live and fix what problems you create.

For the future will not always be in fully your hands to control; whether you like it or not."

Without another comment, Celeste got off the podium and walked out of the chambers quietly and calmly. She's done what she needed to do.

And is now in full control of what she wants her future to be.

#ic

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booksandchainmail · 2 years ago

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So I've been rewatching the revue starlight relive arcana arcadia main story (I made it partway through the third one before I stopped playing, planning on watching all the way through this time), and noting down some thoughts on Part 1:

I like how much of this part is about Tamao, and how abruptly she's changed! Rinmeikan Downfall story was a hell of a time for her, and it's great to see her shed some of her helpful kind self-effacing senpai persona and lean into being a leader and a bit of a schemer. Also it seems to be doing wonders for her acting!

About the revues themself: on the one hand we have Rui vs. Yuyuko, two best friends with a love triangle tearing at them. On the other we have Junna vs. Kaoruko, who... are in the same class? Do they have any kind of beef? I'm not sure they've ever had a conversation. This also happened in the anime, though mainly as a background thing: whenever we saw other revues in the background of the focused one, it would just be random combinations since the auditions were pretty much a round robin.

Also, RIP Junna, whose role in Revue Starlight is mainly getting bodied in round one. I think this does help define her character though: person who is not naturally talented but works hard is pretty common in anime, but it's mostly undercut when they start winning as an underdog. Meanwhile Junna keeps getting beat, because basically everyone around her is both talented and hardworking. But she just keeps trying and working and aiming to improve.

It sucks for Junna, but it's a good character note for Kaoruko: as soon as she takes things seriously, she starts winning. She just mostly doesn't put in that effort in daily life, and winds up slipping behind only to make up the ground all at once. This of course feels deeply unfair: we see her opponent clearly with the upper hand, and more deserving of the win, and then Kaoruko will put together some motivation in the second half and instantly curbstomp them. She is genuinely as good as she thinks she is!

For Rui and Yuyuko's revue: a good push for character growth for Rui, who this section points out has the potential to rocket into being one of the best actors like Nana did, but mostly lets herself fade into being a supporter. Absolutely heartbreaking for Yuyuko, who has spent the entire story falling in love with her best friend, who is blatantly in love with someone else. Please read some Sasameki Koto and experience emotions. A bit of (condensed) dialogue, from after Rui (as always) calls out for Tamao:

I'm the one who's standing on the stage with you right now. You see... I like your acting. It's clumsy and pure... But you always try your hardest and occasionally appear really big... Just like you love Tamao-senpai... I also love you on stage. Yet... You say you can no longer play those roles without Tamao-senpai. If those performances were all done for Tamao-senpai... those of "us" who have had our hearts stolen by the Stage Girl Rui Akikaze... how pathetic.

For the story segment, very funny that the evil religious authority is explicitly catholic (the vatican guard!), given that the story is mostly fairytale-like otherwise. I think there's also a continuation of the anime's themes there, in how the Hanged Man rejects the High Priestess's faith and miracles and embraces the curse of damnation in order to follow his principles and save lives. Reminds me of Karen refusing to accept that the ambition Hikari had was a sin.

And now that I've brought up Starlight, I'm wondering if there's a connection there with this amnesiac star girl searching for someone she made a promise with, kept away at the end of the moonlight... Starlight also uses lost memories, and the original ends with one of the two locked away high above, and the other cast out to wander blindly.

#revue starlight #revue starlight relive #shoujo kageki revue starlight #arcana arcadia

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camdendaylight · 1 year ago

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a/n: this is gonna be a one shot inspired by the song willow off of taylor swift's evermore. this does not include taylor as a character in any way. enjoy!

tropes: childhood best friends to lovers; family issues; good girl x bad boy; strict parents; neighbours to lovers; fluff; teenage love

Wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark.

My old rusty window creaked, when I shoved it open, the cold autumn breeze setting off a series of shivers that ran down my body. I was wrapped up in my usual checkered coat, determined to step out on the rooftop of our garage in front of me, but the unexpected sound I had caused made me look back at my door in fear. I was supposed to be asleep by now, but instead my mind was wide awake and hesitant, debating on whether this was a good idea.

It was not like I had never done this before, sneaking out when I though they weren't gonna notice my absence. Actually I had done it ever since I was child, when I first befriended with the kid that had just moved into the house next to ours. I was ten, back then. Now, as a sixteen year old, my parents were still treating me the same. Don't do this, don't do that, that's what I heard most times in the exact same tone out of both of their mouths. It was never: What do you want to do?

What I wanted to do in that moment was to leave, so that's what I did. They couldn't control me in the nighttime, I thought. As soon as the sun set and the moon lit up the lake where our garden met the pure nature of the forest, I was free. Free from them, free from schoolwork and extracurriculars, free from all my worries. The only thing left controlling me was the sound of my phone going off every few seconds as I squeezed myself through the tiny gab between the windowsill and my open window.

"You coming?", I read on the dimmed screen and rolled my eyes at the text I had received. It wasn't as easy as you might think to escape out of this old house my mother had inheritated from my grandparents. Patience was the key, otherwise I would get caught. Even though it was mostly dark outside, I knew ever single step that I had to take on the wooden panels in order for them to be as quiet as possible. That was one of the positive effects that came with doing this for six years.

I didn't reply to the message, I just shoved my phone in the pocket of my coat and carefully made my way to the edge, where I sat down. The hardest part was yet to come, since I had to climb down gutter that was always shaking more the my adrenaline ridden hands. On top of that, the coldness of the imminent winter withdrew all the feelings out of my fingers, making it even more challenging for me to grip onto the metal pipe.

Halfway through, I received another notification that frightened me so much, that I lost all of my strength. My feet slipped from the icy surface and butt forward I plopped down on the wet grass to the sound of a thud, as I pressed my lips together to keep myself from crying out in pain. It wasn't that painful though, since the I hadn't been that high up anymore, but still, my hands were now covered in mud and so was my coat, that covered my hurting behind.

Thankfully, I had not drawn any attention from inside the house to myself with my graceful fall, since it seemed to be exceptionally quiet around me. I stood up, shaking my hands, then patting on the back of the coat, trying to get rid of all the dirt. It was useless, my mother was for sure gonna see the stain it had left. I would just have to hide the coat or tell her that I've had a ball kicked into my butt school. Both options were terrifying, if you knew my mother. Lying to her was a sin.

I let out a deep breath I was apparently holding, before turning around to finally make my way to my well known destination. My boots were making funny squishing noises as I stomped towards my neighbors garden through ours, passing the fireplace my dad had set up ages ago and the trampoline we used to jump on as kids. There was no fence or any sort of border separating each of our properties, but I knew when the bushes around me weren't as perfectly trimmed anymore I was that I was overstepping the line.

In the back of their garden, close to the lake and far away from their house, the majestic willow tree opened up in front of me, its branches moving to the rhythm of the november wind. Every night I had been sneaking out here, yet the astonishing view of the scenery never failed to fill me with awe. As I reached the massive trunk, my expression turned into a frown. This was our usual meeting spot, our secret place of comfort, but there was no sight of my companion. "Dylan?"

"Sup?", a familar voice called in an obnoxiously relaxed tone and I leaned my head into my neck to look up. I was frightened once again, even though I should have known that he would never bail on me. He never did. So it shouldn't have been a surprise that he was simply hiding not under, but inside of the tree, casually sitting on one of the more stable branches that were not swaying around. As so often, there was smirked plastered on his face, his hazel eyes directed downwards, to me.

"Jesus, you scared me!", I let out, taking in the sight of my childhood best friend and neighbor hovering above. He was wearing dark jeans, an olive sweater and a grey windbreaker on top, a black beanie covering most of his brown curls. He looked like the complete opposite of me, bold and edgy, wich he was. He was the complete opposite of me, still we got along very well, for the most part. "How on earth do you have the energy to climb all the way up?"

"Well first of all, I just left right through the front door of my house", he said with a chuckle, knowing I had to go completely out of the way to even make it to the tree were our initials were carved into the bark. He never had to worry about his parents finding out about our late night meeting. They probably knew about and didn't care. Or they didn't know, but wouldn't care. "And secondly, I didn't just fall six feet down on my ass. So-"

"You saw that?! Great another thing you're gonna make fun of me for till you die", I huffed, rolling my eyes at him. For the last six years, he had been making fun of me for every single time I had slipped, tripped, stumbled. I was used to it my now, as much as I was used to our daily meetings by the willow tree. We had made it to our own, shortly after we had met for the first time, when the old pair from next doors passed away and left behind their empty house with the overgrown garden and Dylan's parents decided to leave the city to live in a quieter area.

"I'm gonna make fun of you even after I die. I'm gonna haunt you as a ghost and play tricks on you and then watch you get scared", he said sticking his tongue out to me, before climbing down a few branches, only to jump the remaining six feet. I could have done it the same way with the gutter, I thought to myself, as I crossed my arms in front of my chest, watching him. He was now leaning against the trunk. "Are you cold?"

"What does look like?", I said sticking my tongue out to him in return. The autumn breeze had struck me once again and I was shivering, which he seemed to have noticed in the same way he always seemed to notice if I wasn't well, which was often, but lately more and more often. Sill, I fired back jokingly, "No, I'm hot actually. Don't you feel the heat of the sun burning on your skin?"

"Give me your hands", he demanded, stretching his out to me. I looked from his face down to his hands and back up to his eyes in mistrust. A dubious frown creased my forehead, my pale fingers clung to the material of my coat. I was convinced that he was messing with me, probably planning something to embarrass me, scare me or make me fall again, but he chuckled at my hesitation. "Come on, I'm trying to help."

"But they are dirty", I said, holding my hands up for him to see the dirt that the wet grass had left on them from my fall a few minutes ago. He rolled his eyes, followed by sigh and slowly realization hit me that he was indeed being serious and that he didn't care about them being dirty. In desperate need of some sort of warmth, no matter what kind, I was willing to give in. "I swear if you lick my hand or some shit like that, I'm gonna cut your head off."

"Aspen, if you're dearest mother could hear the way you're speaking-", Dylan began laughing and I playfully clipped his ear, before ultimately placing my hands in his. The tip of my frozen finger brushed along the palm of his hand sending an electric impulse through my numb limbs, that I tried not to question. The skin on his hands felt rough against mine, yet transported the warmth I needed into not just my hands, but my whole body apparently. The heat was starting to get to my head.

Staring at my hands in his, seemingly in disbelief that I had agreed to this, he thankfully hadn't noticed yet how much this effected me all of the sudden. But his laughter died down completely, when he looked up. The hazel of his eyes met the blue of mine, setting my cheeks into an undeniable red flush. I was sure he noticed then, but he didn't say anything, at least for awhile, until a devilish smirk formed on his unreadable face. "Aspen, are you- Are you blushing?"

"That's just the heat of the sun", I replied sarcastically, but in a rather startled manner, taking a step back in order to pull my hands away, but he wouldn't let me. Instead he tightened his grip, his mischievous gaze dropping down to what I assumed were my lips. Another shiver ran down my spine in response, this time though, it was not caused by the autumn breeze. I wasn't cold anymore, my heart was rapidly pumping blood into my overworked brain. Why was I feeling this way? I had no idea, but it scared the hell out of me.

"Hold on, I think you're bleeding", Dylan said in a serious tone, that I wasn't grazed with very often. I breathed a sight of relief, because whatever my first assumption was, turned out to be wrong, but only then I fully registered what he had just said to me. Now that he mentioned it, I could actually taste the iron in my dried out mouth. "Dang, that fall must have been a lot more brutal than it looked from the distance. I'm sorry for making fun of you."

His right hand let go of mine, but only so his index finger could reach for my bruised lip. Before he actually touched the sensible spot though, an invisible force inside of me made me turn my head away as fast as I could. "Wait what?!", I cried out, now using all of my strength to create some distance between us. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I opened the front camera to inspect the results of my little accident. I must have bitten my own lips when I landed on the ground earlier. "Sh*t. What am I gonna tell you parents when they see this?"

"Tell them you were absentmindedly chewing on your own lip, you do that all the time anyway", he said chuckling lightly and my irritated eyes flickered from my screen to him. He was right, I had caught myself chewing on my lip many time. It was foolish habit of mine that my parents, particularly my mother hated as much as she hated my phone going off at the dinner table whenever Dylan texted me. She had always noticed, but I never figured Dylan had noticed too.

"You know what? I-I gotta go", I stuttered, feeling a tremendous urge to flee from the situation and the intimacy it had oddly created. The fact that he recalled such a minor observation about me shouldn't have confused me, especially since I also noticed how eyebrow twitched every time when he was trying to figure something, to figure me out, like in this moment. With my eyes averted and the tip of my toes pointing back at our house, I set off, mumbling some last words. "We'll talk more tomorrow."

"Same spot, same time?", he called after me, forming his hands that previously held mine into a megaphone, because I had already made it back to the perfectly trimmed bushes while he was still leaning against the trunk. I nodded hastily, my mouth not allowing another word to slip out, and soon enough his tall figure was blurred out by the fog. When I reached the spot of flattened grass where I had plopped down earlier, I was shaking out of fear, not of my parents, but of him.

Rough on the surface but you cut through like a knife.

A warmth was surrounding me as I was absentmindedly poking around my plate of peas in front of me. The warmth came from the heater, and unlike the warmth I had received the day before while standing under the willow tree in the garden next to ours, it didn't reach my inside. My expression was a cold as I was feeling, being crumped up in the house that should have been my place of comfort, but rather turned into a place of constant surveillance and judgement.

"Aspen, dear, what happened to your lovely coat?", my Mom asked me, as expected, while we were having dinner in our fairly suburban dining room. I was sitting opposite of my parents on the wooden table that was as old as my rusty window since it had once belonged to my grandparents. The only thing that was new in this house was the glass front to my right. "I found it all dirty stashed under your bed. It was expensive. It has to be cleaned, dried and ironed properly."

"You were in my room?", I replied in a sharp tone, refusing to answer her question before I would accidentally expose myself. My question though was enough for my farther, who had just gotten home from work, to clear his throat as a sign of warning, reminding me of the right way I was supposed to be speaking to them, friendly, innocently, like a child. I curled my lips into a smile. Raising my tongue behind my top teeth, I said, "Of course you were"

"Honey, we're your parents. We are obligated to know what's going on in your life or what you're hiding from us in that case", my Mom said, noticing the sarcasm in my voice. "And don't think we haven't noticed the bruise on your lip. Have you gotten that while rustling through the streets with the Hollis boy or is it just another consequence of your constant daydreaming that's keeping you from actually doing your school work lately?"

"What?!", I said in disbelief, dropping the fork down on my porcelain plate to the sound of a horrendous clink, causing my father to slam his massive hand on the table top. My head started spinning and I was sure that my face must have looked as pale as grandmas finest porcelain. Not only did she just hint at knowing that I had been sneaking out to meet Dylan, she also blamed him for something that wasn't even close to the truth.

Okay, maybe I had been a little distracted when I was in class that day, thinking about my hands in his and how weirdly my body reacted to a touch I had felt multiple times before, but any other day my parents were the root of my worries. I was often with my head in the clouds, but only because I was imaging how the future, how my future might look like. I wished for freedom more than anything else, a freedom, as it turned out, I was more than far away from.

"We've been watching you", my Mother admitted finally and I felt my heart drop down to the wooden floor that was covered in a crimson red rug. "I had heard weird noises coming from the roof of the garage a few days ago and immediately had a feeling something must be wrong. I went to check up on you, but you were gone. I didn't say anything that night, because I wanted to find out who you were doing all this childish nonsense for."

"Do you have any idea how scared I was?! Underaged drinking, drug abuse, physical violence, who knows what teenager are up to these days", she said, causing me to shift my gaze to the glass front and therefore to the majestic willow tree I could see in the distance. Her voice had started to become more and more angry. A tone I had been used hearing from her, but it had never been that intimidating to me, even though she was talking nonsense. "Although, I wouldn't be surprised if that Dylan guy would expose you to such things. You're not gonna see him anymore!"

"Mom, he's my best friend! He does neither of those things! You can't forbid me to spent time with him!", I snapped, turning my head back to face her. Her face was flushed with anger. I had never raised my voice at her before, but I couldn't believe the imagine she had of him. I was expecting to be in trouble once she found out about my nightly adventure, but I had never thought about the possible consequence of not being allowed to see him. We didn't do anything. Teary eyed, I sought for some empathy from my farther. "Dad, say something!"

"Do not raise your voice at us, young lady!", my Mom chimed back in, before my dad could even get rid of his omnipresent pokerface. My mother always spoke for the two of them. "He can't be your best friend if he's distracting you from school. He probably doesn't care about his grades, but you should care about yours. He's not good for your academic performance and for you in general. We're gonna talk to his parents and tell them about his foolish actions. Hopefully they can talk some sense into him. This has to stop once and for all!"

Dylan may not have been the perfect student or a perfectly well behaved child, and although he sometimes made fun of me, he was still kind and compassionate when it was necessary. In fact, he was one of the few things I had consider to actually be good for me. He got me out of my comfort zone, made me explore new places and kept me from being buried in books for too long whenever I needed a break but wouldn't allow myself to take one. The day they moved in was blessing to me, but rather a curse to my mom.

My mom had made a cake for them as a welcome gift and forced me to tag along when she brought it over. Always having been a lot bolder than me, Dylan opened the door. A few days later, he had dared me to climb all the way up the willow tree, but I was way too scared and didn't make it past the lowest branches. Still, I had managed to fall down, breaking my arm in the same motion. Ever since then, my mom was convinced that he meant trouble, ever since then the two of us were inseparable.

I stared at the green pieces of perfection in front of me and suddenly couldn't bear their sight anymore. I had never been allowed to leave the dining table before everyone had finished their dinner, neither I did I feel hungry anymore, nor could I sit still for another second with my parents blaming the one person that brought some light into the darkness that had become my life for all that went wrong in their eyes.

I stood up, wiping away the tear that was rolling down my reddened cheek and stepped closer to the glass front. The weather was similar to the night's before, but the fog had cleared up slightly, at least for my vision. The willow tree was drawing me outside, but as soon as I placed my hand on the door handle, I was stopped. "Where do you think you're going?!", my Mom scowled from behind me. "You're grounded, if you're finished, go in your room, but don't you dare try sneaking out on the roof!"

Head on the pillow, I could feel you sneaking in.

Staring at the closed door to my left that was separating my room from the hallway that lead to my parents bedroom, a thunderstorm of thoughts was roaming around in my pounding head, while simultaneously a drought of empty emotions settled in my body. I had watched the light in the hallway go on and off, sometimes it had flicked through the small gap under the door, when footsteps approached and passed. For a while now there had been no light, no sound, no motion.

I had no idea what time it was, even though there was an alarm clock on the nightstand to my right, but I hadn't bothered to turn around just yet. My gaze had been set on the door, as I laid in my bed with my head on the pillow, it would have been too heavy to be hold up anyway. On top of that, my parents had taken my phone away from me for the night. My reckless behavior had caused me yet another rule I had to follow, meaning I had to hand them my phone after dinner every day from now on.

The salty liquid that had previously been leaking from eyes had dried out, same as my anger, but I knew that both of those things would come back as soon as I was fully gonna realized that I was not gonna be able to meet up with Dylan at our secret spot anymore from now on, that I was not gonna go over to his house after school to eat his mother's delicious chocolate chip cookies anymore from now on, that he was not gonna make fun of me for slipping, tripping, stumbling anymore from now on.

As expected, the thunderstorm of thoughts won over the emptiness and caused a river of tears to escape down my face and land on my pillow. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping to finally fall asleep. A rustling near my window by the foot of my bed made me shoot them wide open though. I could feel my heart pounding against my ribcage up until it reached my throat when I lifted my head up in fear. A tall figure was standing outside on the roof, rightfully struggling to get in.

"Dylan?", I let out quietly as if I hadn't just identified the person trying to break in by their silhouette. I jumped out of my duvets, now being more scared that my parents would hear my rusty old window creaking than by the intruder himself and helped him by carefully shoving it open. In front of me stood indeed my very concerned looking neighbor, disguised by the hood of his windbreaker. I must have looked about the same amount of concerned. "Oh my god, what are you doing here?"

"I was waiting for you by the tree and then I couldn't reach you so I figured something must have went wrong", he whispered and I took a step back so he could climb in. I didn't know if it should have been alarming to me that he had managed to climb up the slippery metal pipe or if I should have felt flattered that he came to check up on me, but the unfamiliar feeling in the pit of my stomach decided that for itself. It grew even stronger when Dylan's eyes bore into mine and therefore revealed to him that I had been crying. "Another argument with your parents?"

"Yeah, but it was worse than any other one I had", I admitted, turning away from him only to slip back under my covers, leaning my back against the rose coloured wall. He was still standing next to the window, leaning against the windowsill, watching me attentively. He knew damn well arguments with my parents oftentimes ended up with me crying alone in my bedroom, but not once he had actually took it upon himself to sneak into my house. I took a deep breath, before meeting his gaze. "It was about you."

Being lit up by nothing but the moon, I could still see that his eyebrow formed a frown after my confession. Even in near darkness, every feature of his face was clearly visible, perhaps because I had mesmerized it so well after six years. I knew I had to tell him about my mother's demands at some point, so why not do it as fast as possible. It was gonna destroy me if I needed to keep in for any time longer. I was prepared to somewhat end my long term friendship with him, unwillingly of course.

"They know that I've been sneaking out to meet you. Luckily they think I've been only doing it for a few days. If they only knew it's been years", I mumbled, lowering the tone of my voice at the end of my sentence, not only because I was afraid they might here, but also because I couldn't bear to even think about the consequences of that. "They-They don't want me to spend time with you. They think I'm being brainwashed by you or some shit. They even want to speak to your parents. I'm so sorry."

For me, it was one thing that I had gotten into a fight with my parents and had been punished for sneaking out, but it was even worse that they wanted him to be punished as well. Dylan's parents were nothing like mine, they would have never forbidden him to see me. They were respectful, to say the least, of me and our friendship, but they were also respectful of my parents. If my mom was gonna talk them into taking action, they would do as they were told. That's how manipulative she could be.

"Aspen, you don't have to apologize. I don't care. I don't care if I get in trouble, I don't care if I'll get grounded and I don't care if your parents don't like me", he said with a serious expression, removing the hood from his head by aggressively sliding his hand through his hair, before leaving his spot by the windowsill to place his hands on my bedframe. He bent down, with a sigh, and then looked back up at me with a straight, but self confident, face. "I simply don't care."

"How can you not care?!", I spat out, accidentally increasing the volume of my shaky voice. This was not meant to be an insult. I genuinely could not understand how he managed to care so little, not just today, but everyday, about what other people thought of him. I so desperately wanted to know how it felt like to not be controlled, to not feel judged, to not feel pressured to be perfect, or at least to appear as perfect to the outside. I wished I wouldn't care either, but the guilt was eating me up.

"Nothing's ever gonna stop me from seeing you", he replied in a soft tone, sitting down on my bed next where my legs were curled up in the blanket. I watched the matress shift under his weight, my mouth was wide open in shock of the weight his words carried. He said it in such a light manner, that it took a few changing digits on my alarm clock to my right until another thunderstorm of thoughts hit me with such an enormous force that I was left speechless and with nothing else but the urge to search for the hazel in his eyes with the blue in mine.

I was interpreting way too much into that, I was sure, but the look, or more so intense stare, he gave me brought me right back to when I was sat on one of the lowest branches of the willow tree as a ten year old. Around me the leaves had been rustling in the wind, my hands had felt sore from the rough bark and my legs had been as numb as they were now, while Dylan had been standing below, cheering me on. There had been two options for me that day: Conquer my fears and keep climbing all the way up or let the fear win and go back down.

I had decided to go back down, but while doing so I lost balance which caused me to fall down and land right on my arm, in front of Dylan's feet. If that had happened to me after I had climped all the way up, the consequences of my fall would have been much worse. If I had never agreed to his dare at all, I wouldn't have had to wear a plaster cast for the whole winter. But also, I probably wouldn't have become best friends with the new neighbor. Sometimes things were worth taking the risk, sometimes things were worth not caring.

Dylan's eyes were sill piercing into mine, when I slowly became aware of my sorroundings again. With that, I also became aware of his hands getting closer to my face. Too mesmerized to flinch, I allowed him place his index finger on the bruise on my lower lip that I had absentmindedly started chewing on, which sent another electric impulse through by body. I must have not been the only one that had gotten somewhat lost in thoughts, because he cleared his throat, before asking, "How's your lip?"

"B-Better", I stuttered, despite barely being able to open my mouth and even though I could taste iron on my tongue thanks to the foolish habit of mine. I didn't feel any pain though, the bare minimum of skin from the tip of his finger sent provided me with enough heat for me to feel any other kind of emotion that the one that was suddenly rising in my stomach. Through my tear stained eyelashes, I noticed that his gaze had dropped down to where he was pointing. For a second I though he was gonna-

He leaned closer, his hand grabbing onto my chin and before I could register what was happening, his lips met mine, lightly, but somehow still forcefully. As I closed my eyes, the tremendous urge to flee from the situation camer over me, the fear of being broken grew stronger, but I decided to not let it win. Dylan was the only one that knew my life wasn't as picture perfect as it seemed. He was the last person I should have been scared of.

I was taken aback, not entirely sure what I was supposed to do. This was my best friend sitting in front of me. I had known him for six years and here he was kissing me. Someone was kissing me, and it was him, out of all people. I still needed to process that. Luckily, I was gonna get at least a chance to do so, because he pulled away shortly after, leaving my numb, pounding lips. His face remained in close distance to mine though and I took it upon myself to say something. "I-That was my first kiss."

"I know, mine too", he said, the corner's of his mouth turning up to form a smile that was unfortunately only halfway lit up by the moonlit shining through my window. Once again I was left speechless, in a positive way of course. I was surprised, I thought he had kissed someone before, which was dumb considering we told each other everything, but I figured he may have just kept this one thing from me. "Uhm, do you want a second one?"

"My parents wouldn't like this", I said with an expression as cold as my dad's pokerface. He nodded in understanding, scooting away from me a little. The twitching in his eyebrows didn't stay unnoticed to me though. He wanted to be respectful of my parents rules, as if he hadn't just broken into their house, but there was an ounce of annoyance seen on his face, even in the darkness of the night. I could see it, because I knew him well.

He knew me well, he could have seen that I was messing with him, but the more he was surprised when I closed the gap between us and clashed my lips onto his. I chuckled into the kiss and naturally, as if I had any clue on what I was doing, I lifted my hands up from the covers and placed them on each side of his face. They were anything but cold, but he still shivered under my touch. "Dylan, are you-Are you blushing?"

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