#haven’t quite organized all of my thoughts on it

[zuzuelectricbugaloo]

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

Pairing: Sans/Sans, Crepic, Cross/Epic

Rating: T

CW: I don’t believe any apply, but there is non-sexual grooming and bathing together.

Synopsis: A slightly hurt/comfort oneshot for @twinribbonz Chimera Cross AU. It’s about a month after Cross and Epic reunited. Cross feels useless and terrible, his broken wings and grimy body irritating him but he can’t do anything to help it. Or so he thought. Leave it to Epic to help Cross without the other feeling like a burden, the other skeleton determined to get it through Cross’s head that self-care is mandatory and Cross deserves all the self-indulgence he can give. It’s totally only because they’re best friends, nothing else.

Word Count: 10,459

Cross scratched at his arms whilst stalwartly ignoring the unwanted itchiness of his grimy feathers and scales. He shifted in place and rubbed at the few spots he could reach. No matter how much he scratched, the agitated feathers and scales continued to fester and burn. His limp wings caught on the ground of his enclosure below him. An unwanted weight that ached just as much as the rest of this new accursed form he called a body, that he wished he could just tear and rip them clean off.

He continued to scratch, razor shop distals harshly scraping bone against bone and sending down feathers falling one by one to the floor, while the angry buzzing in his skull grew from a quiet murmur to a reverberant roar. His chest vibrated while he unknowingly began to growl in discontent and bitter, repugnant tears welled in his sockets.

Dirt and old crusted magic has gathered within his feathers, his scales, and deep within the grooves of his bones. The sense of wrongness, at having objects wedged within the spaces of his distals and phalanges and betwixt sensitive bone bubbled and boiled in the back of his throat in a rageful, soundless scream.

Before he could give in to the impulsive urge and violently dismember himself of his upper extremities, a familiar deep, sonorous voice calls his name.

Cross perks up, his pain almost forgotten entirely, as his Soul skips a beat faster from the flood of warmth that fills his chest. He can’t quite smile — he feels far too uncomfortable — though his tempestuous glare does fall into something more relaxed.

Epic waddles into the enclosure he’d designed for Cross post-metamorphosis while carrying a large crate with contents Cross couldn’t immediately discern.

“Sup bruh!”

“Hey dude.”

A quiet ‘hup!’ and Epic sets the crate down with a thud onto the floor. He straightens and slaps his hands together in a dramatic show of dusting them off. “How’s my favorite bruh doing?”

Cross could complain that feels extremely uncomfortable and gross and utterly wrong in a body that no longer felt like his own. Epic’s presence was both a welcome reprieve and a pressing reminder of his discomforted state.

“Fine,” he decided.

Besides him, Epic is humming and bustling around. One moment he’s bending forward and taking things out of the crate and the next he’s fiddling with a panel of buttons with scribbled notes he’d installed into the wall.

Cross curiously inspected the assortment of items Epic had set out. “What’s all this for?”

“You’ve mentioned your feathers haven’t been feelin’ too good lately, so I did some research,” Epic answered as he removed his leather gloves and set them aside. He rolled up his sleeves and reached for another pair within his coat’s pocket, “And they recommended this is the best way to care for feathers like yours.”

Annoyance and guilt is a tumultuous concoction that roils in his nonexistent gut and combusts outward into a vexed growl before he could stop it. He tried to hide his limp wings further but they laid, broken and useless just like him, tucked into his sides from where his draconic bottom half sat. “I already told you and Chara both, they’ll heal on their own.”

“I know,” Epic soothed. “I won’t try an’ heal them. I just wanted to clean ‘em a bit, that’s all.” Epic’s smile falls at the corners as he gazes purposefully over his body. The inspection has Cross defensively straightening his back and feathers bristling before he can think of why he’d do that.

“Figured you probably weren’t feeling too great after not showering for a hot minute.”

With dawning horror and shame, Cross realizes he hadn’t exactly been able to bathe after…everything. Shit, he hopes he doesn’t smell that bad after a month.

When Epic’s turned back around to fiddle with his machinery, Cross takes a quick sniff under his left humerus and winces. Nope, he smelled that bad.

At least Epic had been kind enough to not make a face, or point out how awful he smelled.

“An’ I know how much you like keepin’ it spick and spiffy,” Epic continued and Cross swiftly snapped his arms back into place. “So I realized my buddy hasn’t really treated himself in a bit, and ya boi can’t let that criminally offensive injustice stand! Sooooo,” Epic twirled dramatically, his trenchcoat swaying behind him with a flourish as he posed and winked at Cross to shoot him double finger guns.

“I’ve been workin’ on a lil somethin’ I think you’ll like.” Epic’s sockets crinkle into upturned crescents as he beams and gestures to the panel. “Drumroll, please!”

Cross’s mouth quirked up in the corner as he indulged his best friends and pantomimed beating drums in midair as he droles, “dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun.”

Epic flicked a switch and suddenly, Cross feels a vibration in the air and startles, craning his torso to the side and up as he watches the walls shift and expand around him until there’s an entirely new room opened before him, and Cross can’t help but gape as he witnesses his enclosure’s transformation.

It was a wide thing, with high-vaulted bars Epic had hastily concocted with aid from both his blasters and gravity magic until he’d formed a loft large enough to provide Cross with a roof over his head. A makeshift bed compiled of mattresses lumped together to support Cross’s draconian body and a blanket that had taken Epic a day to sew until it could comfortably cover and tuck Cross in. He’d insisted he was fine and didn’t need any of this, especially since he didn’t even need a pillow when he could simply slump back onto his larger dragon to sleep.

But of course Epic insisted, and Cross was glad his token protest was taken in stride. The “bed” and blanket made him feel less like a beast, and regained a sense of normalcy again.

It helped that it smelled like him, that when Epic was gone Cross could bring the blanket up to his nose indent and inhale, slow and deep, his friend’s scent and calm as warmth and rightness filled him as cookies and sweets flooded his head. How the intent Epic had when he sewed the fabrics together was absorbed into the soft, plush cotton, the weight of the echoed feelings of care and the desire to help and reassurance I’m here from the comforter better than the sweetest lullaby when the imprints whispered genuine devotion from the Soul.

If Cross had thought crafting him a room and bed was unbearably kind of his best friend, then this was a magnanimous gesture of…he couldn’t say, for it had stolen his thoughts before it had a chance to even form into words.

When Epic flicked the switch and the walls shifted, they had transformed into a doorway that revealed a familiar bathhouse come to life. Intricate wooden structures and ornate decorations, including a painted scene of a lofty hilltop and clouds blowing in the wind. Polished floors pan over to a shower head high above the ceiling surrounded by an intricate system of cords and what he thinks is a sling. Over by the center of the room is a raised, deep tub made of polished wood.

This scene, excluding the shower area off to the side, was something straight out of a movie. In particular, a movie they’d seen during one of their anime marathons.

Bewildered, Cross glanced down at his friend. “Is…Is this Spirited Away?”

“Yeah!” Epic beamed up at him. “It’s supposed to look like one of the private baths in Yubaba’s bathhouse.”

“Like the one where Chihiro bathes the river spirit?”

“Nailed it in one, bud.”

Unsurprisingly, Cross is reminded of how incredible his best friend is, his chest feeling tight with fondness tinged in awe.

“I don’t…how did you find the time to do all this?” How had he not noticed? He’d literally been sleeping in the next room over.

“One of the many perks ‘bout not needin’ ta sleep too much,” Epic explained. “While you snooze and adorably loaf the night away, I got ta buildin’. Interior design isn't really my forte, I’ll admit, but Color’s surprisingly got a real knack for it. He helped me out with some of the schematics.”

Cross ignores the twinge of irritation at the mention of the pyro-afflicted skeleton. Big deal, so what if Epic had other friends he hung out with? He’s being ridiculous.

And it’s not like Epic made Color a special bathroom from one of their favorite movies, Cross smugly thought. And Cross was Epic’s best friend, not Color.

Still, it rubbed him the wrong way, the thought of Color leaning against Epic as they talked and looked over Epic’s work. His marrow boiled at the thought of Color placing his arm over Epic’s shoulders, or around his waist, scenting him—

An annoyed growl rumbled out his throat before he could stop it. He promptly leaned forward and pulled Epic into his arms. Already well used to Cross manhandling him, Epic simply gasped in surprise before relaxing as Cross nuzzled him, rubbing his skull all over and pressing his nasal aperture insistently into the grooves of Epic’s cervical vertebrae, the angled curve of his sharp jawline, rubbing until he was content Cross’s — and not Color’s — scent had been marked all over his best friend.

“That’s actually amazing, dude.” Cross murmured into Epic’s neck before he pulled back to grin, satisfied, at the other skeleton. “I can’t believe you did all this.”

Epic’s grin turns sheepish. He rubs the back of his hooded skull as Cross smiles at him. “Aw c’mon bro. Like I said, what kinda bestie would I be if I didn’t try an’ make ya happy?”

You already do.

The embers of warmth that flickered at the thought now blazed, an inferno of wonder.

“A-anyway!” Epic suddenly laughs, a pitch high for his smooth baritone, his cheekbones tinted violet. “Since you’re an absolute unit of a mad lad now, I thought we could have a spa day. Get you nice and pampered for a quick pick me up. And after the one you gave me, heh.” He chuckled at his joke.

Epic…Cross realized what he was doing.

He was trying to make Cross feel normal, feel comfortable in his body and how their relationship hadn’t changed at all despite Cross’s drastic change of himself.

It still wasn’t give and take. It was always give and care, nurture and cherish, trust and adore.

“So your job for today,” Epic patted the fluff adorning Cross’s exposed ribs. “As the coolest best pal in the history of ever, is to relax an’ treat yo’ self. If you don’t mind, I’m your personal self-care attendant for the day!” He gently ran his hand through the soft and snowy feathers. “I know it’d be hard for ya to clean this part, so I’ll help with that.”

As nice as the thought of Epic grooming him was, the imagery almost pulling a low purr out of him, Cross still felt shame swirl low in his abdomen.

“I don’t—” Cross hesitated. He wanted that, but it made him feel weak. Undeserving.

Useless.

“I—I feel like a burden.” How pathetic was he that he couldn’t even care for himself anymore? That he was making Epic take care of him.

How selfish was he that he liked it…

“Cross,” Epic’s stern voice throws him off. “You’re never a burden.”

“But—”

“Never.” Epic’s not having it. “I’m doing this because I want to, because I care about you.”

“And, again,” Epic grins, lifting his hands and reaching out for him and Cross instinctively reaching back, their hands slotting together like pieces of puzzle despite how Cross was now more than twice his size.

“What kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t help my buddy out when he needs me?” Softer, he squeezes Cross’s hands, his covered thumbs stroking the back of Cross’s palms. “I wanna take care of you.”

Both of Epic’s eyes are open, white and violet eyelights gazing into Cross’s own orbs in an open display of vulnerability. It was a Soul melting sight, Cross’s chest becoming warm once more as Epic reveals one of the parts of himself that he hates the most to Cross.

“Let me take care of you,” Epic implored. A tingle travels up Cross’s spine.

Ambivalent towards himself, he’s torn between his hubris and exhaustion. Why was it always so easy to maintain a façade around others, but with Epic all it took was his sweet, earnest supplication, and Cross crumbled, desperate not to fall but he’d fallen anyway.

His mouth feels dry and there’s a fluttering in his nonexistent gut. He wants to say yes, to fall into the safety that was Epic and follow him wherever he’d lead them both. But his pride is always his undoing. “I’m not some baby to be coddled, I’m a soldier. I was the X-Event,” he spits out far harsher than he means to, “A threat to the very fabric of the multiverse itself.”

Epic nods. “I know.” He states it like it's a fact.

“I can take care of myself just fine.” No he can’t. He’s useless, just look at his broken wings and barbaric horrorshow amalgamation of a body.

“You can, and you do,” Epic agrees easily. “You’re phenomenal as you are Cross. I don’t doubt you’ll always be able to take care of yourself no matter what happens.”

“But we’re best friends, yeah?” Cross nods and Epic continues. “So we’ll always take care of each other. I want to take care of you always not ‘cause I think you’re incapable or impotent,”

How did Epic always know what he was thinking?

How could Epic read his unvoiced thoughts and feelings like a book, like Cross had always been a part of him and always will be?

He adores the solicitude as much as it terrifies him.

“It’s ‘cause you mean a lot to me.”

Iridescent alabaster and glittering violet orbs of life glisten within onyx voids. The loveliest stars Cross had ever seen, shining bright just for him as they waited patiently for him. Always patient, always kind.

“Yeah, yeah,” Cross’s voice comes out rougher than he means it to. “Same here.”

Those luminous mismatched eyelights impossibly brighten further as Epic’s smile stretched. “And it won’t just be you. I’ll join ya! Never been to a bathhouse myself so ‘m also pretty excited.”

Cross perked up. Epic would let Cross groom him?

He titters a happy chirp as Epic pats his side, a signal to let him down. Reluctantly, Cross leans down until he can set Epic back on his feet and onto the ground.

Cross realized something as Epic turned back to the panel. “Wait, how’re you gonna reach me?”

“With a little swing and a fling.” Epic pushes a button and a swing/like harness lowers itself from the ceiling to hang beside the scientist. He hooks himself into the harness and shoots Cross a wink before his thumb presses down on a different switch.

With a click he’s hoisted up until he’s brought to eye-level with a bewildered Cross. Giggling and idly kicking his legs in carefree asymmetric swings as he leans forward with a single digit to tap the front of Cross’s nose indent.

“Boop.” Cross blinked. “Like this.”

Epic fiddles with the controls on the harness to zoom around Cross, whose head jerks to the side to follow his movements. “So we can both sit back and relax.”

“Okay.” Cross’s Soulbeat quickened when Epic maneuvered himself down to the crate to scoop up a bucket full of various supplies. “First thing’s first, we gotta get all the gunk and debris stuck in your feathers out before we trim your wings. Not heal,” Epic hastily added before Cross could interject. “Just trim. To keep it from getting too long.”

Cross slowly nodded. Their length had been getting annoying. “Okay. What next?”

Epic’s hands softly stroke the feathers of Cross’s right side as he answers. “Then we get you soaped up and rinsed off in a shower to get the last of the muck off ya. And then get ya soaked river spirit style.”

Low, pleased purrs emit from his throat as Epic starts to weave his phalanges into the feathers of his right side, gently plucking and scraping off whatever dirt and unwanted waste he finds. Cross’s eyes slowly close instinctually as he relishes in the feeling of Epic’s careful ministrations against his body.

Cross’s voice was low when he questioned, “Why shower if we’re bathing anyway?”

“So you don’t lay in your own filth pretty much,” Epic’s humming paused as he explained. “And then you soak up all the fancy minerals from the bath. ‘S one reason why you stay in there for a while.” He plucked out a stick caught between Cross’s feathers and threw it to the side with a bemused expression. “‘Cause you wanna absorb all that good shit.”

“Skeletons soaking in hot, mineralized water…” Cross mused. “So, we’ll be making bone broth then.” Epic let out a startled bark of laughter, Cross’s mouth quirked upwards in a proud grin as his friend switched to another segment.

“LOL, more like cricket broth.”

It took him a second before he got it and Cross groaned with a roll of his eyelights. “I told you already,” Cross grumbled. “Dragon bod, I’m not an insect.”

“Technically y’are. Six limbs~” Epic retorted in a playful, sing-song voice.

“I’ll smack you with my tail.”

Epic’s decadent, silken, sonorous bass of a voice is going to be the death of him, even in jest, as he jokes, “Gonna whip me for bein’ disobedient?” Epic purred, meeting Cross’s gaze as he wiggled his boney brows and winked. “Kinky.”

Cross flushed purple and contemplated if bucking Epic off of him would be worth it or not. He was about to snark back when Epic’s leather glides across his hind leg’s feathers and dips down and betwixt them until he’s stroking his body itself.

The full-bodied shudder travels up and down his spine like he’d been zapped by electricity. Immediately after his head goes warm with the rest of him as his top half slumps forward slightly and he groans in sweet, sweet relief. That awful, incessant itch that had plagued him for weeks was finally being taken care of and oh, stars, he never knew how much he’d needed this until now.

“Poor thing,” Epic murmured under his breath. Unaware Cross’s hearing had sharpened with the rest of his senses and caught on. “This must’ve been a real bitch to deal with.”

Epic is methodical with his touch, each caress of his gentle hands running through Cross’s feathers sends a soothing sensation throughout his entire body. Rhythmic strokes and careful attention to every one of his snowy plumes evoke a sense of relaxation and trust so deep Cross could fall asleep upright from the bliss.

But as good as this felt, as nice as the tentative scratches against the heated flesh beneath his plumage was, Cross wanted more. He wanted to feel Epic’s hands, free from the gloves, run over his body and through his feathers entirely.

He wanted his mate to groom him proper, feel no physical barrier between them in this intimate moment of connection.

Cross flushed when he requests as casually as he can, “Can you take the gloves off?”

Epic pauses. His fingers retreat from the feathers they’d been stroking and Cross almost growls in vexation that he’d stopped those heavenly caresses. “Oh, sorry bruh.” Without a second thought Epic slid his gloves off and stuffed them in his coat pocket. “Must be uncomfortable feelin’ leather rubbin’ all over ya.”

Rhythmic strokes, gentle caresses, Epic’s rich voice full of warmth and deep with affection. “Better?” He asked.

Cross nodded, his rolling purrs drowning out all his remaining thoughts. “So much. Thanks, dude.”

“No worries bud.”

Epic hated his hands. Despised their mutilated appearance, hated exposing his hands because of the holes in the middle of his palms. Results that were forced on him by unwanted experimentation and made him resemble his bastard creator.

He should be ill at ease, from not only having them displayed but also touching someone dear to him.

But he can’t. And he isn’t. Instead, he feels content, fluttering warmth deep in his Soul and in his chest as Cross melts underneath Epic’s touch. It's like his Eye, how he only felt truly comfortable with raw vulnerability when it was with Cross. Something about his best friend just made it seem so easy.

Eventually, Epic reaches one of the limp wings. They’re mostly numb to Cross, but the skeleton tenses anyway when Epic begins to groom the wing at the plumage of the upper wing coverts.

Carefully, slowly, Epic gently plucks at and sifts through the feathers, far more tentative than with the feathers on Cross’s body. Sliding and gingerly pecking with his phalanges any clutter he finds and lets it fall to the floor as he maneuvers himself within his harness.

Cross preens, chirping happily when Epic swiftly moves from the down feathers to the primary and secondary coverts. Once he’s reached the tip, he pauses, stroking the feathers as he glances up at Cross.

“Is it alright if I start trimming?”

Cross doesn’t realize the affirmative he vocalized was a chirp and not a word. Epic nodded regardless, lifting the wing’s tip with one hand and holding a pair of scissors in the other. Epic made sure he lifted the plumage to clearly identify the feather shafts. He read to avoid cutting those to prevent injury. With the smaller feathers above the primary wings as his guide, Epic carefully began the process of trimming Cross’s wing.

Unfortunately for Cross, because his wings had been broken for weeks, he couldn’t fully enjoy the feeling of Epic’s grooming and now delicate trimming. Still, he could faintly feel Epic’s tender intent, and that was enough for Cross to watch in content as Epic cared for him.

Slow and careful, he cut, trimming the feathers one by one and meticulously making his way down the wingspan.

While Epic grooms him, Cross can’t help but think how nurturing Epic is towards him — this is no special case. He’s just always taken care of Cross in some way, some form. From movie nights to beach escapades, arcades, their regular hangouts. He’d always made Cross feel cared for without being a burden.

He thinks about how nurturing and kind Epic is to everyone, really, especially children. How Epic made something as troublesome as dealing with those tykes seem easy and even fun whenever he interacted with them. That made Cross think maybe he’d want to be a parent someday, if he had a partner as good as Epic.

He thought of how much kids like Palette and Goth adored Epic, calling him uncle and laughing like mad when Epic pretended to pull them over for speeding in his “Chick Mobile”, Epic adorned with aviator shades and a ridiculous glued on mustache as he chased after the cackling children with a rubber chicken.

“Officer Bruh reporting in! We got a Bruh-1-1, bruh! Get back here and stop resisting arrest!”

“You’ll never take us alive, copper!” Goth shouted while Palette turned to shoot at Epic with his bubble gun. Epic dramatically dodging and whooping in a series of acrobatics to avoid the harmless projectiles as though it was truly deadly.

“Yeah, these cookies are all ours!” Palette exclaimed and defiantly chewed on said stolen goodie. A bubble popped on Epic’s sweater.

He shouted, grasping at his chest before dramatically tumbling until he collapsed and spasmed on the ground. “Officer down! Officer down! Bleh,” Epic stuck his tongue out and went still, his hands placed over his chest as he pretended to be at rest.

The kids laughed like it was the funniest thing ever.

All Cross did at the time was chuckle and film per Epic’s request for the kids’ parents later, unable to push his bright grin down or explain the fondness that turned his Soul into mush.

Unbidden, he thinks of how that moment was only one of many more, definitive proof that Epic would be an amazing parent. A compassionate father, better than his and Cross’s ever were.

He wondered if Epic would admire him if Cross got along with kids, too. If Epic would watch him as Cross would watch Epic, admiring and unbearably, unfathomably soft. As Epic joined the kids in their goofy, nonsensical misadventures. As Epic read to the Souls of the children lost that were bound to Color.

As Epic smiled down the bed in front of him, gently tucking in a protesting XChara that they weren’t technically a child, he didn’t need Epic to tuck them in. Epic simply nodded with understanding as he brushed XChara’s bangs out of their face and their eyes drooped shut. “I know. Sleep well, bud.”

Cross recalled a picnic they’d gone on, laying side by side and gazes tilted to the stars above as they talked about nothing and everything. How Epic had confided he’d always wanted kids of his own, but wanted to raise them alongside a loving partner. Yet he seemed undesirable to most and had set that dream aside into a little box of wishes within the blanket of the starry night. Maybe someday, he’d sighed. The stars glittered with his silent longing.

“We’ll still be best friends, right?” Cross’s voice wobbled when he’d thought of Epic distracted by a blurry lover and equally unknown expressions of Epic’s children in Cross’s mind. Dismissing Cross in favor of his better, more exciting romantic interest, strolling off with his arm around their waist and their children trailing after them. Leaving Cross behind.

Epic had laced their hands together and smiled at Cross with eyes as deep and profound as the ocean, the light of his Soul shining among the constellations of the night.

“Always,” he’d promised. “You and me against the world, forever and always, Cross.”

Cross had felt his chest tighten at the time. He’d stared at Epic while the older skeleton stared back into the sky before he eventually tore his gaze away to look up to the bright lights himself. Maybe someday, he’d agreed, their hands intertwined together

An insistent call of his name pulls Cross out of his thoughts. He blinks into clarity and turns to his left to see Epic, who’d been tapping Cross’s side to catch his attention.

“Yeah dude?”

“You’re all set bud.” Epic gestured to the side. “Wanna head on over? Last thing we need to do is shower and then we can soak the night away.”

“You too, yeah?”

“Sure am! But we oughta get you taken care of first big guy,” Epic swings around, fiddling with his panel and tapping away at buttons and switches as he spoke. “According to what I searched, you’re not ‘sposed to shampoo or soap feathers ‘cause it would make it too ‘oily’ and hard to fly. Buuuut,”

Epic spun around to face Cross once more as he hung in front of him. “You don’t wanna fly anytime soon right?”

With his useless wings? “Nope,” Cross agreed.

“So I’ll leave it up to you man. D’you wanna try out shampoo and conditioner or soap? I got a bunch of scents for both for ya to pick from.”

Epic baps his fist against a panel on the wall with a small thunk and Cross is gobsmacked when it opens with two shelves of bottles of various colors and shapes popping out. Cross would’ve questioned it but then he recalled something like that was also from the movie and dismissed his unasked question.

“Take your pick! I got your old favorite, cherry blossom, but a whole bunch of others too. There’s rose, coconut, chocolate, vanilla, elderflower, and—”

“Wait, Epic,” Cross interrupted. “If we’re gonna soak in a mineralized bath, wouldn’t these scents be pointless?”

“…” Epic visibly deflated. Cross tried not to laugh.

Violet paints his cheekbones as he purses his mouth and glances side to side. “…Nuh uh.”

“Thought about everything except that, huh,” Cross teased.

“Aw, maaaan,” Epic pouted. “There goes all my G.”

Cross patted him on his back. “It’s okay. I can just use them later, no worries.” He plucked out a bottle of rose scented body wash. “And these are just a few bottles. It’s not like you got buckets of these or anything right?”

Epic was silent.

“Dude!”

“What?! You’re huge!” Defensively Epic waved his arms to gesture to all of Cross. “I had to make sure I had enough that you could use and have variety!”

This time Cross did laugh, unable to resist when picturing what the poor cashiers’ baffled faces must’ve looked like when Epic bought a boatload of soaps and washes.

“Oh stars,” Cross chortled. “And they just—they just let you buy all that?”

“I mean, it’s the same place I get all my condoms, so I’m pretty sure they assumed I’m a sugar daddy or something.”

Cross lost it.

“Uh huh,” Epic droned while his best friend laughed so hard he cried. “Yuuuuuup. Laugh it up. Get it all out of your system. Uh huh.”

“Y-you didn’t even try to defend yourself? Mention how you use those as a gag?”

“What, and go, “hey, so, I’m not actually a sugar daddy plannin’ to get real freak-ayyy, but I need you to keep this on the down-low ‘cause I don’t want anyone to know ‘bout this,” and that doesn’t sound hella sketch to you? Nah, man, nah.”

Cross wheezed, his laughter so loud and hard his ribs ached. Once he’s calmed enough, his breathing no longer laborious and interrupted by only the occasional giggle, he wipes the tears gathered at the corners of his sockets away.

When his hands fall away from his eyes the sight of Epic smiling is revealed, his gaze tender and full of affection that has Cross’s nonexistent gut doing flips and confusion filling him at why he wants to break his gaze away from that tender look.

Mana rushed to his cheekbones. Somewhat embarrassed, he queried, “What?”

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just…it’s been a while since you laughed like that.”

What? No, it couldn’t have. Epic always made him laugh like no one else did, why wouldn’t…?

Oh. Right.

His smile fell.

Cross hasn’t laughed that hard since he’d found Epic after…after whatever happened to him. That turned him into this.

His arms began to itch.

“Sorry, I got side-tracked.” Epic tapped at a bottle. “Did you pick one you wanna try?”

Quietly, “Chocolate, please.”

“Alright.” Epic tap taps, and then, he’s fluttering around Cross like he had earlier when grooming his wings, popping the bottle open and sliding it into the wall. A few mechanical wirrs later, a crane carrying a bucket slowly drifts side to side as it tilts, the scent of warm chocolate making Cross’s mouth water as the liquid soap is spread until his dragon body and wings are coated in the substance. Once it’s empty, it’s brought back into the wall, the panel closing shut behind it.

Cross shudders at the feeling, his feathers registering the cold and blocking the sensation from the heated flesh beneath the plumage only for a moment. Even so, his eyes burn. His sockets well with tears he forced himself to hold back as he blinked.

Epic’s habitual humming has picked up. He starts to gently lather the feathers as his phalanges glide between the individual plumes and shifts them apart to gently scrub the irritated flesh beneath.

Cross greedily soaks up his intent. Relishes the feeling of Epic gingerly scratching and scrubbing to remove stubborn bits of dirt and grime. He tries to force back the familiar sensation of his throat tightening up, of his face burning and liquid mana surging and pushing to be released.

“We’ll get you soaped up real good so all that’s left is a rinse.” Epic speaks but it’s hard to hear with the growing sound of his own inner voice reprimanding him. Scolding Cross to toughen up, repeating his soldier’s mantra “calm emotions, calm Soul.”

Don’t cry, this is supposed to be fun. This is supposed to be nice. Epic’s trying so hard to make things normal again, why can’t you do just this one thing right?

XGaster’s cold voice overlaps Epic’s, whatever he’s saying about his wings and if it hurts if he moves them a little is drowned out by that awful, cruel gaze and disinterested tone.

“Useless boy—”

He’s fine, everything’s fine. Don’t cry, don’t cry, Cross. You’re not a crybaby.

“—failed experiment—”

A cold, dark room. An observation table. His wrists shackled to the wall. A blur of crimson and his own soundless scream ringing in his skull. His legs, he couldn’t feel his legs!

“You are worthless to me, Sans.”

And just like everything else, he failed to do one thing.

Purple tears fell from his sockets in rivulets.

He was always useless.

“— good, think I got every — Cross?”

Epic zooms over, hands hovering beside Cross’s skull but hesitating to touch him. Cross can’t fight back the bitter sob but resolutely keeps his mouth shut. The garbled cry is followed by yet more tears.

Cross leans forward until his zygomas are cradled in Epic’s soothingly cold hands against his heated skull.

“Hey hey hey, buddy, what’s wrong? What happened?” Epic’s thumbs wiped the translucent purple magic as it poured out his eyes. “Did I touch you somewhere bad and it hurt? I’m so sorry, I can—”

“No, no, ‘s not you,” Cross sniffed, desperately trying to shove the tears back but they refused. Useless crybaby. “I-I, I just, I got—”

He couldn’t bear to look at his best friend’s face, the blatant concern and worry worsened the tight feeling in his chest and he was drowning in his tears, self-reproach and loathing bitter on his tongue and burning his aching throat.

When Cross tilted his skull in shame and looked down, he noticed Epic’s pants were covered in soap. In handprints missing circular center shaped prints.

He’d wiped his hands to cradle Cross like he was something precious, something too valuable to be sullied by soap.

Somehow that noetic sentiment breaks Cross further and he snarls. Trembling with rage and tears while Epic steadfastly held him as he fell apart.

“I hate this body,” Cross raged. His arms burned like they were on fire and something was tearing him apart from the inside out. “This—this isn’t me! This isn’t—!” Helpless, resentful tears welled in his sockets. “I hate it, Epic. I hate it!”

“I can’t fly, I can’t fix myself, I can’t even remember who did this to me or how this happened!”

Useless, useless, useless!

“I know, Cross.” His knuckles are brought to his mouth, the kiss a forlorn apology of understanding and empathetic sorrow. “I know.”

Cross’s massive body trembled and his chest heaved. The snarls tumbling out his clenched jaws feral and impossibly loud in the echo of the enclosed room.

Yet Epic held onto him anyway, undeterred and determined. His body used to fit perfectly in Cross’s arms, but now Cross could pin him down with his torso alone.

That thought made his jaws ache with an indiscernible urge to bite down, to sink his teeth into Epic and see if he’d try and fight Cross then no he wouldn’t he’d never hurt him, not now nor ever but Cross hurts, he wants to scream and cry and rage and tear himself apart until he’s got nothing left to give if it would only mean his agony stop—

It’s okay/I have you/I’m here/Come back to me

Cross blinked in surprise, shuddering from the abrupt sound of a familiar, beloved voice in his head and the tingle of pleasant, soothing cold running up his arms. He chirped in confusion, sockets slowly opening and closing until his rage subsided and Epic’s visage was clear before him.

A steady, persistent murmur. “Hey, sweetheart,” Epic’s voice greeted him. Cross realized Epic’s hands were insentently holding Cross’s wrist. Keeping Cross’s claws pressed up against Epic’s chest as something continues to beat below his sweater and emanate that soothing, delightful cold. Waves of Epic’s intent pour through that point of contact and rush up Cross’s arms and to his own steadily calming Soul.

It’s okay/Please come back/I'm here/Its okay sweetheart

Epic’s forehead was pressed against Cross’s and his other hand softly stroked his zygomatic arch. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Sweetheart? Cross?

“It’s okay, you’re safe. I promise. I have you, okay?” Slowly, Cross nodded. Unwilling to move too fast and remove the pointed contact between them. Unwilling to tear his gaze away from gentle ivory and violet lights.

“That’s it, Cross,” Epic smiled. The praise floods Cross’s system with a rush. His growls eased into comfortable, pleased purrs. “Good job bud.”

Yes, he was good. Cross’s tail thumped behind him a light sweep of a wag.

“There we go. That’s it. Just keep focusing on me, listen to my voice.”

How could he not? It was so lovely, the richest baritone Cross had ever heard. Smooth and decadent, better than any dark chocolate he’d tasted, silken and sonorous. Cross could listen to Epic speak for hours on end and he’d never grow weary of that melodic voice.

“Yeah, just like that.” Epic sighed and slumped forward, letting his arms fall back to pull Cross into a tight embrace. The anxiety and concern evaporated once Cross had calmed and now left the older skeleton feeling exhausted from the crash of adrenaline. “Jeez, bruh.”

Cross wrapped his arms around Epic, happy to hold his dearest friend close.

“You good?”

Cross nuzzled the back of Epic’s collar with a low purr. It took a moment for the question to register, and when it did, Cross forced his mouth to move. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s fine, long as you’re okay,” Epic reassured. “Haven’t had to use the Soul for something like that for a while. But I kinda freaked when you tried to tear your arms off man.”

“I did?” Epic nodded. The movement caused his nose indent to rub against Cross’s neck.

“Yeah. You couldn’t hear me so I gambled. Glad it worked.”

“You called me sweetheart.” Butterflies fluttered through his chest at the reminder.

“Well, yeah,” Epic pulled back from the embrace to look into Cross’s eyes and defend himself. “‘Cause you’re sweet, an’ it helps talkin’ through things and being complimented—”

“No need to explain. You helped me the best way you could.”

“Yeah, exactly! You get it.”

“I do.” Cross smirked. “Sweetheart.”

Delight bloomed in Cross’s chest along with the tint of violet in Epic’s cheekbones. “Okay but when you say it, it sounds gay.”

“I’m bi.”

Epic snorted. “Bruh, I know.”

A persistent itch under his plumage. “As cute as you are flustered,” Cross grinned while Epic sputtered. “The soap is starting to dry and I’m getting kinda itchy—”

“Huh? Oh. Oh! Yeah, let’s get your rinsed off.” Epic pulled out of the hug completely as he zoomed around in his harness. Flicking switches and popping panels open until the shower head turns on and comfortably warm water gushes out in a pleasant stream onto Cross’s draconian half.

Epic handed him more of the bottle and a brush, saying he could go ahead and start drubbing himself off and Epic will help with other parts Cross can’t reach once he’s finished with his lower body.

The water is powerful enough that Epic didn’t need to do too much, fluttering in the air like a hummingbird as he brushed and smoothed Cross’s feathers and skin until he’s satisfied the soap had been washed out. Then he lowered himself to Cross’s scaled legs, brushing the powerful limbs while whistling a merry tune as Cross watched him from above in curious amusement.

The debris, trimmed feathers, and old scales pool and circle the drain. Already, Cross feels refreshed and like a brand new skeleton as he sees and feels vindictive pleasure as the filth that had bothered him for so long circles the drain.

Once Epic’s finished with his legs, he returns to Cross’s eye-level and gestures to his back. “Need any help?”

Cross could reach it just fine on his own, but since Epic offered…

He hands Epic the brush. “Yeah, thanks.”

“No prob.” Cross shivers as Epic carefully scrubs the back of his spine and ribs, cautiously dipping the brush between the grooves and purposefully keeping the pressure light to prevent any accidental mishaps with the sensitive bones.

“How do you feel?” Cross hummed.

“Much, much better,” Cross confessed. “I had no idea how much I missed showers ‘til now.”

“Mhmm.” Epic agreed, maneuvering the shower head to rinse Cross’s ribs. He checked to make sure he hadn’t missed any spots while he mused, “It’s the simple things that are often taken for granted most.”

For Epic, it was a peaceful night’s rest.

For Cross, it was his fully skeletal body.

Epic pulled back, the swing carrying him off of Cross’s side. “Aaaand you’re all set! Lookin’ squeaky clean and smellin’ great, bruh.” He patted Cross on the shoulder. “Why don’t ya go ahead and get comfy in the tub and I’ll join you after I rinse off here?”

Cross shook his head. “No.”

Epic’s smile fell at the corners before he righted them, brows furrowed in confusion. “No? Why not?”

“It’s your turn.”

“Uh, yeah? ‘S why I’m gonna shower,” Epic trailed off when Cross grabbed the hem of his sweater and lightly tugged once with a pointed look. Understanding dawned across his features. “Oh, ‘m fine bud, you don’t have ta—”

“I want to.” Cross insists. Satisfaction curls deep in his gut when his claw trails up Epic’s back, the sharpened talon-esque phalanges catching on the material of his cloak and how his sharpened hearing catches the audible gulp his best friend tried to hide. “You said I could earlier,” Cross reminds him, “That we’d be helping each other.”

“I did,” Epic agreed.

“Do you want me to see if I can grab you a set of shorts or…?”

“Nah, ‘s good,” Epic dismissed with a careless wave of his hand. “Put on a pair of swimming trunks under the usual pants just for today.”

“What? Why not just wear the trunks instead of pants in the first place?”

“Habit, I guess.”

“Okay then weirdo,” It was said far too fondly to be an insult. Cross tugged at Epic’s sweater. “Off we go.”

Epic chuckles and slips out the harness and onto Cross’s hip. Rolling his shoulders back and letting his coat fall onto Cross while the soldier watched with unusual anticipation.

“Heh,” the older skeleton’s grin is teasing as he hoists his sweater over his head. “Not gonna take me out to dinner first before you try to get me wet?” He sets the sweater beside his cloak, phalanges slipping into the hem of his waistband. “And here I thought you were a gentleman.”

“I am a gentleman.” Cross’s hand held onto Epic’s waist to keep him steady as he shook off his boots. Cross was surprised by how much his hand could hold, and wondered if both his hands were on Epic’s waist if his distal phalanx would touch. “See? I’m helpful.”

“The most helpful.” Epic concurred. With Cross’s support, he was able to shimmy out of his pants and sure enough, swim trunks obstructed his pelvis and part of his upper femurs from his view.

Not that Cross was staring or anything. They’d gone swimming before in the past. In fact, he recognized the familiar Dragonball themed swim trunks as soon as they’d peaked out from Epic’s waistband, orange and white with one of Epic’s favorite memes inscribed on the sides “IT’S OVER 9,000!”

Although his gaze was inexplicably drawn to the curve of Epic’s spine as he bent forward to remove his pants. To the curve of his pelvic wings and the way his ribs moved with his motions.

Epic stood up straight and Cross released him. He stayed within his space, though, just in case Epic slipped and fell off. His best friend scooped his pile of clothes up into his arms and into a ball, hoisted them over his head, and unceremoniously threw them with an enthusiastic “YEET” so they landed back into Cross’s enclosure with a bounce and spread apart.

With all too affectionate exasperation well used to Epic’s antics, Cross asked, “Why not just use your gravity magic and let it land?”

Epic smacked his hands together and tilted his skull up to Cross to wink as he shot him with double finger guns. “Y’know why, ‘cause it’s fun! Oh! You know what we should totally do?”

Epic’s eyelights gleamed in excitement. “I can set up a basketball hoop near the tub and you can toss me through it!”

“Why?”

“For the Kobe, bruh, the Kobe!”

Admittedly, it did sound like a fun idea, and though Cross would be more than happy to indulge Epic in his shenanigans, he was far more interested in grooming Epic as he’d done for him.

To show he’s a good potential mate

“Later,” Cross promised. “I wanna take care of you now.”

Cross would never tire of being the cause for Epic blushing. It was inexplicably gratifying, knowing that Epic’s lovely face would burn so sweet and pretty just for Cross when he wasn’t usually one so easy to fluster.

“Okie dokie.” Epic flexed his phalanges. His feet shuffled side to side in uncertainty. “Uh, are you okay with me sitting on you for this?”

“Yeah it’s fine. You’ve done it before.” Cross “loafing”, as Epic would call it, while they watched a movie or started a show. Playing a board game or eating together whenever Epic took a break from analyzing Cross’s magic.

They couldn’t cuddle before like they used to, not with Cross’s drastic change in size. So they made do with their new normal. Or at least Epic did, once he was certain Cross didn’t mind. Perhaps Cross would dislike it, if it were anyone else other than Epic.

“Alright alright alriiiight,” Epic drawled. Giggling after referencing one of his many favorite vocal stims. “But if ya ever do get uncomfy, lemme know an’ I’ll hop off.

“Sounds good.”

And with that, Epic began to scrub, flexing and bending his phalanges to catch anything caught between the grooves separating the phalanxes. Gradually working his way up to his metacarpals.

Cross imitated Epic’s earlier gestures, gently brushing all the hard to reach places whilst carefully avoiding exerting too much pressure behind his movements.

“It feels nice, right?” Cross hummed his agreement. “I could do this myself, but it just feels good when there’s someone else,” there’s a tone in Epic’s voice Cross couldn’t quite distinguish, like he’s trying to hint at or lead up to something but Cross didn’t know what.

His best friend had started scrubbing his legs, one knee bent to his chest and straight out with his leg extended. “Sure help makes it easier, but it’s not required.”

“Uh huh.” Cross gave him a once-over. Satisfied with his work but regretful that it was over so soon. It made sense, he supposed. Cross hadn’t bathed in a while unlike Epic, so of course he’d be dirtier.

Epic’s skull turned back at an angle to glance up at Cross. “I’m not useless for wanting some help cleaning up, am I?”

“What? No, of course not!” How could Epic say that? “You asking for help when you need it shows how self-aware you are. You’re not lesser or weak for reaching out.” Epic is incredible, the person he admired most. And that admiration came from years of knowing Epic and seeing for himself all the amazing things his best friend is capable of, and just how kind and good his Soul was.

“I think it shows how strong you are, that you know you can’t do everything alone and instead of wallowing in self-pity, you ask and—” Cross paused. Epic continued to watch him, waiting, expectant. “…Oh.” Now it was Cross’s turn to blush.

“There we go.”

“I’m an idiot.”

“Not at all.” Epic refuted. “You’re just a little stubborn, sometimes.”

“You put up with me anyway.”

“You’re my best friend Criss-Cross,” Epic grinned. “You’re stuck with me for life, buddy. Ride or die ‘til the end my guy. Couldn’t get me away from ya for nothin’.”

Tener, light touches as fingers made of bone glided between the downy plumage of his wing. “An’ part of my sacred duty as best bud is makin’ sure you’re alright.”

All that remained unspoken filled the air between them, their bond knowing all too well what they meant without needing it said aloud.

Let me take care of you?

Cross hesitated. His inner demons were silent, put to rest by Epic’s steadfast compassion. Still, he…he couldn’t help but feel trepidation about fixing himself, anxious of too many unknown variables of what may happen. Particularly after the disasters of attempting to split his Soul during the time he’d been fused with XChara.

“Can we wait? Just a little longer?”

Yes. Wait for me.

Epic didn’t protest. “You're not in any pain, right?”

Cross shook his head and Epic slowly exhaled with a slow nod. “Okay. We can wait, then. Whenever you’re ready, Cross.”

I’ll always be here.

Grateful beyond measure for his friend, all Cross could do to convey his thanks was bend forward to press his forehead against Epic’s. “Thank you.”

Epic gently pressed back, smiling as they gazed into each other’s eyes. “I got ya.”

Always.

All too soon, Epic pulled away. He lowered the shower head down to his height to rinse himself off before he let go and let it return to its stationary position on the ceiling.

“Now c’mon! I’ve been wanting to soak for forever now,” he exaggerated. He held onto Cross’s arm as he moved, willing his draconic legs to stand and meander over to the tub.

“Alright alright, I’m going.”

“Yuss!” Epic posed, hand on his hip and arm outstretched. “Onward, to glory!”

“I feel glorious.” Cross deadpanned as he slowly settled onto his pair of knees. Epic eagerly slid down Cross’s side like a baseball player, whooping “yaba dabba doo!” while he slided down his tail. In an impressive display of acrobatics, Epic vaulted over the tub by using the walls as a springboard and stood by the wall, waiting to make sure Cross was watching him.

“Sooo, you remember how there’s a panel Chihiro had to whack to get the bath tokens to pop out?”

“Uh huh.” Epic pointed to the spot on the wall where painted clouds were formed into an “X” shape.

“Do a Britney and hit it baby one more time!”

Cross snickered and did just that. The panel popped open, red and black rectangular tokens with golden shapes hung by string.

“And pick whichever, they all come from the same source.”

Cross randomly selected the circle token and tugged, the wooden block disappearing upwards and away while the panel slowly closed itself up. He startled when he felt warm water, almost unbearably hot, started to pour from a bamboo tube. A few moments later he relaxed, the tension in his bones melting away the more his bones absorbed the heat.

The moment the water reached Cross’s lower ribs the flow abruptly stopped, the bamboo tube sliding up and into the wall. The panel clicked shut.

Cross waited, perking up while Epic strolled over the rim before he contorted, keeping his arms gripping the tub’s rim behind him while he dipped his legs in one by one until he was hanging over next to Cross. Cross felt a pang of disappointment that Epic was next to and not pressed up against him and slid his arm around his waist and cradled his entire left pelvic wing to pull him close.

It must’ve caught Epic off guard because he squeaked, limbs jerking slightly when Cross wrapped both his arms around Epic to loosely hug him close, Epic’s legs bracketing Cross’s hips while his hands shot out to support himself and gripped Cross’s shoulders tight.

“Whoa hey!” Epic babbled, zygomas burning with violet mana as Cross intently stared at him. “Uhhh. Hi there.”

Cross tilted his skull to the side in bemusement but greeted him nonetheless. “Hello.”

Epic’s eyelights darted to the side and back to Cross’s face, his flush deepening when Cross’s chest slowly began to rev up, the first pleased, low chirp tumbling out of him. He slid his hands down Cross’s humeri and paused at the junction between his radia and ulnas.

“I could just, uhm, sit next to you, y'know? O-on your back.”

This felt unbearably intimate. Soaking in a communal bath was one thing. Wrapped up in his friend’s arms while he stared at him like the cat that got the cream was another.

“You could.” Cross replied. “But I want to hold you.”

Epic wheezed on an embarrassed note of laughter. “Okay, yeah, sure. Whatever you want bud. Can I not straddle you while you do, though?”

Cross didn’t understand, he thought this was the perfect way to hold Epic and felt perfectly comfortable as is. But if Epic wasn’t, then he’d have to change it.

Reluctantly, Cross loosened his grip. Epic wiggled, sliding his legs back off and Cross felt a pang of loneliness from the missing weight, a mournful chirrup tightening his throat and disrupting his purrs.

Then Epic nuzzled into his side. His arms around Cross’s waist while he laid his head on Cross’s sternum and his purring resumed. “There we go. Didn’t mean to sound like we couldn’t cuddle,” Epic apologized. Cross affectionately rubbed his cheekbone against the top of his skull. “That was just, uh, a-a way to cuddle that’s a bit too much for friends, ‘s’all,” he explained.

Cross didn’t get it, couldn’t quite see why Epic got as flustered as he had despite Cross appreciating how adorable the demure expression was on him. It had felt right to Cross, yet another way they could embrace and be close, but he nodded anyway, satisfied he could still cradle his dearest friend. “Okay.”

All he knew for certain as he stared, uncomprehending, was how he felt. And all he felt was peaceful contentment.

“This is nice, huh?” Epic spoke up. “Weirdly quiet, I think, but nice.”

“Yeah.” Cross sniffed the air, curious about the different scents wafting off of the mineralized water. “What’d you put in here?”

Epic beamed. “I did some research, and nabbed some stuff like yuzu, bancha, and kuma bamboo grass,” Epic’s sockets slowly drifted shut as he relaxed, his ribcage beginning to vibrate beneath the water as his own instinctual purrs tried to escape. He resisted, his deep voice slightly hoarse while he continued his explanation, “since hot springs are natural, the minerals in them come from the Earth, right? So to make your own mineralized bath you gotta use herbs to try and mimic that, and those were the most popular ones I could find.”

“Cool.”

There wasn’t much to say after that, both best friends too relaxed, enjoying their shared embrace and the warmth of the water soothing away all their aches and pains as they held each other. A moment of shared vulnerability that feels both safe and nourishing.

“This was a wonderful idea,” Cross’s tone is low. It feels wrong to speak any louder than a quiet murmur, at this time. “Thanks dude.”

Epic’s eyes were closed when he answered. “Anytime, bruh. ‘S my job ta pamper ya.”

“Likewise.”

Cross continued to observe him as he laid against him. Epic was pliant beneath him. Both sockets closed and he’s quiet, apart from blissful purrs rumbling out of him that Cross matched. The soldier is pleased and all too smug at how his best friend let Cross groom him properly earlier just as Epic had done for him. And now he let him cradle him to his chest, near his Soul where it beat peacefully within his magic and out of sight.

After all, good mates take care of one another. And Epic was always so good, so kind to him. What a wonderful mate he is—

Cross laid his chin atop Epic’s skull and let his own sockets slowly drift to a close, his Soul full and happy, as he let the darkness close in. Letting himself sink below that pool of black and let himself be swallowed completely by the feelings of safety and comfort. Trusting Epic with all his Soul to keep them both safe as Cross finally let go.

When he awoke, it was to the wrong, wrong, wrong, feeling empty arms and his best friend nowhere in sight.

Cross’s voice warbles in panic, only to jolt and then promptly relaxed when he hears comforting coos and whistles and feels something warm and soft rub his back.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Cross let out an accusatory growl with narrowed sockets.

“I know, I’m sorry for leaving,” Epic consoled, gently rubbing him dry with the towel and Cross’s shoulders fall back from his hunched posture. “I wanted to get you dried off, ‘s not good to fall asleep wet. I’d just finished your back feathers when you woke up.”

Cross sniffed with a small “hmmph” but leaned into Epic’s open palm anyway and looped an arm around his waist with a small huff, noting with dissatisfaction that Epic had changed into his sleep shirt and bottoms. “Fine. Forgiven.”

“I’m glad. Now, up we go,” Cross’s sleepy gaze glanced around. His vision gradually clearing as he surveyed his surroundings. The tub had been drained and the lights dimmed. “It’s pretty late, so let’s get you to bed bud.”

“Okay.”

With wobbly legs, Cross eventually climbed out of the tub whilst holding onto Epic. Epic tapped a button on the side when they passed through the doorway and the walls shifted, closing shut behind them.

Cross climbed aboard his bed and circled around a few times. Once satiated, he folded his legs in. His mouth quirked up in the corners when he heard Epic’s quiet gush of “yuss, the sacred loaf!” He rocked forward and back, legs kneading the mattresses a few times before he settled. He twisted around and let his chest press onto the soft plumes of his back. Now that they were clean, the feeling of the soft feathers is a gentle caress that smelled like herbs and chocolate instead of smelly, scratchy pricks that scratched his face. He gazed up at Epic who sat beside him.

His best friend patted his back, tenderly rubbing a few times before he stood. “Goodnight, bud. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Epic turned around.

Protesting whines of dismay wobbled out when Cross realized Epic was trying to leave his Nest. He reached out with his claws, hooking it around Epic’s talus to stop him.

He didn’t want to be alone.

Everything was perfect, felt so right, when Epic was beside him.

“Don’t go,” Cross pleaded.

“I’ll be around, buddy.” Epic tried to placate him as he turned back to crouch in front of Cross and gently place his hands on the claw ensnaring his talus. “Y'know I don’t really sleep. I’m just gonna go check on Chara and then—”

“Please?”

Epic stopped.

“Please, sleep beside me?”

Mates Nested together.

Epic’s confliction melted away and Cross exhaled in quiet relief, grateful that his best friend would readily do anything for him if he gave the word. “…Okay,” he gently squeezed Cross’s claw. Understanding, Cross let go. “Lemme go grab my sleeping bag and,” Epic slowed when Cross pouted at him with dilated, imploring eyelights. “…You wanna cuddle me, don’t you?”

Low and slow, purrs revved right back up as Cross visibly brightened at Epic’s correct deduction. “Yes.”

Epic smiled, somewhat exasperated but not at all put out. “Okay. Lemme grab the blanket? I cleaned that too while you dozed.”

Cross nodded. With that affirmation, Epic’s violet eyelight flared, wisps of faint purple mana billowing out his socket and surrounding the large comforter to tug it off the floor and up onto Cross.

The soldier held his arm out and Epic easily slid into his embrace, circling Cross with his own arm and tucking himself against the other’s chest as the blanket covered both their shoulders.

Epic stroked Cross’s back while the other watched Epic dismiss the gravity magic and his eyes returned to normal “This good?”

“Perfect.”

Epic was in the Nest and in Cross’s arms, exactly where he belonged.

Safe and warm, Epic’s body and scent flooding his senses, Cross allowed his sockets to close once more.

“Goodnight, Cross.”

“Night, Epic.”

And fell asleep feeling cherished and loved cared for.

When Cross fell asleep Epic sighed. Moving his hand from Cross’s back and up to cradle his face, his thumb stroking the right cheekbone where Cross’s crimson scar remained.

He was worried about him. He knew recovery would be a long, slow battle, with Cross needing to heal from mental and physical trauma alike, but that didn’t mean Epic disliked that.

He wished he could’ve been there when Cross had disappeared, wished he could’ve protected him and stopped whatever had happened to him that turned him into a chimera.

If Epic had the chance to go back and switch places with Cross, he would’ve done it in a Soulbeat. Anything to keep his best friend safe and happy.

Cold, simmering rage boiled in his marrow, his dormant LV rising under his vengeful fury.

He wouldn't stop, wouldn't rest, until he found who’d done this to his friend and made them give Cross his body back. And if they couldn’t?

Epic was planning on letting them suffer long and slow, exactly like they’ve done to Cross, either way.

Cross sighed in his sleep, the adorable chirp and nuzzle he gave as he rubbed his nose indent with Epic’s washed away his rage and filled him with fond warmth instead. He nuzzled back, Soul melting when Cross smiled wide and happy from the gesture.

Later. Epic would deal with these thoughts later. Right now, he had more important things to do.

And that was letting Cross know how loved he was, when asleep or awake.

“I’ll take care of you, Cross.” Epic swore with all his heart and Soul. “For as long as you’ll let me.”

Until he was nothing but dust, this he swore.

[stergeon]

From that ask game you reblogged (I'm assuming FE3H 🙃):

- What is one canon thing that you wish you could change?

- What is your wildest headcanon?

- Is it easier for you to write angst or fluff?

💥 What is one canon thing that you wish you could change?

oh gosh. this is a lot of power to have and i have too many ideas. it’s hot on my mind because of the vickyvesties, but i freaking hate how almyra is treated in canon. fódlan is atrocious with any and all foreign policy but sweet sothis are they dicks about almyra.

[spoilers for white clouds and azure moon ahead btw]

i also would have loved more screen time for our agarthan pals. i really, extremely do not fuck with clowns, but i still wish we could have gotten more depth from kronya, who was just on the cusp of being really interesting.

i realize i’ve cheated and said more than one thing but whatever i’ve got one more: all of azure moon should be placed in the circular filing cabinet, but especially rodrigue’s death scene. insane to have felix’s dad’s death be entirely about dimitri when felix is standing right there. triple insane to have it happen at all when byleth could just fucking rewind it!!! hello! did you forget you have time powers??? wake up girl!!!! we got an explanation for why she couldn’t undo jeralt’s death, but they don’t even hand-wave away rodrigue’s. byleth just accepts that he’s gotta go. what a joke!!

👻 What is your wildest headcanon?

morrowind is yuri and i made a 3.5 hour long powerpoint presentation to defend that stance.

for fe3h, i don’t think my headcanons are too wild for the most part, but i subscribe to the theory that sothis’s dragon form is um. really big. like, say, yea big:

my hottest take? the agarthans were kind of right. unfortunately they were too stupid and evil to make anything of being right.

💘 Is it easier for you to write angst or fluff?

oh, angst. absolutely angst. when the mood strikes and i get the right idea, i can crank out a fluff fic pretty fast, but if i set out to write fluff, i could wind up sitting around for hours trying to come up with something. i’m a lot better at plugging away at angst.

my fluff fics are also prone to taking sudden turns into angst if i don’t keep a close eye on the flow of the conversation. the beginning of chapter 3 of the vesties is supposed to be very light-hearted and sweet, but it was an ordeal keeping byleth from souring it all. she’s so emo in that story and it’s terrifically hard to make her have any fun. i had to scrap six or seven paragraphs and rework them completely because she bummed claude out so badly at his freaking new year’s party, and that simply would not do.

[cumberbatchedandproud]

A+ Song for MCTNA edits / gifs / vids / whatever ??

Just in case anyone might ever look for some inspiration for whatever MCTNA related, here are my two cents ?? I swear, I could bold or underline just about everything (which is why I just didn’t bold or underline anything...)

EDIT: I’ve found several lyrics? and they completely change the meaning in a negative vs positive way -> help? (It’s still haunting and eerie anyway in some Florence + The Machine way but?) Anyway, after multiple tries at max level sound in the car on the way to/back from work :

That being said I also really like (even though they were not the right lyrics) I love you with open eyes / I need you not to understand (because being very aware of their feelings while wanting the other one to be blind is very them...)

Waking Up

Freya Ridings, MJ Cole

I love you with all that I am (with open eyes) I need you now (not) to understand I‘m trying, it’s the only way I told you I cannot be saved (safe?)

I'm waking up, I can see it all I'm waking up Can I breathe? Can I love? For you? Cause I know that you want me to(o?) Letting me burn, letting me burn

You know me You know what I've done You told me, sleep, beautiful one When only the moonlight shone You(It)'d hold me 'till my heart was known (numb)

I'm waking up, I can feel it all I'm waking up I can breathe, I can love, for you And I know that you want me to(o?) Letting me burn, letting me burn

Is it alien to you, to love me like you do? It is alien to me to stay asleep Is it alien to you, to love me like you do? It is alien to me to stay asleep

I can see it all, I'm waking up Can I breathe? Can I love? For you? And I know that you want me to(o?) And I know that you want me to(o?)

By the way: Honestly, MCTNA fandom just always has A+ content! You are all creating, all the time, JAWDROPPING HEARTBREAKING AMAZING content! This tag is a (painful) joy to be in :) So... Huge thank you - Thank you SO MUCH, from the bottom of my (sadly untalented) heart!

And finally, special thanks to @nubreed73 : I discovered The Vassar Devils and Freya Ridings thanks to your A+ MCTNA vids, so this (very unimportant) post wouldn’t even have existed without you... 

[for-a-longlongtime]

Guilty Pleasure (1/7) - dbf!Joel x reader

You're home from college for the summer, staying with your parents in Austin, TX. So is your dad's best friend, Joel Miller. Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, mdni Series warnings (tba): Age gap (reader is 22, Joel is 42), masturbation (f), use of sex toys, oral sex, PiV, anal, hair pulling, dirty talk, getting caught, playful use of 'daddy', outrageous flirting, groping, reference to m/m, Joel's arms should always come with a warning. No outbreak!AU. Word count: 2.3K A/N: If you know/follow me, you're probably just as shocked as I am to see a dbf!Joel fic by my hand. Totally get it if it's not your thing, please feel free to move on and skip this one. However - if you've read and enjoyed other fics by me, you may wanna give it a try! Submitting this also to @hellishjoel who is organizing the #hotdilfsummerchallenge (go check out all the other fics on her page!) 💜

series masterlist | main masterlist next chapter >

You don’t hate him. Not exactly. 

But he doesn’t need to know that. 

“I’m just so damn sick of him, you know? He thinks he’s so important and hot shit. People are fawning about him all the damn time, but he’s just my dad and an asshole,” you sigh to your best friend on the other end of the Facetime call. You’re in an Uber headed to your parents’ house, desperate for time away from school and your cheating ex. Your mom had been excited that you would be spending the summer break with them in Austin, and assured you that your father would be too. As IF. 

“I thought that maybe I could just relax, but no. Everything is about my dad again. He started this big... I don’t even know what. Project. Venture. Mission. Did you see it on tv? He’s on the news all the damn time.” Just the thought alone already makes you cringe, and you’re glad to see your friend nod at you, requiring no further explanation - she knows all about your father. “So I figured he won’t be in my way when I’m home. But now his friend Joel is staying at the house, too. The entire fucking summer. Who even does that?”

Your father and Joel had been friends for a long time, even before you were born, but you struggled to remember anything about him. He was a contractor, running his own company for quite a while now, and he had a brother named Tommy. “They’re working on renovating his house, so he needed a place to stay. It’s not like he’ll be in your way, sweetheart. Most of the time he’s out working for clients,” your mom had assured you, reminding you there were more than just a few spare bedrooms at the house. But to you, it didn’t matter; he would be in the way. You just knew it. Ruining your summer. The last thing you needed was a constant reminder of your dad shaped as Joel, hanging around the house.

“No, I don’t know much about him - it’s been years since I saw him.” You wince as you see your parents’ house down the street, and for a moment you’re tempted to ask the Uber driver to circle around the block one more time. “Look, I’m here - I have to go. Wish me luck, call me later,” you plead with your friend as the car pulls up to the oversized driveway. It takes a moment to get all your suitcases out of the car, since the driver merely watches you with an impatient frown on his face, but then you’re finally stumbling towards the front door. 

It’s good to be in Austin again, but you haven’t missed the Texas heat - and humidity - for one bit. All you want right now is a pizza and a very, very strong drink to forget about the shitty trip you just had. But it seems not even that is in the cards for you right now, as nobody bothers to come to the door after you’ve loudly rang the doorbell. Not even on the third try. Just when you’re about to start screaming in frustration, you finally hear footsteps rushing down the hallway. 

“Mom, why did you not–,” you start when the door swings open, but the words immediately stick in your throat as you stare at the man in front of you. Tall, strong, and handsome, looking much better than he had any right to while being dressed in old jeans and a t-shirt - courtesy of those arms in particular, and a mouth that immediately gave you ideas about where he should put it. Jesus Christ. 

“Joel…?”, you finally manage when your brain seems to catch up with the low throb you’re feeling in your pussy. You do not remember your dad’s best friend looking this hot, or smelling so good - the sandalwood in his cologne reminds you of more than just a couple of debauched nights on campus that you’d had in the past year. But this was clearly not one of the frat boys that surrounded you during your classes or evenings out. This was a whole ass DILF, somewhere in his early forties like your parents, and it takes you effort to not whimper as you take him in.

Your core aches just from looking at him, a painful reminder of how many weeks it has been since you’d last had an orgasm that didn’t come from your own hand or a toy. Finding out that your piece of shit ex-boyfriend had been running around with several other girls had been a harsh way to end the semester, but at least it made you decide to spend the summer here in Texas. And that decision suddenly seems like a very, very good idea in retrospect.

It’s only when Joel says your name, an amused smirk playing over his face, that you realize you’ve definitely been staring at him. “Hey, kiddo. Been a while. D’you need a hand with that?”, he asks, and as you hear his drawl, you’re pretty damn sure that you’ve never heard that man sound anything like this. Goddamn. Hot in every way, it seems, it seems - you may have never before appreciated a Texas accent as much as you like his.

He doesn’t wait for your response, but simply takes over two of your suitcases and a duffle bag like they weigh nothing. “Nicole- I mean, your mom asked me to help you get you settled, she’s gonna be back in a few hours,” he says, keeping the front door open with one strong shoulder so you can get into the house. 

“Thanks, that’s so nice of you,” you manage to say as you follow him through the house, to your bedroom on the second floor. Walking behind him is the perfect excuse to take in his physique, and you freely let your eyes roam over his strong shoulders and broad back, and you can tell you’re getting wet just by looking at him. God, he’s fit. Especially for a guy who is probably twenty years older than you are. Those arms… Was he single? And - did that even matter, really? 

You realize that you must’ve zoned out and missed something he’s said to you, because he gives you a questioning look when you’re both standing in your childhood bedroom. The decoration, colors and posters are still familiar to you, but in a detached way, like you’re looking at them in a photo album of someone you used to be, in sharp contrast to who you are now and the man in front of you.

“I said that I hope I won’t be in your way this summer. Your parents are happy you’re staying here with them,” he says, then surprises you by giving you a friendly, brief hug. “It’s good to see you again, kid.” You gladly accept the hug, and you can’t help but bury your face against his shoulder for just a moment, inhaling his cologne and the underlying subtle tone of his natural scent. That’s when you internally make up your mind, right there on the spot.

You want him.

Now, and for the rest of the summer. 

And if that pissed off your father? All the better.

Once you’re sure he’s left the hallway outside of your room, you grab your phone and immediately google his name, checking through his online profiles. No mention of any wife or girlfriend. Perfect. When you find his Instagram, your jaw drops at the photos you see of Joel clearly working hard and dripping sweat. Almost pornographic, really.

With a few taps you send the pictures to your best friend, quickly adding the caption ‘sooo i decided I’m gonna be his inappropriately young gf for the summer’. Her response pings almost instantly, as you expected, a barrage of emojis and ‘OMG GIRL YESSSS GET THAT DILF’. You can’t help but chuckle as you send a quick message back to her, ‘more later xxx’, then turn off the sound on your phone.

For a moment you consider unpacking all of your luggage, which would definitely be the more practical thing to do. On the other hand, your parents are not gonna be home in the next few hours, and since Joel’s room didn’t seem too close to yours to overhear anything…

You sigh in relief when you find the silky bag in your luggage that stores your sex toys, and pull out your favorite clit sucker without a moment of hesitation. Quick and dirty, that’s what you need right now, you decide as you get onto the bed. After a moment of hesitation, you re-open Instagram and scroll back to Joel’s page, while you reach for your AirPods in the hidden pocket of your dress. 

His profile is clearly promotional for his company - Miller & Co -, and you vaguely recognize his brother Tommy in some shots, but fortunately the focus is mostly on him. When you click on Reels and see several videos of him at work, your heart starts racing, your mouth going dry while you feel the exact opposite happening in your panties. Fuck, he is so hot. If you thought the view you had while walking behind him was good, it sure is nothing compared to seeing him work on construction projects that show him flexing those muscles, jeans clinging desperately onto his thighs the way you would like your hands to do.

You’re stroking yourself already after the second video, and by the time you’re treated to the sight and sound of him lifting lumber with a grunt, you’ve got two fingers deep inside of your pussy. You whimper as you imagine he’s in your room watching you with those dark eyes. Your breathing grows heavy as you picture him getting on the bed, giving you that sexy smirk as he puts his head between your thighs so he can lick at your wetness. His bottom lip had tempted you from the start, and you just know it would feel so good as he’d circle your clit with his tongue. 

You can barely suppress a moan as your hips buck up hard, and you press the toy closer against yourself, thrusting your slick fingers faster as you chase the release that’s close - so so very close already. What if he buried that stubble against your thighs, urging your fingers out of yourself so he could lick them clean, his lips closing around your digits as he’d suck on you. Brown eyes filled with desire, reflecting how much you want him too, and then the push of his tongue inside your cunt as he starts to eat you out. 

You whisper his name quietly as your body starts to shake, hearing him moan contently as he works you up some more, then comes up for air, slipping two - no, three of his thick fingers roughly inside of you, just as demanding as his mouth is. “Good girl. Now come f’me.”

You gasp as the orgasm ripples through you, much faster than you expected, and you bury your face into your pillow so you won’t cry his name out loud. Before the waves of your orgasm have subsided, you flip yourself to your stomach as you keep the buzzing toy in place, grinding down harder on your fingers as you shudder from the overstimulation. Still you keep going, because it’s what Joel would do - you know it’s what he would want, tease you and push you to make you come again and again. 

He’d make you cry his name out loudly, until you’re writhing against him like a feral cat in heat, desperate as you’re begging him for his cock so he can fuck you into the mattress, claiming you and demanding to own every part of you. His sweaty heavy body covering yours, lips and teeth drawing more gasps from you, until your head becomes completely devoid of any thoughts, only able to focus on how good he’s making you feel - how his thickness is throbbing inside of you, going deeper than anyone has been before, and you know that he’s about to ruin you for any other men, because it’s never going to be better than it is with him.

As your body convulses and you’re about to come again, you suddenly hear your name being called loudly from downstairs - not by Joel, but the shriller sound of your mom’s voice as she’s looking for you. It takes everything you have to restrain yourself from yelling angrily at the interruption, your mind and body at war with each other for a second, and you bite your lip hard as you mentally grab onto the fantasy of Joel, unwilling to let go of it - of him. 

“Coming!,” you snap loudly, hoping that she won’t be able to hear the panting in your voice, or the buzzing toy in your hand. “Be right there!”

‘Good fucking girl. Such a dirty little slut for me,’ imaginary-Joel whispers at you, pounding into you, and you know he’s about to come too. “Give it to me again. Wanna feel you soak my cock,” the whisper changing into a low hiss that sends shivers down your spine. You bury your face even further into the pillow as you whine his name, begging him for more, to pump his seed into you and fill you up. He laughs, the sound hoarse and taunting, and then his hand grabs a hold of your hair and tugs your head back up. “No hiding. You scream my name when I make you come, you hear me?”, he grunts at you - and you bite your lip as you come hard again, soaking your fingers for a second time as the orgasm rocks you so much harder than the first one did.

Fuck. FUCK. You need him, every part of him, so goddamn bad. 

next: part 2 >

🚨 Follow @longlongtime-updates for updates when new chapters drop!

A/N II: Thank you @magpiepills @legendary-pink-dot @lotusbxtch @sin-djarin @mountainsandmayhem

@qveerthe0ry @perotovar for encouraging me to write a wild idea that suddenly came to mind. This came together shockingly fast with ideas and feedback from all of them, so thank you babes for supporting and enabling me! Fic title is obviously snagged from Chappell Roan's 'Guilty Pleasure'!

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Cheerleaders + Football Team

The thing about cheerleaders and the infamous football team is that they’re quite accurate to their stereotypes

Now not every cheerleader team is run by a head girl who’s a massive bully 

Or that the football team is filled with dumb jocks that are just as violent if not worse

But they’re nothing to scoff at 

They’re beautiful

They’re athletic

And they're disciplined with confidence that comes with successful games and competitions

Such perks might give them quite a bit of power

Power that’s doubled when they’re working together

If you’d like to be happy you’re better off not figuring out just yet 

Since your arrival to the University, you’ve noticed more of your things have gone missing

Maybe this move made you more frazzled than you thought

Because you’ve found that you haven’t been able to keep friends like you used to

At least not without some help

“So you’re the new student, huh? Welcome to Energi University. As cheer captain, I’m really happy to welcome you finally!”

As she drags you along throughout your schedule, you’re waiting for the punch line

The moment she switches to embarrass you or smile coyly as she says something underhanded about your appearance

But she doesn’t 

Only twirling her hair as she asks you where you learned to glow like you do

You find it odd but you’re not complaining

Movies taught you that she and her team were top of the food chain 

so if they liked you enough maybe it’d trickle to some friends eventually

“Looking for a partner? Me too. How about we uh work together, freshie. If we finish before class ends you can have my varsity jacket and I can have yours.”

It seems it works as the beefy but beautiful captain of the football team partners up during chemistry

Between the two captains, you think you’re making progress

Finally beginning to make friends

But you couldn’t be farther from the truth

Already you were skipping right into the pitfall that was their playground—Energi University

It started with the cheerleader’s captain, gorgeous, rich, and with a serious attitude problem

She was making her daily rounds with her two main girls

‘Putting the worms in their place’ as she’d report to her team

Until she found something interesting 

a glasses-wearing nerd had been holding a file, scrolling through someone’s social page with such dedication they didn’t even realize they were being cornered

And its not just someone—you

while her girls were exploring the use of pins on the human body, she was going through this fairly thick file

A file all about you

Filled with hundreds of pictures of you some with consent some not

Extensive organized lists of your likes and dislikes

And a neat report on your current whereabouts and social circle

By the end of it, she was intrigued

She’s never been one for reading but she just can’t put it down

Having to be brought back into the real world when her girls are done playing 

“Already? Ugh, let’s go find the next one this little report of his might be worth selling to those stupid jocks.”

That’s just an excuse 

she’s combing over your photos again as she re-reads about the mundane drama in your life

“Babe, I thought you said you wanted to spend time with me? Not lose braincells studying!” 

Her boyfriend–captain of the football team is trying to draw her attention with kisses and inviting touches

But she’s just too focused

Eventually, he’s going to snatch it all away, taking a look at it

“Who’s this? Your latest victim?”

“Puhlease they don’t even know me…yet.”

The nights they spend together is searching you on socials as they filter through these words about your world

There’s just something about you that has them enraptured

For them it’s like when they first started dating, running off from their teams to gush about their latest finds about you

Texting all through the night about schemes to meet you

Whispering on the bus on their way to seasonal competitions

It isn’t long before the nosey teams start poking around

All it takes is a whispered mention of your name and they’re stalking your socials 

Some hire private investigators to tell all they can get their hands on

It’s like a virus how the whole team is eventually letting your distant lovely little life take up all of theirs 

At some point words and posts just aren’t enough

“Yo Cap, why don’t we just get them to come here?”

“Yeah! I know I can get my dad to extend a scholarship and dormitory if something happens at their old school.”

“Hmm, I do still have those lighter fluid canisters.”

“Oooh and I can get them out of the dorms for awhile!”

“Then  we can swoop in and be the knight’s of shining armor they’ll need!”

“C’mon, captain! Let’s bring them home, aren’t you tired of looking at them through the screen?”

“Don’t you think it’d boost our morale for the championship?”

“Yeah!!” Pleaassee!?”

What terrible captains they’d be if they let their teams down now

So the plan is set, you conveniently are stood up on a date when your dorm and campus is burnt down killing so many friends you made+

The mysterious fire destroying their security footage and all your belongings too 

Its natural you start looking for a new college, a safer option

“Hey (Y/n) why don’t you come to our next game? Forget about that horrible fire and cheer us on!”

“Wait how did you know–”

“Grapevine cutie! Now what do you say to a sleepover!?”

“Not after we do our victory party!”

“Oh, you’ll have to try our captain’s famous jello shot! It’s going to knock your clothes+ socks off.”

Both Captains will watch happily as the group swarms you 

Your questions about the slug you made plans with prior were drowned out in their shouting and giggling

Their goal wasn’t to make you worry 

After all, they had the power to dissolve all of that 

The Captains and their teams

“Now that we have them I don’t see any reason, why our teams won’t be planned for an all-around victory in the nationals.”

“Of course, though we could do it without them. Money and pure talent are a given for people like us.”

“Still there’s nothing wrong with sharing a good luck charm.”

“You are absolutely right..”

“Aren’t I always? That being said we’ll have to talk about the…hoarding issue.”

“Oh yeah, I wanted to talk to you about that. The next time one of your cheerleaders interrupts me, they’ll be dealing with more than broken legs.”

“And your players should know the next time they take my time with (Y/n) away they won’t just become paralyzed.”

[bpmiranda]

Honey III |l. howlett| nsfw

A/N: dbf!logan, recluse!logan, sunshine!reader, age gap, tiny bit of angst, mainly smut🤭, mild daddy kink, fingering, oral f!receiving, unprotected sex

Honey Honey II

“I can’t grow old with you.”

Those words felt like a dagger in her belly and she recalled deciding to leave. Not because she was upset that he was a mutant, but because she felt it was a cruel joke from the universe to finally meet a man whom she wants to share a life only for it to not be possible. The only thing she could think to do was finish this last semester of her first college year and she figured they would talk again when she returned.

They had to talk about this, right?

However, Logan wasn’t on the mountain when she came home for the summer. Her dad had told her that he went on a trip to that States not long after she left for school and her heart fell into the pits of her stomach. That night she cried silently into her pillow, the ache of having lost him just like that too much to bear. It felt like a part of her had been taken with him. Perhaps she shouldn’t have pressed him to share her feelings, perhaps she should’ve given him more time to decide on his own if she was really what he wanted. The moments they shared sure had convinced her that they were on the same page.

The days all blended together after that night. Nothing interested her anymore, but she had to put a smile on because she didn’t want her father to grow concerned. But he knew something was wrong.

“You miss him?” He asked her one day when they were opening up the store. Her eyes widened as she looked up from the box of candy she had been slowly organizing and he chuckled. “Haven’t quite been yourself since you found out he left.”

Her face felt warm and she shook her head. “I-Logan and I-we-” She struggled to find a way to convince him she was not in love with a man twice her age, but her dad put a hand up.

“Logan’s a good man.” That was all he said and she smiled, nodding in agreement. “I figured something was going on when he asked me to let you know where he was going.”

Now is as good a time as any, she thought. “Did he say anything else? Maybe about me?” She asked sheepishly and her dad gave her a slow head shake.

“Just that he wanted you to know he won’t be gone for long.” He said and that alone gave her enough hope to hold onto for the time being.

Late one night, while she laid wide awake in bed almost a month after learning of his departure, she heard a soft thumping outside her window and she sat up quickly. Her eyes were wide as she watched a large silhouette appearing in her window and she realized who it was almost immediately as she hurried to open the window and let him in. Logan landed in her room with a heavy thud and she shushed him with a smile. “Hey, honey,” He greeted her with a grin. His hand reached out for hers and she shyly took it, leading him to sit on the end of her bed with her. “I hope I didn’t have you too worried.”

“Just about.” She teased, her hand reaching up to caress his cheek softly, the familiarity of his face bringing her so much peace. It didn’t matter that he had left, not now that he was back with her, but she still asked, “Why’d you leave?” Her big, sad eyes gave away her the pain he had caused her and Logan shook his head, disappointed in himself for not having told her more, but he couldn’t risk her not being safe when he returned.

“Not because of you.” He said, bringing his lips to hers for a soft kiss. “I promise it wasn’t because of you.” Her face warmed up and she nodded, believing him. “An old friend needed my help.” Her eyebrow raised curiously and Logan knew what she was thinking. “His name is Charles.” Her smile returned and she looked away from him as she whispered a soft ‘oh’ and he laughed softly at her. Gently, he held her face in both his hands and he looked seriously into her eyes. “I do love you.” Logan said, regretting not having said it the last time they were together. “Honey, I love you. I’m-well-I’m just scared of something happening to you.” He said, not bearing the thought.

Her heart was full as he told her he loved her. Relief washed over her and she lightly kissed him as she moved to straddle him. “Is there any reason I should be worried about my safety right now?” She asked, trying not to make a lewd sound as she felt his shaft underneath her. Logan shook his head, his hands resting on her hips as he kissed her back. “Then let’s just enjoy tonight, and we’ll worry about tomorrow when we get there.”

Logan nodded, knowing he wasn’t going to change her mind, knowing she wasn’t scared of him, or of being with him. “What about growing old together?” He asked as she kissed his neck softly, his head hung back as he let out a soft groan while lying on her bed with her on top of him. His large hands rubbed her bare thighs slowly as he tried to hold back long enough to make sure they could have a proper conversation about their future before he made up for the pain he caused her with his absence.

“I’ll grow old,” She whispered, smoothing her hands down his toned torso and sucking a light hickey on his neck, watching the little bruise disappear moments after. “And you’ll take care of me, like I do for you now.” She resolved, lifting herself up a little, slowly dragging herself along the jean clad length of his cock until she felt his head throb at her core which was covered only by the thin material of her pajama shorts.

Logan groaned, digging his fingers into her hips as he guided her along himself. Her head rested against his and she hummed in pleasure. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” He whispered, holding her close as she slowly rolled her hips against him. “I love you.”

“I love you, Logan.” She breathed out as her lips met his and he then sat up, lifting her up so he could lay her down on the bed. Her hands ran down his exposed arms and he removed his tank top so she could smooth her delicate fingers over his toned abdomen. Her bottom lip tucked between her teeth as he watched her with a little smirk. “Will you fuck me, daddy?” She asked quietly, those gorgeous eyes looking up at him pleadingly and he nodded as he dipped his head down and kissed her neck.

“‘Course I will, honey.” He whispered.

Their clothes came off and Logan had her spread her thighs for him so he could lap gently at her cunt. Her body was trembling as she tried to remain as quiet as possible. His hands gripped her ass and thighs firmly, massaging her lower half as he drooled into her. “That feel good, baby?” He asked as he began pumping two fingers into her tight pussy, his tongue still toying with her sensitive clit while she mewled with her eyes shut tightly, nodding desperately.

“‘S always good, daddy,” Her voice was shaky and he smirked to himself. “You always make me feel good.” She moaned, her back arched against her bed as she felt herself reach that point of no turning back, losing control as he made her cum. “Fuck!” She whined and he quickly covered her mouth, his fingers still knuckle deep inside her as he watched her eyes well with tears while he extended her orgasm.

“That’s my girl.” He praised as she kept her trembling legs open for him. “Missed seeing you like this.”

Her eyes were blurry from the tears of overstimulation as he pulled his thick fingers out and sucked them clean before slowly rubbing his head through her folds. The feeling sent a jolt through her body and she braced herself onto his broad shoulders as he pushed his tip into her. “Oh, yes!” She whispered, her mouth latched onto his in a passionate kiss and he groaned as he sunk into her in one good thrust.

“You want this?” He asks and she nods, her brows upturned as he’s fucking so deeply into her, relentless in his pace. Logan caresses her hair with one hand while hiking her thigh up over his hip, allowing himself to rut deeper into her and she cries out, muffling herself with her hand while holding onto his waist with the other. “You want me?” He groans, feeling her walls clench tightly around his girth and she nods again.

“I want you, daddy. I only want you.” Her voice trembles and he notices tears rolling down her face. Logan smiles as he kisses her, wiping her cheek softly while he’s fucking her roughly.

“I’m yours.” He promises, grunting as she suddenly claws at his chest while she writhes beneath him. Logan can’t take his eyes off as she reaches her orgasm, her eyes half-lidded from the pleasure, and her teeth biting down hard on her lip as she’s struggling to keep quiet. “Can’t quit staring at you, you’re so pretty, honey.” Logan sighs as he fucks her through her release, wanting to give her everything. “You gonna take it?” He asks and she nods weakly, so pliable in his hold now. Logan buries his face in the crook of her neck as he ruts into her harshly, chasing his own high within her tainted walls. Her hands rub his broad back as she pants heavily, her mind fuzzy from the feeling of him gliding along her walls, the smell of his natural musk mixed with his signature cigars, the faint taste of herself on his lips as they kiss while he pumps her full of his cum.

They fall silent as they catch their breathes, kissing each other softly wherever they can reach as they refuse to pull away just yet. Logan doesn’t recall ever feeling quite this attached to someone before, and though he still holds concerns for her safety, he realizes that not something that he will ever stop worrying about. “I want you for as long as I can have you.” Her voice brought him out of his thoughts and he nodded in agreement as he brushed a few strands of hair out of her face. “We can deal with the rest as it comes.”

“If that’s what you want,” Logan murmured, kissing her forehead softly. “That’s what I’ll give you, honey.”

🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯

I hope you kind readers enjoy this little happy ending for Honey and Logan:)

🏷️: @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @peterparkernotfound @httpsells @evasmlp @ayatotiddies @thatlittlered @seasonofthenerd @littlemisscantloveyouback @scorpiosaintt @simpingfor-wakasa @spencerswh0r3 @thatweirdtheaternerd12 @shybluebirdninja @iamburdened

[save-the-villainous-cat]

“Let me get this right,” the villain said. Their smile was all teeth. “Your plan included an undercover operation in which you tried to infiltrate the supervillain’s facility. You succeeded and started working for them. You hacked into their system, got the information you needed but the supervillain started liking you a little too much. And now you need my help to fake a relationship?”

“Well, if you put it like that, it sounds a bit pathetic,” the hero answered. They were currently sharing a wine bottle with the villain in their office. It had been a long day and the hero wasn’t too keen on even more conflict.

Two weeks ago, the villain had told them that they’d figured out their identity.

That had been alarming. The hero had acted fast, had given the supervillain their resignation.

Unfortunately, the supervillain had basically been on their knees, begging them not to quit. They’d offered them more money, their own office, new tasks, less tasks, less work days, more breaks.

That was pathetic, too.

Even more unfortunately, the hero’s original excuse wasn’t good enough to say no to the supervillain’s offers.

“And I don’t think they’re…in love. They’re either lonely or I’m a pretty good asset,” the hero continued. “Either way, it would be nice to have you as a backup.”

“A backup?”

“Yeah, to be on the safe side. So if they ask me out on a date, I can tell them I’m in a relationship.”

The hero tilted their head. The wine had made them a little dizzy and the villain looked a teeny tiny bit too good right now.

“Believe me, a partner is not an obstacle for the supervillain.” The villain crossed their arms. They looked as exhausted as the hero felt.

Spending that much time around the enemy was…dangerous. The hero found them more and more entertaining. The villain was easy to talk to when they didn’t try to murder them.

“Exactly my thoughts. That’s why I asked you. Do you seriously think the supervillain would risk the stability of their own hierarchy? You’re more than capable to beat them in a fight. And together? We might be unstoppable if we actually started agreeing on a few things.”

“I like how you worded that.” The villain smiled and for a moment, they looked a little lost, as if they were imagining it all already. Their eyes went over the hero a couple of times until they focused on the hero’s. “You flatter me.”

“I’m stating a fact.”

“What’s in it for me, then?” The villain’s voice was deep and calm. As if they were deeply content with the situation.

Their hair was messy. Their eyes half-lidded. God, the hero should’ve said no to the wine.

“If we could somehow eliminate the supervillain, you’d be the next top predator in the food chain,” the hero argued. They shrugged. “If you’re nice, you can keep that position for quite a while.”

“A little corrupt, no?” the villain asked. They were sitting next to the hero on the couch, quite close actually, the hero realised.

Right now, they feared, the villain was their weakness.

“A problem I can deal with later. Right now, the supervillain is part of an illegal organ-selling business and I need to stop them. Stopping you can be my futures self’s problem,” they said and the villain laughed softly as response. They put their arm on the backrest of the couch. Their finger touched the hero’s back slightly but the hero doubted it was intentional. Their brain couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“You’re quite confident, hm?”

“I’ve known you for longer.” The hero leaned in, their face close to the villain’s. “I know your little secrets.”

The villain played along, smiled and their gaze dropped to the hero’s lips.

“Not all of them, dear.” The hero leaned in even closer but the villain’s hand landed on their thigh and squeezed gently. “Before you seduce me, I still have questions.”

The hero pulled back.

“Oh? Haven’t you edged me for long enough now?” Again, the villain laughed before they responded. It was a sweet sound, something the hero needed more of.

“First: why shouldn’t I tell my boss who you are? Us being in a relationship means that you’re in my business.” Their smile was undoubtedly of playful nature. The hero liked a challenge.

“Well, you don’t wanna be a subordinate forever, do you? The supervillain keeps you at their side because they’re afraid of you. You’ll be the new leader if we get rid of them.”

The villain nodded slowly.

“Good. Second: if you want to find out more about them, why aren’t you just dating them?” the villain asked.

That was a little more difficult to answer.

“Uhm, well…They’re not my type.”

The villain raised their eyebrows.

“Oh? Well, that leads me to my last questions already: am I your type? Why did you choose me? There are enough scary villains you can walk around like your dogs but you chose me. Why?”

The hero could only blush. Fuck, the villain could be really direct if they wanted. Along with the flirting and the teasing, the hero was quite aware that the villain wanted a confession, a true explanation as for why the hero had chosen them.

Because, truly, the hero had hoped for an opportunity like this.

And unluckily, the villain had seen right through it.

“Look, this organ-selling thing is really bad.” The villain checked them out yet again. But they didn’t push further. The hero assumed they loved the teasing a little too much.

“Mm. Oh, yes, yeah. I get it, I get it. Don’t worry about it.” This time, the villain leaned in, close enough for them to kiss but they only let the hero’s heartbeat go crazy. “I’ll think about it, hm?”

[actuallyjustabiscuit]

Ok thoughts 👏thoughts👏Everyone gather around I have thoughts about this!

Episode 2 was clearly the Pomni episode. We got to see her character get a little more fleshed out and we also got a glimpse of what motivates her which is great.

With this tweet we have solid confirmation on who the upcoming episodes will center on (thanks for not making us guess, Goose) and this lineup is really interesting.

First fascinating thing is that Kinger and Zooble share a spotlight in ep 3. Why is that? Everyone else gets their own dedicated episodes so why are they unique in that regard? What connects them?

Well, I have one idea!

So we know since the pilot that Kinger has been the one to have lived in the Circus the longest out of all of them. We’re still not sure if he was in fact the 1st human to be trapped (maybe we’ll find out in the next episode) but he definitely has the most seniority, both in age and in length of entrapment.

We also know that Zooble was the most recent character to get stuck before Pomni (and considering their attitude, it may have even been quite a while beforehand) AND is the youngest character next to Jax (they even share the same age, which could be a coincidence but it feels too deliberate of a choice).

Which means ep 2 will simultaneously focus on the oldest and the youngest of the characters.

I’m actually curious as to what their dynamic will be because they haven’t really interacted much in the pilot (and like not at all in episode 2), if they end up interacting in ep 3 at all. But mostly I’m excited to see them more fleshed out with hopefully Pomni getting the chance to bond with them (either together or separately).

My guess is that the purpose for them to share focus on an episode is to get perspective from someone who’s been there the longest and has seen more people come and go than anyone else vs. someone who was just recently in Pomni’s shoes and had probably a much different first day experience (we know Zooble cared enough about Kaufmo to personally organize his funeral so they may have some…feelings about who’s essentially his replacement).

Ep3 is also supposedly Gooseworx’s most anticipated episode so I’m extra excited.

Next we have Gangle for episode 4. I honestly don’t have a lot to say about her or the significance in her episode placement outside of her being the closest in age to Pomni (being only a year older). The only hint we get about what her episode will possibly consist of will be on how reliant she is on her ComedyMask to feel happy, which will be very interesting and we might even get some confirmation on whether her avatar was programmed with that feature upon entering the Circus or if it was an add on of sorts by Caine to help keep her sane. A pretty shitty feature if it can’t last for very long but it does make for a nice metaphor about how fragile her facade is (girl is literally masking).

Actually I don’t think her and Pomni have actually exchanged words yet in the show. Wouldn’t it be funny if they don’t up until her episode. Like Pomni is so caught up in between whatever mess episode 3 has in store for Kinger and Zooble that the two of them never actually talk and it just keeps getting more awkward. Gangle wants to talk to her but is so self-conscious about her Tragedy self that she’ll only feel safe to have a conversation if she has her mask, but it just keeps breaking before she even gets the chance.

Again this is all just speculation, if they actually end up talking in episode 3 I’ll…make ship art of them.

Yeah

Anyway, episode 5. The one I’m personally waiting for because y’all should know what I’m about by now.

*Warning: Unhinged, borderline psychotic tangent incoming*

I swear to god if Pomni and Ragatha don’t have a fucking conversation before ep 5 I will launch myself into the sun. I’ll take anything, I just need them to get real for a second. I NEED to know the extent of this woman’s damage. It has to be explored, analyzed, and dissected and I will do so with gusto when the day comes. None of these characters will be safe from my scrutiny, but Ragatha oh ho ho, you have been living rent free in my head for too long, madame. You WILL pay your dues and I intend to collect in every episode until there is not corner of your unsound mind that I have not examined in great detail!

Ahem *Straightens tie* Ok back to business

So yeah, Ragatha.

It may be because we’ve only had 2 episodes but I can’t help but feel like we’re supposed to see Ragatha as a sort of deuteragonist since out of all of the supporting characters she’s so far been getting the most focus aside from Jax, and we’ll get to him in a minute (I promise that’s not just me being biased, or maybe it is, I don’t know, you tell me).

In just two episodes we’ve seen more of what makes her tick compared to anyone else. And of the main cast she’s been the ONLY one to make any kind of connection to the main character and have enough of a meaningful interaction with her to leave an impression.

But this is what really clinched her role as a deuteragonist for me, she’s so far been one of the few to have the narrative briefly shift to her perspective to give us significant character moments like these:

The show REALLY wants us to see just how NOT ok she is.

If she’s meant to be the heart of the group, her heart already can’t take much more damage. Her friendship (if you can call it that, it’s so painfully one sided right now) with Pomni clearly means a lot to her, so much so that her entire sense of self worth seems to be tied to it (and if you’ve been paying attention, she doesn’t have a lot of that as it is). It would be nice to see their connection gradually grow before her designated episode, where she might experience actual growth for herself.

And if episode 2 is any indication of how this show preserves friendships well…

Yeah, I don’t think she’s gonna make it.

In fact, I’m willing to bet actual money that she’s either gonna abstract in episode 5 or episode 6.

Which brings us to Jax’s episode! The other deuteragonist…tritagonist? He definitely shares some degree of significant narrative focus along with Pomni and Ragatha. He’s both an active antagonist force and one of the only characters to drive the plot forward every time he’s on screen (then there’s that weird thing where he keeps breaking the fourth wall).

He has so much significance in the story that Gooseworx gave him his own bullet point in her list of content warnings (this could also be a joke, but I mean it would be funny to see just how despicable they can make this character).

Gooseworx also described Jax and Pomni’s relationship in the show as “messy”. After episode 2, I don’t think she considers him as a candidate for any kind friendship like she did for the others, and who could blame her? In just two days the guy abandoned her to deal with an abstraction and chucked her out of a truck. He’s no one’s favorite person, and he relishes that. Bunnyboy definitely has some issues that Pomni would pick up on the more she’s forced to spend time with him. To the point where I can see her trying to eventually form some kind of bridge because, as her previously established character motivation implies, she’s not the kind of person to intentionally leave anyone high and dry. But unlike the rest of the crew, I don’t think Jax would be inclined to change for the better just because someone took pity on him. He seems like the kinda guy to dig his heels in and commit to his bad behavior out of spite.

And for his episode to come after Ragatha’s, why do I get the feeling the reason Gooseworx went so far as to preemptively apologize to bunnydoll shippers specifically is because he’s gonna cause something really really bad to happen to her (could be abstraction, could even be something much worse) that he would come to sorely regret.

And oh boy would that evoke some feelings in everyone!

I feel like if that is indeed the direction this show is going, the rest of the episodes will really be something.

I’m also certain Caine will get his own episode but right now he is very much an antagonist to these characters. I wouldn’t go so far as to call him a villain, but he’s certainly not someone Pomni is keen on sympathizing with, at least not currently.

Thanks again @lilyclawthorne for helpfully providing me with the tweet so I can give some context for my ramblings of the week!

[blitzyn]

unintended effect

dottore x m!reader

request : none

Synopsis: Meeting a new stranger at your shrine didn't go as well as you had expected it to.

cw -> non-con, blood and spit as lube, anal sex, public sex, sadist dottore, kitsune reader, crying, tail pulling, face slapping, non-con drug use, choking, yall get caught but dottore doesnt care lol, brief ear pulling, not proofread

wc -> 3.6k

a/n -> i need him so bad omg. anyways super sorry if its shit. spoilers for the end of the aranara quest!

"It's not often I get new visitors."

Dottore instinctively peered up to face the voice, spotting a figure cloaked within the shadows the night offered. He could faintly see the way they curled atop the statue he stood in front of.

"I'm not visiting." He spoke with unhidden confidence.

"So what brings you here, then?" They questioned. Truth be told, finding the shrine was an accident. Although he read about them, he was far too busy with Scaramouche's ascension to "godhood". But he'd amuse you for a while longer.

“I’m simply taking a stroll,” he answered, placing his hands behind his back.

“It is quite the night for a walk, isn’t it?” He could faintly see something swish within the air. "Our village is well known for its night."

That was strange. He would have thought it would be a tourist hotspot for the sunset or sunrise - not the night. There wasn't anything noteworthy that he could see.

"Not here, of course." He could hear the amusement in your voice when you saw him slightly tilt his head in confusion. "I haven’t done anything praiseworthy yet.”

He quietly watched as you jumped down the statue, finally able to see your features. He was a bit surprised to see that you were not a human and had fox attributes. Your five tails swayed behind you, so he was able to surmise that you were around five-hundred years old. He heard about kitsunes before, though the only one currently well-known was the Head Shrine Maiden: Yae Miko in Inazuma.

He must admit, your species mildly fascinated him for a time, although the interest very quickly died out throughout his time in the Akademiya. Now that one was standing before him, that interest may have been rekindled.

"I am the guardian of the village," you spoke, ever graceful in your movements. Though, he did wonder what exactly what you were guarding against. As far as he knew, his agents informed him of the famed Traveler who adventured with the Aranara and defeated something called the “Marana Avatar '' which was the source of all Withering Zones. The only formidable enemies he saw on his journey here were the Fungi that mindlessly hopped around.

“It’s not the most interesting thing in the world, I admit,” you turned around to collect the offerings gathered within the foot of the shrine. “Not much to protect.”

You quietly laughed to yourself. “My mother would have my head if she ever heard me say that.”

“How so?” he questioned, watching as you organized a few things.

“She passed away during the Cataclysm. This village was her pride and found joy in defending it. I was but a kit at the time, so she was mostly on her own while she fought.” You sighed, though you didn’t appear the least bit upset.

It wasn’t a very thrilling tale, but he was able to surmise that you thought so, too.

“Do you enjoy guarding the village against rogue mushrooms?” The way he spoke almost made it seem as if he were genuinely asking, but the small, condescending smile that adorned his face told you that he was teasing your profession.

You laughed. “Oh, Gods’ no. I would very much rather be somewhere else right now.”

“Then why haven’t you left? I don’t see any benefits in staying,” he said. “I’m confident your villagers will be able to defend themselves if the Fungi wander around.”

“The only thing keeping me anchored here are the children that offer me some of their candy every so often,” you explained, motioning to the small basket in your hands. “They look up to me.”

“They want to become avid Fungi hunters when they’re older?” He was beginning to enjoy speaking with you, even if there wasn’t much to talk about. Maybe it’s natural Kitsune charm? 

You barked out yet another laugh. “I don’t see why, either. But, hey, free candy.”

Dottore uncovered an opportunity in your words. Various reports submitted to him reveal that children were far more likely to see the Aranara if they stumbled upon a dangerous situation. To ordinary humans, the Fungi posed a threat even to adults (as pathetic as that was), so if he managed to persuade you into leaving, one of the children could maybe encounter one of the fairies. But he was not opposed to taking you away by force, either. He would not let this chance slip by him - not after the majority of his agents stationed in Sumeru failed their mission.

“But other than that, what’s really stopping you?” Pride? A sense of responsibility? “It seems you’re not needed here.”

“Harsh.” You knew he was just saying it as it was. “Realistically? Mora. Ideally? The children.”

He hummed. “I am capable of providing you with sufficient housing and a generous amount of money.”

Your ears visibly perked up at his proposal. “But I do ask that you work for me in return.”

You looked off to the side, seemingly in thought before you looked back at him. “I’m no mercenary.”

“Maybe not, but don’t you crave a change of pace? To finally bask in what the rest of the world has to offer?” You were seriously tempted to accept his suggestion, but the chains of doubt wrapped around your wrists and pulled you back down to reality. You didn’t know if he was lying or not. While you were able to defend yourself just fine if anything were to go wrong, you preferred the safer option of just not letting it happen.

You shook your head in response. “That would be amazing, but I’ll have to decline your offer.”

He was confused. You complain, but you decide to stay? Where was the logic behind your words? Were you tied down by your mother’s legacy, perhaps? Maybe there was something else besides the weak reasons you so confidently spoke of.

A chill ran down your spine as he studied you. You were unable to see the majority of his face with his mask covering the top half of it, but it doesn’t take a genius to tell that he was unhappy with your answer.

While he wasn’t satisfied, he wasn’t left at a loss, either.

“Very well, then,” he said after a time. You smiled at his understanding, before turning on your heels to begin your trek towards the village. He watched your back for a moment before he felt his fingers slightly twitch. He managed to come up with a plan as soon as you declined; inject you with a type of drug that would make you pass out and tie you up in one of his laboratories. Simple, but effective.

He walked in your direction as his hand reached into one of his pockets to grab a syringe already full of the drug. He discreetly uncapped it before lunging towards you to tug your head forward and force the needle into the back of your neck. It was done before you could be given time to really process what just happened, but the sharp sting kept you grounded. You looked back in surprise and pressed onto the injection site in reflex while backing away from the man.

“What did you do?” Your voice was weak in shock, a pit of fear beginning to form within your chest. You heard the rustling of his clothes steadily grow louder, but you simply chalked it up as him on his way back to wherever he came from. He amusedly observed your ears flattening alongside the back of your head and how two of your tails wrapped around your legs while the others curled in a way that reminded him of a fearfully submissive dog.

“I gave you a dose of a simple knock-out drug,” he explained, leisurely striding closer to you. “It was originally for one of those forest fairies, if I ever got the chance to find one. They’re quite difficult to come across so I do hope using it on you is worth my time.”

He hummed and looked away in thought. He had heard they were relatively easy to befriend as long as you helped them out a little, so he hoped one didn’t show up right at this moment. Once he transported you to a well-hidden spot, he could create another drug and use it on a fairy. But he was slightly taken aback when he realized that you were still standing. It should’ve affected you by now.

It clearly had some type of effect on you, judging by the flushed look on your face. You were panting and your legs were trembling, it was a fight in and of itself just trying to keep yourself from falling over. There was a raging inferno within your body, and you felt like you were overheating. An arousing sensation arose in your abdomen. You quickly realized that this was no knock-out drug. At least not to you.

Dottore curiously moved so that he was face-to-face with you. He looked at the syringe in his hand to reconfirm the content that was once in it. He knew there was nothing wrong with it (after all, what use would having an aphrodisiac be?), so it was interesting to see the difference compared to his expected result and the current outcome. Your hands futilely tried to tug down your shirt now that he could see everything clearly since he was so close up, but you accidentally pressed them onto your aching cock, forcing a moan from your lips.

“Hm. This wasn’t what I expected.” He placed a hand on his chin as he began to circle you, inspecting your body. You were the one with the features of a predator, although you certainly felt like prey under his watchful gaze. You continued to display fear, as shown by your ears and tucked tails even though you so desperately tried to hide the lust that effortlessly overpowered your senses. He enjoyed seeing you this way.

He suddenly kicked your knees out from under you, forcing you to kneel as a pained expression briefly overcame your face. You had to hold back a groan when his hand found its way into your hair, fingers tightly curling around the strands to tug you around. He made you look up at him as he dug the sole of his foot onto your sensitive dick. You choked on a moan and ground your nails into his leg, weakly trying to pull him off of you.

“Aren’t you a pathetic little thing?” He pushed his foot harder, relishing in the noises you tried hard to keep from releasing. Shame squeezed your chest, making it difficult to breathe. But your mind was caught in a messy haze of arousal, confusion, anger, and fear. Each of their components only coerced you further into a stupified state, and you soon took the appearance of a babbling slut. You were fleetingly aware of the mortification when you began rutting your hips into the hard surface of his boot – just like the mutt in heat you were – but you’d be lying greatly if you said it didn’t feel relieving.

Your desperation only served to arouse Dottore as he felt his cock harden in his pants. He smiled, memorizing how quickly you were reduced into nothing but teary-eyed and stupid. Lightly palming himself, he thought of all the time he had left to spare. He might as well use some of it now.

You stifled a sob when he removed his foot, grunting when he kicked you onto your back. You were a bit disoriented due to the sudden change in positions, but as the fresh air of the night caressed the burning skin of your legs, an alarm rang through your head. It took you a moment to realize what he was about to do. Out of reflex, you attempted to sit up to try and stop him before he harshly pushed you back down from your chest.

“Fighting it will only make it worse,” he said, lining his cockhead against your asshole after spitting on it. “Relax, will you?”

“Wha–No…No..!”

You raised one of your feet in a last ditch effort to kick him away, but he simply held onto the underside of your knee and hiked it up on his shoulder. You squirmed futilely as he did the same to the other one, keeping you in place with a mating press. Now that he was finally towering over you, he used most of his body weight to force his cock deep into your hole.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the pure agony that came with it. With his hands occupied with pinning your arms down, he had the audacity to place his lips over yours to silence your scream. You struggled to free yourself from his grasp, though the tense of your body made you tighten around him. He let out a satisfied, shuddering sigh.

It felt like he tore you apart, a burning sensation that originated from your hole reverberated throughout your body, pulsing in rhythmic waves. You hiccuped pathetically as he pulled off of you, taking away some of the strain in your legs. He noticed that the slide out was smoother than he expected, peering down to where the two of you connected. His cock throbbed fervently when he noticed that it was coated in your blood.

You bit your lip hard when he leisurely thrusted back into you. Tears rolled off of the sides of your face as you turned away from him.

A sensation akin to electricity traveled up and down his spine. “Oh, don’t cry yet. We’ve only just begun.”

He finally began his pace, irritating whatever he tore, and using you however he liked. The pain was dizzying. He refused to allow you a moment of respite as he wallowed within your agonized whimpers and grunts, thrusting hard enough to fuck the air out of your lungs. Your lower half was on fire from the tearing, the muscle strain, and the sting when his pelvis slammed against your ass. You didn’t know if you were going to be able to walk after this.

You were terrified to feel the familiar feeling of lust pooling in your gut, mixing in with the burn in your asshole. Though the drug was still hard at work, amplifying your arousal far more than you would’ve liked. Your cock weeped precum, to which Dottore gathered on his fingertips after releasing one of your numb arms.

“Look at how much you want this.” His hand was shaky on account of his relentless thrusts, but despite that, you were given a clear view of your shame. “Perhaps you were made to be my whore instead, hm?”

He groaned. “Instead of staying here for something so… ngh – insignificant. You’ll be much better off as my cum-dumpster ready to serve me at a minute’s notice. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

You shook your head, sobbing slurred ‘no’s’ and pleading for something, anything, just not that. He almost couldn’t believe how intensely he’s getting off to such a sight, and he decided, at that moment, that you were going to be his new pet. His good little dog.

He suddenly leaned backwards a bit, avoiding the sloppy attack you made.

Though, he was going to have to train you first.

You were aiming for his neck, so it’s only fair he gets to return the favor, right?

Your eyes widened when you felt his hand wrap around your throat, holding you so tightly your head began to ring almost instantly. You felt like you were going to pass out. You could feel your eyes roll back under your eyelids as drool escaped the corners of your mouth. Everything began to sound muffled when you were suddenly forced back into reality.

Agony shot through your face as your head was abruptly tossed to the side. He had slapped you. Fresh tears cascaded down your cheeks, trying hard to process everything that you were feeling. Pain, pleasure, pain, pleasure… which was it?

You unknowingly shivered when Dottore pulled out of you, but you knew better than to assume he was finished with you. He flipped you onto your stomach, a small smirk present when you didn’t put up a fight. You were far too disoriented to do so. A wince crossed your face when the cold concrete floor touched your cock, although you made no move to adjust yourself.

He placed you on your hands and knees, manipulating your body so easily you could’ve been mistaken for a fuck doll. He pushed the tip of his dick inside your throbbing hole before separating your tails in half, taking three in one hand and two in the other. Your fur may have been thick, but it was nothing a (very) tight squeeze couldn’t handle. Once he found his grip, he yanked you backward as he thrusted forward, a loud slap echoing throughout the forest. The tip of his cock pressed against your prostate, and you couldn’t help but let out your loudest moan of the night.

His pace was as punishing as before, fucking you hard enough to make your ass burn. You tried your hardest to quiet your moans with a bite of your lip and a cover of your hand, but not even that was enough to silence your noises. The ache in your tails prompted you to fuck yourself back on his cock. He let out a small grin, though he decided against commenting on it when he noticed something moving in his peripheral.

It was only a moment later when your ears shot up and swiveled in the figure’s direction, eyes widening when you saw who it was. “G-Go… ah – go home..!”

“Oh, don’t make them leave now, they’ve only just arrived.” You barely registered the firm hand on your thigh. “Let’s give them a show.”

Your back was suddenly pressed up against his chest as the thigh he was holding was held up high enough for the person to see. The new angle allowed him to target your prostate with more accuracy, fanning the uncontrollable flame in your abdomen. You shook your head – to Dottore or the person, not even you were sure of. You weakly held onto his wrist when he reached around your body to jerk you off, digging your nails into his glove.

You tried your hardest to stop yourself from orgasming, you really did, but it persisted twice as intense until you were no longer able to hold it. Your eyes rolled back in ecstasy as cum spurt out of your cock, back arching against him. You could’ve sworn you blacked out for a second. You tightened even further around him as he finally stilled, feeling uncomfortably warm as he came inside you with a deep groan. He held your thigh so tightly you were sure you’d have bruises.

You looked back over to the spot the person was at, but was relieved to know that they no longer stood there. The leg keeping you up burned in exhaustion from holding nearly all of your weight. You trembled due to your overwhelming emotions; shame, arousal, fear, anger, confusion, exhaustion.

You stared ahead, unmoving as he pulled out of you. You rested on your folded legs, head throbbing painfully. You winced when he yanked you to him by your hair, keeping you on your knees as you faced his softening cock.

“Good pets know to clean up their messes,” he said, relaxing his grip on you, but refusing to move his hand elsewhere. You swallowed nervously before reluctantly holding onto the base to place him in your mouth. “Though, bite me, and I’ll do more than just simply tearing out your teeth.”

You nodded. He smiled to himself. Good, he was getting somewhere with you.

An urge to hide away formed in your mind, but you willed it away with the fact that he wasn’t going to let you go. Not unless some miracle saved you. You ran your tongue over his cock, licking away the remnants of his cum and your blood. The salty, metallic taste raised goosebumps all over your body, and you had to stop yourself from throwing up.

Though, just as you got to the head, he suddenly grabbed you by the ears and pulled. You choked and gagged, completely caught off guard. He kept you there, watching amusedly as you drooled and sputtered over his dick. It wasn’t until he could feel your grip on his legs weakening did he allow you to push yourself off of him, coughing hard.

He composed himself while you had your fit, crossing his arms expectantly when you finally caught your breath.

“Hurry and fix your clothes. We’ll head towards the area I’m temporarily staying at where you’ll wait until the ship to Snezhnaya arrives.” You wiped your teary eyes and put the bottom half of your clothes back on. Your legs trembled as you got up, only able to take a few weak steps forward before you fell to your knees.

He sighed and swiftly made his way over to you, grabbing you by the arm to carry you bridle style. Everything hurt now that the entire ordeal was over (at the moment), and you watched with saddened eyes as the statue gradually shrunk the farther away you went. You blinked hard. You didn’t want to fall asleep in his arms, but the feeling was far too strong for you to resist. With a heavy heart, you closed your eyes and let your slumber take you.

cross posted on ao3

[five-rivers]

wandering heart

For @phantomphangphucker for phic phight!

.

.

.

The needle was bronze.  

The copper alloy stood out better against ectoplasmic flesh than it would have against red blood.  It dipped in and out of Danny's skin with machine-like precision, drawing a slender purple string in its wake.  Appropriate.  Clockwork was at least partly mechanical.

“You're getting close to my liver,” said Danny.  “Careful.”

“You are aware that these facsimile organs are not at all essential to the function of your body.”

“Sure they are,” said Danny.  He leaned his head back on the cushion Clockwork had provided him.  “That's why you're sewing me up.”

Clockwork's tower wasn't Danny's usual post-battle stop, but the fight had been nasty and it had been close. His other choices had been flying an hour to reach the Far Frozen and leaving an ectoplasm trail through the mad science lab dedicated to dissecting ghosts.  The decision had been easy.  

Clockwork had complained, of course.  Ninety percent of the time spent stitching had doubled as time spent snarking.  It was fun.  

“You have more than fake human organs in here, and losing that much ectoplasm is unhealthy for a ghost regardless.  You are friends with the doctors of the Far Frozen.  Perhaps you should avail yourself of their knowledge more frequently.”

“I already have one health class I'm failing.  Don't need another.”

“You are not failing your health class.”

Danny peeled back an eyelid that had fallen shut at some point during the exchange.  “Are you using your time powers to spy on my grades?”

“Hardly.”  Clockwork picked up a pair of ornate scissors and snipped the string he'd been stitching Danny up with.  “But even so, I doubt you would notice if I removed one of your so-called organs.” 

“You could try,” said Danny.  He closed his eyes again and leaned to the side until he was slumped over on Clockwork, who made an offended noise.  “You’re trapped now.  Stuck.”

“I am a shapeshifter,” said Clockwork.  “You cannot ‘trap’ me simply by leaning on me.”

“Can too.”

Danny was tired.  Sometimes, he could shrug off both fights and injuries like they were nothing, but unicorns were vicious and Technus was mean.  Electricity always took a lot out of him.  

Clockwork sighed heavily.  Danny smiled.  

“You aren’t nearly as charming as you think,” said Clockwork.  

“And yet, you are neither kicking me out nor stealing my pancreas or lower intestine or anything like that.”

“I could.”

“But you haven’t.”  Danny tucked his feet underneath him and snuggled more heavily into Clockwork’s side.  

The ghost groaned, but obligingly made room for Danny.  Yes, yes, exactly according to plan.  The evil one, where he made friends with Clockwork.  He figured he was already halfway there, if Clockwork was willing to sew him up, but with this it was definitely closer to three quarters.  

Having thought this, Danny promptly fell asleep.  

.

The front doors of Clockwork’s tower were not made to slam open, but Danny, fingers of one hand clenched over his chest and still wearing a Far Frozen medical gown, managed anyway.  He was resourceful like that.  

“Clockwork?” he called.  “Clockwork!”  He flew from room to room, only sticking his head in long enough to assess them for Clockwork's presence.  

Finally, he found him.  

“Clockwork!” he shouted, re-energized by the sight.  “Did you steal my heart?  My heart?  My actual heart from my actual chest?”

Clockwork stared blankly at Danny for long enough that his panicked doubled and doubled again.  This was, quite literally, his only lead.

“No,” said Clockwork, finally.  “I stole the replica of your actual heart.  From your chest.”

“That’s the same thing!”

“Is it?” asked Clockwork, smugly.  “After all, you didn’t even notice this one was gone.”

“Oh my god, I cannot believe you did this.”  Friendship plan canceled.  Or something.

“I cannot imagine why,” said Clockwork.  “After all, I told you exactly what I was going to do.  You even gave me permission.”

“I thought you were joking.  Who’s going to think that you’re serious about stealing a friend’s organs?  That’s a joke.  A joke.  Banter, if you would.  Not an invitation to steal my literal heart.”

“Even so, it has been done.”

“Well, can you undo it?  Put it back in?  You didn’t, I don’t know, toss it out with last week’s eggshells or something?  Stick it in the back of the kitchen junk drawer.”

“No, I know exactly where I put it,” said Clockwork.  

“And you can undo it, right?  It’s not, like, expired?”

“It is difficult to get more expired than a ghost’s heart.”  

Danny stared at Clockwork expectantly.  

“Yes, I can undo it.  It will be the work of a moment to return it to its proper place.”  

“Great, so…  Lead on.”  Danny made a forward sweeping motion with both hands.  

Clockwork’s eyes slid back towards his time screen.  “Can it wait?”

“No!”

“You haven’t had it for weeks.  You won’t miss it for a few more minutes.”

“Uh, yes, I will!  You can time travel.  Whatever you’re doing, you can do it later.”

“I suppose,” said Clockwork.  “Very well.  Follow me.”

Clockwork led him back, through narrow halls, into a towering closet with spiral shelves.  It was full of what could only be collectively referred to as stuff.  

“Wow, I wasn’t serious about the junk drawer thing.”

“Oh, please,” said Clockwork.  “This is hardly junk.”

“You’re a hoarder.”

“I resent that appellation,” said Clockwork, flying up and rotating slightly.  Danny kept his feet on the ground, slightly intimidated.

“The only reason you aren’t drowning in all this is because your house doesn’t have to exist in Euclidean space.”

“And yet, I am not drowning in it.” Clockwork continued to float upwards, a faint frown on his face.  

“You do remember where you put it, right?”

“Yes, Daniel,” said Clockwork, visibly rolling his eyes.  “I put it right– Ah.  Interesting.”

“Interesting?  What do you mean interesting?” demanded Danny.  He flew up to hover near Clockwork's shoulder.  “Did something happen to it?  Is it– It's not there?  You said you knew where it was!”

“I said I knew where I put it, which is rather a different thing altogether.”

“No, it isn't!  It's not like it has legs!  It couldn't have wandered off on its oooohhhhhhhh my God, it could have wandered off on its own.  That thing had more ectoplasm in it than a Christmas turkey.”

“It is, in fact,” said Clockwork, “entirely made out of ectoplasm.”

“If it’s moving around like that, can we put it back in?  Would it– Would it try to escape?  Like, escape my chest?  Is that a thing?”

“Unlikely.”

“As unlikely as it starting to move around in the first place?”

“Unlikely,” repeated Clockwork.  

“Where even is it?  Do you know?  Can you tell?  Obviously, your whole ‘I know everything’ shtick is a lie, but can you, like, rewind things so that it’s here?”

“No,” said Clockwork.  “We will just have to look for it.”

“In your hoarder cave?”

“It is not a cave.”

“Ah, but you don't dispute the hoarder part?”  He spun, head over heels, trying and failing to see the entirety of the not-really-a-closet.  “What if there are things in here?  Like, living things?  Could it have been eaten?  By, like… Clockroaches?  Do you have clockroaches here?”

“Media tends to grossly exaggerate both the aggression and size of temporal boggles–”

“They’re real?”

“Why would you ask about them if you didn’t think they were real?”

“I don’t know.  It turns out I don’t think through the things I say to you very well.”

“Clearly.” 

Danny arrested his motion.  “Where do we even start?  This place is huge!”

“That statement assumes that it is still in this particular room.”

“Oh my God.”

“Although, if we are to search this room, it would make the most sense to start from either end and work towards the middle.”

Danny flipped over.  “I can’t even see the other end.”  This was only barely an exaggeration.

“Then we had best get started soon.”

Danny rubbed his face.  “Am I even going to recognize it?  What will it look like?”

“Like the organ it was imitating, of course,” said Clockwork.  “Oh, and don’t touch anything.”

Danny groaned.

.

There was something quivering and green huddled behind a bank of jars.  Was that… it couldn’t be…  He formed a stick out of ice and went to poke it.  

“What are you doing to that poor frog?” asked Clockwork.  

“Holy– It’s a frog?”

“Yes.” 

Danny stared.  Clockwork was covered in splatters and streaks of ectoplasm from head to tail.  

“Why do you– I don’t even want to know.  Did you find it?”

“Yes,” said Clockwork, holding up a jar.  There was…  Well.  It was a heart.  “Are you sure you want it back?  Surely, the sentimental value cannot be that great.”

“Wh– It’s not about the sentimental value.  Open it up, put it back in!”

Clockwork’s sigh was incredibly put-upon.  “Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He unscrewed the lid of the jar, and the heart, which had up until that point, laid quiescent on the bottom of the jar, flew out, smacking Danny in the face.  

“Augh!”

“Grab it!” 

Danny managed to get a hand around a ventricle, but ectoplasm and ectoplasmic muscle was slippery.  It escaped his grip.  It flopped-flew its way down to the bottom of the genuinely-not-a-closet and made for the door.  Danny dove at it, only to get a faceful of ectoplasm from an artery for his trouble.  

Danny wondered if this was what Skulker felt like.  He let ectoplasm dribble out of his mouth.  

“That, bleh, that tastes like my ectoplasm,” he said.

“That’s because it is,” said Clockwork, tiredly.  “I will refrain from asking you to elaborate on your ectoplasm-tasting experiences.”

“Look, when nature gives you a weapon, and afterlife gives you enemies, you use the weapon.”  He peered cautiously out of the door, wary of being sprayed with what was essentially his own blood once again.  “Where do you think it–”

He got another mouthful of ectoplasm.  

“Bleh,” he said.  

“I don’t suppose you saw it?” asked Clockwork.  “Which way it went, etcetera, etcetera?”

“No,” said Danny.  

“Then this will be a long night.”

“Can’t you just, like, stop time or something?  So it won’t move around while we look”

Clockwork gave him a look.  

“I’ll take that as a no.”

.

“I think,” said Danny, from where he was dangling from the ceiling, a tangle of clock chains wrapped around his ankle, “that we need help.”

“Unfortunately, I must concur,” said Clockwork, who was underneath a pair of couches even he’d been surprised at owning.

“Unless you want to use your totally awesome time powers to find it.”

“No.”

.

“I’m sorry,” said Sam.  “What did you lose?”

“My heart,” said Danny.  “And I didn’t lose it.  Clockwork stole it.”

“Is this some kind of Ice Queen situation here?” asked Sam.  “Are you going to lose all empathy and care for other people?”

“No,” said Danny.  “It’s just the, um, physical thing.  And only my ghost half’s physical thing.  Apparently.  Apparently, the ‘human organs’ I have in my ghost form aren’t functional, unless the functionality is, like, the functionality of being incredibly annoying and spraying ectoplasm everywhere.”

“So, what should we bring for this thing?” asked Tucker.  “Butterfly nets?  Bow and arrow?  Guns?  What’s the endgame?”

“You want to shoot my heart?”

“I don’t know what you want here, dude.  I’m still kind of reeling over the fact that the guy you were hanging out with literally stole your heart.  Do you need someone to give him a stern talking to, make sure he gets you home before curfew?”

“That’s disgusting.  He could probably be my great-great-great-great-great-great–”

In ghost form, Danny didn’t have to breathe all that much, so he was able to go on like that until Sam and Tucker joined forces to stuff socks in his mouth.  

.

“How in the world did things escalate to Clockwork stealing your literal heart?” asked Jazz.  

“Okay, yeah, I see how that’d seem bad, out of context, but you see, it isn’t actually my literal heart–”

.

Danny glared at Clockwork’s idea of ‘help.’ “I bring three completely reasonable and competent people, and you bring them?”

“From my point of view, I am the one with the reasonable and competent people,” said Clockwork, gesturing at the combined forces of Nocturne, Ghost Writer, and Skulker.  “You, meanwhile, have brought three teenagers.”

“Are you really calling Skulker competent?”

“If not, he at least has experience in being outsmarted by you.”

“Hey!”

.

“Alas,” said Tucker, “the heart wants what the heart wants, and what it wants is freedom.”

“Where,” said Sam, kicking at a puddle, “is all this ectoplasm even coming from?”

“Around,” said Danny.  

“Ooh,” said Jazz, “it’s condensing it from the atmosphere?”  She paused.  “What are you all looking at me like that for?  I can have scientific curiosity!”

“I think it’s more because of what’s happened to your hair,” said Ghost Writer.

“What’s happened to my hair?”

“You don’t want to know.”

.

“Danny, I think I hate you,” said Sam.  They were sitting on one of Clockwork’s couches.  Clockwork had a lot of couches.  A fact that Clockwork seemed both bemused and distressed by.  

“Oh, trust me, the feeling is mutual.  As in, I hate me too.”

Clockwork sat down on the couch next to Danny.  “Daniel, I must tell you that while hate is beneath me, I am seriously regretting my earlier decisions.”

“Does that mean that you’re going to time travel back to–”

“Absolutely not.”

Tucker ran past them with a butterfly net, chasing down a green blur.  

“That’s a blob ghost, isn’t it?” asked Sam.  

“I do believe so,” said Clockwork.

“Well,” said Danny.  “At least this all makes us friends, yeah?  Can’t go through something like this without being friends.”  At least he’d get something accomplished with all this insanity.  

“I wouldn’t call myself friends with Skulker.  Or Nocturne.  Acquaintances, more like.”

“I notice you didn’t say anything about Ghost Writer.”

Clockwork shrugged.  “He’s somewhat more tolerable.”

“And me?”

“I suppose.”

The heart fell straight down, into Danny’s lap.

“Are you serious–”

[tsukimefuku]

the letter ꕥ higuruma hiromi

summary: reader writes a letter for an absentee. one that she will never send.

tags: f!reader, implied past relationship, higuruma x reader, angst, break up, longing and general heartbreak.

wc: 1k

notes etc.: this is actually my original style of writing in my native language before i began writing in 2nd(?) + 3rd person pov on ao3 and tumblr this year. it’s different from what I’ve written so far, but I hope you guys enjoy it. the style translation was hard, holy shirt. song → shake it out (florence + the machine).

ꕥ collection of stories: "jujutsu partners au" → masterlist

i like to keep my issues drawn ꕥ it’s always darkest before the dawn

I was debating if I should start this with “hey, Hiromi”, “hi, Higuruma”, “dear” something, and I still haven’t arrived at an answer. The first sounds too casual for what we have become — and what are we now if not strangers? The second, however, is just too impersonal, and I don’t need such a stinging reminder of how much I’m not entitled to your first name anymore. At last, “dear” to start a letter is just tacky.

Alas, I digress.

I don’t quite know what possessed me to pick up a pen and a piece of paper (analogical, just like you’ve noted me to be) to blurt out the swirling hurts in my mind, but I guess I still had a lot to say, even if you weren’t here long enough to hear it.

Here goes nothing.

You might be wondering how I’m doing (at least I hope so), so I thought I’d let you know.

Tonight, more specifically, I’ve been for an insurmountable stretch of time — were it hours? Minutes? Days? Out of my priorities, tracking time has not been one of them — staring at the empty vacuum making its presence known by my side. It seems to mock my stare, that longs, against all odds, for a miracle — for you to simply materialize right there, out of thin air.

Seriously, you should see the mess you’ve made when you left.

You left an emptiness of shoes, black suits, wet towels on the bed, cup marks on the furniture, scratches of morning beard, warm legs under the covers — an emptiness of body that has been giving me nightmares. You came in, flipped everything upside down, blew up my walls and made so that every edge, vertex, color and smell of this heart and bones surrounding our leftover life would incessantly scream for you.

It’s like my misery extended beyond myself and resoundingly expanded against the walls of this house.

But… even though I wish you were here with every tiny part of myself, I couldn’t ask for you to stay. I know it wouldn’t be fair. You’d never ask me to betray myself, and the least I could do was to love you in the same earnest way. 

You wouldn’t be the man I loved if you didn’t go. I wouldn’t be the person you loved if I asked you not to (I apologize for the past tense, it’s one of those truthless comforts I’ve decided to give myself for the time being).

You still linger here, though. I still keep your gaze close to my chest, your face pressed against my skin, your warm voice caressing the edge of my ear and your hair stroking through my fingers, even if it’s just my soul pretending for a minute.

A long minute.

You know, it has been hell without you here. The couch cushions wrap around me like your arms, the bed always bounces by the time you used to get up, and the kitchen smells like your favorite take-out meals (because God knows we’d set fire to this building if we so much as dared turning that stove top on). The window reflects two back at me when only one is looking at it, and my hiking boots are dearly missing those black oxford shoes. My coat hanging on the edge of the closet is also dearly missing your crumpled black ties sprinkled around the room (of course you took weeks to properly wash and organize them — when you ever did).

Oh, and the bed.

The bed is just not the same without that stupid, ridiculous blotch of water your towel would always leave on it.

A huge chunk of our house is missing.

I know I can’t let my selfishness kidnap you from what you need to do — and I do know you need it. But damn, sometimes it’s hard to fight the urge of hopping on the first train your way, grabbing you by your wrist and asking you to become once again part of my wallpaper, my duvet, my pillows. Just promise me you’ll make all of this pain worthwhile, even if you ran away with ten thirds of me.

Ever since you left, though, I learned a few tricks to mask your ever so present absence. I can pull the pillows towards the middle of the bed, eat in the living room and read in the kitchen, being sure to slowly put all my pieces back in place. 

It’s harder to notice an empty chair across the table when you willingly choose to sit on the ground.

However, I didn’t want to do that. Not today. Call it insanity, clarity, or just meet me in my madness like you always so kindly did.

Today, I wanted to let you invade me, come into my house with my full permission and go on turning everything upside down once more. That way, I can almost feel you there. To me, at least for now, that’s good enough (or as good as I know it’s gonna get).

Your muted way of sharing our space could be so, so silent. That quietude brought me the deepest of peaces.

Unfortunately, I never anticipated the silence from your absence would be so loud, and not peaceful at all. It has been hammering at my breathless heart for days. 

I miss you.

I love you, too.

***

With a sigh, you put the pen down and stared at the paper sheet for a minute, your own calligraphy so foreign with a pain you hadn’t let out properly ever since Hiromi… actually, Higuruma stepped out that morning.

Considering your options, you resigned, and pulled the letter in a crinkled messy ball, tossing it in the garbage can.

No need to talk to a voluntary absentee. No need to bother him, either.

You got yourself back up and picked up two pairs of keys, the blue buttoned shirt and made your way out of the apartment, not failing to hear the rumbling echo the door made when it slammed closed.

An echo that only happens in truly empty places.

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

18 Seasons

A Joel Miller baseball player AU.

Pairing: Baseball player Joel Miller x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: Joel Miller has only ever known playing baseball for his hometown team, and they’ve just announced they’re not resigning him. He heads to a fancy hotel bar to drink alone and wallow. He doesn’t except to find you, the team owner’s daughter, there.  Warnings: smut, baseball talk, drinking, banter (reader has a smart mouth and Joel’s got that asshole voice), unprotected p in v (but a discussion on testing and reader has an IUD), F receiving oral, Joel’s 42, reader’s in her late 30’s.  Words: 4,900 A/N: Happy 2024 Baseball Season! I’ve always thought Joel Miller would make a good baseball player, though I’m not sure if I just want to see him in tight baseball pants and that’s why I think that. 🤔 Anyways, this might be a bit of an adventure in me coping with the fact that my current favorite ballplayer is over 40 and only signed a minor league contract to play this season. Also, shout out to said favorite baseball player’s arm for being part of the cover of this, feels very Joel Miller to me. Hope you enjoy!

Masterlist Playlist

⚾️⚾️⚾️

"The Austin Capitals thank first baseman Joel Miller for his time and dedication to the team for the past 18 seasons. Miller is a six time All-Star, two time batting champion, and two time Gold Glove winner. He signed with his hometown team in the second round of the draft twenty three years ago and has been a great contribution both on and off the field. The organization will not be able to provide Miller with the proper playing time, with the current roster and plans for the upcoming season. We thank him for his years of service and he will forever be a part of the Capitals family."

Joel knew it was coming, it was inevitable. He had been warned of it multiple times, his agent straight and to the point about his chances, his brother and Maria more analytical and sympathetic, and his sweet Sarah so chipper and hopeful for him. 

For twenty three years he’s only known the Capitals. The only thing he’s ever been good at, baseball… he’s never been so good at anything else really, save maybe for wood working or fishing, but those were hobbies. Baseball was his job, he knows he’s a lucky son of a bitch who got to do this full time, and now it’s all over, he’s unemployed.

Joel needs a drink. The stronger, the better. 

DING. DING.

DING. DING. DING.

DING. DING.

He also needs to turn off his phone.

“What can I get you?”

“Gin martini, dirty please.”

“Should I charge it to your room?”

“Ye–“

“No, you can put it on my tab." You turn towards the deep voice, you’re used to the southern accent, you grew up around it, but this timbre is different and yet so familiar. 

“Joel?” What the hell?

He lifts his glass towards you, his dark brown eyes shining at you from across the bar.

You haven’t seen him in quite a few years, ever since you got the hell out of Texas, moving to New York and betraying your home state for packed subway cars and better politics. 

He stands and walks towards you, he looks just as good as you remembered. Broad, strong, and too damn handsome to be alone on what you know might be the worst night of his life.

“Figured you wouldn’t waste your time on any of that fruity drink stuff,” he nods towards your drink as it’s placed in front of you.

“Too much sugar gives me a headache.” 

“Mm,” Joel gulps down the rest of his drink and signals the bartender for another. 

“…How are you holding up? I’m really sor—“

“M’fine. Was expected.” 

He doesn’t want to talk about it. Understood. 

Joel Miller was never one for talking, or the media. He’d give them a nod and a quick answer before moving on to the next nuisance. Talking was never his job, you know this. Your dad would sometimes complain about how his star player couldn’t play nice with the reporters. You always admired Joel’s candidness, it’s one of the things that you found most attractive about him. He was always honest, whether it was a good thing or a bad thing depended on how high the team was in the standings. You’re going to miss him on your team, but you can’t let him know that.

“So, why exactly are you back here in Texas?”

“It’s my Mom’s birthday, she’s tired of visiting me in New York, was guilted back here as part of her present.” 

“Mm. New York, hate playing in New York.”

“Likely thing to hear you say. Guess I should ask you what you’re doing in a fancy hotel bar in the city you live in?”

“S’quiet here, it’s the fanciest hotel ‘round here, nobody who stays here cares about baseball. Not a lot of people recognize me without the hat on.”

“Ouch. I care about baseball.” 

“Yeah, and you don’t belong in a place like this,” Joel pivots to look at you, his arm resting on the bar top.

“Where do I belong, Joel?” You angle your body to look at him and swallow down the last bit of your drink.

“Some place cozier, not as cold and… corporate as this place. Some place… hip.”

Your head tips back in laughter. “Hip?! I have a phone case with ducks on it, I cried at the same part I always cry at during Paddington 2 last night. I’m far from hip, what a funny word.”

“Dunno, always got the idea you’re cooler than me.”

“Okay pro baseball player.”

“Not so pro now,” Joel scours.

“Hey, sorry,” you place your hand on his forearm, a perfunctory touch. You had zero decision on the matter, and yet you feel so much guilt over it. You know what this game meant to him and you know he made it known he wanted to return. 

“S’alright. Just weird to know I’m done for.” He looks down and focuses on his hand rubbing back and forth on the rim of the glass. A nervous tell. Your hand remains on his arm, Joel makes no attempt to move away.

“You’re not done for, I’m sure another team would like you.”

“Don’t want another team. My daughter grew up here. Hell, I grew up here. My brother’s here. Sarah just started college here. I couldn’t move away.”

His daughter. The big story of Joel’s first year was how the star rookie, was also a father to a newborn baby girl. Juggling a .300 average and fatherhood.

“Wow, she’s in college, huh? I remember seeing her at the stadium all of the time, reminded me of how I grew up there too.”

“Time flies,” a wistful smile on his face as Joel signals the bartender for another round of drinks for the two of you. 

Goodness he’s gorgeous. You’ve always found him attractive, ever since he was signed right out of high school. All tall, golden skinned and muscular, now his form is a little more filled out, his muscles less defined but still fully there. His arms and thighs thicker now, a small gut protruding, but still solid and muscular. His speed to round the bases is a lot slower these days but his power and batting eye are stronger from years of playing. He was a school girl crush for you, a stadium give away bobble head of his still sits in your office under the ruse that he was your team’s biggest player. Now you don’t know what to call it, you’re long past school girl crushes. All you know is now, over twenty years later, he’s still one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen. Time sure does fly.

“Are you staying here tonight?” You cut the silence between the two of you, both of you facing the bar and quietly sipping your drinks. Joel’s eyes looking a little heavier, the alcohol taking its effect on him. You feel good, a lot lighter, but happy to sit and allow Joel to ponder.

“Planned on it. Booked a room. Figured I’d get drunk and go pass out, take care of everything I have to tomorrow. Just don’t want to deal with it tonight.” 

“I understand that, just didn’t know if you needed car service home, I could have ordered you one.”

“Dad’s money, right?” Joel bites out condescendingly. 

“Or, my money, you asshole,” you bark back. You know he’s pissed off at the world but there’s no need for his tone to be so mean towards you. 

“Sorry, still kinda pissed off at your family.”

“My family? You mean my dad? I had nothing to do with it, my mother had nothing to do with it. You can be pissed off at him, but you’re also not getting any younger and believe it or not our farm system and minors are stacked with talent waiting to play.” You try to calm your voice as you gulp a drink down from your newly made martini. You don’t want to be pissed off and drunk but goodness the cold gin cools your heated body. “You’re old Joel, and you know it.”

“Of course I know it sweetheart, but I know I’m still better than most of those kids.” 

“Yeah, well, stop getting injured and batting .220 and prove it.”

“Damn, you got a smart mouth,” Joel leers at you.

“Not to mention all the time and effort spent on keeping your body in playing shape. I’m sorry, you’re ancient in sports standards.”

“Real fuckin’ smart mouth, huh?” Joel leans in and whispers, “I like it.”

You fight the urge to moan, to give an audible to the feeling that’s now coursing through your body from those three words snarled into your ear. 

You feel the same feelings you felt those few years ago, while out with the team celebrating their playoff series win. Drinks flowing, cigars puffing plumes of smoke into the air, conversations shouted above music, bodies sweating and glowing different hues under the lights on the dance floor. The Capitals were heading to the World Series for the first time in twenty years, thanks to Joel Miller’s walk-off home run. Teary hugs shared with your family and friends as you watched him round the bases, it may have been the happiest you’d ever seen your dad. Hell, it may have been the happiest you’d ever been. You didn’t think the night could get any better, until Joel backed you into a corner of the club and stuck his tongue in your mouth and his hand up your dress. You don’t know if you’ve still forgiven him for pulling his fingers out of you and wiping the wet of your orgasm on his jeans before slurring out, “Fuck, I shouldn’t have done that,” as he backed away and left, leaving you all weak kneed and blissed out panting for air. 

You did agree though, he really shouldn’t have, the scandal that could’ve been brought on if the owner’s daughter was spotted in that position with the team’s star baseball player. He’s one of the reasons why you moved away, he was off limits and it drove you crazy. You casually dated, you slept with strangers, you spent three years with your ex who you thought you’d settle for and marry, but that night never escaped you. Sometimes you’d reach your hand between your legs and touch yourself while you remembered the look in his eyes as he nodded his head to signal you to follow him into that desolate space. Like he always wanted you as much as you always wanted him and he was seizing the opportunity. 

“I’m just letting you know what we’re all seeing. Trust me, I don’t want to see you in any other colors than the Capitals color. Red suits you.” If you’re being honest, you really prefer him in the olive green button up shirt he’s wearing tonight. The top few buttons of it unbuttoned to relieve the stretched seams around his large shoulders giving you a peek of the gold chain he always wears resting against the bronzed skin of his neck and chest.

“Mm, whatever the color you want to call this is,” Joel grabs the shoulder of your shirt and rubs the fabric between his fingers, “suits you.”

“I call it aquamarine, most would just call it light blue.” 

“S’pretty, s’soft.” You wonder if he can see how rapid your heart is beating or the swallow of air you gulp down as his eyes linger on your chest and neck. “Fits real well.”

“Thanks, bought it at one those real fancy stores they have in New York,” you lift your shoulder causing Joel to pull his hand back. 

“Do the boys in New York like you in this color?” Joel’s words drip with the sarcastic tone he’s famous for. 

“Worked a couple of weeks ago with a guy. HUGE New York fan,” you emphasize huge, two can play that game. “Like, big, real big.” 

“Mm,” Joel’s nostrils flare. “He your last? This… New York fan?” 

“Yep,” you smile through your glass taking a drink and licking your lips.

“Mm,” Joel’s eyes don’t leave your mouth. “And why’s that?”

“Been busy, haven’t found anybody that’s piqued my interest, I guess.” 

“And what was so special about him?” 

“Not sure,” you shrug, “he was good looking and paid for my martinis. I wanted him, he wanted me, the classic hook up.” 

“Talk to him since?”

“Here and there, he seems nice enough." “Mm,” Joel licks his lips as he leans forward placing his arm on the back of your chair and turning it to swivel towards him, his other arm rests on the bar, caging you in between. “You want nice?” You can feel the heat radiating off his body, see the freckles on his skin from years of playing ball in the sun, smell the whiskey on his breath mixed with the soap on his skin. You’re so close you can almost count the gray hairs just beginning to tint his dark hair lighter. You want him.

“Not really. Plus, he was younger than me, I’m pretty sure I like older men.” You challenge him. You can compete with the best of them, and Joel’s one of the best, he’s made millions of dollars over the years just from being competitive. 

“Mm,” Joel moves the hand from the back of your chair to your shoulder, rubbing his thumb back and forth, his touch igniting your core. 

“How long has it been for… you?” Your words come out a little too nervous than you’d like them to be. 

“Few months, not sure. Don’t like that type of distraction during the season.” 

“A celibate?”

“No, not that, just don’t have the time with deal with all that, between Sarah’s senior year ‘n me having to focus more on my regimen, ya’ know since I’m ancient.” 

“Mm,” you copy Joel’s sound. He smirks. 

“Never been my scene to meet someone, fuck them, and leave the next morning.” Your body tenses at his words. “I prefer to know someone before I touch ‘em. Too many people out there just want to say they slept with a ballplayer and move on. Not for me.”

The hushed tone of Joel’s voice and his proximity to you begins to take its toll on you, you feel so hot and quite flustered. “I understand that.”

“You ever been with a ballplayer? Ya’ know since you’re involved in the business.”

“I haven’t… just what we did in that club after the playoff win,” you blink at him, willing him to tell you he wants more.

“You want to do more than just that with a ballplayer?” Joel’s accent dropping an octave as he whispers the question out. 

“I do,” you just as quietly confess. 

“You want to do more than just that with me?” he leans in closer.

“I do.”

“Alright sweetheart, your room or mine?”

“I have the suite, so mine.” 

“Should’ve charged the drinks to your room then.” Joel turns and gets the bartender’s attention.

It’s becoming real. You calm your nerves as Joel signs the check and moves off the stool, you following him through the bar and lobby before reaching the elevator.

All you expected to do tonight was have a couple of drinks while reading a book in a quiet corner of the bar before ordering room service and watching whatever movie you can find on hotel TV. You’re now headed up to your room with Joel Miller.

The elevator doors ding open, empty with nobody following behind you. It’s just you and him in the mirrored oasis of the lift. You go in first and stand with your back against the wall.

“What number?”

“The P at the top, I have to scan my card,” you lift your key out of your pocket and hand it to him. 

“Of course. You got the suite.” 

“I did, wanted to treat myself on my return home.”

“Mm,” Joel scans the card and tucks it in the back pocket of his jeans. The doors close and your stomach anxiously drops as the lift speeds upward.

The vision of Joel surrounds you, his reflection repeated in every panel, you could stay right in this small room forever, seeing every angle of his handsome face. Aquiline nose, creased eyebrows, dimple tucked between a dark mustache and beard, plush lips, deep brown eyes, wavy hair.

“You’re staring.” You’re shocked out of your concentration by Joel’s whisper. “This whole elevator’s mirrors, I can see you as much as you see me.”

A blush creeps across your face. 

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Joel turns around and steps towards you, standing in front of you. “You look beautiful.” His hand rests against your cheek, his head angles down, his lips resting right in front of yours. “It’s hard to look away from you.” 

You close the gap between the two of you, your lips meeting his. It’s a soft kiss, both of your tongues gently licking into each other’s mouths. You’re both savoring the first taste of each other in years, it feels like he also would think about your last kiss as much as you did. Joel pulls away first, turning his head to look in the mirror, you follow his gaze. His hand on your cheek, your hand resting on his bicep, far too big for you to be able to wrap your hand around it. This reality you’re in right now feels like something out of one of your wildest dreams. The alarm goes off, the elevator dinging your arrival to your floor. Joel turns away and you follow behind him as he unlocks your room door.

“Nice room, pretty big for just you, don’t you think?”

“It is. Maybe I figured I’d be sharing it with someone else. Maybe someone older who needed more space to get around on account of his old knees and hurt shoulder.”

“That mouth is going to get you in trouble one day, sweetheart.”

“I welcome it,” you look up at him as you bend over to untie your shoes. 

“Where’s the bedroom?” Again, you like Joel’s bluntness. You appreciate how he doesn’t mince words, he knows what he wants and he tells you what he thinks. 

You point, he nods, and turns towards it as he begins to unbutton his shirt. 

“What? You got somewhere to go?” You shout still standing in the middle of the living room. 

“No,” Joel peeks his head out of the doorframe, shirt half open, his hands paused on a button. “I just really want to see you naked on your bed.” 

Your knees feel weak, your pussy clenches, your body breaks out in goosebumps. You love his mouth and the way he always sounds like an asshole, even if he’s telling you he wants to see you naked. 

You hurry to the bedroom, taking your shirt off and tossing it behind you. 

Joel stands with his shirt unbuttoned next to the bedside table, the only light source of the room is the lamp he’s turned on next to him. His skin might be your favorite color, sun bronzed with a patina of dark freckles across his chest and neck. His body standing in front of the dark wood paneled wall glowing in the aureate glow of the lamp takes your breath away. Maybe you should come home more often.

“Take your pants off,” Joel turns to you, his eyes lighting when he sees you without your shirt. 

He sheds his shirt before unbuckling his belt and removing his jeans. Your own clothing removal pauses as you stare at the trail from his belly to the black boxer briefs bulging with his erection. This man could never survive without spandex, his thick thighs strain the tight fabric.  “Like I said, take your pants off darlin’,” he chuckles. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him chuckle. 

“Oh, sorry, yes,” stammers out as you remove your jeans. 

You can’t help but not look away from him. You’ll never get over just how handsome and large he is. Other men with his features on their bodies would look ridiculous but Joel is perfectly put together. You can’t get over the fact that he wants you as much as you want him. 

“How’d you know navy blue was my favorite color?” Joel asks as he stares at your panties. You wonder if he can see how soaked they are. 

“Didn’t. Lucky you.” You’re not sure who’s luckier at this point, maybe you’re both ready to share each other’s luck. 

“Very. Get on the bed for me.”

You lay down on the soft sheets, the bed and cover are so plush you sink into it. Your hands by your sides pet the silky sheet and your legs rub against the fabric, it feels so divine and smooth.

“God, you look good like that,” Joel reaches down to palm himself through his briefs. “Might be the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Your body lights on fire at his praise, your pulse quickening, your almost naked body feeling overheated. “Spread your legs for me.” 

You follow his instruction, bending your knees and spreading. Joel climbs on the bed to kneel in between, his palms rest atop of your knees, you can feel the calluses on his hands from years of gloves and bats on your smooth skin. 

He runs his hands down your legs before stopping right at the edge of your panties. You moan as he takes a hand and runs it back and forth along your drenched panties. “This all for me?” His cocky smile making his dimple even more apparent. 

“Yes, fuck… yes,” you struggle out. You’re so turned on right now, aching all over. Joel’s barely even touched you and you feel like he’s already devastated your whole body. You’ve never felt this way with anybody else before. 

“Want to see all of you, take your bra off ’n I’ll take these off,” Joel says as he cups your cloth covered pussy. 

You lean up to unsnap your bra, quickly getting naked as Joel takes off your panties. He sits back on his heels, his eyes mapping your body. “Jesus baby, you’re so fucking pretty ’n soft looking.”

His voice, his accent, his praise, it causes a whimper out of you. 

“I know baby,” Joel leans down, his hands grab your ass cheeks and pulls your whole body towards him, easily lifting your ass up. Your pussy rests now right in front of his face, you can feel the heat of his breath against your sensitive folds. He’s supporting your whole lower half in his hands until you lift your legs to rest atop his wide shoulders. He licks a long stripe up from your opening to your clit and back again. 

“Taste so fucking good, so fucking sweet, knew you’d be this good. Can’t believe I didn’t taste you before.” Joel’s words of devotion are spoken straight to your cunt. 

He devours your pussy like it’s never been ate before, fucking into you with his tongue, sucking on your clit, rubbing the bristle of his thin beard against your sensitive folds. Your thighs and legs beginning to shake against Joel as your whole body burns with pleasure. His hands are gripping your ass so tight, his strength and support the only reason why your whole body hasn’t collapsed as your orgasm quickly ripples through you.

Joel moans against you as you spill into him. He doesn’t come up for air as your hips writhe against him. He flicks his tongue against your pulsing clit, a scream escaping your mouth as he begins to press his tongue down on your too sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“Holy fuck,” you struggle out. “Fuck. Joel, Joel. Fuck.” 

“Mm,” Joel lifts his head up out of in between your legs, your wet glistening on the lower half of his face, his eyes resting under his furrowed brows staring right at you. You unwrap your legs from around his head as Joel gently helps your legs drop to the bed. 

Joel rubs your legs and thighs as he stares down at you longingly. His actions are so sweet, actions you never thought you’d see. You don’t think a lot of people get to see this side of him, his features relaxed, mouth slacked open a bit, eyes softened, this isn’t competitive Joel, this is bedroom Joel.

“Let me fuck you baby, don’t think I’m going to last long, wanted to prove to you I can fuck you all night but I’ve waited a long time for this.” 

Your core clenches at his words, you wanted to challenge him tonight too, but you can’t fathom the idea of waiting any longer for Joel’s cock inside you. He gets up off the bed, removing his briefs, his cock springing free. Fuck, he’s big and beautiful, the perfect size and shape to match his broad and athletic body. 

Joel climbs back on the bed, his body resting in between your spread legs again, this time he leans forward, putting his weight on his two arms as he looms above you. You feel his cock resting against your wet cunt. 

“You got a condom or should I have grabbed mine from my wallet?”

“No— can I ask you something?”

“Now?” Joel huffs. "I guess."

“Yes, yeah,” you gather your nerves before you confess. “I want to feel you, all of you. I have an IUD and I always use protection with… others, I just, I want to feel your cum inside of me.” 

Joel's jaw drops at the shock of your blunt words. “Fuck, yes. Of course. Jesus Christ.” His dick twitches against you as he answers. “I’m tested and clean.”

“I’m clean too.”

“Fuck baby, I’m so glad you asked.” Joel plants a kiss to the top of your head as he pushes himself into you. 

“Holy fuck,” you rasp out at the feel of Joel’s cock stretching you. He’s slow to enter, mindful of how tight your cunt is squeezing around him. It stings so good, you’ve never been this stretched before. 

You shut your eyes and focus on taking his length, anchoring yourself in this moment. 

“I can feel you clutching me, fuck you feel so good,” you open your eyes at Joel’s words. The glimmer of Joel’s gold chain catches your eye as he moves inside you. You’re mesmerized by how it moves between the two of you, the pendant swinging back and forth like a metronome of Joel’s cock entering and exiting you. “Look at me baby.”

You move your gaze from Joel’s necklace to his eyes, all big and brown and blown out with lust. He begins to increase his pace, your whole core beginning to build another orgasm. Joel cranes his neck down to kiss you, the way his mouth languidly moves against your mouth contrasts the brutal speed of the way he’s now fucking you. You move your hands up to cradle his head, gripping his messy curled hair, left longer during the offseason.

Years and years of pining over Joel culminating in this one night, a surprise encounter at the bar turning into the shared moans and groans you and Joel trade back and forth as your bodies move together.

He’s simply too beautiful, your eyes watching his heavy eyes disappear behind the crinkles on the side of them as he half smiles at you. Like he also can’t believe the two of you are doing this. 

You move your hips to meet his thrusts, the softness of the bed cradling you as Joel fucks you harder.

“M’close baby,” respires out against your mouth. Your cunt tightening even more around him as you both begin to reach the apex of your orgasms. “You gonna cum with me?”

You can only nod and blink hoping that your whimpers and moans let him know you’re right there with him. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty and tight, can’t believe how fast you’re gonna make me cum. Fuck baby, just talking about it— gonna fucking cum.” 

You feel Joel’s cock throb as his spend fills you, your orgasm following, pumping Joel’s cock as you pulse around him. 

He drops down to rest on his forearms, his body landing on top of you. You welcome the feeling of his burning hot body smothering yours. He kisses you as he languidly still fucks into your cunt with his softening cock. Your pussy drips a mixture of your intermingled cum out as Joel pulls out and lays next to you on his back. 

You turn and rest your head against his chest, his breaths slow and relaxed. Your hands run up his chest, stopping at the gold chain around his neck.

“Never took you for a necklace man, why do you wear it?”

“My daughter got it for me, when I won that playoff game.”

“Like THAT playoff game you hit the walk-off?” Your question implying it’s the same game you celebrated together in the back of the club. 

“Yeah, that one,” Joel wraps his hand around yours. “Sometimes I still think of you and I that night when I see it. Thank you for tonight. You made a bad day into the best night.”

A/N: I adore these two. This stands as a one shot right now, since I'm currently working on my multi-chapter story Elks, but I might revisit them later. Go sports!

[hyperactively-me]

king!ghost x reader -- duties

warnings: none

Five months.

Five months, two weeks, three days, and seven hours since he’s been gone.

More weeks pass, and you’ve fallen into your role quite comfortably. You have no more troubles juggling daily tasks, council meetings, and managing the kingdom’s affairs. The weight of your responsibility has become a familiar companion, and you navigate the challenges with a grace born from necessity. Yet, Simon’s absence has gnawed you to your bones. 

You were barred from stepping even a single toe outside of the castle gates, confined to the castle walls. It had frustrated you to no end, but you understood where the concern stemmed from. Obviously. 

The war continues, and each day brings its own set of difficulties. The reports from the front lines aren’t as optimistic as they once were, but there’s still a glimmer of hope. The Southern Kingdom persists in its aggressive pursuit, but Kastron’s forces stand resilient. Simon’s letters start to arrive at irregular intervals, long stretches of time going by without hearing from him. 

It makes you nervous, only receiving letters every three to four weeks instead of the usual once a week. 

Your worry etches lines on your face as you pore over the maps and reports. The uncertainty of Simon’s safety hangs heavy in the air, and the constant dread becomes a silent companion in your daily life. Your familiar routine is resolutely tainted with the anxiety of the unknown.

Soap remains a steadfast friend, standing by your side throughout the days. Some days, you don’t really see him, other days he’s practically glued to your side. He’s become not just a protector, knight, and guard, but someone you can be vulnerable with. A true friend.

One evening, as you sit in the dining room with Soap, a familiar voice interrupts your thoughts.

“Your Majesty, a messenger has arrived with urgent news,” announces a royal guard, stepping into the room.

You look up, setting down your fork. You have to take a breath, wanting to groan about how you haven’t had a moment of peace in months. 

You know Soap is already running through strategies in his mind, wanting to take some of the burden off of you. 

“What news do they bring?” you ask wearily. 

The guard hesitates before delivering the message. “The Southern Kingdom has launched a major offensive. Our forces are engaged in battle, and we need reinforcements.”

Your heart pounds in your chest. The war has escalated, and the threat to Kastron has never been more imminent. Soap’s expression darkens as he stands by your side, exchanging a glance that conveys the gravity of the situation.

“We need to act quickly,” Soap says, his voice steady. “I’ll gather our forces here and organize them to be sent to the front lines immediately.”

He stands from his seat, his armor clinking as he moves. The urgency in his demeanor is quite apparent, and you nod in agreement. Soap’s efficiency and decisiveness makes you feel slightly better, knowing that he’s capable. As Soap departs to mobilize the forces, you rise from your seat. The familiar routine of your ruling takes over, and you find yourself issuing orders to prepare for the impending conflict. 

. . . 

Later in the week, you’re faced with more harrowing news of villages spread throughout Kastron who were unfortunately caught in the crossfire of the war. 

The reports of the collateral damage weigh heavily on your heart. Villages once filled with life and laughter are now marred by the scars of war. The people, innocent bystanders caught in the turmoil, look to you for guidance and aid.

Now, more than ever, you’re spending all of your effort in your waking hours to provide them with relief. The castle’s war room became a somber gathering place as you, Soap, and key advisors discuss what supplies and support is to be sent to the villagers. 

“I will not let my own people suffer,” you declare, determination burning in your eyes. “We must send help to these villages immediately. Food, medical supplies—whatever they need. I want it done, now.”

Many advisors nod in agreement. “We’ll organize relief efforts. Ensuring the safety of our citizens is of utmost importance, your majesty.” 

As they begin coordinating the relief missions, you allocate resources and personnel to help the affected villages. You go through countless lists and inventories of important supplies, deeming which ones are needed and necessary to be distributed to the afflicted villages. You also spend time gathering doctors, knights, and other important personnel to send them out to tend to the villages. The castle’s front courtyards transform into bustling hubs as supplies are gathered and medical teams prepare to depart.

In the midst of the chaos, a messenger arrives with a letter. The familiar wax seal of the royal family signifies that it’s a letter from Simon. A surge of anticipation courses through your veins as you break the seal quickly, hands slightly shaky from the adrenaline.

Your eyes scan the familiar writing, clutching the paper tightly. The letter carries both relief and worry. Simon recounts the intensity of recent battles and expresses concern for the well-being of Kastron. He reassures you of his safety multiple times, yet it does little to ease your heart. He emphasizes the importance of your resilience, saying that your efforts from the castle have not gone unnoticed from the battlefield. 

As you absorb his scratchy handwriting, Soap approaches, his gaze curious. “News from the front lines?” he asks quietly.

You nod, a mixture of emotions bubbling within. “Yes. Simon is well, but he doesn’t seem as optimistic as they once were. I mean, the letter was dated about two weeks ago, so there’s no way of telling what’s currently going on.” 

Soap’s brow furrows in concern. “Well, we just sent the reinforcements a few days ago, I’m confident they'll do more than help.” 

You appreciate Soap's attempt to offer reassurance. “I hope so. It’s just, the war hasn’t let up at all, and it’s really starting to concern me… And everyone keeps saying that we’re doing well despite some setbacks, but I can’t help but feel as though something bad is going to happen…”

Soap places a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “I ken that feeling. It’s a heavy burden, but remember, Kastron has weathered storms, and we’ll weather this one. Yer doing more than you realize. And, nothing bad will happen, not with me around and his majesty out there alongside Price and Gaz. We’ve got this.” 

You swallow thickly, nodding. You take a few breaths, trying to calm your frayed nerves. 

He’s right, after all. You have Soap here looking after you, and a castle packed to the brim with guards and knights. You sent out reinforcements to struggling villages, you sent out hundreds of more soldiers to the front lines. You’ve been taking the reins in every single Kastronian affair, from advising noble people to organizing relief efforts. Your determination and resilience have been the beacon for your people, a symbol of hope in these trying times.

You’ve got this. 

. . . 

Days turn into nights, and nights into more weeks. The war room remains a constant hub of activity, but there’s a sense of progress. Reports start to arrive detailing the impact of the reinforcements and the relief missions. Villages that were once on the brink of collapse are now showing signs of recovery. The people, though scarred, hold on to the hope you've instilled in them.

As the days go by, the momentum continues to shift. The Southern Kingdom, faced with the new Kastronian reinforcements, begins to slowly lose its steam. Not to say the threat is receding, but you now have more hope than you’ve had since the war started. 

One evening, after a particularly long day, you and Soap find yourselves on the balcony overlooking the courtyard. The sounds of the night echo a strange sense of serenity and ominous undertones despite the ongoing turmoil.

Soap leans against the balcony railing, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. “Ye’ve done well, yer majesty. The people look up to ye, and I think we’ve gotten past the worst of it. We’re on the path to recovery.”

You turn to him, grateful for his presence. “And I couldn't have done it without you, Soap.”

He gives you a half-smile, “Nah, you give me way too much credit. I’ve done nothing. It’s all you, yer majesty. All you.”

You smile, shaking your head. You can see where he’s coming from. 

Soap’s eyes meet yours, a glint of sincerity reflecting in them. “But I appreciate the sentiment. It's been a tough road. Yer strong, resilient, and caring. The people see that, and they believe in you.”

You lean against the balcony, the night air carrying some unexplained tension. “It’s not over yet, Soap. The war has really affected everyone, and even if we’re turning the tide, there’s still a long way to go.”

Soap nods, understanding your hesitancy. “Aye, there is. But ye’ve already set the wheels in motion for a better future. The relief efforts, everything you’ve been doing, it’s all making a difference, ‘specially in the long run.”

As you both stand in silence, a gentle breeze rustles the leaves, and the distant sounds of the horses in the stables break through to you. Soap breaks the silence, his voice low but determined. “I just also wanted to say, yer doing Simon proud. I can see it in everything ye do. And when he comes back, he’ll find you in your prime, and Kastron stronger than ever.”

A bittersweet smile tugs at the corners of your lips. “Thank you, Soap. I just wish he were here to see it for himself.”

Soap places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “He’ll be back. And when he does, Kastron will be upright. Ye’ve kept the flame burning, y’know.”

The war is not over, but the worst seems to have passed.

Or so you thought. 

- - - - -

(masterlist)

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 1

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

Destiny, unrealizable dreams, incurable disease, war, poverty…

It just goes on.

This world’s a bargain sale of despair.

And it’s called “despair” because you can’t do anything about it.

However, that’s not something I’ll allow.

If you can’t overcome despair— then what’s the point of me, of us humans, being born?

That’s why these days, I live my life flipping it off.

--

It’s been a week since I started my “sinful life” as a Fairytale Keeper.

It wouldn’t be long before I could go back to my former life after keeping this secret—at least that’s what I thought.

--

Darius: While I didn’t expect there to be a get-together soon after our arrival to England, I’m happy.

That night, a dinner party he called a get-together was held…

Between “Crown”, an organization directly under the command of Her Majesty Queen Victoria, and “Vogel”, an organization directly under the command of Germany.

All members were together in one place.

Vogel had just arrived from Germany a few hours ago.

~~ Flashback ~~

Victor: Vogel is a research organization that’s dedicated to the societal contribution of the Cursed Ones. They will be staying in the palace for a few months as goodwill ambassadors.

Darius: Our motto is “the betterment of society through the Cursed Ones”

~~ End flashback ~~

(They looked friendly, not people you should be wary of)

However, there’s something that’s been bothering me for a while now.

Harrison, whose power allowed him to see through lies, said “they’re lying”— 

(So long as we don’t truly know them, we shouldn’t let our guard down yet)

Darius, who I believe is the chief of “Vogel” was sitting next to William and enjoying his conversation with him.

(For now I think it’s better for me to lie low and stay quiet)

On the table was a spread of dishes that Victor had put his all into preparing.

(Even though it all looks so delicious…I’m too nervous to eat)

Nica: What’s this? Robin, you haven’t touched your food. Then I’ll take this cherry.

Ring: Nica, you’ll get a stomach ache if you take a stranger’s food.

Nica: What’s with the serious warning, little brother? It’s just an excuse to make an appeal to be friends. Ring, you’re really out of touch.

Ring: …I’m ignorant.

The twins looked similar, with the same hair and eye color.

Kate: Nica and Ring…right?

Nica: Yep, you remembered our names? We remember yours too, Kate. Even though we just met, I think we’ll get along? Hey, show us around the palace. Let’s get out of here.

He slipped his arm around my waist with a practiced gesture and whispered in my ear.

(Wha…)

The moment I stood my guard, I felt someone tug my arm from the opposite side.

Roger: Sorry to interrupt, but Kate’s got a prior engagement with me.

Kate: Roger!

Roger: The queen’s aide’s great at showing people around the palace. He’ll be delighted. Victor, would you mind showing our guests from Vogel around?

Victor: Yes, of course! I will show you around every nook and cranny.

Nica: (¬_¬)…

Nica narrowed his eyes at Victor and then smiled.

Nica: Vielen Dank (Many thanks)

William: While I’d rather not, it’s time to call it a night.

Darius: You’re right, Lord Rex. We of Vogel would like to get along with Crown like a family. Should you ever be in trouble, we’d be delighted for you to turn to us for help, okay?

--

—In a room in Crown’s castle.

In a luxurious room prepared for Vogel, Darius sat comfortably in his chair and smiled.

Darius: What did you think of our get-together with Crown?

Nica: Amazing. I tried to lure the lrobin, but the hunter got in the way.

Darius: Hunter? Ah, you mean the “double-crossing hunter” Roger Barel. Hehe, wanting to snatch the robin* from them is quite reckless.

Ring: …About Roger Barel and that girl…are they together?

Nica: They’re not. But there’s no doubt that Crown cares for the robin a lot.

Darius: Gathering information is our main goal. It’ll be valuable material for eventually realizing our ambitions. Ring, Nica. Continue to gather any useful information on Crown and Robin.

Nica and Ring: Verstanden/…Understood

Darius: …Roger Barel. A former doctor with a strange fixation of “Cursed Ones”. Does he have a place in our “family”?

--

As the get-together came to a close, people started filing out of the room one after the other.

Before I knew it, even Roger disappeared…—

(H-huh?)

I ran out into the hall and saw his solid back.

Kate: Um, what was that prior engagement you mentioned, Roger…?

When I called out to him, he looked back at me in the empty hallway.

Roger: Did I make a mistake thinking you were in trouble?

You did that to help me? +4 +4

I was in a lot of trouble. +4 +4

You weren’t mistaken. +4 +4

Kate: You didn’t. Thank you.

Roger: You looked like a lost dog so I thought I did you an uncharacteristic favor.

(Dog? …No, I didn’t hear that right)

When I thanked him again, I saw a hint of scheming on his face.

Roger: By the way, I didn’t say I did it for free, did I? You’re gonna have to pay me back for saving you.

(Eh?)

Roger: I was thinking about going out drinking with Ellis and Jude. Join us.

Kate: Huh, now? Woah…Wait, Roger!

--

Roger: Phew~That hit the spot. The first drop of beer’s blood, you know.

Ellis: Heh, that’s what you always say.

Jude: Can’t believe he’s a doctor. Well he’s a quack.

(Before I knew it, I ended up getting dragged to a bar)

(It’s something I’ve noticed, but Roger can be a little…no, very pushy.)

Furthermore, it’s a wonder how Jude, who looked like the type to refuse an invitation, was sitting here with a sour look. 

Red-headed waiter: Here you are. Fish and chips, bramboraky(?)**, and…

Jude: Just how much did ya order? Ya ate a lot at the get-together.

Roger: I never have my fill when picking at those small fancy food.

Ellis: Are you full, Jude? I can still eat.

Jude: You’re still a growin’ kid.

The trio act like close friends…

Kate: Heh, hehe…

I couldn’t help but laugh and Roger squinted at me with a beer in hand.

Roger: The heck, so you can laugh like that after all.

Kate: Huh?

Roger: You know you haven’t laughed since you became Fairytale Keeper?

(What…what? But he’s right, this whole week, I haven’t…)

Roger: You don’t eat much and when you do, it’s like you’re chewing sand. Maybe you did…Or I should say, maybe you didn’t notice yourself?

(Tasked to keep a secret for a whole month as a Fairytale Keeper, and to record the evils before my eyes)

(Not to mention…Vogel’s sudden visit)

Desperate to just push through it all, I gradually neglected the things needed to live, like eating and laughing.

I was like a plant slowly wilting away.

Roger: I know you got a lot of things on your mind that make you anxious. But it’s times like these where you gotta work on yourself. Eat, sleep, play, laugh, recharge your energy. Otherwise you’ll easily get swallowed up by despair in this darkness, lil’ lady.

Kate: …

Roger’s words pierced my heart.

(He’s right…What was I so weak for?)

I could struggle all I wanted, but the anxiety would never leave until I’m safely out of this darkness.

I know that…but.

(The only one who can truly protect me, is me)

(I absolutely cannot give in)

Kate: …You’re right. There’s no time for weakness or despair. Thank you Roger. Now then, time to dig in!

As if to get over it…I stuck my fork into the steaming meat before me and brought it to my mouth.

Kate: Mm…delicious.

(...Somehow, it felt like I was properly enjoying food for the first time in a while)

(It’s so good to be alive and have delicious food)

Roger: …

Jude: Oi, who do ya think you are takin’ the first bite.

Kate: Ah, sorry! I got ahead of myself.

Ellis: Don’t worry about it Kate. Here, try these chips with rock salt.

Kate: Wow, this is really good! It pairs well with alcohol.

Roger: Oh, you drink pretty well. Barkeep! Two more beers.

Barkeep: Gotcha. Two large beers comin’ right up.

The golden beer and the food were delicious, and laughter reached my ears.

(...Ah, this is fun. I feel like I’m finally able to breathe)

(He pretty much dragged me here, but I’m glad I accepted Roger’s invitation)

I didn’t know how much of Roger’s actions were calculated and how much was in good faith.

But it’s a fact that his pushiness saved me.

(Roger really does have a lot of common sense and is like a mature older brother)

With those simple thoughts in mind, I continued on drinking and drinking…

--

—I woke up in a soft bed.

(Huh…last night I was drinking at the bar, and)

While in my drowsy and lethargic state, I groped around for a warm cloth when—

Kate: Hm…? …??

(...I’m naked?!)

I quickly wrapped myself up in a blanket with only my face peeking out.

…And noticed something familiar laying by my pillow.

(...Glasses?)

The black-rim and intellectual-looking frame was definitely memorable.

(These glasses…)

The moment I nervously picked them up, the bed squeaked— 

Roger: Hey now, those glasses aren’t a toy…Come on, give it here.

When the glasses were snatched out of my hand, I looked up to see a half-dressed Roger hovering over me.

Kate: …W-why are you here…

When I looked at him, he smiled as if to tell me the question was pointless now.

Roger: You passed out drunk so I had to carry you back. And after dropping you off, you wouldn’t let me go.

Whether it was true or not, the way he said it made it sound like I was pleading for him and my cheeks warmed.

(I-I held Roger back?)

(And…moreover)

My eyes took in his muscular chest and abs that were freely on display.

(T-too much stimulation…)

(I don’t know where to look)

Not just his bare chest.

Muscular arms peeking out from his shirt, broad shoulders that connected to a thick neck, and a lean waist.

(But, he was like beautiful sculpture)

My eyes unconsciously traced the supple skin.

His muscular body disguised his intelligent features and that gap alone was enough to make me dizzy.

Roger: …It’s not bad being ogled like this.

Kate: Eh?!

Roger gave me the wickedest of grins.

I’d been unconsciously staring at his body and my cheeks burned in embarrassment.

Kate: S-sorry…

Roger: Don’t worry about it. You’re a lot cuter than you were yesterday.

Kate: Did I…end up doing something yesterday?

Roger: “Something”.

Roger lowered himself and whispered to me.

Roger: …Yeah, last night was pretty hot, wasn’t it lil’ lady?

(N-no way…Me and Roger?)

-

*Darius says red riding hood but the subtitle says robin

**Send help. I have no idea what the heck バンブリーキ is. Perhaps bramboraky according to @/hoerayner

[lolitakirstein]

Sore

A/N: Quick little thing I wrote that'll have a part 2. C/W: Nothing yet, suggestiveness and bad grammar as usual. Synopsis: You're sore from working out and gym owner Toji offers some additional services.

I roll my shoulders, feeling the persistent ache flare up. Going to the gym was great and all, but the constant muscle pain was becoming a problem. I decided to join to strengthen my body and relieve stress. But I’d be lying if I wasn’t easily hooked into coming by the gym's owner, Toji. 

Aside from signing up with him and seeing him around the weight room and casual hellos, I haven’t had anything other than casual conversations. But damn is he fun to look at—tall, buff, brooding. I can’t say I don’t push my ass out more when I see he’s in the gym.

But today I didn’t have the strength to hoochie-up, my neck, back, and hips were all so tense. I head to the mats at the corner of the gym in hopes of stretching out these knots.I use the foam roller and massage my back, wincing at the pain. It gets so intense that I have to close my eyes to focus on my breathing. 

In, out, relax, in, out, re-

“Sore?”

The gruff voice snaps me out of my moment. I look up, seeing Toji sauntering by, carrying a 30-pound weight to re-rack in one hand like it was a baby bird. 

I sit up, slowly and watch as he organizes the free weights. “Yeah a little bit, but…” I wince as I try to stretch forward across my outstretched legs, “I don’t know… it's not just muscle soreness. I think I’m sleeping wrong.”

He grunts. “Ever had an adjustment…seen a chiro?”

“No, I’m too scared they’ll snap my neck.” 

He booms a laugh, throwing his head back. His strong neck on display. “Takes a lot more than a little twist to snap a neck, dear.”

“And how would you know,” i tease. 

“I don’t just own a gym, hon. I actually studied the body and all its intricacies. Gotta know the body before you can be training people you know. Got my massage and physical therapy certificate before I said fuck it and decided to open this place” He says proudly. 

“Awh, so you aren’t just a meathead?” I coo.

“Psh, far from it,” he says with a smile. “But you know, if you ever want me to look at ya, check out you muscles and alignment, let me know ok?

Check me out? Look at me? My mouth dries at the thought of being in such an intimate setting with Toji. Me, laying there, him over top of me, his hands rubbing the sore spots on my body…—

“Up to you,” He throws his hands up defensively, “Sorry, I know that’s kinda a weird thing to ask a lady.”

I laugh, “No, sorry. Yeah, I’d like that.”

He nods, but I clock the way his jaw ticks and he quickly glances up and down my frame as I stand. 

“Well, I’m getting ready to lock up for the night. If you’re through here, I’ll walk you out to your car.”

After packing my gym bag while Toji finishes up closing, we exit the gym together. Toji walked in front of me, and he was quite an intimidating character in the dark. I’d rather be escorted by him than confronted by him. 

“Thanks,” I say when we get to my car and unlock it. 

“No problem,” he opens the door for me, “Offer still stands if you ever want a little TLC on them muscles.”

“Ok, I will.”

“I’ll be gentle” He leans forward, a smug look on his face, “But we can work up to some more intense work.”

[sophie-hatter-jenkins]

New Writing!

Ginny Weasley character study written for @ladiesofhpfest Character Chic. I'm really pleased with this one!

Body positivity is a social movement that promotes a positive view of all bodies, regardless of size, shape, skin tone, gender, and physical abilities. Proponents focus on the appreciation of the functionality and health of the human body instead of its physiological appearance. Eight lessons that Ginny Weasley learns about her body, and her changing relationship with it, throughout her life.

HUGE thanks go to two wonderful writers for their help:

Firstly @fizzyginfizz who beta read this for me and was so supportive and had so many brilliant suggestions, really building my confidence in this piece - thank you for everything!

Secondly, to @whinlatter, who has written several fantastic Ginny metas that I found super helpful when I was thinking through how to approach this piece.

They both have fabulous Ginny-POV WIPs, (Quidditch is for Losers and Beasts respectively), which you should go and read NOW if you haven’t done so already!

Rated M for language, mature themes and discussion/depiction of sex

9k words

Snippet below the cut

The Weasley family, as was apparent to anyone who cared to notice, came in two very different varieties

Some of them were really-Weasleys, like their Dad - tall, lanky, all hands and feet. Bill was a really-Weasley, as were Percy and Ron. The others were really-Prewetts, like their Mum. Charlie and the twins were really-Prewetts. Really-Prewetts were shorter and stockier, and just generally much more compact, as though the same amount of person was somehow compressed into a much smaller body.

Ginny didn’t really give much thought to the distinction between really-Weasleys and really-Prewetts when she was a child. Obviously she knew that some of her brothers were tall and thin, and some of them were… not. Equally obviously, she knew that her Mum was also… not. So yes, she knew - of course she knew. It’s just that she never really considered it in relation to her . Though to be fair, Ginny was very much on the small side, even before it became clear which side of the family she would take after, so perhaps the signs were there had she cared to notice.

Eleven year old Ginny was, quite frankly, absolutely tiny, just a little dot of a thing really. She felt so small and so intimidated as she huddled in the corner of her train carriage on her way to school for the very first time. Ron had promised to look after her on the journey, but he wasn’t there, and neither was Harry (lovely, lovely Harry), and Ginny didn’t know why. Instead, she made herself even smaller (which wasn’t hard, cocooned as she was in her hand-me-down robes, so large she could have used them as a tent), hoping that no one would notice her as she scribbled messages in her diary to her new friend Tom. She told him how tiny she felt, lonely and afraid and scared by this new world around her. Everyone else seemed so big and so confident, swishing their wands with abandon. Ginny already felt anything but; overlooked and overwhelmed, shrinking further by the second. 

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