#if I get even a few responses on this it’ll be a miracle

[lilac-fairygirl]

Finally got polls, and I’m a barista, so here ya go

[bitchlessdino]

repeat rebound (m) Ch.5 : repeating phone calls

Chapter list

Pairing: Fem!reader x fwb!soonyoung

Genre: Crack, smut, fluff

word count: 3.4k

tags: mention of kids, grocery shopping, domestic vibes, mention of alcohol, dilf!wonwoo, neaighbor!wonwoo, pet names (good girl, baby), heavy dirty talk, phone sex, video call sex, switch!soonyoung, mutual masturbation, dacryphilia, suggestive wonwoo content

Summary: The best way to get over someone is to get under someone. Again and again and again.

author note: hi, she's back.

tag list @nikkell @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @i-dont-give-a-fok @darthlunaa @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan

“So you have a daughter? And you and her mom are divorced?”

Yep, you definitely jumped a few chapters here.

Wonwoo nods back at you with a solemn gaze. “I’m guessing that’s why I was alone that night.”

“I’m sorry, but…you could understand where I was coming from.”

“I do, but I didn’t figure it out until I saw that the picture was knocked over on my table,” he chuckles to himself.

Wonwoo invites you over to his ex’s place later that day, knowing he couldn’t be far from Winnie. He offers you tea, which you gladly accept, and waits as Wonwoo tucks his daughter in for you both to discuss the recent events privately. You sit on the couch, a healthy distance away from him, and politely sip your tea. 

“I told myself if I ever saw you again, I’d explain myself because only god knows how guilty you must’ve felt. And there you were, mere feet away from me.”

You feel your cheeks heat up in the process of his words, like dangling your body above an erupting volcano. “Crazy how small the world is.”

“It’s probably weird but…”

“But what?”

He shakes his head, not completing himself. “It’s probably best it didn’t happen, seeing as we’re gonna be neighbors for a bit.” He put out an open hand. “Hope you welcome me with open arms neighbor.”

You accept his handshake with a warm smile. “Welcome neighbor.”

You wonder all night whether the rest of his sentence is what you think it’d be. 

It’s probably weird, but I wish you would’ve let me explain. Or, It’s probably weird, but I think about how that night almost went all the time. Or even, It’s probably weird, but I wish I could’ve fucked you that night like you deserve.

You‘re curious about which one is the closest to him. Either way, you knew if things went the way they should’ve, you’d be screaming his name from all hours of the day.

Of course, that didn’t matter now. Its best things were left the way they are. No matter how hot of a DILF he is.

To distract yourself, you attempt contact with Jeonghan again, only receiving dial tones in response. You think to yourself if sleeping together, even if it was meaningless, was worth taking a risk on. You stop after the tenth attempt and go back to budget keeping. 

What Mingyu paid you would pull you over for a bit but you knew eventually it’ll all run out. You don’t want to think about what happens once it does.

And like a miracle, your phone goes off, Jeonghan’s contact name popping up on screen: demon man. “Took you long enough.”

“Why? Miss me already?”

He hasn’t called you back in so long and he thinks it’s time to joke? “I was worried sick. Excuse me if my best friend goes awol and—what’s that?”

“What’s—mm—what?”

“Sorry, am I interrupting something?”

“You could’ve called at a better time but what is it? I’m all ears.”

“No, no. Sounds like you’re actually busy, so call me back when you’re not. Thanks.”

You hang up on him, trying to decipher what you heard on your own. If you knew any better, it sounded like he was around other people, machinery, and something else you couldn’t put your finger on. Whatever it was, he’d eventually explain. And you weren’t one to pry, especially if it’s what you were thinking it was and that he lied to you. Again.

Wrong distraction. You can do better.

“How’s work?”

You can hear Soonyoung smile through the phone. “The bride luckily is no bridezilla. All I can ask for…what are you wearing?”

You roll your eyes, grinning from ear to ear, “Shut up.”

“Come on, I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” You can practically hear the corner of his lips turn up in a sinister Cheshire smile.

“You’re literally at work.”

“Yeah and everyone else is basically out with their clients. I’m in my office dealing with my own shit. Entertain me a little. Pretty please…”

“Fine,” you glance down at your cozy attire as if you’ve forgotten, before picking up the conversation, “ A My Melody t-shirt and short set.”

“Hot.”

“You’re so annoying.” You scoff.

“Take pics for me.”

You get up from bed and walk to the mirror, capturing a quick picture before sending it. The man audibly coos from the other end, indicating its arrival. “You look adorable, aw. Wish I could rip that off of you and bend you over my lap.”

Your eyes shoot open.“Soonyoung!”

“Relax. No one’s even around. If it bothers you that much I’ll—“You hear him get up from a desk, “continue this in the bathroom. The single stall kind. Better?”

You hear a heavy door shut in the background and a loud click of lock follows. You sigh, feeling a bit of relief. “Yes. Actually.”

“Good, because maybe you’ll like what I see.” There’s a slight rustling before your text tone goes off, seeing him done up in business casual attire. In your humble opinion, he’s the one that looks hot. His shirt buttoned only two-thirds of the way, reveals a delectable amount of skin. Perfect for biting, nibbling, marking. Your mind is haywire thinking of his perfect dainty little nipples, nicely shaped to suck on. Fuck did it suck to have mismatching lives right now.

“Now you look good enough to eat.”

“Yeah, wish you could be with me right now? Thinking about how long I can fuck you in here before we get caught?”

“Mmh,” your hand naturally falls on top of your clothed heat, rubbing the silk between your already moist folds, “I love how you get me.”

“Yeah? Whip out Facetime for me then.” 

You switch out into the camera, showing off your reflection in the mirror. Your legs dangle off the bed as you try posing seductively as you can. Soonyoung appears on screen soon enough, air pods in his ears and hard cock poking out of his slacks, appearing before his office’s bathroom stall mirror. He presses his lips together, a low growl taking residence in the column of his throat. “Mmh, spread your legs for me like a good girl.”

You do as he commands, and you prop your legs up on the edge of the bed. Teasingly, you allow your legs to part to reveal the wet stain on your silk shorts, which only went your arousal thick and abundant enough to soak through. “Look at you, wet smack in the middle where your pretty pussy is. I’d kill to eat your pretty fucking cunt right now.”

You ran two fingers up your clothed pussy. “It misses you, thinking about your fat cock splitting me open—Mmh—I could cum just thinking about it.”

“Patience, baby, you can hold it for me.” He unbuttons the top of his pants, the zipper moving down achingly slowly before he palms himself over his underwear. “Just relax…take it off.”

Your pussy glistens from the room lighting and reflects back in the mirror the moment it comes off. Your fingers gingerly reach over–making sure the view is aesthetic and clear–your arousal gushing around your digits. Soonyoung’s adam’s apple bobs, and a low grunt escapes from his lips. “So fucking cute…So needy and perfect. I wish I could be your fingers now, touching your skin, kissing your face, cock inside you so deep you swear you’re seeing stars.”

You bite your bottom lip, fingers easing over your slit before plunging them inside you at the pace you imagine he would. You conjure the ghost of his breath on your skin, the graze of his teeth biting at the side of your neck, and his cock curling helplessly inside you as he rams you into the next century. “Mmh, Soonyoung…”

“…you look so…sexy right now…”

He finally pulls out his cock, rubbing up his length, steadying his gaze on you. His voice drops in a low rasp, echoing praises. “Keep doing that baby…I’m gonna make you cum…Such good girl–mmh–doing everything I ask. You could eat me up? I could eat you up, and you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You nod lazily, only moaning in agreement.

“You sound pretty baby, but I wanna hear you talk…talk to me, talk to me while I fuck you, baby.”

“So…hard, Soon-nyoung.” You buck your hips up. “But I wish you were here…your cock looks so pretty…want to put you in my mouth…”

“Mmmh, wanna suck on my cock? You ask too, too much, baby…” he draws out something in his mouth, swishing something inside, before spitting on his cock. His smile runs wide like a jester, but his eyes dipped in a haze as if under the influence of psychedelics. “But it wants you too…your pretty mouth was made for my cock, baby. Can’t help but imagine how you look with your lips wrapped around me…can’t stand not having you keep it warm right now…”

The slick sound of Soonyoung getting himself off drives you more insane with every passing minute, whimpering leaving your lips replaying the image of his salvia splattering over his shaft. “Soon, that was so hot, what the fuck?”

“It’s funny. When you cuss at me like that, you still sound like an Angel…my perfect little Angel…made for taking my cock…you’d take my cock so well right now…”

You throw your head back, knuckles deep inside you. You choke up on your words, desperation “Oh fuck…you don’t know what you’re doing to me, Soon. Fuck. I’m so fucking horny right now because of you…”

Soonyoung goes silent, having you only hear the sound of his breathing in its presence, until he voluntarily tension. “Are you crying, Y/n? 

“…no,” you answer on cue as tears begin to shed.

“Fuck baby, that’s so pretty.”

“Soonyoung…” You whine, practically shaking as his grip visibly wraps tighter around his cock, flicking his wrist faster.

“Push deeper more fingers, cry for me, Angel.” His voice is so sweet and tender, you could just melt. You comply immediately, filling yourself with three digits as you fall back in bed, scooting up on the bed frame and turning the camera around to make sure Soonyoung still gets his show.

“Feel so good, baby, such a mess all for me… I could...I could…” he whimpers desperately, fucking his hand until his voice echoed back to his ears through the listening devices, “I might cum, Angel…help me out here.”

“Soonyoung…you sound so good…”

He winces. “Not like that baby, hold me ba—“

“Moan for me more, baby boy…”

“Y/n…” He ebbs out his whine stricken, feeling the tension in his thighs.

“You sound so pretty,” you encourage, “ is that how you normally sound while I choke on your cock? I don’t think so… more for me…beg me…” 

“Baby…mmmh, I want to cum in your pussy so badly…please…”

Soonyoung made sex more enjoyable than most, he wasn’t afraid to go weak when you ask. Damn, did you love to hear him whimper.

“My pretty little dildo is talking back at me so much today. Whimper for me, toy. Your turn to cry.” His cheeks matched his ears, red as a summer sunset. Perspiration beads on his forehead as he clenched his thighs. His voice comes out in bursts of anguish, tears giving him glassy vision. “Yn…”

“Faster, fuck your cock faster…I want to see you cum all over your pretty finger…you want me to fuck you? Hmm…want me to fuck your pretty cock?”

“Oh…fuck me, fuck yeah, fuck me, Y/n…use me…shit!” He cums hard spilling like a sprinkler on the bathroom floor, “Fuck—fuck…”

His eyes were tired but caught you rubbing your clit, your voice buzzing in his ears. “Mmh, Soonyoung…”

Your voice stretches out into squeaks until you’re cumming like he did. You drench your sheets, staining them and your inner thighs with your cum, and look back at him with half-open eyes. “That was really fun.”

“We should do it again, just in person next time. And soon.”

You nod back into the camera, giving a curt kiss to the camera before signing off and cleaning up the mess you’ve made. That session alone took too much out of you and find yourself asleep shortly after, not waking up until it’s close to dinner time and that’s when you hear a knock on your door.

On the other side was Wonwoo, looking back at you with a soft spectacled gaze. “Hey. Winnie and I were wondering if you wanted to catch dinner with us?”

“You’re going out?” At the thought of food, a soft rumble only you’re aware of plays in your stomach, indicating your famished state. 

“Actually staying in, was planning to hit the grocery store but I’m not really sure where it is. Thought I’d ask you.”

You know damn well that he could just pull up Google Maps and find it himself. No problem. But the fact that he thought to ask you and invite you over to dinner as well turns out butterflies in your stomach and you can’t help but accept.

“Just let me go get changed and I’ll be at your door.”

You guide them both to the supermarket around the corner, Winnie in between you with your fingers laced through her tiny ones. She insists she’s too big for the child’s cart and she’s satisfied on the ground, politely following. You realize how much she resembles her dad, replicating his grin that can’t help but smile back at. “She’s adorable,” you say as she runs off to get a snack she was just stomping her feet excitedly over a few seconds ago. “Don’t tell that too her, she’ll never stop visiting you,” her father grins.

You look back at the tall man to lightly nudge him, “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“She’s all cute and polite right now, but you should see how she is after a week of knowing you. You should hear all the stories of the little prank. She pulls on Junhui, her mom’s husband.”

“And who does she learn that from,” you question with curious eyes.

He raises his hand, pearly whites on full display, “Guilty.”

“Daddy! Daddy! It’s buy one get two! Can we please get them?”

A toddler that understands the value of store sales. You could appreciate that.

Wonwoo bends down to her level. “You know you can finish that all. It can ruin your dinner to have too many snacks.”

“We can give them to Y/n!” She turns to you with wide puppy eyes. “Don’t you want them y/n?”

Well, how can you say no to that?

“Yeah, I don’t mind taking one.”

She jumps in that familiar action of pure joy and runs to hug your legs.

“She’s already close to making you her next victim. Maybe we’re already too late,” Wonwoo jokingly whispers.

Grocery shopping goes without a hitch, with only a slight bump of an unfamiliar middle-aged woman complimenting what a cute family you all made. To quote, “a beautiful couple with their beautiful daughter; what a precious sight.” You are going to correct her until Wonwoo intercepts by thanking her, zooming past her as you make the exits. You point that out, and he simply shrugs. “No harm so foul. Plus we all do look cute. Didn’t see a reason to refute.” And those words lingered all the way back to the apartments.

Images of you having a life other than your own, you see yourself, smiling while there’s a faceless masculine figure that hugs you lovingly from behind. You feel warm, cherished, and a little bit hopeful. You hadn’t thought about a life like this, since your last serious relationship and you hadn’t thought you would in, well, ever. Until now that is.

Back at Wonwoo’s place, you prepare help to prepare dinner and it is as delicious as any home-cooked dinner, especially with the presence of Winnie, who is a happy little kitchen assistant and eager dinner attendant. You share laughter and stories of Winnie’s childhood, discussing movies and hobbies, and seeing her eyes light up at the topic of giraffes. It makes you hope one day you’d have someone happy and joyous as her in your life.

Eventually, Winnie’s full stomach wins over her consciousness as she noticeably drifts off to sleep. Before Wonwoo let that happen, he helps her get ready for bed while you volunteer to take care of the dishes. When you finish up, it sounds like Wonwoo was close too, hearing him sing a sweep lullaby to lull Winnie successfully. Through the crack of the door, you see he kisses her good night before leaving. He closes the door behind him, smiling knowing that both of you’re both now finally alone. Well, as alone as you can be in his current situation.

“A drink? Like good times?” He asks already heading to the cabinet he knows his ex keeps around the alcohol.

“Funny. Last time I drank with you I thought I was making a big mistake. How can I know that wouldn’t be happening again?”

There’s something in his subtle grin that’s playfully mischievous, something you didn’t expect to see the first night you met him. “A glass of wine doesn’t hurt anyone. “

You accept the glass of wine against your better judgment and join him sitting crisscross on the couch

“It’s no 17-year-old Cabernet but barefoot is pretty good.” He chuckles.

“I’m a firm believer that cheap doesn't equal bad so you got me there.” 

“So, assuming I didn’t get a chance last time, I’d really like to get to know you. Especially now that I’ll probably see you more. Neighbor.” He raises his white wine in your direction, to which you clink, simultaneously taking a sip. “What do you want to know?” 

“Well, I only ever caught on to your name and how you smell like jasmines, so tell me something more about yourself.”

You bond over bottles and bottles over fermented grapes, smiling and laughing over the little things that come up in the topic. You hardly notice how your bodies inch closer and closer. The heat of his body radiates onto you like a furnace. You know it how he’s slowly unbuttoning his shirt, revealing flushed, taut skin. Skin you almost licked the sweat clean off if not for a silly misunderstanding. 

“You’re…seducing me.” You squint with an accusatory finger in his direction.

“Interesting choice of words.”

“You’re not denying it.”

He finishes the last of his glass before setting it aside on the coffee table. “Maybe I’m figuring you out. Maybe I’m thinking about how that night one second we’re kissing, having a good time. Next, you run away from me.”

“Wonwoo, I thought you were married,” You remind him.

He rolls his eyes, visibly buzzed and red. “You still could’ve asked me.”

“Trusting men isn’t really my best strong suit.”

He chuckles, nodding, “Fair enough.” He bravely scoots closer, smelling dangerously of his spiced cologne and bitter fruit. “So, what’s your opinion of me now?”

You muse back at him, rubbing your eyes over his body. “Closer to how I originally thought of you. Handsome, sexy, kind of perfect.”

He shakes his head, still smiling. “Oh, I am far from perfect.”

“Of course you are, but you’re good at pretending that you are anything but. Like you really are perfect.” Your hand trails over the rise of his chest, briefly catching the acceleration of his heart. His eyes drift off to your fingertips. His hand hovers over them until he claims the back of your hand. You take apart a button on his top teasingly, feeling his grip wrap tighter. “At least you look perfect.”

His fingers through your hair, brushing over your skin delicately before in a husk voice says, “…You make it really hard to not kiss you right now.”

“What’s stopping you?”

The moment he hears those words, his lips crash into yours, pulling you by the small of your back and pressing against you. His lips are sweeter than you remember, more desperate than  the first time, and his cock—pressing into your crotch when he thrusts you into his lap—feels bigger, harder than what you imagined. You bite back your moans, familiar with your setting, and Wonwoo senses it, pulling away. “W-we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“You’re right,” You sigh, slightly disappointed, “We just reacquainted ourselves, it’d be wrong given our circumst—“

“I mean, we shouldn’t do it here.” Grinning back at you, he reaches out for his phone on the coffee table, reminding you of the mobile baby monitor app he has on his phone.

“Let’s take this to your place.”

[miracles-and-butterflies]

Posting an old AU, which did later and very loosely inspire my work: Intertwining Threads of Gold.

Allow me to introduce Severed Threads AU.

As this is a really old AU (the second Encanto AU I made after Fracture), it’ll be no surprise to you that’s it’s already completed. No spoilers or withholding information here! So, with that said, I’m just gonna drop the plot below.

Story starts in 1951. (For reference, Casita’s rebuild/the return of the miracle came about at the end of 1950).

With Isabela no longer having to be the golden child, there is a huge question of who will be Alma’s successor. She is leaning towards leaving the matriarchy to her children, the triplets, when she passes but the council talk her out of this. The council want to rule themselves but do respect most people wouldn’t accept a leader outside of the Madrigals, as Pedro was the one who sacrificed himself and it’s their miracle that has made their town a paradise. So… their candidates are limited to the Madrigals.

It doesn’t take them long to settle on Mirabel, as the weakest link, and plan to rule through her.

They easily manage to convince Alma to appoint Mirabel as her successor, who agrees that Mirabel (though will need some training) would be a good candidate. After signing over the rights, she doesn’t tell any of the Madrigals, naturally wanting to wait until Mirabel is older. The only Madrigal who does know is Dolores because of her gift but she is sworn to secrecy.

Though the council did initially plan to just wait for Alma to die, they just get impatient as they realise that may be further away than they first thought because of Julieta’s healing food. They plan to murder her.

Cut to early November. Mirabel is usually away with Dolores at the Guzmáns preparing for her and Mariano’s wedding, which makes her ties with the family distant. The council decide now is the perfect time to strike because Dolores is out of the way. At a party, one of them slips poison into Alma’s glass and she quickly dies over the next few days.

Before the news of Alma’s death can spread through the entire town, the council take Mirabel to the town hall and basically announce the death of her abuela, read out the documents naming her the next town leader and officially make her the next town leader. So… Mirabel is going through a lot. Because what the f—

The death is immediately suspicious to the rest of the Madrigals, as it came out of nowhere. Only made more suspicious by them finding out, through the other townspeople, that Mirabel is now the town leader. They don’t get a moment to ever talk or even see the girl, who is incredibly busy and being pulled like a puppet on strings. The council are purposefully keeping them apart, to keep control over Mira.

Julieta and Bruno are the ones who eventually workout their mother has been poisoned - thought it should be noted that Antonio and Isabela also assisted in this discovery. The news spreads like wildfire through the town and a mob rises up, the Madrigals included, demanding answers and that the person responsible be killed.

Realising this has blown up massively, the council act quickly. They pretty much abandon Mirabel and save themselves. Mirabel is arrested and is to stand trial in the future for her alleged crimes. While under arrest, she is driven “insane” by the lawyers who try to speak with her - they are all being paid off by the council, so they are just trying to make Mirabel confess to being guilty anyway they can.

The council unanimously agree to stand against Mirabel, fishing out any evidence they have and bringing it to court. This also includes the manipulation of Dolores, who agrees to say what they need her to. As she is made to believe that by Mirabel being guilty, she can be saved because of her age.

The trial runs over a couple of days. Mirabel finds out that Dolores is to stand in trial on the last day and plans to an escape (into the prisons garden) to be able to plead with her cousin as she head to court. Which, to her credit, does work. Only Dolores is pulled away and Mirabel never gets any sign that her cousin thinks/knows she’s innocent. Mirabel realises that she is completely screwed; she’s going to die.

Mirabel is found to be guilty and her means of death is left to be decided by the head of the council. As there is no official town leader, the rest of the council are left to make the choice. Based on something Mirabel said when they first made her town leader about Marie Antoinette, they pick beheading. Mirabel dies shortly before her seventeenth birthday.

Julieta becomes the next town leader a few weeks after. The council thought she would be the most controllable after Mirabel, which they were right on.

The family, though shaken over Alma’s death and Mirabel being a murderer, they do slowly fall back to normality and learn to move on. All saving Dolores, who is driven mad by her guilt and frequently claims that Mirabel is haunting her - she is kept in her room for the most part. Only her parents, Julieta and Camilo visit her regularly.

Luisa is also not as easily moved on. She gets pissed when Mirabel’s belongings (that she had in prison) are returned to them, mainly just books. She writes on the front page, mentions nothing about what she did or didn’t do to Abuela - just talks about the book itself.

While complaining to Isabela about it, Isabela points out that Mirabel would have been monitored and probably not allowed to write something so freely as her final words or a message of love. Which gets them both to thinking… how much control did their sister have? Both in prison and before?

They basically become detectives. There’s some breaking and entering, stealing things from the council, trying to make sense of anything Dolores has to say, and ultimately realise that Mirabel is innocent and the council are pieces of shit.

Timeline of events:

Late December 1950 - Casita is rebuilt and the magic returns

1st May 1951 - Alma signs over rights of succession to Mirabel

20th July 1951 - Dolores and Mariano are engaged

2nd September 1951 - Alma is poisoned

4th September 1951 - Alma dies and Mirabel becomes the matriarch

9th/10th September 1951 - Mirabel is arrested

4th November 1951 - first of Mirabel’s trial, she pleads her case

5th November 1951 - second day of Mirabel’s trial

6th November 1951 - final day of Mirabel’s trial, she begs Dolores for help and fails

8th November 1951 - Mirabel is sentenced

13th November 1951 - Mirabel is beheaded, Dolores is the only Madrigal in attendance

1st December 1951 - Julieta becomes the new town leader

Summer 1952 - Isabela and Luisa realise something isn’t right

[dameronscopilot]

can i get poe dameron, dry humping, voice kink and praise kink with “you know you live me” as shes stubborn to admit she likes him pretty please

Insufferable

Poe Dameron x f!reader

Word Count: 2.1k+

Rating: 18+ EXPLICIT

Content: NSFW, smut, dry humping, dirty talk, voice kink, praise kink

Summary: Avoiding Poe Dameron (and his unfailing charm) isn't quite so easy anymore when you end up stranded on an ice planet with him.

MASTERLIST || MORE KINKTOBER

Agreeing to embark on a reconnaissance mission with Poe Dameron was hardly conducive to your continued efforts to ignore him. And yet here you were—stranded for the night on a miserable ice planet, ship firmly grounded thanks to the wet, frigid winds that had sent you down for an emergency landing in the first place…with one insufferable pilot as your only company. 

From the moment you joined the Resistance, Poe had been flummoxed by the way you seamlessly brushed off his advances at every turn. It’s not that you didn’t find him attractive—entirely the opposite, actually. Just his voice was unfortunately enough to inspire many a late night fantasy, let alone his charming smile and warm, brown eyes. It was a fact you’d begrudgingly accepted early on. 

The issue was that you’d known plenty of cocky, pretty flyboys like him when you were a pilot with the New Republic, and you knew their game all too well. No goddamn thanks. You had zero interest in being just another notch in Poe’s cockpit. 

You could tell Poe was used to effortlessly charming women into his orbit, could see it in the way he employed new tactics on a daily basis in a futile attempt to win you over. But what he didn’t know was that the only thing that you were better at than flying an X-wing was being stubborn. If he thought he possibly had the wherewithal to wear you down, he had another thing coming.

This disastrous mission should have been quick and painless, bringing you back to the base in less than a day’s time. Though your heart had lurched when the assignment had popped up on your datapad alongside Poe’s name, you’d told yourself there was nothing to worry about. 

Unfortunately, as things in your life were often wont to do, that self reassurance had blown up spectacularly in your face.

Which is how you now found yourself curled into a ball in one of the bunks, shivering uncontrollably thanks to the way the raging cold of the storm outside had unforgivingly slipped in through each and every nook and cranny in the ship’s exterior. 

Poe had been fairly quiet thus far, which was a shocking turn of events given his general track record of talking your ear off whenever he was near you. Perhaps it hadn’t helped that you’d snapped at him the other day when he’d tried to offer you some help in repairing a blown thruster on your starfighter. Admittedly, your attitude had been entirely uncalled for, and you’d even gone so far as to look for him in the mess hall later that night to apologize (his response had been a mere nod before turning back to his dinner). 

His voice interrupted you from your thoughts. “It’ll be a miracle if we don’t freeze to death tonight.”

You pulled down the blanket that was covering your face to glance over at where he was standing a few feet away. “It’s a miracle we haven’t frozen to death yet, Dameron.” you groused miserably, teeth chattering. 

A rare look of uncertainty skirted across Poe’s features as he leveled you with a look of consideration before he said, “I have an idea, but you’re not gonna like it.”

You raised an eyebrow, and he gestured with his chin toward where you were currently fighting for your life to retain your body heat in the cocoon of several blankets. Heat flared in your gut at the implication. “You’re right,” you groaned. 

“About what?” 

“I don’t like it.”

Poe crossed his arms. “So you’d rather freeze than cuddle with me in a totally platonic, fighting-for-survival, probably-going-to-die-otherwise kind of way?”

Glaring at him, you rolled over onto your back to stare at the ceiling. After a beat, you groaned loudly and dramatically lifted up the edge of the blanket. 

You could hardly hear the sounds of him shirking off his jacket and dropping his blaster holster to the floor over the thunderous, erratic beating of your heart. This was not on the fucking itinerary. 

He cleared his throat. “Sorry to interrupt your internal meltdown, but can you scoot over?”

Biting back the retort dancing on the tip of your tongue, you looked down to see that you’d barely offered him a sliver of real estate on the thin mattress beside you. With a huff, you slid closer to the wall behind you.

“Thanks,” he acknowledged, before climbing in and slipping under the covers. 

Poe watched as you involuntarily placed a few extra inches of space between you, his lips twitching upward in a smirk. “I don’t bite.”

“Hm,” you replied, unable to formulate anything beyond your noncommittal response when he was this close to you. 

“The whole point of sharing body heat is to touch,” he added mildly. 

“I’m aware,” you snapped, closing the space between the two of you with more force than you’d intended. One of your ankles ended up tucked between his, and your knees knocked together. Admittedly, you could already feel the warmth radiating off of him from underneath your shared blanket. 

Your head was tucked in slightly toward his chest, partially to avoid looking at him, though you swore you could feel his eyes fixated on the top of your head, the weight of his gaze heavy in the stark silence between the two of you. 

When Poe finally spoke, there was an unfamiliar edge to it. “Why do you hate me?”

Despite the knee jerk response that you wanted to give him, that you’d normally give him on any other day, something about his tone made you hesitate. 

“I don’t…hate you,” you responded slowly.

Poe made a dismissive noise. “Then what’s your problem with me?”

You sighed, weighing your options, ultimately opting to go with the truth. Shifting to meet his eyes, you explained, “I knew plenty of guys like you back when I flew with the New Republic. You know, handsome, cocky ace pilots.”

He was quiet for a moment before he finally said, “So you think I’m handsome.”

“Don’t get sidetracked, Dameron,” You snapped. “My point is, I know your type. And the last time I smiled back at a pilot like you, he ended up breaking my heart. So I’m unfortunately no longer in the business of setting myself up for failure.”

Poe bit his lip, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. “I’m sorry.”

Something inside of you warmed involuntarily at the softness of his tone. “For what?”

“That someone treated you like that. You deserve better.”

You wondered if he could hear how loudly your heart was clanging around in your chest. “I’m sorry that I let him.”

Poe considered you for a moment, and he looked almost sheepish when he finally spoke again. “I hope you know I’m not just interested in you because you know your way around an X-wing.”

You snorted. “Heard that line before, Dameron.”

He carried on as if you hadn’t spoken. “I’m crazy about you because you’re brilliant. You don’t hesitate to put your entire heart and soul into this fight against the First Order. And you’re one of the bravest soldiers in the Resistance.”

Crazy about you?

Oh. 

He continued, and a warmth that had nothing to do with the temperature in the room or under the covers spread through your limbs, “I mean, I’m not gonna lie. It’s also very hard for me to ignore the fact that the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met can fly circles around my entire squadron. But I digress.”

You were suddenly having a hard time remembering exactly why you’d insisted on putting so much goddamn distance between you and the man currently staring at you like you were the brightest star in the galaxy.

“Poe?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry for pushing you away,” you lamented, trying to keep your voice steady as you scooted a hair closer to him.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, gently pressing a kiss to the top of your head and resting a hand on top of yours.

As your exhaustion from the stress of the day finally caught up to you, sleep soon took over. And if you were conscious, you’d be quite embarrassed to discover that there was no escaping your secret late night fantasies about Poe Dameron, not even when he was unknowingly fast asleep beside you. But instead, when you found yourself laying underneath of him in a dream, you didn’t hesitate to crane your neck upward, pressing your lips to his.

Poe kissed you back with fervor, one hand cupping the back of your head as he dipped his tongue into your mouth. In your dreams, the rhythm of his tongue sliding against yours as he devoured your mouth was a familiar dance. He bit your lip, and you mewled, drawing a chuckle out of him as he ran his nose along your cheek, his stubble brushing against your chin. 

As the kiss grew deeper and hungrier, Poe’s hand slid down to grip at your waist, his thumb tucking into the hem of your pants. You arched upward into him, eager for more friction, which he playfully denied you of. Whining in frustration, you slipped a hand between your bodies and cupped him between his legs, feeling how hard he already was for you. The smile on his face fell as he moaned, pushing his cock against your palm, and you smirked before flipping him over and straddling him. 

You leaned down, kissing him sweetly on the mouth as you began to grind down on him, both of you groaning in unison at the pleasurable feeling of his thick shaft pressing against your hot core.

“Fuck.”

Your eyes shot open at the sound of Poe’s husky voice in your ear, and you froze as a cold, numbing feeling of mortification washed over you. You realized that you had indeed rolled over on top of him in your sleep, and based on the dampness between your legs and the throbbing of his length between you, you hadn’t just been laying there. 

“I—” you choked out, mind unable to come up with any sort of a reasonable explanation as to why you were currently dry humping him.

“Don’t stop,” Poe breathed out, his voice rougher than usual.

You weren’t sure you had heard him correctly. “What?”

“Unless you want to stop,” he clarified.

You’d deal with the rational part of your mind later. Right now, you were far too distracted by the feeling of him pressed against you. You pushed your hips flush to his, and he moaned. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, and you did it again, your juices soaking through your pants entirely as you ran your cunt along the length of Poe’s cock.

“Were you dreaming about me?” he asked.

Fuck it. 

“Yeah, I was.”

Poe groaned again, his hands curling around your hips as you dropped your head down against his collarbone. “You look so fucking beautiful rubbing yourself all over my cock. Think I’m gonna come just like this.”

His breath was hot against your ear, and the cadence of his voice sent a fresh gush of arousal leaking out of your folds. Your breath hitched. 

“Keep going,” he whispered.

You pressed down against him again, the ache between your thighs growing more demanding, and one of your hands ended up threaded in Poe’s curls.

“Good girl.”

As the praise fell from his lips, your empty cunt clenched down on nothing, and your legs trembled. Poe noticed, and he cupped the side of your face, looking into your eyes.

Licking his lips, he added, “You’re so wet for me, I can feel it soaking through your pants. Bet you’d take me so fucking well, stuffed in that pretty little pussy.”

Your heart raced, your cunt throbbing as you began to desperately press down against him, chasing your rapidly approaching climax. He met your thrusts in time, and you keened at the feeling of his callused fingers skimming the place where your shirt had ridden up, exposing your stomach. 

Poe’s mouth hovered a breath away from yours, and he spoke his next words against your lips. “Come for me.”

The livewire of tension coiled in your gut snapped, your orgasm flooding through you in a wave of white hot pleasure. Poe’s hips began to stutter as he rode out his climax moments later, spilling ropes of cum inside of his pants. You collapsed on top of him, both of you panting heavily.

“Does this mean you’ll stop avoiding me like the plague now?” he eventually asked, once you’d both caught your breath.  

You grinned against his chest. “I can’t make any promises.”

He scoffed and nipped at your ear. “You know you love me.”

“You’re insufferable, Poe Dameron,” you sighed, lifting your head up slightly and wrapping one of his curls around your finger before pressing a kiss to his lips. 

Read the time skip sequel - INSATIABLE

—

Comments, reblogs, and/or asks are always appreciated!

» POE DAMERON MASTERLIST » OSCAR ISAAC MASTERLIST

[gay-dorito-dust]

Idea sent by @anakinnies (idk if this is what you had in mind.)

“Jack?” You called out, watching as the man across from you took a hunched position, his breath was ragged as though he had ran a marathon. You didn’t know -nor wanted to know- what they did to him before shoving the pair of you in here, locking the door shut behind them. Whatever it was must’ve had something to do with the weird collar on his neck with a enchanted stone in the centre of it, glowing a vicious shade of vermillion. Yet it wasn’t the infamous Bloodstone that was for certain, as that object was within the possession of one Elsa Bloodstone but there was no denying that this stone held similar capabilities though not to the same extent as the Bloodstone. A lesser copy of the original you could say.

It didn’t take much comprehension to know that it was affecting Jack to a degree of discomfort. Helpless in helping him, you stood on your side of the room, racking your mind in what you could do to help your friend but only to come out even more frustrated at your lack of ideas. It was eating you alive seeing him like this but you didn’t dare cry for help for it’ll only fall on deaf ears; to them you were nothing by a monster sympathiser for aiding Jack in freeing the monster without realising that another monster lurked nearby in human skin. You didn’t resent Jack for withholding that information from you as you would do the exact same if the positions were switched, yet the human in you couldn’t help but feel a little hurt.

“Jack,” you tried again but this time with more power behind your words to create a false bravado that you weren’t scared but a observant person would immediately pick up on the way you picked at your nails out of sheer nervousness, “are you alright?” You cringed at your own words. “That’s a stupid question, of course your not alright, your in pain from that weird fucking collar and I don’t know how to-“ your words were cut short when you noticed a shift in Jack’s behaviour. He kept reaching for the collar but never making it all the way when a pained groan left his lips, causing his hand to drop down on the floor, scratching at it. Yet he managed to find the strength to lift his head at you, smiling weakly when he noticed the look of concern in your eyes. He could almost laugh at the irony of the situation, he has came to free a monster but in exchange for the monsters’ freedom he took it’s place.

“It’s alright.” He tried reassuring you, hiding the pain that was edging him to transform but he found that the more he fought against it the stronger the pain the stone emitted within him gets each time. Soon enough he wouldn’t be able to put it off and loose himself to a side that wasn’t him and you’d be the first to be caught in the crossfire of his rampage. He knew he needed to act before your blood was soon to be on his hands and there was only one way to ensure that wouldn’t be the case…even if the method itself relied heavily on his ability to remember. “Just,” he winced, “just don’t freak about what I’m going to do next. If I’m allowed to be blatant, I’m not quite sure if it’ll even work.” Your immediate reaction was to run and hide but where could you possibly hide in a room that was devoid of any possible refuge that you could tuck yourself away safely in?

“What’re you planning to do exactly?” You found yourself asking against your better judgment, fearful of the response you may get in return. “I just need to memorise your scent and all you need to do for me is to is keep your eyes on mine.” Jack replied, “then by some miracle, if I’m even allowed that, I should be able to remember you when I turn.” You knew he was only trying to help defuse the internal war you were having with yourself, but going off on his words alone it seemed that this tactic was an hit or a miss of the most extreme of measures. From the sounds of it you’d be lucky enough to even come out of this with more then a few scars upon your person or even a missing limb. “How do you’ll know it work?” Jack kept his silence but soon broke it to say a few choice words that left your blood run cold. “I don’t. That’s up for him to decide.”

You allowed yourself to mull it over in your head, your eyes briefly looking away from him before locking back into him when remembering that for your slim chance of survival to be secured you must keep him within your line of sight at all times. If you knew this was how your night was going to go, you probably wouldn’t have gone but even then that wouldn’t change Jack’s fate. You were lucky enough to be born a regular human, Jack on the other hand wasn’t and he was ostracised for something he had no say nor control in changing. With no other option presentable to you in that moment you took a deep breath, “alright,” Jack’s head perked at your voice like that of a dogs that if you weren’t in a life or death situation you would’ve called it cute, “let’s give this method of yours a shot.”

Just as the words left your lips, Jack was quick to hold you tightly in his arms as he began to memorise the scent of your hair, trailing down to your neck where your thyroid and Thyroid glands were located, leaving you a little flustered from the almost intimate situation you found yourself in. His hold on you was warm, strong and protective that you could feel the fatigue from everything that has happened finally catching up to you; causing your head to droop a little before Jack pulled away enough to hold it back up so you were looking into his worried eyes. “Keep your eyes on me,” he said before going back to sniffing along your arm and back to your chest, “please.” He added softly, periodically checking to make sure that you were still maintaining eye contact with him; he moved aside the sleeves and lapels of your jacket so he could further indulge on your scent and engrave it within the crevices of his mind.

Your scent was sweet, bitter and soft all at the same time that it didn’t take long for it to quickly become apart of Jack as though it was an additional limb but he didn’t want to be easily mislead by this and furthered to ingest your scent like a starved man. He felt you place a hand on the back of his head, pushing him closer so he may get to those harder to reach places, running your fingertips through the tresses of his hair, barely brushing behind his ear, which tickled the wolf within. “Take your time.” You tell him, watching as his movements came to a temporary halt, “I trust you.” With those words in mind Jack became more determined in making sure you survive to see another night.

[chiisanakurisu]

Amagüestu

Hi y'all, it's been a while since I last shared anything of my writings, so there is a fragment of the current story I'm working on, which was submitted to @gigagendergt's Gt Autumn writing contest 😊

CW: slight mention of death, mentions of natural disasters, indirect mention of transphobia

“You know, I’ve thought about organizing a little Amagüestu party, just for the four of us.”

It was an unusually warm October evening. I was in the porch, chatting with Carmina while Tommy played with Sophie by the vegetables garden.

“Amagüestu?”

“You know, roasted chestnuts, sweet cider…”

“I know what Amagüestu is!” I replied, slightly annoyed, “It’s just…I don’t think it’s the best idea right now, Carmina”.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well…I don’t think it’s the moment to celebrate anything, the way things are. After what happened and how we have been struggling…I don’t see a reason why it would be appropriate”.

The old woman chuckled. “Fía, the only reason we need to celebrate is us. We are here, and we are together. And precisely because of the way things are we need it. Don’t you think we all have earned a bit of joy?” Carmina signalled subtly at the two kids playing a few meters away.

I glanced at them, and my heart instantly felt warmer. A chubby teenager boy, holding a child no bigger than his palm and wrestling her with his other hand ever so gently. If it weren’t for the abyssal size difference, anyone would have thought they were siblings. And truth was, Tommy had turned out to be like an older brother for littlest Sophie.

Even if I wasn’t in the mood for a party, I had to admit Carmina was right; this place and getting to be part of this makeshift family had been a true blessing. After losing my home and having to be relocated, Carmina had been the first in the village to offer me her house to stay and practically took me under her wing. A few days later I would meet Sophie, a child whose very existence was already a miracle. Despite not being more than nine centimeters tall, she managed to fill the room with her inner light. The beginnings had been a bit rough, but we quickly became fond of each other and now life without her was unthinkable. And as for Tommy… the beginnings had been rough too, and unorthodox to say the least. But he had proven to be a reliable kid who too had wanted to protect Sophie since their first meeting, and they adored each other.

A mentally ill woman from the city, a small-town old lady, a tiny little girl and a runaway trans teenager. What a group. Not bad for being in the middle of nowhere after the collapse of civilization.

 “Alright, I’m in” I replied with a smile. “I really hope there are enough chestnuts and apples to do this…I heard harvest wasn’t good this year” I added, a bit concerned.

Carmina smiled too. “Then we’ll all have canned peaches, and it will still be good.”

—

A few days later, I was picking chestnuts from a large bag with the help of Sophie, who Carmina had instructed to only get “the finest ones”. The young girl was doing her job diligently, almost yelling at me every time she would find the tiniest defect I hadn’t been able to notice. I was an endearing sight, although of course I took her orders as seriously as she deserved.

Once we were done, I set aside the basket with the selected chestnuts and allowed myself to stretch my arms.

“Will you make frixuelos for the party, Curuxa?” asked Sophie, sitting with her back against the wicker basket.

I chuckled. “Don’t you think it’ll be too much food?”

“I bet there won’t be a single one to spare, no matter how many you make!” replied the girl enthusiastically.

“Okay, okay”, I conceded, “if I have flour left after I’m done with the apple pie I’ll make some, promise.”

Sophie beamed up in response. I wasn’t exactly an expert in getting the dessert right, but I guess she just loved too much the anise flavored crepes sprinkled with sugar.

I set my hand palm up next to the girl, offering her a ride to the kitchen. “Come on. You can help me knead the dough, but only after you’ve washed your hands.”

Sophie didn’t think twice before hopping onto my hand.

—

I made my way to the porch, holding a freshly made apple pie with both hands and the basket with the chestnuts hanging from my bent arm. Sophie, as usual, was in my shirt chest pocket, peering out in excitement.

We saw Carmina and Tommy already there, a few bottles with sweet cider on the table. Carmina was setting the table while Tommy carried the grill. I smiled fondly, remembering the older woman assigning tasks and deciding Tommy would help her carrying the heavier stuff since she would need “the strength of a young man”. The boy had blushed slightly at the validating comment, and then accepted the assigned task with a smile.

Once it was all set and with the scent of roasting chestnuts filling the air, we were ready to start.

It was a delightful evening. Four people who couldn’t be more different sitting at the same table, laughing and enjoying a simple, yet delicious meal. The three humans couldn’t help glancing adoringly at the tiny girl sitting on the table by my side, totally unbothered by the giants surrounding her and happily digging into a chestnut that was bigger than her head. I was so happy that she was feeling so safe and confident around us.

“You were so right about the frixuelos, Sophie” I commented amusedly, “they didn’t last more than what, half an hour?”

“Told you so!” replied the child, and we all chuckled.

The sun had just set, and so our little party was over. There barely were leftovers, aside from some spare chestnuts. Carmina took them and solemnly threw them to the ground. “This is for the deceased to eat” she declared ceremoniously. Nor Tommy or I knew of the ritual, but we both nodded in respect. Sophie did seem to know though, as she stared longingly at the nuts on the grass covered ground. I cupped my hand around the child in a supportive gesture, and she leaned into it. No more words were needed; wherever her mom was, she would be safe and loved.

It was a good thing we had managed to find each other in these troubled times.

[tuzesdays]

15 sounds fun!

i couldn't agree more

Prompt: "you must be pretty down if me juggling your oranges doesn't even get a laugh out of you :( should I light them on fire?"

WORDCOUNT: 1274 | Domestic, Post-Fic | Spoilers for the (still being workshopped lol) end of Dayshift Go Figure

You wake up alone, without your alarm, knowing in your bones that you’ve somehow slept in. All other days this happens, you’re able to ride a wave of panic into wakefulness and get ready for the day in record (though some would call it inhumane) time – cold showers that last the five minutes it takes for the water to heat and only taking the paltry breakfast that’s shoved at you on your way out, then forgetting to eat it, much to the frustration of your housemates.

Today though, something’s different. You lay in bed trying to puzzle it out.

… What day is it? Yesterday was… ah.

It’s the anniversary.

That explains why the alarm was turned off.

You groan and hoist yourself out of bed. You’ve got some sort of itinerary today, but nothing truly starts until noon when you can go and pick up the resident child without sacrificing his education – guh, coparenting. Damn your soft heart for volunteering for that responsibility, there’s no way to feasibly take it back now.

(As if you’d ever want to; Gregory is a little terror of a child with a mean streak that reminds you of yourself. But, far from being put off by these… tendencies… most of the humans and animatronics that make up your inner circle find it either charming or insightful. Except Sun and Moon. They’re sane and you love them for it.)

(Doesn’t stop all three of you from getting attached, however.)

The day won’t wait for noon, so you drag yourself through a morning routine anyway. It’s winter, so warm clothes are your friend even if you’re only throwing on one layer for going around the house. Jeans and an undershirt. You hum at your bathroom mirror as you pass by, looking over the form that makes up you. You didn’t have mirrors in the old apartment – or, well, you did, but you barely used them for anything other than fixing your hair in the mornings – but over the last few months you’ve found yourself taking a moment in front of one.

It's odd. Every time, it’s so odd to look in a mirror and think that not only does it reflect you (asshole, murderous, grit your teeth and don’t let go you) but the reflection looks… normal. Clean, sometimes tired but never weary. You don’t meet your own eyes with distaste anymore.

After a few seconds you continue on. It’s too fucking early for digging into that feeling, you haven’t even seen your boys yet.

Into the hall, seeing all the bedroom doors open, then down the stairs. Sun’s voice drifts through the air as he hums the morning away, likely in the kitchen by the accompanying sounds of washing dishes.

You tread into his domain carefully and take a seat at the table, where your favorite mug is already waiting. “Morning.”

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” Sun keeps his voice down out of respect for your notoriously low patience this time of day, but he’s still chipper as ever. “I didn’t think we’d be seeing you for at least another thirty minutes!”

“Wonder why that is,” you say blandly, sipping at the tea in your mug. Mmm, earl gray. “My alarm didn’t go off. Should probably look it over, see if it’s glitching out.”

“Very serious, alarm glitches,” he nods understandingly, both of you fully aware that either he or Moon turned off your alarms for the day. “But it’ll have to wait until tomorrow! We’ll be very busy today.”

You set your mug down. “How are you feeling?”

Though his back is still turned to you, you can tell when his faceplate twists. “I feel like I’m washing dishes!”

“And Moon?” You ask, letting the distraction slide.

“Not washing dishes!”

“Sunny.”

He stops to turn and look at you, expression soft and off-white eyes glinting in the early morning sunlight.

(Riley is truly a miracle worker. Living legend Riley Greene.)

“We’re perfectly alright, dear,” he assures you. “Today’s a day for celebration! There’s no need to get caught on silly things like details when it’s so beautiful outside.”

There’s an unspoken, gentle reminder there: this is also the anniversary of their first foray into the outside world, after all. You’ll never be able to forget the picture they made, the first time Sun was able to truly see the sunrise through the window of a vehicle speeding down the interstate, still covered in soot and ash, eyes fixed on the horizon. You didn’t have it in you to cry for him in that moment, but you’ve taken plenty of opportunities since. It never fails to make both of them sappy.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I slept in,” you mutter, taking another sip of tea. “I don’t know. Mood’s around a five or six, I’d say.”

“Five!” He immediately turns away from his busywork to face you fully. “Five out of ten? No no, that’s far too low for how well this day is going to be. We need to get that number up to a seven, at least! What can I get you for breakfast? Pancakes? Waffles? Maybe a fruit bowl?”

“Didn’t you buy all that fruit for baking?”

“Yes, but it’s our fruit so we can decide what it contributes to,” he wags a finger at you, “and we’re perfectly alright with it being used for breakfast. So, what’ll it be?”

You make a face at him. “I’m not hungry.”

His smile stretches. “That’s not what I asked. How about we start out with some orange slices?”

“You’re an absolute tyrant.”

“You decided to come into my kitchen to visit me,” he muses, picking up an orange from the nearby bowl of fruit when you don’t object, then picking up three more and tossing them in a simple arc between his hands, juggling them effortlessly. “How’s your coordination this morning?”

“Not good enough for juggling.” You hold out a hand to catch an orange, however, and he tosses you the beginnings of breakfast without so much as a stutter in his movements. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, dear.” The arc of oranges shifts so one falls behind his head – again, easily caught by practiced hands. You arch an eyebrow at him as you peel your snack and he hums, thinking. “Not even a laugh for juggling, hm? Should I light them on fire next?”

That gets a snort out of you. Sun’s rays spin in victory, insufferably pleased with himself. You’re so fed up with this boy. “I don’t think setting off the fire alarm today is a good plan.”

“Implying you’re perfectly alright with some pyrotechnics tomorrow.” He shakes his head at you. “You, Sunbite, are my favorite menace.”

“I’m overcome with gratefulness.” Your tone may be flat, but Sun knows you well enough by now to know you never lie about your feelings toward him. So much time in denial has warded you away from stupidly wasting that time with untruths ever again.

In fact, laying it on thick has become a favorite pastime of yours ever since you realized cute petnames made them flustered.

“Poppy,” you begin, and he immediately rolls his eyes at your antics. “Sunnypop, Pumpkin, darling dearest, light of my life, half of my heart. My love. My loves,” you say, knowing double the names means double the boys getting so very fond and so very, very put up with you. “Sweetness, Sugar, Starstuff. Sunny, Moon.”

Sun turns away with a giddy smile, shaking his head before meeting your eyes again. “Yes, Sunbite?”

“You two are also my favorites,” you say primly. “Also I would like pancakes for breakfast after this.”

“Of course, love.”

[alienkidyeetwo]

Me: Alright, are you all set?

Alien: I am, and it was an amazing experience to meet you. No matter how long the universe has waited, you were a magnum opus.

Me: Thank you, I'll never forget you…

A: And so will I..

*The engine roars up as I give one final hug to No'me. The last few years felt like a gift.*

Me: Godspeed you crazy animal…

*A few hours pass*

My dad: Who the hell left this note?!

Me: Norman did, he told me to put it there.

My dad: Oh really, are you lying to me?

Me: No. I am 100% giving you the truth, now please read it. He wanted you to do it.

My dad: Oh really, like I'd listen to a guy that spied on my daughter for 3 years! You’re not afraid to talk to me, and if that guy ever comes back, I know what to do.

Me: Dad. You don’t get it, he made me feel safe with who I am. And I'm not just your daughter, I'm also your son and legal responsibility, I'm not just one thing…

My dad: You’re my daughter to me.

Me: Just read the goddamn letter. He wanted you to do it.

My dad: Ok fine, after that you're going to bed early.

Hello Mr. _________, If you are reading this, then I have left your yard to go back home. Your child was a great person to be with, and I know why. They just needed a friend throughout the grieving process for their mother and your wife, they wished for a miracle day in and day out, even when you put them through therapy. They even helped me try to impress someone I had feelings for, and I helped in return by giving them some time to vent out what is happening, even getting in a few notes from them. But, this letter is also a letter of the truth, a confession more or less. The truth is that I observed them not for a psychology major (I already passed college at the top of my class), but for my understanding of humanity and it’s barbaric tendencies. For that part, it is my highest honor as a N.O.S.A.V scout to tell you that all of my files on them will be top secret (other than the sleepy hollow incident that prompted me to write this letter), and it’ll be the highest honor for me to tell my secret. They have known this for a long time, but I am not human. I never originated here, nor was that my true appearance that I created as a disguise in order to blend in with your kind. But, if you ever tell anybody (even when drunk), you’ll be shot with a nerf gun by your child. And it’ll be a matter of time for a reassignment for one of your other family members, it is inevitable for that to happen, and you won’t be able to stop it from happening. Just make sure to take care of them like I did (and don’t misinterpret that)- Norman/No'me

My dad: You didn’t tell me this for 3 YEARS!! HE COULD'VE GOT US A NEW HOUSE FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!!

Me: I didn’t tell because he was my friend, not someone to give away for money. Besides, area 51 is a hellhole for anyone off-world I presume. I hope he’s okay up there.

*Meanwhile*

A: Sir, I'll be there in a few. It may take a while.

*A missile flies past the ship*

A: Nevermind, it may take a few days for me to return. I promise I won’t be gone for long.

BANG!

A: I promise.

*Transmission runs out*

A: Great, now I'll have to deal with this hellhole. Area 51, I shall find a way to escape…. For them.

End of part 1

Thank you for reading, see you in part 11

[night-market-if]

Paper Moons Part 5

Remember, we are thirteen parts ahead over on Patreon. Join the Courtesan tier ($10) to get the rest of the story, or the Baron tier to get access to all of the choices.

Enjoy!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |Part 4

Reaching out, I placed my hand gently on Elias’s wrist. I could see the tears in his eyes but most of all, I could see the determination.  “We could try combining our grace? I- I am unsure if that’s even something we’re capable of but if we can do that then maybe it’ll be enough to heal him.  Just until I get my full power back.”

“Do it,” Reese said, interrupting Elias. When Elias looked up at him, he shook his head. “I’m not negotiating this.”

I could see the pinched look upon Elias’s face but I didn’t think he was ever really one to argue. Instead, he gave a nod of his head, turning his body towards mine and reaching out to take the hand that held the shard of grace.  I could feel something tingle against me as Elias’s own hand lit up, a soft glow pulsing through his wrist and down to our joined fingers.  I hissed as it pierced through my palm, pulling at the celestial power that sat just below the surface.  I had used the grace a few times at this point, performing minor healing and little miracles. Gabriel was my first Fallen that I was able to help.  Faced with Elias, it was clear now that I had no idea what I was even capable of doing.

The field around us lit silver. The grace tinged with soft waves of comfort bloomed from our joined hands, wafting out over the empty meadow and towards the waterwheel of the cottage. It rose up the paddles before falling again into each proceeding bucket.  Above us, the sky burst forth with a vast and endless array of stars.

My breath caught in my throat as I looked down at the prone man in my lap. I had almost forgotten that he was there. His skin began to heat, the cracks in his skin filling in with the combined light as his chest rose in one aching crack and his body arched off of me to suspend itself in midair. Elias’s grip tightened on me, not letting me go as he focused on his son, eyes burning a bright blue silver, sweat dripping down his face and forming their own cracked lines as he took Gabriel’s away.

When Gabriel floated back down to the ground, nothing more than a feather, the light dissipated.  Elias slumped forward, finally releasing my hand while Reese grabbed him and cradled his close. And in my lap, Gabriel was whole. His eyes softly shut in peace.

~~~~~

Reese shut the door to his bedroom where Elias rested peacefully. In the other room, Gabriel was also asleep, the window the goblin had come through, boarded up.

“How you doin’, kiddo?”

I looked up from where I sat on their couch, my hands having been twisting together in discomfort.  “I’m fine.” My palm did not glow. The faint trace of grace that was normally there was flat and dull, the skin there looking puckered and burnt.  “How are they?”

Reese looked entirely like a man that wasn’t sure how he was supposed to answer such a question.  Fine, was the typical response, but we would both have known he was lying.  “Elias can’t give any more of his grace,” he said.  “He’s given too much already and he is dangerously close to tipping to madness.”

I nodded. Each Fallen had a threshold and the fact that Elias was even here at all was more of a nod to his strength than anything else. “How long have you two been together?”

“About a decade,” he said.  “Maybe more. I don’t know. My world was destroyed and I was cast out into the endless sea. Elias literally fell from the sky and wrecked the side of my raft.  We were out there for some time.”

“He’s been a Fallen for ten years?” I knew that the surprise was written in stark lines across my face but honestly, I was more amazed than anything else.  “Fallen rarely last a year alone.”

“They just don’t have the right help,” Reese said.  “Not their fault that people are fuckin’ idiots and put an expiration date on them.”

I bowed my head. “I didn’t mean any offense by it.”

“Did I say you offended me?”  The table in front of me squeaked as he sat down on it. I could hear a few bottles clinking together and a cork pop. “You drink?” I shook my head. “You’re one of those sweet souls, aren’t you.”

I frowned, not really sure what he meant.  “I try to be kind to all…”

Reese nodded. “And you do it because you like it. Not a lot of people are just nice because it's in their nature. Most people are just nice because they want something from you.  You’re refreshing, Graceling.”

“Thank you?”

He laughed. “Point and case.” Taking a long pull from the bottle in hand, bourbon if I wasn’t mistaken, he didn’t even grimace. “Alright, so you obviously are something that people are looking for. You were hella hard to find but now I’m kind of thinkin’ the goblins got your number.  So, I’m gonna take care of that.”

“How are you going to take care of that?” I asked. I couldn’t have him with me all the time.

“You like cats?”

“I- yes? They’re cute.”

“Well, you ever get into any trouble, you just tell the cats.  They’ll come get me.”

“You have cat agents?”

He grinned around the lip of his bottle. “Don’t fuckin’ tell anyone.” Standing, he moved to the kitchen. “I’m going to make food. You can decide if you want to stay here a bit. I only have the couch to offer you but I figure it’s better than going out there and dealing with whatever we just dealt with.  Also, I’ve done some investigating and your place is a shithole. You know that right? Like, it’s a fucking dump.”

It was a hole in the wall blocked together by a few stray pieces of moldy plywood. I was well aware.

“I really do not want to impose…” I said softly.

The door to the right opened and Gabriel, looking far more put together than he had before, stepped out.  “If Reese is offering you kindness, I would suggest taking it.  I hear it only happens once a year,” the man said.

Reese snorted in laughter.  “Twice. And you should be in fuckin’ bed.”

“I’ve been in bed for days and I feel better.  I would prefer to sit out here and get to know the individual who saved me.”

“Oh,” I said, pitching my gaze down.  “Elias did most of the work. I just lent him the power.”

“Gabe, put a shirt on. You’re making her blush.  She’s a sweet girl and you are a wall of muscle.  It’s scarring her.”

Gabriel frowned. “Are humans scarred by the skeletal system?”  A shirt hit him in the face.

“What did I tell you about taking everything literally? Fuck. I hate that about you celestials. No sense of humor and when you do get one it ends up being twisted.” Reese went into the kitchen then, muttering to himself about comedy and leaving Gabriel and I alone in the living area.

“We have not been properly introduced. Or,” he paused. “At least I do not think we have been. I was a little worse for wear when I woke early.”

“It’s alright.  You may call me Graceling. And I already know you are Gabriel. Though I don’t think I have gotten your last name.”

“Caine.”

I smiled at him.  “Like Caine and Abel?”

“I am unsure.”

I waved him off. “It’s an old religious tale from my own kind.  I have yet to find out if the things I believed in back home even exist here.”

“It’s the Night Market. I have found that nearly everything exists here.”

Part 6

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[wellthebardsdead]

To deny Godhood Pt7

Pt6 here

———

Xelzaz: *sailed from morrowind all the way to solstheim just to speak with Neloth* he has a third eyeball right in the middle of his forehead and everything. He looked so… scared…

Neloth: hm. Yes I’ve no doubt he’s the reincarnation of voryn dagoth. I should have figured that out when I saw how heart stones reacted to him. What’s more, when I placed said stones in ash rather than forming ash spawn they instead developed into ash vampires. *sighs* but if he’s been captured by Indoril Nerevar… well… I’m afraid there’s not a lot we can do.

Xelzaz: n-not a lot we can do-?! He had me come all the way here just to talk to you and you’re saying-

Neloth: I said there’s not a lot. Not. Nothing. It’ll take me a few days but I know a number of members of house telvanni who aren’t particularly fond of lord nerevar. Let’s just say they were. Worshippers of the tribunal. I might be able to convince them into assisting us… how heavily guarded was he?…

Xelzaz: very… it was a miracle I was able to smuggle his belongings out with me without getting caught. *holds up his journal*

Neloth: hm… very well. This is going to be difficult but… I’ll see what I can do… are you headed to skyrim by chance?…

Xelzaz: yes, to meet up with Kaidan and the others… why?

Neloth: *walks over to a box on his desk and opens it up* because- *reaches in removing 3 ceremonial masks before walking to him* I believe two very important people waiting for you in skyrim will be wanting these back. *holds out the masks of the tribunal gods to him*

*meanwhile*

Shamat: *seated on the large balcony overlooking the city of Mournhold, watching the ashy sky with sadness, missing the beauty of skyrim, missing his family, the dragons…* …I wonder… could they hear me if I call?…

???: there you are.

Shamat: *turns and looks back to see nerevar stepping onto the balcony, forces a smile and turns his gaze back to the sky* I needed some air…

Nerevar: *walks to him, standing at his side overlooking the city* you seem upset my dreamer?…

Shamat: …where are all the cliff racers?…

Nerevar: hm? Oh yes… they were everywhere when you last walked nirn. They were driven close to extinction by Saint Jiub. Now they’re more or less tamed as domestic pets.

Shamat: *trying his best to remember the dreams he had of his past life, now getting harder and harder after denying his reincarnation* how sad… I always loved watching them fly.

Nerevar: you used to wish we could be like them and fly away together…

Shamat: and crap on Vivec’s head.

Nerevar: *snorts and throws his head back laughing* oh he hated that story. Probably why he was so happy to see them killed off.

Shamat: *smiles and sighs* I missed out on so much… and I’ve forgotten even more… *rubs his temple closing his third eye* forgive me nerevar… I think I need to lay down… todays blessings have worn me out…

Nerevar: *gently pulls him in close* would you like me to join you? I have a service to attend to but I can set it aside t- *heart stopping as Shamat suddenly kisses him*

Shamat: *initiating a kiss with him for the first time, trying to picture him as Kaidan to make it hurt less* mm… *pulls away and gently strokes his cheek* Still shirking your responsibilities to try to please me. You really haven’t changed~ *sighs and slowly starts walking inside* go attend to your duties. I’ll be waiting for you my moon and star… *sways his hips a little as he steps inside and disappears down the hall*

Nerevar: *bright red, visibly in shock from what just happened* my Voryn… my dreamer… it really is you. *sighs dreamily and heads inside, walking down the halls smiling as he thinks about the kiss, his grin only fading as he enters his office and sits down… noticing somethings off* hm?… *looks down to see the previously locked drawer he kept Shamats belongings in now open ever so slightly* … *opens it up to see it empty* …he tricked me…

*a few moments later*

Shamat: *brushing out his hair after changing into a comfier robe and removing his regalia, quietly humming to himself before nearly jumping out of his seat as the door suddenly gets kicked open* What-

Nerevar: *steps in followed by his ordinators* Turn everything out. He’ll have it in here somewhere.

Shamat: n-nerevar what’s happen- *whimpers as he’s suddenly pulled out of his chair by an ordinator as another pulls open the drawers turning everything out*

Nerevar: What’s happening?… *walks to the dunmer and slaps him hard across the face* You should know what’s happening! Where are they?!

Shamat: *knowing he’s asking about his belongings, the journal, his wedding band & the charm Kaidan made him, and trying not to smirk knowing Xelzaz has them, and nerevars about to give him an ace up his sleeve* th-they? M-my moon and star I don’t know what y-you’re talking about! *winces watching his bed get flipped over and the mattress destroyed as they look everywhere he could possibly hide the items*

Ordinator: *pulls a small diary out from under the bed frame Shamat had planted there in case his room got sweeped, another little thing to convince nerevar he’s his voryn* Sir! *walks to nerevar handing him the book* hidden under the bed frame sir!

Shamat: n-no don’t read it! Please-

Nerevar: Silence! You think you’re so clever. You used my love and my kindness against me! You tricked me into thinking you were my voryn! You lied to my face as you said you loved me! You broke into my office and stole this! *opens it up and immediately thinks he’s made a terrible mistake as he sees a poem written about him, one of love* … *flips the page to see another, and another, and another, all little love poems mentioning him in some way, all in shamats hand writing*

Shamat: *visibly blushing and hiding his face in his sleeve like he’s embarrassed his little secret of adoration has been revealed*

Nerevar: *fully believes he’s made a horrific mistake and that someone else had taken the items* … release him. Have the maids clean this mess up.

Shamat: *holds his wrist timidly as the ordinator releases him* … *shakily places his hand to his cheek where he was struck* …I-I don’t know what I did to upset you so Nerevar… I-I never meant to make you feel tricked I’m trying so hard to remember what I’ve forgotten I just-

Nerevar: no- no don’t apologise Voryn… *gently places his hand to his cheek where he hit him* I’m the one whose sorry, I- I jumped to conclusions and I… I hurt you because of it…

Shamat: *smiles up at him gently, looking so forgiving and in love but inwardly celebrating knowing now nerevar will never accuse him of anything again* Hush… I must have deserved it… if not from my actions in this life. Then my actions in my past…

Nerevar: shhh none of that… *holds him close before looking at the destruction he’d caused* it’ll take a while to clean this up… and youre tired still are you not?…

Shamat: *nods* I-I’ll just sleep on the floor.

Nerevar: no… *takes his hand* you rest in my room tonight… I need to atone for this foul behaviour towards you and… *shyly hands him the little diary* can you… perhaps read me some of these?…

Shamat: *hides his face behind his sleeve again acting flustered* I-I m-maybe? Y-yes? I- I I’m so embarrassed you found it!

Nerevar: *smiles pulling him in close* don’t be, I think they’re sweet… please?

Shamat: *shyly looks up at him from behind his sleeve* oh… you know I can’t say no to you. *wraps his arms around his shoulders, visibly trembling a little* p-please don’t hit me again…

Nerevar: *scoops him up with ease* I won’t. I swear it.

[lampmanliveblogs]

Ah, I see The Collector used his space magic to summon a book filled with the completed version of all the fanfics I’ve never finished. I know I always say it’ll be a miracle if I ever get all my ideas written down, but I didn’t think it’d take an actual miracle.

You guys might think I’m exaggerating, and I am for comedic effect, but not by much. Just today, I started jotting down yet more notes on my phone while eating lunch at work. What if Masha discovered that they had psychic powers? I have so many unfinished first chapters, short snippets of dialogue, and premises for stories written down on my computer, phone, in various notebooks, pieces of cardboard, and reciept paper lying around. It’s honestly a bit ridiculous.

Oh wait, the pages are stone slabs? Or maybe they’re supposed to be clay tablets? That’s kinda cool actually, brings to mind the earliest stories written down by man in our own world. You know, like the Epic of Gilgamesh.

…hold on, I gotta go get myself a drink to dramatically spit out in shock and disbelief, give me a sec.

…

”Right, now where was I?” I say as I sit back down with a refreshing beverage. I rewind the video by a few seconds and hits play as I take a sip of my drink.

”Collectors live long, we watch things pass.”

”Pfft!” I spit out my drink in shock and disbelief, spraying my computer screen with liquid. ”What!?” I exclaim between coughs. ”Other Collectors?

I mean yeah, sure, The Collector is a child of the stars and whatnot, I kinda figured there’d maybe be some subtle hint at a larger pantheon out there, but, uh… I guess we get it confirmed right here, right now. I was even thinking of including a joke about The Collector’s parents being Mother Nature and Father Time, I just couldn’t figure out how to work it in.

Alright, calm down Lampman, think…

Based on this short summary, it appears that the collectors are if not gods, then at the very least god-like beings. They travel the cosmos and collect specimen of various lifeforms to preserve them in their collections. That in and of itself doesn’t sound all that horrible… but, ah… that second paragraph is a bit concerning.

Should the mortal beings they collect begin to meddle in the affairs of the Collectors (like, oh, I dunno, maybe NOT wanting to be turned into a collectible), they’ll scorch the planet and wipe them all out. Which… yeah that sounds about right for gods of mythology.

Our little Lord of the Fireflies doesn't like that mentality though, they’d rather play games and have fun and make friends (though evidently, The Collector still don’t care too much about what the mortals want).

Right of the bat, this does make me wonder something: is it possible that The Collector we saw in the Owlbeast’s flashback in Knock, Knock, Knockin’ on Hooty’s Door wasn’t THE Collector, but another collector? Cause that’d explain why that one didn’t look a whole lot like this Prince of Plastic

It also makes we wonder if maybe The Collector ISN’T the Grand Huntsman worshipped by the Titan Trappers, but rather, another collector (or several of them). Indeed, we see at the bottom of the page, three collectors looming over several worshipping humans. Because’s I’ve been wondering about that; aside from calling King’s dad a bully for putting him in divine time-out, The Collector really didn’t seem to have much against Titans from what we’ve seen thus far. Heck, he was super excited to meet King. So could it be that The Collector was not the one responsible for wiping out the Titans, but rather some other collector?

What I’m thinking right now is that The Collector is the divine equivalent of a kid that ran away from home. And their family either doesn’t care, doesn’t know, or enough time has not passed for them to notice.

(hm… a kid that ran away from home because they didn’t fit in with their peers… where have I heard a similar story before…?)

(the book mentions that the collectors would scorch the air… the demon realm planet is covered in a boiling sea… perhaps scorching the air is a more poetic way of saying ”set off a bunch of volcanoes”? In real life, the worst mass extinction event known was caused not by the meteorite that wiped out the non-avian dinosaurs, but a massive flood basalt taking place about 251.9 million years ago, colloquially referred to as ”The Great Dying.” Volcanoes are good at killing stuff, is my point. and undersea volcanoes spewing out lava would explain why the sea is always boiling)

I mean, look at this face. Does this look like the face of someone who could wipe out a race of giants? Look at him! He couldn’t hurt a fly.

Except Belos, but he doesn’t count.

And I guess they did turn an island’s worth of people into puppets and force them to play along in their games, hmmm…

[quietwingsinthesky]

👀👀👀 Sorry for adding to your work but can I get Sam drinking Lucifer's blood

Hello hello hello anon sorry for the wait but hopefully the extra uh 3000 words makes up for it <3 and also born-again identity fix-it since it’s topical for me atm.

Sam is very familiar with dying.

It’s usually faster than this. He closes his eyes, and he’s facing Dean in Cold Oak with a knife in his spine or he’s sitting on a motel bed with a shotgun pointed at his chest. It hurts, but it’s brief like a ripped off band-aid. He goes into the cold, beckoning dark. He feels safe there. All the world fades away. Just like falling asleep, he wakes up a little later, his wounds vanished like a dream but the dried blood on his clothes left as a warning.

He’s never marinated in his own death before. He can feel it seeping into his pores. His head is throbbing like thunder even when Lucifer shuts up, too far gone to survive this without a miracle that isn’t coming. He was wondering a while ago what parts of him would fail first, and Lucifer “helped” by counting down the hours for him, straddling Sam’s torso with his fingers trailing over his skin. Poking Sam’s ribs vindictively as he laid out exactly when Sam could expect his organs to give up the fight. “First time dying alone, Sammy?” he said, doing that awful thing where his voice got soft and sympathetic just so that he could tear it away a moment later. “Dean’s not going to make it back in time. We knew that the minute he left.” Sam looked away from him, heave of his head to the side. “I’m here. I won’t leave you. Isn’t that comforting?”

He’d waited for a response. Sam couldn’t give him one. He’d decided to find the answer inside Sam instead, a vivisection that stretched on and on until Sam couldn’t cry anymore, and when it was over, there was no blood, no cuts, just Lucifer looking so pleased with himself as Sam tried not to throw up. Sam was too tired to do anything but turn away from him again.

Something new had kept Sam awake the past few days as his time ran out. A sound he’d been deafened by once before as the final seal broke and the Cage opened under his feet and all the light and power that was Lucifer came screaming out. Hearing it now made his teeth rattle. He’s never heard his hallucination make anything close to that noise. He taunts and insults and shouts in a very human way. Even his torture is crude and physical. Sam isn’t fit to be haunted by an angel, no matter how fallen. When the sound finally went silent again, Sam wasn't sure if he was relieved or not.

His hallucination hadn’t given him more than a day before Sam’s liver fails first. He might be lying. The fallen-out hairs on Sam’s pillow beg to differ.

Sam’s mind is filled with calm and dreadful certainty. It’s over. He lost.

And Lucifer still won’t shut up. He’s doing it to rub it in now, gloating. Sam weakly cups his ears, and that does nothing to block it out.

There’s been someone else in his room for the past day. She looks like a woman, finely dressed, watching him impassively as his condition worsens. She’s not one of the staff. He’s pretty sure no one else can see her, no one but him and Lucifer.

“Vulture,” Lucifer spits at her, “I’m not finished. Find somewhere else to circle.” She doesn’t react except to look at her watch and then look at Sam. There is something like pity in her eyes, the hollow sort that brings no comfort and takes no action. Sam feels weirdly grateful to Lucifer for snapping at her like a feral dog, even if she can’t hear it. There’s no way he could do it himself.

It’s not hard to guess what she is and who she’s here for.

Sam stares at her as his head throbs. Every part of his body aches. His heartbeat feels weak. She frowns, nods, and taps her watch. Not long, then. He wishes Dean hadn’t bothered to try and save him. He wants one last embrace, Dean’s voice all rough and faux hopeful telling him it’ll be okay, they figure this out. If nothing else, it’s comforting that with Crowley’s hands on the reins of Hell, no demon alive will be taking a deal with Dean.

Sam’s tired. It’s okay. He won’t fight. He’ll go quiet.

“Back to me,” Lucifer says, because he never lets Sam forget it.

Sam doesn’t even care. He’s out of vacation days. It’s back to the Cage, where he belongs. Castiel never should have pulled him out. Dean never should have dragged his soul along, too. He wasn’t worth the effort.

Lucifer laughs again. Sam flinches. The reaper folds her arms.

And then, for the first time in days, there’s silence.

Sam doesn’t trust it. He doesn’t let his eyes close. The longer it stretches on, the more his body tenses in anticipation. The other shoe will drop. It’s only a matter of time.

He hears a beating sound. His hair gets blown out of place, tickling his face. He can see three people in his room.

“Sam?” asks Lucifer, softly. He doesn’t look very good. He’s bleeding, open sores that line his face, his hands, and probably other places Sam can’t see. Sam’s head swims. His eyes waver back to the Lucifer who was here first, who doesn’t have a mark on him and never has. He wears his face like he never needed Sam’s.

“It isn’t enough I have to share you with her. Now I’m encroaching on my own territory?” he says like he’s about to throw a tantrum.

The other Lucifer turns to face him. Sam’s hallucination of him is as caught off-guard as Sam feels. Lucifer, the one who bleeds, tilts his head, looks this image of himself up and down, and when he looks back over at Sam, his expression is contorted in sorrow. “Is that how you see me?” he asks.

“It’s what we are,” the hallucination answers for Sam. Sam’s not sure which ‘we’ he’s talking about.

“Be quiet,” Lucifer orders. Sam’s eyes widen as the impossible happens, a flicker along the edge of his hallucination’s appearance.

“If Sam can’t make me, what makes you think you-“ There’s a desperate edge to his tone, wholly unlike the way he ever sounded when Sam banished him. Lucifer glares at him.

“I said, shut up.”

He’s gone. Just like that. Sam exhales. Lucifer turns to the reaper.

“You can leave.”

The reaper’s voice follows, “We have an appointment.” Lucifer sighs heavily.

“You had one.” He comes closer to Sam, sitting on the side of the cot. Sam shuts his eyes tight. Lucifer touches his shoulder. He feels cold. With all the hellfire in Sam’s head, he’d forgotten that. “He belongs to me. When he dies, I’m who you’d deliver his soul to.” He waits a beat. “Am I right?”

“You are,” the reaper confirms.

“Then your role here’s irrelevant. I’m collecting him personally.” Sam shakes. Lucifer’s attention turns, his hand weighing heavier on Sam’s shoulder. “Don’t be afraid, Sam. I’m here.” He pets Sam’s hair, and he grimaces when strands pull free too easily. “I let you out of my sight for five minutes…” his voice trails off. There’s too much pain in it for him to speak around. He swallows and looks back over his shoulder at the reaper. “I told you to leave.”

“I still have to make sure that his soul crosses over.” She makes Sam sound like a job. An important one, but still just business. Lucifer hates that. Sam’s not sure how he knows exactly, but he can feel it prickling under his own skin.

“It won’t be.” Lucifer’s fingers trail over Sam’s face, from the bags under his eyes to the almost healed bruises from his accident. “I won’t tell you again. I have spent the last century dragging myself out of Hell to find him. You don’t want to be the one to get in my way now.” She makes an extremely disgruntled sigh.

And then there’s only one person in the room with Sam. Alone together at last.

Sam’s eyes want to close badly. This Lucifer is so quiet, his touch so gentle and calming.

“No, not yet, Sam,” Lucifer says. “If you fall asleep now, you won’t wake up. Let’s not get on Death’s nerves anymore than we already have.” Sam whimpers. He should have known this was all too good to be true. Not even this Lucifer will let him sleep. “I know,” he murmurs, “I know. Believe me, I plan to whisk you away to a much more comfortable bed than this one and force you to sleep for a week, but there’s something we have to take care of first.” Lucifer’s hand slides down his body to rest on his chest. Sam breathes in, pushing his hand up minutely. His eyes narrow for a moment, searching. What he finds makes his frown deepen.

Sam makes a questioning noise. It’s more than he’s been able to force himself to do for a while. Lucifer’s made him talkative. Lucifer glances up to meet his eyes before fixing them back on Sam’s middle. “There’s a lot of damage here, Sam. The Cage doesn’t let anything go that easily. I don’t know how you’ve survived this long.” Sam almost chokes on a laugh. Easily. “I know how to heal you. I need your consent to-“

“No,” Sam croaks. Lucifer stops.

“I don’t want you to die,” he says, stubborn and upset.

“I'm not your vessel.” Speaking makes Sam feel like he’s going to vomit or pass out or both. Lucifer’s eyes widen for a moment before he regains his composure.

"That's not what I'm asking." Sam finds that hard to believe. Both of their bodies are falling apart. "You really think I'm just a monster, don't you?" He looks like Sam has actually hurt him. Sam... isn't sure what he thinks. His head is too filled with smoke, the clashing battle between the Lucifer in his mind who wanted to tear into him and the one sitting on his cot who wants to put him back together. He can't make them fit together. Lucifer is touching his face again. His thumb presses against Sam's lips like that's the closest either of them can bear to a kiss. "You need a little of me inside you for your body to be strong enough to heal itself, but that doesn't mean I have to take you as a vessel." Sam makes a face. "Stop looking at me like that. It wasn't an innuendo. I'm offering to bleed for you."

The fear that clutches Sam's chest makes his weak heart do double-time. He tries to push Lucifer's hand away from his face, but even if he had been human, Sam doubts he could have. "No," he forces out, "no, please, don't."

"Sam, calm down. You'll hurt yourself." Sam refuses. He won't do it again. He won't become that thing again, the monster Dean wanted to put down, selfish and arrogant and the reason the whole world was going to end. He won't let Lucifer turn him into that. Lucifer doesn't move, both hands on Sam's shoulders to keep him from trying to roll out of the bed to escape. He speaks slowly, pulling Sam back from the edge of panic, "I'm not a demon. My blood isn't addictive and it can't change you. Nothing about me can change you." His palm cups Sam's face again. "I'm already a part of you."

He's telling the truth. Sam can feel it. He doesn't understand how.

"Do I have your consent?" Lucifer asks again. Sam looks into his eyes. Lucifer cares about his answer. Sam inhales sharply as he realizes that Lucifer will save him, but that he also loves Sam enough to let him go. He won't be happy about it, but he'll respect that last wish. Sam can say no. Maybe it's a meaningless gesture when his soul will still be folded into Lucifer's grace, but if he really wants this to be over, if it's too much, than he can close his eyes and go to sleep. It'll be just like every other time, brief pain, into the dark, to be kept safe, only this time he will never wake up. Sam lays his hand over Lucifer's. All the devil cares about is what will make him happy.

"Yes," Sam decides. Lucifer is here, and it feels like he can breathe again. Quickly, Lucifer withdraws his hand. A cut opens over a patch of unblemished skin. It will be cleaner that way, but Sam's exhausted mind wonders if Lucifer would let him up to press his mouth against the burns and lick the blood up from them. He doesn't have long to contemplate that before Lucifer holds the cut over his mouth. Bright red blood drips from the cut, dotting Sam's chapped lips. His tongue slides out to taste it and more fall into his open mouth. It’s nothing like demon blood. The only similarity is how quickly the need for more consumes his thoughts. A drop or two isn't enough to sate him. He reaches for Lucifer's arm, hands trembling, and drags the cut down to his mouth. Lucifer lets him, leaning in to give Sam a better angle to latch onto the wound.

The cut is deep enough that when Sam sucks on it, it flows into his mouth like a stream. Lucifer's veins are opened up for him. Sam shuts his eyes, losing himself to it in seconds. There's a voice in the back of his head demanding that he pull all of Lucifer inside him, where he belongs, where Sam needs him. With thirsty gulps, he tries to make that a reality. Lucifer's other hand strokes his hair, lifting Sam's head slightly so that he doesn't choke while he's drinking. Sam's tongue keeps the cut wet, wriggling its way into Lucifer's flesh greedily like he can coax out more blood that way. The supply is steady, always enough to fill Sam's mouth, but not so much that he can't swallow it down in time. Lucifer's vessel obeys him, and it won't heal itself until Sam has first.

"Take everything you need," Lucifer encourages. Sam is holding on too tight, his nails digging little crescents into Lucifer's already bruised skin. He doesn't complain. Sam's not sure he can even feel it above the delirious joy of part of him being accepted back into Sam's body. "Take it all, if you want to. You can. I'd let you." Sam pulls off the cut to breathe. It still drips over his gasping mouth, drops rolling down his tongue to the back of his throat. The metallic taste lingers. There's no sulfur in Lucifer's blood, nothing but pure salvation, saved for Sam alone.

Drinking from him feels like trying to swallow an nuclear reactor. Sam can't get enough of him. The remnants of Lucifer's grace are mixed in with every drop, filling Sam up. Under his skin, he feels like his insides are being caressed, every pain wiped away. His heartbeat strengthens as Lucifer's grace gets into his own veins and powers the cells through. The fog in Sam's head doesn't lift, but it clears more than it has in days.

He brings Lucifer's wrist back to his mouth and latches on again.

Sam holds onto him with more strength than his body should have. He keeps drinking, mouthful after mouthful. With each breath, each heartbeat, Lucifer’s grace pumps further through every organ. Sam’s lips are smeared with his blood.

He’s not sure how long he drinks from Lucifer. He goes until his stomach starts to protest and Lucifer himself looks pale and unsteady. He’s stopped petting Sam’s hair to keep a hand against the cot, leaning heavily on it but never taking away his blood. Sam laps at his wrist gratefully before he pushes it away. It’s the reminder he’s needed for months of his own willpower.

Lucifer looks worse than he did when he arrived. There’s another wound blistering at the collar of his shirt. Sam reaches for him. Lucifer offers his wrist again, but Sam bypasses it, grasping his shoulder and drawing him close. Lucifer bows over Sam as Sam gently kisses the burns. He wishes that was enough to heal Lucifer.

“What’s the plan now?” Sam asks. He’s running on the strength of his high, but beneath it, he can still feel his body trying to shut him down and pass out. He resists of his own free will for a few moments longer in Lucifer’s presence. Lucifer smiles.

”That was the plan. I came to save you, and now I have.” Sam presses his lips against a scabbed-over sore. Lucifer is so beautiful. He’d almost forgotten that with only the pale imitation of his hallucination to look at. “I can bring you somewhere more comfortable to rest if you give me a minute to recover.”

”And after that?”

”I don’t know.” His eyes drift over to the desk on the opposite side of the room. It’s empty. It will remain empty. Sam can’t feel the whispering inside of his head that means the hallucination is about to come back. Even if it did, Lucifer has chased it off once.

“Stay with me,” Sam says. Lucifer looks back at him. He’s surprised, but with the offer given freely, he won’t deny himself what he needs. If Lucifer had a hard time existing without Sam when he had a purpose, as terrible an ends as the Apocalypse was, Sam can’t imagine he’d have any idea how to find his way in the world now without him.

And more importantly, Sam missed him.

”Okay,” Lucifer breathes, turning his head so that Sam’s next kiss presses to his mouth. It leaves his own blood on bottom lip, which Sam licks off. Then, he brushes another kiss to a burn on Lucifer’s chin. “They're only going to get worse,” Lucifer tells him. “I can’t heal them.”

“As long as we can figure out a way for your vessel to hold you, I don’t care.” He kisses another. This one is bleeding, and Sam doesn’t spare a thought to kissing it anyway. “Besides, I’ve got some new scars to show you, too.”

”Later,” Lucifer says. He lays Sam back down. Sam doesn’t resist. Not even the angel blood inside him can keep him conscious now. Lucifer lays his hand over Sam’s eyes. “I promise, when you wake up, it won’t be in this cell.” Sam chuckles weakly. The moment before he passes out, he remembers that Dean is going to return at some point. He opens his mouth to tell Lucifer to leave a note for him or something to let Dean knows that the devil’s (consensually) kidnapping his brother, but he’s gone before he can get a single word out.

[showfallmediamaintenance]

[Video transcript begin.]

[The camera shakes as something is typed out, then the video blurs as it is put into someone’s front pocket, it refocuses to show the hideout, and a scared child in the center of the frame. They appear to be holding a pocket knife at anyone who dares approach.]

?: DON'T GET CLOSE TO ME! SHE'S CONTROLLING ALL OF YOU ISN'T SHE! I KNEW SHE WASN'T DEAD YOU WERE ALL LYING!

[Voice identified: ‘Sparrow’ Henderson.]

?: Hey, hey. Sparrow. She’s dead. She’s been dead. For a while. I swear on my life.

[Voice identified: Edgar.]

Sp: QUIT LYING TO ME! SHE'S MAKING YOU SAY THAT! ISN'T SHE!

E: Sparrow, she’s a stain on the floor, she can’t make me say anything.

Sp: LIAR! YOU'VE ALL BEEN LYING! SHE'S GOING TO MAKE ME AN EMPLOYEE! SHE'S GOING TO TAKE ME AWAY AGAIN!

?: Kid, I promise you, she isn't going to do anything. She's dead. Gone.

[Voice Identified: William Keane.]

E: Tell us what happened, we want to help.

[Sparrow shakes their head, looking in every direction they can. Tears streaming down their face.]

Sp: S- She controlled you all… You all hurt me… She… I'M NOT GOING BACK TO THE DARK ROOM I WON'T!

E: You know we’d never do that, kiddo. Come on. It’s alright. We aren’t going to hurt you.

Sp: SHE MADE YOU! SHE MADE YOU HURT ME! I… I… GET AWAY FROM ME!

[A person with extremely muted red hair moves away from behind Sparrow.]

E: Give them space, guys. I’ve… had something like this happen before. It’ll make it worse.

Sp: I WANT MAMA! I WANT MAMA AND CASSIDY! WHERE ARE THEY?

W: Staying right here, dude. [Aside, to Sparrow] Kiddo, just breathe for us, okay?

[Sparrow seemingly looks at William. Their eyes looking bloodshot.]

Sp: Mama's not here… She's at Edgar's… Cassidy…

E: Kid, how can we help you right now? Other than get you Cassidy and Jenny?

[Sparrow seemingly doesn't acknowledge Edgar's words, staring off into nothing as they speak.]

Sp: I want my big sister back… WHY DID THEY TAKE HER! WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY

[A woman can be heard screaming from out of frame, hopping into frame to tackle Sparrow who begins screaming even more.]

Sp: GET OFF OF ME NO NO NO I'M NOT PUTTING A MASK ON!

?: GIVE ME THE FUCKING KNIFE KID! I'M NOT LETTING YOU HURT YOURSELF WITH IT!

[Voice identified: Rose Elizabeth Henderson.]

E: ROSE FUCKING HENDERSON.

Sp: GET OFF OF ME! GET OFF DON'T HURT ME!

W: Rose! Leave them be!

R: LAST TIME SOMEONE HELD A WEAPON CLOSE TO THEM I LOST THEM FOR OVER A FUCKING MONTH! NOT HAPPENING AGAIN WILL!

Sp: LET ME FUCKING GO

[Sparrow jams the pocket knife into Rose's shoulder, by some miracle missing Rose's neck. Causing Rose to slink back in back as Sparrow crawls over to a wall looking at their hands, small bits of Rose's blood on them now.]

E: Jesus Christ– I–

[The camera turns slightly as Edgar looks at both Rose and Sparrow, unsure who to help.]

R: SON OF A BITCH-

W: Edgar, go help Sparrow. I'll deal with this one. [He inclines its head towards Rose. He also begins to hold Rose down, just in case.]

R: I… Fuck…

[Edgar stands up and takes a few steps over to sparrow, his hands up, showing that he has no weapons, as soon as he gets close enough, he kneels down slowly.]

E: Sparrow, I’m not going to harm you in any way, I promise. Just… tell me how I can help you.

Sp: I… I stabbed her… I'm just like Mai. [Muffled.] I'm a monster…

[Sparrow's head remains on top of their knees.]

E: If you’re a monster, I don’t even know what that makes me. You’re fine, it was the most logical response to being tackled like that in your head. We all act irrationally when we’re under high amounts of stress.

R: I saw the kid holding a knife. I did the first thing that came to mind considering… Past events.

[Edgar slumps slightly, the movement visible in the recording. He holds his left hand out to Sparrow, not responding to Rose with anything but a thumbs up with his right hand.]

W: I understand, but. Not the right response, Rose.

Sp: Get the blood off… I don't like it. get it off.

E: We’ll get it off, don’t worry, you just have to let us actually get close to you. Again, I promise that I won’t hurt you. I just want to help.

Sp: I… I…

[Sparrow begins sobbing, a loud ding coming from a computer out of frame.]

E: Can I come any closer? Or do you want me to stay this far?

[Sparrow looks at Edgar with no response, a look of despair mixed with normal pain across their face.]

E: You don’t need to respond verbally, just a nod would be good.

?: [TTS.] They seemingly. Want you to get closer.

[Voice identified: Peony?]

E: Thank you, Peony.

[The camera moves slowly towards Sparrow, until they’re well within arms reach.]

E: Is there anything I can do to help you feel any better? I have a few ideas, but I want to know what would help you best.

Sp: I don't know… I don't remember…

E: That’s alright. I know… well, I can sing a grand total of… three songs from memory.

Sp: That's… three more than me.

E: Would you want that?

[Sparrow weakly nods their head.]

E: Alright, here we go.

[Edgar clears his throat, and begins softly singing a song identified as ‘You Are My Sunshine.’]

[Sparrow seemingly begins calming down, a text to speech voice that is not Peony says “Playing ASMR rain noises.” moments later, the sound of rain is heard from the computer.]

[Edgar continues singing, giving the computer a thumbs up.]

Sp: I… Uh…

[Sparrow yawns.]

P: [TTS.] They are. Sleepy.

W: Aw. Go to sleep Sparrow, it's okay.

Sp: I…

[Sparrow's eyes close and they slump against Edgar's arm. The rain noises continue.]

E: [Whispered, jokingly.] I guess I can never move again. Sorry, everyone.

P: [TTS.] Correct.

W: [Whispered.] Yep. You're stuck there now. No moving.

R: [Whispered.] Sorry guys. Didn't mean to cause that.

W: [Continued Whispering.] It was, a reflex reaction. You just need to assess the situation, dude, nobody blames you.

P: [TTS.] I. Hope they are. Ok.

E: Same here.

W: Me too.

R: Hey guys. Can you all promise something?

E: Yeah?

W: Mhm?

R: No matter what happens, when Sparrow gets out, promise you'll get them straight to Jenny?

E: Of course, but don’t say that like you’re staying.

W: Yeah, you're coming too, no matter what that Emi dick thinks.

R: I plan to get out, I just… In case a fight breaks out in the forest or something? Ok?

E: Alright.

W: On my head be it.

?: Yeah no problem Rose.

[Voice identified: Mari.]

R: Thank you.

[The view the phone has suddenly switches to face the floor a bit more, as Edgar slumps forward. Seemingly having fallen asleep as well.]

W: Y'know, they both have the right idea. It is pretty late.

R: Yeah um… Actually, Will can I ask something first?

W: Oh, yeah?

R: Do you uh… Do you like doctor who?

W: Sounds, familiar! I think so, maybe! Why?

[Rose pulls out a sheet of paper from her pocket, handing it to Will.]

R: Sparrow asked me to give that to you.

W: Oh? What is it?..[Will looks over the paper, his face forming a soft smile.] I am treasuring this. Forever.

R: I'm sure they'll be glad to hear that… I'm probably gonna stay awake a while longer, sleep well.

W: Same goes for you three.

M: Mystery lady's already asleep… And I don't think Peony can sleep.

P: [TTS.] I also do not require. bones.

W: Lucky. Bones are an annoyance.

P: [TTS.] May I try something?

W: Mhm!

[A distorted voice emits from the computer, sounding similar to a 12 year old.]

P: Edgar's phone is recording.

W: Oh, for crying out loud. Thank you Peony.

P: Wel-come. Y- Your.

[The computer seemingly returns to text to speech.]

W: Should I manually turn it off? Or should be wait for it?

P: [TTS.] Turn off.

W: Alrighty. I'll just- grab it-

[Will grabs the phone and manually ends the transcript.]

[Transcript end.]

[hold-him-down]

POV! I feel like we talked about this the other day and there was a specific scene I said I would love to see from the other POV, but I don't remember what it was. Now it's your job to figure it out :)

response to this ask thing. the miracle here is that i think this is actually the scene that we briefly talked about this ask being in reference too.

notes: this scene in Leo's POV.

tw: anxiety, tears, panic, references to noncon, references to drugging

✥ You Didn't Do Anything Wrong - Leo POV ✥

As he lays his head in Luke’s lap, pressing himself as tightly as he can against the only person that remotely resembles safety in his life, he feels the blanket being draped over him.

Luke stands to get ice, or water, or– something, for his throat. Everything is blurry, and his skin is on fire, and when Luke returns, it takes every ounce of energy for Leo to sit back up.

The look in Luke’s eyes tells him all he needs to know. He looks as bad on the outside as he feels. He eyes a little cup of what he can only assume is medicine warily; he feels oddly detached from it all, tonight. He’ll take it, he thinks. If it means Luke will sit back down, and he can curl back up against him, he’ll do it. Maybe, if he’s lucky, it’ll make Luke proud. And maybe it’ll help soften the blow of what he has to say.

“I know you’ve taken a lot of medicine over the last couple days,” Luke says. He’s nervous, and Leo wants to tell him it’s okay. Before he can, Luke continues, “This is Lidocaine. It’s basic, over the counter stuff that will numb your throat, if you want it.” 

His can’t keep his hands from shaking as he takes the medicine, or as he takes the ice that Luke offers him next. 

“Give it a minute,” Luke whispers, and Leo wants him to know that it does feel better, but that more than the medicine or the ice, sitting next to him on the sofa knowing the worst is over, it’s a feeling he’s not familiar with. “You doing alright?” Luke asks as he sinks down next to him.

Leo nods. “I’m alright.”

“Okay. If you want to talk, we can. Or if you want to turn on the TV, or just sleep it off… whatever you need, Leo.” 

“Did you really call?” Leo asks suddenly. He doesn’t remember deciding to ask that, or even really wondering if it was true. It’s not his business if Luke called, and the social worker told him that enough times during his stay that he’d think he would have learned the lesson. Still, he holds his breath while he waits for the answer.

 “Literally every five minutes for the first few hours. They stopped answering, after a while. I spoke to everyone I could, but they wouldn’t really tell me anything, other than that you were doing fine.”

He nods, the familiar pang of tears threatening to spill if he speaks now. He takes a big breath, blinking back the tears, and takes a bite of the soup that’s waiting for him. It stings a little bit, but his stomach immediately loosens. 

“We have six months to figure it out for next time. I don’t know what to do with that, but I’ll… I’ll figure something out.”

“I don’t… know that you’ll be able to do… Overhauling the whole… the whole system, is…” A hopeless endeavor. Too much for any single person to take on. Too much for Luke to take on.

“I know,” Luke says. “I just… I’m not sure that we can go through this fucking process again. So, I’ll just… raise holy hell, you know? Do whatever I can to keep you out of there. Even if they didn’t… hurt you this time, something about that site–”

He knows. He knows, or he suspects, at least. Rob didn’t tell him, but he’s not stupid. He knows that they hurt him, and a wave of panic crashes down on Leo, but there’s… There’s relief there, too. 

“I–” Leo whispers. His hands shake as he takes another piece of ice. “I need to t– I need to tell you,” he says, closing his eyes. He’s hovering over the edge, grounded to reality only by Luke’s eyes boring into his, concerned and open and ready to hear what he has to say. Luke doesn’t deserve this, and shouldn’t have to hear it. No buyer should have to hear it. “I’m sorry,” Leo whispers, his voice breaking over the words. He means them, with every piece of himself.

“You don’t have to be,” Luke replies. “If they hurt you, Leo–” 

Leo doesn’t register Luke’s words as the barely-controlled tears immediately spill over. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again, sucking in a shaky breath. It’s Luke. It’s only Luke, and he doesn’t have to tell him anything. Luke won’t press him, and Luke won’t be upset, and Luke will hold him. Luke won’t hurt him.

“They do… whatever they want… at the sites. All of them, there’s no… none of them are different. This time it was a– it was a handler.” His words pour out, waves of pain coloring his tone. Memories flash, vividly colored with pain and confusion and sadness, and the words spill out, not because he feels like he has to tell Luke. There’s some carnal instinct, buried so deeply inside of him that he didn’t even know it existed, pushing the words out. “I m–made a mistake in the– in the cafeteria, and he…” Leo’s fingers move to his neck, covering his throat.

“It was just the o-one handler, though,” he whispers. His breaths come in shallow spurts, and he sets the glass of ice down on the table, barely keeping it upright. He covers his mouth with his hand, as the panic starts to settle in. He curls in on himself, the silent tears shifting to open cries. “It w-wasn’t so b-bad. I think he ju– I think he just went a little rough, so Rob said my th– my throat is going be sore for a little bit.” 

It's okay. It’s Luke. It’s Luke. It’s Luke. His chest feels so tight, and every breath hurts, and every memory, every handler from the last five years, flashes through his mind. Help me, he wants to say. Help me.

As if he heard the plea, he whispers, “Okay,” pulling him into his arms as Leo’s cries turn to full-body sobs. 

“I’m so– I’m so s–sorry. I couldn’t… I’m sorry.” Fingers wind into his hair and Leo holds onto that feeling, and he sobs and he sobs and he sobs. He can hear Luke talking distantly, but he can’t hear what he’s saying. 

And eventually, with Luke’s arms tight around him, the pain eases. It eases enough for him to fill his lungs, but Luke doesn’t let him go. Luke is still holding him when the fresh memories of the handlers fade a little bit, and keeps his grip tight still as the fractures in Leo’s mind start repairing themselves.

He’s safe. He’s safe for now, and Luke will do everything can to make sure he stays safe. Luke won’t return him to the DLS, and he won’t hurt him, and he won’t let anyone else hurt him. His sobs shift to something less, and Luke lets up his grip enough for Leo to lay his head in his lap, curling up tightly against him.

He’s never told a soul about the things that happened to him behind those doors. Never a social worker, never a doctor, never a buyer. It means something, though, he thinks. It means something, that he told Luke. And he’s got the next six months to figure out what.

[dollystuartwrites]

7&ME - Chapter 9 - Moan

Pairing: OT7 x F!Reader

Genre: fluff, smut, idol AU, straight, bisexual, gay, threesome

Wordcount: 1431

Chapters: [1] - [2] - [3] - [4] - [5] - [6] - [7] - [8] - [9] - [10] [11] - [12] - [13] - [14] - [15] - [16] - [17] - [18] - [19] - [20]   [21] - [22] - [23] - [24] - [25] - [26] - [27] - [28] - [29] - [30] MASTERLIST Wanna read all the chapters right now? You can find the complete story for free on WATTPAD

Summary: Miracles do happen! Somehow you've finally managed to secure a job at a big company! Even though it'll be a 24/7 job, they promised you a fat paycheck, so you don't care what the job is... But what if the job is managing 7 grown men? Seven men who all have needs...

Warnings: swearing, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, fingering, size kink, oral (f&m receiving), dirty talk, gay sex, threesome sex, bisexual sex, implied masturbation, this is super vanilla compared to most of my stories, let me know what I missed.

Y O U R   P E R S P E C T I V E

Yoongi gently helped me sit up on my knees next to him on the bed.

The whole thing had my mind spinning.

Or maybe it was just the lack of air I had had underneath the blankets.

I blinked in the bright light of the sunshine peeking through the blinds I had opened in my fall.

But every time I closed my eyes, I saw again the close-up image of Yoongi's morning wood.

'You okay?' Yoongi asked me friendly. I looked at him.

His face was probably the kindest and sweetest face I had ever seen. So round and soft, with perfect doll-like lips, it made me still. I felt almost enchanted, captured by his beauty.

'I'm okay,' I whispered in response to his question. The words came out slowly, as I found it hard to think clearly.

'You know, next time you want to wake me, you can just knock on my door instead of throwing yourself onto me,' Yoongi joked.

I didn't respond but simply watched the curves of his mouth as he spoke.

'It could've been really awkward if I hadn't thrown the blanket to cover you and Kookie would've seen you,' he said. His tone of voice had changed. It wasn't a joke anymore. There was something...

He kept silent for a few seconds, looking back at me as I watched his face in awe.

He tilted his head slightly and pulled up the left corner of his mouth into a smile. A smile that suddenly changed his expression into something almost... Animalistic.

'Unless...' He said, pausing and sitting up a little more. His blanket slipped from his upper body and his midriff was now completely exposed, showing his abs.

My heart rate instantly rose, and I opened my mouth slightly to breathe.

'Unless...' he repeated, 'you don't mind being found like that.' He spoke softly, his eyes slightly narrowed.

I felt frozen in place. Unable to speak or think rationally.

Yoongi tilted his head again to the other side.

'Unless.. you like being a little... adventurous,' he whispered.

My heart rate shot through the roof and in a split second my imagination ran wild, showing me wild and extreme images not to be said out loud.

But it was as if he knew.

He stretched out his hand towards me, stroking his thumb over my cheek, down to my jawline, and finally resting underneath my chin. He placed his index finger on my chin with his thumb still under it, holding my face like that.

It was as if he studied me. As if he found me as fascinating and exciting as I found him.

Slowly and softly he pulled my face towards his, not breaking eye contact. Studying me.

It was so easy to obey.

I shifted my weight as I followed his guidance, getting further on my knees, and eventually, putting down my hands next to his body to support myself.

There I was, sitting like a doggy with my face only fractions away from Yoongi's.

'Do you want to kiss me?' he whispered invitingly.

His warm breath stroked my lips.

'Yes,' I breathed without thinking.

Upon my words, Yoongi instantly leaned forwards and pressed his lips onto mine.

It was like the whole world disappeared. A storm of butterflies burst out in my belly and I could only feel his soft lips on mine.

I kissed him back carefully. Afraid that if I would move too much, the universe would implode and he would disappear.

His kisses were so soft, so sweet, with his tongue intertwining with mine, and I couldn't help but yearn for more.

I couldn't help but moan, feeling it more than hearing it.

Suddenly, Yoongi grabbed my wrists and pushed me over.

----------

Y O O N G   I P E R S P E C T I V E

Her moan sent me over the edge.

I grabbed her wrists and pushed her over to her back. I placed myself over her, one leg in between hers and one leg on the outside, my hands pushing down her wrists above her head.

I admired her for a second in this position.

Her face was such an open book, it was so easy to read everything that was going through her. The excitement, the anxiousness, the disbelief, but most of all, how horny she was.

'You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?' I let slip.

Her eyes widened in disbelief.

I couldn't help but grin.

'You know,' I whispered to her, taking both of her wrists into one hand to free up the other, 'we all think so,'

I watched her face to see her reaction.

Again, disbelief and confusion. It was so cute, and it only made me want her more.

With my free hand, I traced her jawline, down her neck, and onto her collarbones.

The top of her too-small maid costume was clearly having a hard time holding her breasts in. I wanted to see them.

I looked up at her face and started to unbutton her top with my free hand, watching her reaction for any sign of unwillingness. If she'd show any, I'd stop.

But she didn't. Her breathing only got heavier as she remained still underneath me, keeping eye contact.

Her top immediately sprang open when it was completely unbuttoned, exposing a light pink, lace bra.

I could feel my dick twitch in my boxers.

'You know, we personally picked you,' I told her, again watching her reaction. Again it was surprise and disbelief.

I licked my lips.

Carefully and very slowly I pulled down her bra, to expose her nipples. She didn't refuse, but I could see her cheeks color slightly.

So damn cute.

I looked down again. Her nipples were hard and beautifully pink. I let out a deep sigh in longing before diving into her neck and starting to kiss and lick her there.

I could hear her sigh and moan softly, making me twitch again,

Slowly I made my way down to her breasts, kissing and licking every inch of skin I could reach.

When I finally planted a kiss on her nipple she let out of high but soft moan.

I could feel my dick pulsing, pleading to get some action. But I didn't give in to it.

'We picked you because we couldn't get you off of our minds,' I told her. At this point, I wasn't even really sure if she could still hear me anymore. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was curved in a slight smile that turned me the fuck on. But I wasn't just telling her these things to turn her on. I was telling her because it was the truth and I wanted her to know. I needed her to know.

I bend over again and started flicking my tongue over her nipple, drawing circles around it and eventually, sucking it. As soon as I sucked it, she let out a deep moan. It was clear she had very sensitive nipples.

I played with her breasts for a while, watching and listening to her reactions, until she started twitching underneath me.

This was the moment I had been waiting for.

I stopped nibbling on her nipple and brought my face close to hers again.

'We can't get you out of our minds,' I repeated to her as she opened her eyes to see why I had stopped. Her eyes were only half-opened. A sleepy-like look, if it weren't for her flushed cheeks and slightly opened dry mouth that clearly screamed "horny as fuck".

'And feel like you can't get us out of your mind either,' I said provocatively.

She didn't respond but just panted while looking at me longingly. I grinned and licked my lips again as I brought down my free hand again. But instead of going back to her breasts, I went further down, stroking her exposed thigh, and going inwards and upwards.