enden-k

[hauntedfictionland]

❝His dear princess❞

☾︎✰❛❀ Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem! Reader!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Jacaerys did not want you, or the vow he was bound to for life. Yet when he makes a big mistake, and potentially loses you for good. He realises just how much you meant to him.

𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬/𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Bastardphobia, mentions of death and grief, kissing, marrage of convenience and grumpy X sunshine trope, Jace is down bad, flirty!reader, guilt and anxiety and happy ending;)

🪐𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: This is one of my first house of the dragon fics ever, so I truly hope it's not too bad. Jacaerys is one of my favourite characters in hotd after Alicent so I really wanted to get his characteristics and behaviour right. Also, I didn't like the way they showed his grief after Luke died, as if he just moved on after two or three days. But overall, I enjoyed writing this:)

Jacaerys was infuriated with you.

You—his betrothed, acted like you owned the castle as soon as you strutted in. Speaking with no formality and a sharpness in your tongue that only infuriated him further. And especially when you did not seem to care for his heritage, who he was. The heir to the iron throne. Yet you acted as if he didn't exist to you. As if he meant nothing to you.

A marriage pact with the martells was only one of convenience. You, a princess of dorne, he, the firstborn son of queen Rhaenyra. Yet, they were stuck in dragonstone, and needed support to match the strength of the green armies. His mother needed this arrangement more than the martells did, and you made that very clear by acting carelessly and so freely, like you were in your own home. By taunting him, sitting at the great council table with your legs on them, a coin in your fingertips and a smirk in your lips. He hated it, he hated especially how good you looked.

He hated being betrothed to you already.

Rhaenyra had told him martells were rather, open and modern people. They took part in adultery even after being married, especially with the consent of their own partner. He did not know how anyone could be okay with such acts. He did not know what to expect when he met you, but it certainly wasn't how you commented on his face, calling him one of a beauty. It was inappropriate, calling a prince by such bold remarks on the first meeting, yet you did not seem to care.

But what edged him to his limit was the day you called him a bastard.

Jacaerys had been worried, he couldn't find you anywhere. Not that he cared, he was just stressed you would create another ruckus. He looked around everywhere, the garden, the great council, the dining hall, your room, even his room, but you were nowhere to be found. His chest tightened, a restlessness growing in his stomach. It seemed he always felt that way without being with you for too long. Not because he missed you—of course, but because he wanted to ensure everything was going smoothly.

He was going around circles, head spinning with a feeling that made him uncomfortable. Where were you? did you flee the castle? or were so bored of him you went to the city to a brothel in search of another man to keep you company. Anger and jealousy filled in his chest at the mere thought of that.

Jacaerys did not seem where he was going, many thoughts inside his head, before he harshly opened a door to the library. And to his surprise, there you were, a book in your hand. ‘Adventures of Aegon the conqueror’, he could read the name of the book by how you were holding it. He felt he could breathe again. By the loud sound of the door opening your head flitted towards him. Your usual smirk growing up your lips. Something that made his heart flutter in a way he didn't want it to. He clenched his jaw, holding his fists in a tight ball.

“Where have you been?” he asks, desperate tone in his voice.

“Ah, Prince Jacaerys.” you smile, closing the book and turning your attention towards him. He hated how your eye lashes fluttered, your hair falling down in just the perfect way. “I've been gaining some Targaryen knowledge, as you can see. Since we are to be married, I thought I should know my husband's family. Don't you think?”

Husband.

That word rose heat to his cheeks, quickly clearing his throat.

“I'm not your husband.” he spoke, in a tone harsher than he intended, “At least not yet anyway.”

You smile wider, making his heart race. He was always a bit stubborn, and uptight. Yet you were always so carefree and light, always so kind with his demise. He didn't know what to make of it all. A curious look grazed upon your face, eyebrows furrowing. You sat up, walking onwards another shelf of books, lips pursued. Before looking at him.

“I have always wondered, hmm,” you say, your finger coming up to your lips, “do tell me prince Jacaerys, is it true that you were born out of wedlock?”

His eyes widened, “What did you say to me?”

You either did not notice the offend and defensiveness in his tone, or simply pretend not to. Turning to look at him, “I mean, all Targaryen children have white hair. Do they not? Even if they did not, none of your formal parents have black, dark hair like yours.”

His breath hitches, all of the insecurities he had contained in a jar of fireflies fled out the second you brought out his hair. A wall rising inside him. You were acting as if you just did not ask the most dangerous question ever. As if it did not matter to you.

“How dare you insinuate such filthy claims?!” his voice rises, almost shouting. Your eyes flicker surprise for a moment, before turning back to the usual stoic look.

“Ah, you are offended.” you state, as if he shouldn't be, “I meant no harm, my prince. I have no problem with you being a bastard. In fact, it only makes you more interesting. The thing I don't like is your distaste for the truth. One should own up to who they are.”

Bastard.

You, called him a bastard. He isn't able to speak for a moment, too tongue—tied. You....think of him this way too? you? he can't hear as you speak further, a ringing in his head. It only intensifies. Only when you start talking about dorne is when he snaps back from his haze.

“And I have thousands of brothers and sisters back in dorne, no one cares ther—”

“I don't care, what you dornish do back there, but here you don't speak to me with filths of a claim.” he grits, his voice cold, “I am the queen's son. And if I hear you say one word about that again, I will see you hanged.” his words held so much malice in them, one would believe it to be true.

Of course, he could never actually do that, the blacks needed martells armies more than ever. His mother couldn't afford them raging war at her and joining the green's side. And, he could never harm you either. It was just a baseless threat, one he said out of anger and insecurity. He immediately regretted it when he saw the look on your face; hurt. But even worse, fear. Before he could even begin to take them back, it was too late. Your spot, where you stood, was already empty.

You had seen him less and less after that. Of course, you were your usual self. Taunting and teasing him, but something was off. Something distant. He hated it. He hated how much he missed it. Your remarks, your witty replies, your cockiness. He wanted it back. He wanted you back.

Next time he sees you, it's in a completely unexpected place. Dragon—pit. He was about to ride on Vermax to patrol the skies, when he stops. There you were, sat on the hard rock, legs swinging at the edge of it and his dragon's head in your hands. You..you were feeding him. “What the hell do you think you're doing?!” he shouts, eye wide.

You turn your head to him, a smirk on your lips grows. You enjoyed the fact he was on his nerves, furious.

“What does it look like? I'm feeding this cute little angel right here.” you coo, talking to his dragon in a baby voice. Vermax was known for her temper, yet with you it magically dis—appears? a little bit inside him was flustered, heart beating faster than ever that you and his dragon, a very important part of his life, bonded flawlessly. But he shrugs it off, he has to. Flushing over you isn't his duty.

Protecting you is.

As much as he would like to deny it, you're his now. Lawfully so. And he wouldn't let anything happen to you. Especially Vermax. He wouldn't know how to live with himself if his own dragon were to be the cause of, of.. your demise. His throat burns, even the mere thought of harm coming to you feels as if he's being drowned to death. After Luke, he cannot lose anyone. Jacaerys cannot lose you. Even if that was the first thing he tried to do after meeting you. You were the most part of his frustrations yet the only thought when he's in his bed at night.

“Have you lost your mind?” he asks, his voice harsh, as if you were his child and he was scolding you for doing something childish.

“Have you had no fear? you could have died what were you even thinking?!” you falter for a moment, upon seeing the trembling of his hands and the tightness in his voice.

“Jacaerys—”

“No!” he interrupts you, “You, you could have been...do you even realise..”

Your eyes widened as he struggled to even breath, huffing for air anxiously. You quickly get up, walking towards him. He's so much inside his head that he doesn't notice your hands coming up his face, slinging through his dark curly hair. An act that slowed and claimed his beating heart down. Your soft palms make contact with both his cheeks, a peaceful shush in your voice and he finally breathes. Properly. He sighed, eyes closing as his hands came up to hold yours.

This, you, him? this felt oddly peaceful. This felt like home. Vermax watches the whole interaction with a quiet huff, turning away back to the pits. You nudge closer towards him, resting your forehead against his. Love. This felt like love. “Promise me” he starts out, his voice low and timid, “promise you will never do that again.” Instead of putting on a fight like you usually do, you nod, gently caressing his cheek. His head leaned further into your touch, putty in your hands.

“I promise.”

That, gives him great relief. “Good.”

Time seems to slow down, Jacaerys could count every freckle on your nose to cheeks, every small cut in between your knuckles or lips, every curve of smile you put on. And all the scents coming from your body that drove him crazy. You notice his lips still trembling, and above your judgement, you decide to kiss it better. He inhales a sharp breath as your lips touch his, but makes no movement to push you away. It's gentle, barely brushing against his. Jacaerys realised how they fit perfectly amidst his, and how much he was craving it all these months until he finally tasted them.

You slowly pull away, hesitantly. His eyes are still closed. Hands crawling up your waist. He speaks again, a whisper almost.

“I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

He's talking about the library, and you smiled softly, shaking your head.

“It's okay. You can't get rid of me that easily, Jace. Should have known that when you got betrothed to a dornish princess.”

You had already forgiven him. But he didn't want you to. He didn't want to be at your mercy this easily, not when he wasn't able to forgive himself. You, you had crept your way into his heart when he didn't want you to, and now he never wanted to let you go. It was all your fault.

“No I...” he shakes his head, “I never should have said that. Not only because it was so wrong but also because it was completely untrue.” Jacaerys swallows his breath, every bit of him wanted to turn away and never look back, but he couldn't do that. “I have been called names, about my heritage. Ever since I was a child. About my parenting and what not. And it's very...when anyone talks about it, it's like a bandage ripping off a new and fresh wound. No matter how many years pass by, it's still like that for me.”

You nod your head slowly, in understanding. This was raw. He had finally told you one of his darkest parts, his worst fears, and you hadn't run away.

“I understand. I should have never said that. I did not know it was like this for you.” He feels relief in your words.

But there was still something he needed to let out.

“But I...” he didn't know how hard this was for him until he started to actually say it, “I really could never mean it. What I said. Even if you have committed the worst treason or crime, even if you had taken my heart and carved it out, I still wouldn't be able to do one thing that might be even close to harming you. Believe me I have tried. And I have failed.”

He looks away from you, cheeks closing red. Jacaerys had just poured his heart out and gave it to you. But the chances of you, and feeling the same? were very dim. He sees stars when he sees you, what do you see? just him? or even worse? a filth in the name of a true born prince. A gasp leaves his lips as your fingers trace the outlines of his jaw, trailing down to his neck to his chest. You stopped at the red and black three dragons symbol made on the polish cloth he wore.

“Why do you think I agreed to this marriage? not because of this.” you point to the very symbol engraved on his chest, of the house targaryen, “If it was just for this, I certainly would have never.”

He turns his head back to you, confusion in his face. He also feels a bit of guilt in him. At first, he only agreed to this pact because his mother had no choice. Because of your house. Nothing else. And you're saying that his house didn't even matter to you when you agreed to this betrothal? then why? you did not even know what he looked like, and you simply agreed?

“Why then?”

That's the question that's now left in him. Why, if his house and title didn't matter?

“Well,” your lips curl up, a glint in your eyes, as a blush arose your cheeks, “From years I had heard stories of Targaryen princes. How arrogant and unkind they were, your cousins, Aegon and Aemond, well I certainly didn't hear anything good about them. And then you came. The velaryon prince, the son of the realm's delight, born with a kind heart and a fierceness to protect. I knew I had to marry someday, but I only agreed to marry you because I knew—you wouldn't mistreat me. Because I fell in love with the stories of the dark haired prince who had the most beautiful brown eyes ever, who protected his brother when he was a child himself, who stole my heart before he even claimed it.”

Jacaerys doesn't know what to say, his throat falls dry. It doesn't feel real, when he's wanted something so dearly and someone just gives it to him freely; it does not feel real. You do not feel real. But you are. He knows you are when your hands tug at his collar, his face close to you as you pull him towards you and your breath fanning on his cheeks. He knows this is real, and it's better than any dream he's ever had.

“I do not want our marriage to be an unhappy one.”

You say, a plea in your voice.

He smiles, wide. And he doesn't even have to make an effort this time, “For me, the words unhappy and you? well they don't go in the same sentence.”

That seals it for you, he can see that. As you kiss his words, an unspoken understanding and passion in it. Jacaerys realises he could get used to this. Kisses, hugs, reading each other books, waking by the warmth of your body besides his; in fact, there's no one else he'd rather do it by. And nothing he would want more.

𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑡, 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑚:) 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛! 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑠 𝑠𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒.

[trevorsturnioloappreciator]

Good Girl

Matt Sturniolo x fem!reader

-After a hard day at work, you seek comfort in Matt. He knows exactly what you need.

cw: explicit material (oral m!receiving, daddy kink, hair pulling, praise kink) looooots of pet-names, use of ‘sir’, he says ‘slut’ one time, rough!matt, patronizing!matt, matt’s sort of mean in this :P in the hot way

a/n: minors Do Not Interact!! i tried my best to not describe the reader or use any language that would insinuate anything about her looks :) also no use of y/n i hate that shit. this is the first fic i’ve written in like six years so i appreciate all feedback!

⋇⊶⊰⊱⊷⋇ ⋇⊶⊰⊱⊷⋇ ⋇⊶⊰⊱⊷⋇ ⋇⊶⊰⊱⊷⋇ ⋇⊶⊰⊱⊷⋇

It was Friday, the one day you got off work early enough to spend the rest of your night with Matt, it was around 6:30 when you finally parked your car in his driveway and made your way up the stairs. The day you just had was replaying in your mind, all the grief you got from your boss and the way every coworker on your floor watched you leave her office, eyes welling, face hot from the embarrassment. You couldn’t help but feel defeated, like you had deserved the verbal assault and all you wanted now was your boyfriend.

Matt was perfect. He knew exactly how you needed to be treated before you could even tell him, which was lucky for you, considering how flustered you got asking for anything, let alone something on the more sexual side. It’s why the closer you got to the top of the stairs the more your body started to relax, albeit this also meaning your eyes once again felt the hot prickle of tears ready to fall.

You felt relieved as you saw the living room empty with just one ambient light glowing from above the sink across from you. you followed your heart and the sound of Frank Ocean playing softly to Matt’s bedroom door, rapping lightly with your knuckles so as not to startle him. Walking in, you saw him doing what you expected, sitting heavily in his chair, headset half on so he could still hear the low melody from his speaker, making final edits on a new hour long video the boys had filmed that week.

Matt straightens in his seat as he turns to where you’re leaning against the doorframe, waiting for him to welcome you in, nervously picking at your thumbnail. “Hey, doll, c’mere.” a smile breaks over his face as he takes his headphones off and twists his chair to face you, holding his arms out.

Walking in, you try and muster up a smile but it falls short as the comfort of Matt’s presence makes your damn finally break. You traipse over to settle into his lap sideways and tuck your head under his chin already feeling the tears spill over onto your cheekbones. Matt must’ve felt the drops falling onto his sweater as he cranes his neck to see your face where it’s nestled into his collarbones, “Whats wrong, honey? hm?” he rubs your leg where its propped up on the side of his chair, squeezing you closer by the arm he has wrapped around your shoulder.

You feel his lips meet your forehead gently, resting them there more than kissing you, you bring your hand to tug on his sweater, shaking your head and letting out an almost imperceptible whine. “awe, poor girl, d’you have a rough day? want daddy to help, baby doll? we can go lay down or��” his sentence trails off as you slip from his lap onto the floor between his legs.

Matt lowly chuckles as he watches you get comfortable on your knees, looking up through your still-wet-lashes at him, laying your hands on his thighs and resting your cheek on his left leg. Matt’s amusement is evident in his voice, “what’re ya doin, silly girl. not gonna even ask me?” his smile stays playful as he moves his hands from atop yours to rest on the sides of your head, the feeling of his cool fingers lightly touching your ears and the pressure of his big hands causes you to almost purr in his hold.

The tension from your day a thing of the past as you feel your mind floating to a place only your boyfriend can take you to. “s-sorry” speaking is the last thing on your mind but a part of you knows matt loves hearing you have to explain yourself, loves how you squirm at his insistence and especially loves your willingness to fulfill his wish through your embarrassment. “need daddy, need you ta just do what you want please, don’t wanna think.”

Your voice is meek as you move your hands up his thighs feeling over his soft sweatpants, not pushing too far as you know matt hasn’t given express permission.

One of Matt’s hands move to meet yours where it’s resting on his upper thigh as his right hand slides to cup your jaw, rubbing his thumb against the apple of your cheek.

“hmm, my sweet girl.. you need daddy? thats okay sweetheart, just need to ask like a good girl, okay?”

His voice is gentle and guiding with the slightest glint of condescension, just enough to make your eyes slip closed, melting into his palm as you blearily nod at his instruction. “could I please make you feel good, daddy, and let you do what you want to me, please, sir?”

Matt feels his heart clench at your words, always loving how he can get you so eager and desperate for him, your soft voice adopting that airy quality, eyes sparkling, looking at him like he was your whole world. Matt can’t help himself as he leans forward and lands a sweet kiss to your hairline, your cheek, then down to the tip of your nose. “My girl~.. so polite, you know how much I love when you use your manners, huh? Good job, sweetheart..” His voice soothing and husky, you can tell he’s beginning to give into you, but you also know he’s not that easily swayed.

Matt leans back in his chair, hands behind his head, like he’s relaxing on the beach and not mentally torturing you as you squeeze your thighs together, squirming where you’re propped on your knees between his legs. “Please.. please?” you’re trying your hardest not to break into a full-on beg but looking up at his smug expression, legs spread and chin tilted up as he stares at you down his nose, you feel like youre going to burst out of your skin, needing him to just grab you and take you.

The only response Matt dignifies you with is a low chuckle and a patronizing ruffle to your hair, you know you should be angry or even ashamed but the only thing running through your mind is how thankful you are for him. You feel your body temperature rising as his hand stills and starts patting over your head, “Okay, sweetheart.” he drags out the oookay in a placating tone, “Why don’t ya show me how bad you need it, hm? If you’re not gonna tell me whats botherin you, you can show me where you need me, at the very least, huh?”

Matt’s words are all you need to hear as you lift up onto your heels, planting your hands on the muscle of his thighs and tilting forward to shyly nuzzle against the slight tent forming in his sweats. You look up, gauging his expression, feeling nervous no matter how many times Matt has reassured you that there’s just about nothing you could do to him that he wouldn’t love.

“Ah…” he drags the syllable as if he’s just connected the final clues to a mystery. “That’s what my dirty girl wanted. Need me let you sit there and have daddy take over like a good girl?” You nod lethargically, head swimming with desire, your nose brushing against the part of him you want the most. “Need it, i’ll be good, promise..” Hearing your own words distantly, you almost feel like someone else is in your head controlling you, opening your eyes to meet Matt’s devilish expression, you begin to half believe he is in your head.

You mouth desperately at his bulge, wetting the gray fabric of his pants, digging your fingers into the meat of his thighs, furrowing your brow at how close you are to what you’ve been thinking about all day. Matts large hand thats still resting on the crown of your head suddenly tightens to grip your hair firmly, “Okay, okay… let daddy take care of ya, princess. I can see how bad you need it, hm? Need to be put to use?” You begin to nod as much as you can while he still holds you by the hair, Matt kicks the chair from behind him as he stands in front of you, using his tight hold on your hair to make you crawl after him as he moves closer to the end of the bed.

The whine you let slip could only be described as pitiful. It makes Matt’s face light up as he lets go of you, smoothing your hair down and bending to kiss where he had previously been tugging you.

“Alright, babydoll stand up for me.” as you rise to your feet, finally feeling how numb your legs had become, you lilt forward to hug around his waist. Matt chuckles sweetly and uses a gentle hand on your jaw to tilt your head back, capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

The sheer intensity of the kiss makes you feel like you’ll never be able to breathe again, only able to inhale what he lets you, nose filled with his scent and a lingering breath of the cologne he must’ve put on this morning. If this is how you went, you would die happy. Matt holds you firmly by the back of the neck, using this leverage to pull back just slightly, lips barely touching as he examines the mess he made of you, in contrast, you study his composed demeanor, making you feel a flutter of shame at just how worked up you are knowing matt has barely even touched you.

The thing to snap you out of your own head is a soft thump from beneath you, looking down, realizing Matt has tossed a throw pillow on the floor in between you two. His hold on the nape of your neck stays firm as he lowers his head just a bit to really meet your hazy eyes, “You gonna be a good girl and get on the ground for me? I know your poor knees must hurt, hm? Sit on the pillow, doll, get comfy. Don’t wanna hurt ya too much.” The splitting grin on his face as he says this last sentence is enough to make you that much more aware of the arousal in between your legs.

Eyes never leaving each others as you drop to your knees, Matt’s hand cradling the side of your face. Once you’re settled his soft touch turns to a grip on your chin causing your lips to form into a pout, making him laugh at your position.

“Such a good slut, bet I could tell ya to do anything and you would.” He uses his tight hold on your face to manipulate your head into an exaggerated nod, “Uh huh, and you’d love it… love when daddy bosses you around, makes you humiliate yourself…” Matt’s smile stays wide but his eyes have lost all humor as he bends to be eye-level with you.

“But you don’t have to worry about that, sweetheart, you know i just wanna take care of you. Help you let go, stop doin all that thinking, huh? Yeah… ‘s too much for my girl, thats why you just gotta let daddy do all the thinking for ya.” He finishes his words with a light couple taps on your cheek. By the end of Matt’s monologue his smile is reaching his eyes and you can tell, even through the fog in your head, that he’s sincere, slightly teasing, yes, but he means what he’s saying, knows how much you need him to take over.

You only nod dumbly in response which gets you another tender kiss as a reward. Matt straightens out and lets go of your face, holding out his hands to you. “Gimme your hands, baby.” Your hands placed in his up-turned palms are then guided to hold his hips. “Want ya to keep your hands here for me, tap me twice if it’s too much, alright?” Matt’s stern tone letting you know that this was a rule not a suggestion, “Mhm, yes, sir.”

“Good girl~!” His voice as though he was giving a treat to a puppy who learned its first trick, causing you to squeeze your legs tighter, hyper aware of the wetness growing in your panties, and smile up at him lovingly.

“T-thank you, daddy..” Your low voice like kryptonite to your boyfriend, moving his hands from where they were settled over yours to play with your hair, gently twisting the strands with a blissed out look on his face.

“Okay, babydoll, I liked that little show you put on for me earlier but…” His voice trails slightly as he tugs on one of the strands of hair he’s still holding, “I dunno if you’ve demonstrated just how much you need me in your mouth, so daddy’s gonna let you try again, hm? How’s that sound?”

“Mhm mhm i’ll show you!” At this point your brain is so beyond feeling embarrassed you don’t even realize how pathetic you sound, only knowing you’re allowed to put yourself to some use, allowed to prove your devotion to Matt. Immediately leaning forward your mouth reattaches to the still damp spot on Matt’s sweats, licking and kissing at his erection, needing to convey all the words and feelings swirling in your head through your lips.

You’re still fully attached to him as your grip on his hips tighten, mumbling through the fabric, “Please, please lemme take ‘em off, your pants, please.” You feel like your skin is on fire, mouth too empty, head not empty enough. “Of course you can, princess, just remember, don’t move those hands.”

His words give you pause for a split second before you’re straining to bite at his waistband moving downward as you pull off his pants, you don’t even care that you hear him failing to stifle his laughter from above you, it only spurs you on, making you more wet, more hungry for him.

Matts hands in your hair start to move more to the back of your head, now pressing your face against his hard on, “That what you’ve been begging for this whole time? Daddy’s dick in your face, hm? Makes sense, what kinda guy would i be if i didn’t know how much my girl likes getting her face fucked, huh?” It’s these words that finally make you moan out loud, now more eager than ever to just get him down your throat.

“Please, please, need it so bad, more than anything please. Don’t wanna breathe anymore unless you want me to, need daddy to make it better~” You’re almost unaware of the words you’re saying as they tumble out of your mouth, Matt certainly enjoyed your little outburst as he lets out a quiet Fuck under his breath, now completely hard as he haphazardly tugs down his boxers, kicking them and his sweatpants from around his ankles, reaching to his back and pulling his sweater over his head.

Then just as you were about to get what you wanted, Matt pushes you back slightly at the shoulder, tugging meanly on your shirt, “Take all this shit off, keep your panties on.”

A shiver runs through you while you rush to take all your clothes off, obediently repositioning onto the pillow, feeling Matt’s scrutinizing eyes on you, making your face heat up. “Good job, doll, say ‘ah’…” His smile is verging on cruel as he holds your chin, pulling your mouth open.

You follow his orders and he immediately steps closer to you, slapping his tip against your tongue. “Ya look so pretty, baby…” his voice trails off as he uses the hand under your chin to guide your mouth onto him, letting out a deep groan and rolling his head back.

“Fuuuck, good girl…” Matt’s eyes are back on you as you slowly work your mouth up and down his length, your eyes slip closed, finally feeling your body and mind level out, you feel Matt’s big hands lay on your head, assisting your movements. “Open those eyes… ‘Atta girl.” his left hand moving down to lightly pinch your cheek, right hand petting you softly as he stares down at you- shiny lips, teary eyes, and puffed out cheeks.

Suddenly, the hand that was previously stroking over your hair, was now firm at the back of your head, pushing you forward.

Your brows furrow as you gag on Matt’s dick, feeling him hit the back of your throat as he holds you still, laughing under his breath at your spluttering breaths and the tears falling down your cheek.

“Such a good job, babydoll, know how much you love choking on it, hm?” the hand he has on the back of your head lets go, allowing you to pull back for a full breath of air. “So good, honey, i love how you take it, love how you’d do anything to please me..”

Immediately after taking a break to breathe you put him back in your mouth, fervently bobbing your head, sucking him down to his pubic bone, forcing yourself to stay there, looking up at Matt as he smiles down at you proudly. “That’s my good girl, want daddy to fuck your face, hm?”

You nod as much as you can with your mouth so full, Matts smug smile only getting bigger at your answer, he plants his hands on the side of your head and starts slow. Pulling you off him just a bit before tugging you back down, again and again. Matt’s moans and swears increase as you gag and choke on his dick, you can feel him pulsing in your mouth as he thrusts messily, “Fuck, so good, so perfect, angel.”, he pants out the words, throwing his head back and finally holding you down on him, cumming down your throat.

“That’s it, baby, good job. Swallow it all like a big girl…”, he pats your head lovingly, before nudging your head off of him. The floaty feeling not subsiding as you slump down, hands still gripping at Matt’s hips, looking up at him with stars in your eyes.

“Thank you, sir…”, is the only words you can think of, watching Matt as he slips his sweats back on, “Don’t need to thank me, babydoll, I love helpin you.”

Matt’s voice lulling you, he comes back over to you and leans forward, picking you up under your arms and holding you to his chest. “C’mon, sweet girl let’s go lay in bed, hm? Did so good for me, im so proud of you for tellin me what you need, such a good job.” Matt carries you to the head of his bed, laying you down and walking over to his wardrobe, grabbing a long sleeve shirt and dressing you in it, sitting sideways on his bed next to where you’re sitting back against his headboard. “D’you want daddy to take care of you, hm?”, he says this while rubbing up and down your thigh, lightly nudging your legs open. The blush that covers your face makes you feel more shy as you answer, “N-no, that’s okay… just wanted to make you feel good, it makes me feel good.”

Matt smiles brightly at you, cooing at your words. “Awe, baby, that’s so sweet…”, he brackets you in between his arms as he leans forward to kiss you deeply. “My sweet girl..”, another kiss, “You know I love you so much, right? More than anything, just wanna give you everything you ask for.”

Your arms reach up to wrap around Matt’s neck, tucking your face into his neck, your blush intensifying at his words, “I love you, too. So much. Thank you for always knowing what i need, you’re the best thing to happen to me.” You’re still hiding your face in his neck, too shy to see his face as you speak your mind.

Matt leans back, bringing you with him and positioning you in his lap, his hand on the side of your face pulling you away from his shoulder to look at him. “I’m always gonna take care of you, sweetheart, it’s my job.”

[rawbin-hsr]

Rating HSR characters in relationships

Title is self-explanatory <3

Characters: Boothill, Dr Ratio, Blade, Aventurine (separately)

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

CW: cursing, mostly fluff and some crack

CW Aventurine's part: toxic dynamics, emotional neglect, jealousy, Aventurine in general

Lmk if there's any warnings I should add!

Had to restrain myself on Dr. Ratio I have soo bad brain worms about him rn he’s all I think about

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Boothill

10/10

DO NOT. AT ME. I PROMISE I’VE THOUGHT THIS THROUGH. I know most people who read that will be like “what the fuck Boothill would NOT be a perfect partner” and that’s where you’re right ! No, he would be an awful partner !

For MOST people. 

But see, he wouldn’t be just ANYONE’S partner. 

If you’re dating him, it means you’re exactly his type and he’s exactly yours. You wouldn’t date a guy like him if he wasn’t exactly what you wanted. He lays out all his cards on the table right away. Your relationship won’t have the chance to even begin if you’re not head over heels immediately bro 😭😭😭

With most characters I can imagine them in a relationship with a lot of different kinds of people. Like for example yeah I can imagine Aventurine both dating someone more reserved and sweet or someone bold and loud. Or someone like Argenti Lord knows that man could love ANYONE (or anyTHING tbh), but with Boothill there’s just a very narrow range of personalities I can imagine him with. Hence the rating cause he’d only be in one kind of relationship. 

You guys are a POWER COUPLE I tell you. It’s SICKENING how much you love each other and how well you fit together. Two peas in a pod. I’m gonna throw up. 

You both love the exact same things, you both HATE the exact same things, and you are both equally deranged and insane

The IPC hates to see you coming 💀🙏

You’re constantly in a friendly competition to outdo each other. Who has the higher bounty ? (Usually him) Who can drink most alcohol before blacking out ? (You, surprisingly) Who can kiss the other the most times during this high-speed chase ? (You always tie on this)

He swallows a bullet. You say “I’ll do you one better!” and swallow a knife. You are a human and so he needs to take you to the hospital so you don’t fucking die

(You both think it’s funny afterwards so it’s okay)

Even when you guys “argue” it’s never really that serious. Honestly you both think it’s kind of hot…… you argue in a devious, sexy way……. *smirks mischievously*

Sorry I cannot take him seriously

You match his freak <3

Nobody fucking likes you together. Separately ? Sure people like you. But the moment the two of you are in the same room it’s like you merge into one singular, horrible, annoying entity and NOBODY wants to be around to see it 😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏 neither of you have gotten a lecture about how inappropriate pda can be and also the two of you speak total nonsense it’s incomprehensible to everyone else

Considering putting Boothill on my “do not request” list, not because I don’t like him but because even I don’t understand how the two of you would fit together I can’t write it y’all are that weird

Boothill is for the freaks and he is PERFECT FOR THEM !!!

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Dr. Ratio

9/10

Okay I’ll be honest I’m not very caught up on Dr Ratio (I briefly hated him I only recently started liking him again HELP) so forgive me if there is some mischaracterisation in this I’m working on it my view on him isn’t complete yet 🙏🙏

Though Ratio is very ruled by logic, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have emotions. Furthermore, he views these emotions as important. Logic is not inherently opposed to emotions, and in fact, ignoring them would be illogical. 

That is to say, yes, he’s an intellectual man. But he also has a high emotional intelligence 😇😇

Like not in the way of knowing how to cope with them. I don’t think he feels many strong emotions regularly (except for annoyance lol), so I think he in fact gets kind of overwhelmed by them around you and never knows how to regulate them properly HELP

But what I meant to say is that, in a relationship, he considers your thoughts and feelings a lot and makes an effort to prioritise them. He does not want for you to be unhappy. 

He values you very highly. He takes all your opinions into consideration and treats them with respect.

He loves you a lot it’s actually ridiculous. He frequently gets annoyed at himself for how much he finds himself downright SIMPERING over you. 

And like yes Ratio can be very harsh in the way he speaks but I think that 1, his care for people (including the “fools” and “idiots” he seems to scorn so often) shows and it shows even more apparently for people he cares about, and 2 I think he realises it would be inappropriate to be as rude as he usually is to you. You two are in a relationship, you are not some stranger. He cannot go around criticising you constantly, that would not be a healthy dynamic. Meaning he softens his vocabulary for you. 

His care for you is very blatantly obvious. In the beginning I think he’s a bit embarrassed to show you affection. He hasn’t ever dated anyone, much less been in a relationship, with anyone before you (I honestly don’t even think he’s had his first kiss 😭😭), so I think his inexperience plays a part in it. But he still shows you as obviously as he can that he loves you, and he doesn’t shy away from vulnerability in private moments. 

Bro has researched how to be a good partner trust 🤞

He communicates very clearly with you as often as possible. He hates misunderstandings, and tries to avoid them whenever possible. The two of you are almost always on the same page. 

Whenever you argue, he still does not want you to leave the argument feeling unloved. Type to sigh, let his eyes soften and say “I believe it would be best if we both had some time to cool down”, then squeeze your shoulder as he passes you out of the room. Kisses you goodnight before you go to sleep. It’s often easier to talk it out the next day. 

The only things bumping him down from a 10/10 for me is the fact that he doesn’t have that much time to spare for time with only you (his schedule is very packed), and the fact that he cannot cope with his OWN emotions 😭 Great with yours because he can logistically figure out how to handle them, terrible with his own because they’re affecting his own mind and he isn’t used to it

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Blade

7/10

Surprisingly high rating for a guy like him but I swear I’ve thought about this ok don’t leave 😔😔😔

I think it takes…. A lot. Like a lot a lot. To break through Blade’s tough outer shell

He hates letting people in so much it’s actually crazy

The closest person he has before he meets you is probably Kafka, and that’s not really by his own choice he would shut her out too if he could 😭😭

(Not to say he isn’t like, calm and polite to people. He’s pretty reserved and just, like, quiet ig usually, he only really gets weird and aggressive when the Mara flares up or he needs to be for a mission. I just mean he isn’t gonna be open and available for basically anyone lol)

It’s mainly difficult to GET INTO a relationship with Blade, but if you do manage it, it turns out a lot sweeter than you’d expect

He’s just a deeply tired man. He is not malicious, he is not unnecessarily cruel. He is worn out and sick of living, of never getting the rest he so desperately craves. He finds some sort of respite in you, and so he treasures you. 

He trusts your judgement. He stands by you, no matter what. He’s loyal to a fault once you have him. The worst that could ever happen to him now is losing you. Even when he thinks you’re about to do something stupid (and he always tells you when he thinks it’s stupid), he’ll come with you. Better he’s there to take the hit for you than letting you go alone. 

Even with the smaller things, he shows it even more obviously. He cooks you dinner and lunch every day, so you don’t have to. He lets you decorate his apartment, and he never adjusts the things you place in it, even when it clashes horribly with his own style. He lets you drag him along anywhere, whether it be a concert or a park, without complaint. 

The main downsides with Blade are that he never, ever, verbally tells you that he loves you. Maybe once during your entire relationship he’ll say it, and probably when you’re on your deathbed, but he usually won’t. Even if you try to pry it out of him. 

He can be really mean in the way he says things sometimes, like telling you straight up your ideas are dumb, but it’s always softened by the way he agrees to do whatever you want anyways.

Another frustrating thing is how he cares very little for his own wellbeing. It’s a regular occurrence for him to come home with guts spilling out of his abdomen, and it’s really uncomfortable to see even if you know he can’t die. He can still feel pain, even if he’s learnt to cope with it well. It’s scary to see him so hurt so often. 

But you wouldn’t get into a relationship with him if you didn’t already know all this, hence why I rank him so high. He’s a lot better than you expected when you met him, which means you’re effectively in a better relationship than you’d have hoped 😭😭

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Aventurine

4/10 💀💀

I love him so much (my content is mostly Aventurine centric) but holy fuck man,,,

I have never and will never sugarcoat it Aventurine is TOXIC. Like GENUINELY. I wouldn’t say abusive but he can be really cruel. He gets lost in his own head and takes it out on you in ways he doesn’t really mean to. Aventurine is not a good person. 

He’s fucked up in all sorts of ways and it’s no surprise it could easily destroy any relationship

Trust issues ? Jealousy issues ? Commitment issues ? Attachment issues ? Insecurity issues ? Mommy, daddy AND sister issues ? Every kind of possible issue you can probably imagine ? Yes on all fronts, bro’s the full issue package 💀

It would take a very special kind of person to endure in a relationship with him (I would not be able to do it if he was real I’ll be so honest)😭

When things are good, they’re really good. He can be so fun and playful and sweet and he loves to spoil you and everything that belongs to him belongs to you. He loves you more than the air he breathes and he’d do anything to make you happy

The issue is, most of the time, things are not in fact good. 

I keep mentioning it but his relationships are always such a push and pull. A game of hot and cold. One second he clings to you and begs you to never leave him, and the next he won’t respond to your calls or messages. 

Even worse, sometimes he’ll be outright mean in order to push you away, insinuating you’re “holding him down” and that you’re “wasting his time”. You’ll find yourself questioning if he actually does love you, because what sort of person does this to someone they love?

(It keeps him up at night when he treats you badly. He hates doing it, but he needs you to hate him as much as he hates himself.)

Usually he’s a really smart guy. Even when he does stupid things (things like making a purposeless high-risk gamble, playing Russian roulette), he’s fully aware of what he’s doing. (He does it because he kind of hopes he’ll actually die this time.) But with you, he loses all his composure and can’t really think straight. 

He feels safe with you, and that scares him. He’s a danger to your safety, and it’s better to push you away, make you hate him, than it is to let himself be happy with you. His life is beyond saving, so all he can do to you if you stay is drag you into his mess. He can’t fix himself, not even for your sake. 

He lies to you, he neglects you (sometimes for weeks at a time), he builds up new walls between you constantly, but at the same time he gets insecure and jealous when you hang out with others. Only when you threaten to leave him does he finally start getting his act together, because he realises that now that he’s had you, he couldn’t bear to live without you (even if he knows that’s very selfish of him). 

He gets better with time, but I really, really doubt he’ll ever be fully healed. It doesn’t help that his job wouldn’t really allow it, and he can’t leave the IPC through any other means than death. 

I originally ranked him as a 3/10 (diabolically low rating I know 💀💀) but I bumped him up one because he will get better. If you stick around long enough, he’d probably make it to a 7/10, but since that would take like over 4 years of being in a relationship with him I felt it would be unfair to rank him much higher 😭😭 At the start he really fucking sucks dude I’m so sorry my condolences 

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

My inbox is open, feel free to send in asks or requests, I'd love to ramble about things <3

[scarfacemarston]

Natasha Romanoff A-Z Fluff Alphabet

As requested! Please think about "liking" and reblogging! These posts take time. Feel free to request anything else.

A - Affection (how do they show affection to their s/o)

Natasha is more subtle in her affection - but not always! She tends to be more jovial and more likely to grin, one that reaches her eyes, when she's with you. She might playfully punch you on the shoulder, lean on you, or pull on your wrist. Sometimes, it's whispering sweet things in your ear, showing up with your favorite takeout after a long day, or a snuggle session, but in general, she gives love through acts of service for you.

B - Best Friend (what are they like as a best friend?)

She doesn't have many friends, which is by choice. However, she doesn't expect people to give her a chance to be a friend. It's why she's so touched that Steve reveals he trusts her in Winter Soldier. She has proven to be ride or die. Even when she disagrees, she would rather value the person and their relationship over being right, as seen with Clint in Civil War. She's the type that you can vent to at any hour of the day, or if you're hurt, she'll ask who she has to kill. She has contingency plans upon contingency plans, so if you need help with an issue, she is almost guaranteed to have a solution.

C - Cuddling (do they like to cuddle? And how would they do it?)

Cuddling is unusual for her because it rarely happened to her growing up, but also, as an adult, she was always "taught" that cuddling could lead to sex with a target. Cuddling for the sake of intimacy and comfort wasn't on her radar. She's not exactly touch-starved, but she does enjoy cuddling once she gets used to it. She loves to spoon, with her being the big spoon, regardless of your height.

D - Domestic (do they want to settle down? How good are they at cooking and cleaning)

I will go into this in more detail later, but commitment is new to her. The idea of someone wanting her for HER despite everything she has done is new to her, but she does find herself craving stability and domesticity. Her time in Ohio was the best time of her life, and she'd love to have that again. Nat can do the "stereotypical" cleaning and cooking. She was taught it in the Red Room as it was part of the perfect housewife image. However, she does not like that this role is always assigned to her. She thinks it's entirely sexist for people to assume she's going to do all the domestic tasks because she's a woman. In a relationship, this is very much so different. She doesn't make special meals on her own unless it's her choice to share with the Avengers. For her, it's usually something quick and easy. She doesn't care other than that, but she does try with you. She is also very tidy; again, things are utilitarian in her apartment, but she appreciates that you are livening up the place. 

E - Ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

This….is not Natasha's best moment; honestly, it would likely hurt quite a bit.

She is the most likely to be very businesslike and more like speaking to a co-worker than a former lover. However, it is also possible that she simply disappears or leaves a note. It is not a happy headcanon but a possible and realistic one. Now, if you were dating her later in her life, like around the time of Infinity War, she is far less likely to do this.

F - Fiancé (how do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Natasha is very much a novice to love. She knows how it works and how to get people to fall in love with her, and she believes she's been in love before. However, putting this all into practice in a "normal" relationship is difficult for her, but once you've earned her trust, she is a very committed partner, and she would put her entire heart into it. She doesn't think she'll ever be married, even if she dreams of it. She thinks it's a pipe dream, but the more you talk about it with her, the more likely she is to hope.

G - Gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Natasha is capable of great gentleness, but the problem is feeling secure enough to show this as she tends to spook. She struggles greatly with emotional availability. Her gentleness is very subtle and more likely reserved for privacy with you. This is for both emotional and physical gentleness. 

H: Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) 

She's not really a hugger, no. Physical affection was deeply discouraged for her growing up, and even being undercover in Ohio, she struggled with hugs and "normal" affection. (Of course, that never stopped Yelena from giving her tackle hugs.) She is the type to give a hug when she believes it's truly needed and will be useful. It is a very thoughtful and deliberate gesture from her. Ex: Hugging Steve after Peggy's funeral or hugging Clint in I.W. With a romantic partner, her first inclination is not to give a hug, but she would try to anticipate your needs and affection style. She's likely to hold you from behind or something similar rather than give you a hug.  Her hugs are very tender and gentle but almost protective.

I: I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It would take months, but more likely a year or more before she says it. She will show it in other ways, but to say it would take a long time. She's had very few actual relationships, so she is admittedly new to love. 

J: Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they're jealous?)

Natasha would appear completely neutral. You wouldn't be able to tell unless you really were looking for a sign, and even then? Good luck with that. However, she may make a teasing comment or two, but she's not the type to actually entertain jealousy. She's very secure that way because she knows what she's worth and the work the two of you put into your relationship. However, she might still sneak an arm around the waist or give a "reminder" kiss. 

K: Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you?)

Kissing the Black Widow is as magical and enigmatic as you can imagine. She knows what she's doing, but the difference is she cares whereas before, they were all marks. The cheek and lips are her main targets, but she knows about all your secret sensitive areas and is not afraid to use those against you in public. 

L: Little Ones (How are they with kids?)

Natasha loves children and is lovely with them, as seen with the Bartons, but she still feels as though she's too cold and too robotic. She would love to have a family of her own to give them the life she never experienced. She's happy to be an aunt, but having her own children would be extremely meaningful.

M: Mornings (How are mornings spent with them?)

Natasha is up early as hell. She has always been this way, thanks to the Red Room. She gets up early, grabs a coffee, trains, and reads reports for the day. She's usually up at 6:00 am. However, she will often make you breakfast and place leftovers in the fridge for you to enjoy later. Occasionally, she'll pack a snack to help you through your day. Expect a sticky note with a good morning message if you aren't awake for her to give you a proper goodbye.  When dating you, she doesn't exactly sleep in more, but she will stay in bed to cuddle a bit later while working on her phone. 

N: Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nat tends to struggle with insomnia, most of it stems from an overactive mind. It's not anxiety, per se, but her mind is always in overdrive, thinking of contingency plans, other Avengers business, her 'real family,' or her life with you. She will usually settle down with tea and a book before sleeping. Sometimes, you have to take the book from her and turn off the lights for her to get the hint. She swings between preferring her space to sleep or cuddling. It depends on her mood. 

O: Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

This is Natasha Romanoff we're talking about. She is incredibly slow to reveal anything about herself. She doesn't lie about her past, per se, but she gives half-truths or very vague answers before eventually letting you in to reveal more about her life. She will never tell you everything; you must be okay with that. That's simply part of her rules. To pry would be disrespectful and would be a turn-off for her. She can be encouraged to share things but not be pried.

P: Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Nat has the patience of a saint in most areas. Yes, she has things she won't tolerate, but for someone to actually anger her would be quite difficult. Someone would have to be blatantly cruel or foolish for her to get angry, and even then, her anger is biting and cold, not raging. This woman handled the downfall of SHIELD, the Accords, and Thanos' snap fall out and held herself together quite well for all of it, even when there were times she would be in the right to be beyond angry. 

Q: Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every detail in passing, or do they kind of forget? )

Natasha was trained to remember things. Her memory might as well be photographic. It doesn't matter if it's a band you mentioned liking once or off-handedly mentioned disliking cilantro in passing; she will remember. That can be a negative, though, if there is an argument because she will remember exactly what you said. HOWEVER, she hates to fight, so she will put conflict resolution above all else.

R: Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

When you accepted Natasha for who she was after telling you some of her darkest stories one night after suffering nightmares. She had told you about Budapest and some of the early missions she completed for Russia - memories that still haunted her with events that she wasn't proud of. Instead of spurning her, you had soothed her instead. You didn't pity her or try to say that "everything was going to be fine." You acknowledged her and told her she was worthy anyhow. That meant everything to her, as she had expected the worst. 

S: Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?) 

Nat's protectiveness can be almost startling. She is practically paranoid about your safety. In fact, you might have to talk to her about toning it down if you can ever find out the extent of her protection, which is unlikely. She is more likely to be overprotective when she's out of town. 

Natasha doesn't need protection, and she would prefer that you don't think that way toward her, either. However, she does appreciate that you look out for her by reminding her to eat, get enough sleep, slow down on work, etc. 

T: Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, and gifts?)

Natsha's thoughtfulness is off the charts. It's one thing that makes her such a good friend and partner. She will spend weeks planning something for you, whether it's getting the highest-quality ingredients to cook you something or finding the best way to whisk you away to a nice weekend away somewhere. If you collect something, you know she's been on eBay or using other channels to get you something nice to add to the collection.

U: Ugly (What would be a bad habit of theirs?)

Nat sits or lays down in horrible positions, which causes her bone and joint pain later on in the evening. Her flexibility is her friend and foe. 

V: Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Natasha is well aware that she's stunning. She knows she doesn't have to do anything to have people admire her or envy her. However, on average, she spends far less on her looks than Yelena. She knows what she likes to wear, and that is usually a mix of sleek and utilitarian. She doesn't spend a lot of time on fashion, but she understands trends. She tends to wear what she wants and applies light makeup, but this is not a priority for her.

W: Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes, but she would acknowledge that something would be missing without your presence. However, she's been alone for longer.She is used to being alone or playing second fiddle to someone else. That doesn't mean she enjoys it, but she is used to it.

X: Xtra (A random headcanon for them)

Nat is a secret, cozy game fanatic. She loves Animal Crossing the most and will play it with Yelena and a few of the other Avengers who have it. (Steve, Bucky, and the Bartons, mainly.) Scott Lang tried to friend her, and she left him on read.

She's not as interested in the farming games, but she'll play them. She likes the ones with a unique premise. 

Z: Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

She tends to wear a T-shirt or tank top and shorts to bed, but she does have the occasional weakness for silk pajamas.

[moodymisty]

Oh my gosh, I just saw your post about requests being open again and I am honestly embarrassed about how excited I got. Now I just have to choose which one... which one... Aha!

I am in DESPERATE need of a White Knight Captain Titus fic. Something where he swoops in and saves a fem-reader from a horrible fate. Please give my sweet blueberry boy some good old fashioned romance. He deserves it.

(I will leave the NSFW level up to you, but I wouldn't be opposed if things got very spicy.)

Author's note: I am so sorry about this taking so long, life is kicking my ass; Also maybe not the most horrible fate, but I digress

Relationships: Titus/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Grinding/Dry humping, Armor kink, Clothed sex

“Thank you, Titus.”

Those three words could inspire him do a frightening amount of things, Titus has learned quite quickly.

They drip from your lips like the sweetest, saccharine song, always with a smile. Whether it's an Inquisitor interrupting you, a handsy lord, or the pitter patter of rain threatening to ruin your hair, Titus hears those words not moments after swooping to your rescue.

He had felt so guilty of your over respect that he'd told you of his struck record, his accusations. You'd replied that none of it mattered to you- that he seemed no less than an honorable and valiant Ultramarine. Those words fanned his pride like hot embers waiting for kindling, and Titus preened like a flashy bird under your praise. The praise of a baseline might mean nothing to his brothers, but to him, yours was everything.

It was everything he'd ever needed, and wanted.

Its in the incense choked air of the chapel that he remembers the moment a rogue trader pulled a bolter on you. The deal his captain had given you to negotiate had been tough, and your lips had fumbled oh so slightly, sending negotiations into a spiral downwards. Even your most valiant efforts couldn't save it; but when that man pulled his bolter on you, something in him broke.

That man didn't survive the moments after, and his fellow Ultramarines had cleaned up the rest.

Titus removes that thought from his mind with a literal head shake, one that causes his ear to ring a bit just for a moment.

He wants to go see you.

He knows you're fine, this ship is the safest place you could be bar none, but yet there is this tug on his hearts that demands he go to you. Like he needs to visually see you with his own eyes before he can finally cast that accursed remembrance aside. He wishes he had never remembered it in the first place- though it's an impossible wish for an astartes.

Tracking you down to a dark spot in the Ultramarine Librarium. You're casually perusing, eyeing the tomes at your level before catching sight of him. The way you light up fans the embers of Titus' pride once more, setting them aflame.

"Titus! What are you doing here?"

He instantly comes closer, breaching into your personal space of which you allow with no complaint. Your perfumed scent mixed with your natural scent wafts around him, as you look up at him with a soft expression.

"I missed you." Titus speaks bluntly and truthfully- though it's only half of said truth. Your face blooms into a smile at the sound of his voice.

"I missed you too, Titus."

You always say his name so differently, there's a softness to it- so unlike how most speak his name with disdain. They bring him in like some sort of lure, the still foreign feeling of his lips against your own. Even if he's already kissed you a countless number of times, it still feels off. Like parts of his brain are trying to lock the things he's discovered in his mind once more.

His lips dance with yours, his slightly larger mouth awkwardly pressing against yours. It may not be the perfect elegant kiss you read in your hidden novels, bound in solid black to keep the contents secret, but the passion is sevenfold. The soft mewls from your throat he greedily swallows, feeling the way your hands wrap in the hair at the nape of his neck. The feeling on your fingers grasping it makes him groan, the pain is so light but just enough to make his hearts hitch.

His massive gauntlets slide down the curve of your back to cup your ass, bunching the fabric of your dress. If he moved a bit more inward, you could feel his fingers against your cunt. Your back scrapes against the shelves behind you, knocking books out of alignment.

"There are others here, Titus,"

You whisper against his lips, feeling one of his gauntlets pulling away to your front in order to barge it's way between your thighs. The feeling makes you whimper- even if it's his unfeeling armor, even if it's through layers of clothing, your deprived senses delight in the sensation enough that your hips jerk forward of their own volition.

"They're all servitors or servoskulls, anyone who is normally in here left to listen to our chapter Librarian speak."

His lips brush against the corner of your mouth, and that hesitation no matter how minute is brushed away by the heat of his breath over your skin- the tickle of his lip scar.

"I cannot remove my armor for another two cycles, but allow me to have something I can look forward to."

He wants to hear the noises you make; the ones just for him. His duty according to his captains might be to just protect you from physical harm, but in his hearts tending to your whims is just as important.

He needs you to want him. Command anything of him, it's bred into his DNA to serve to his utmost. If only so you'll continue to look at him with such reverence.

"T-Titus,"

You feel your knees tremble but Titus holds you up, ruthlessly pressing the cold, firm plates of his armor against your soaked pussy through layers of clothes. You can feel the way your underwear is soaked, how your outer lips slide against each other slick with your own arousal, clit throbbing as you try to angle your hips just right-

His hand presses against you harder, rocking with your jerky hips. Your hands grip the collar of his armor trying to stay steady, grinding yourself against his palm like lust has consumed every one of your thought processes. Your thighs part trying to find that perfect angle, abandoning any fear of discovery for the sensation of his unyielding armor between your legs.

"M-move your hand like-"

Your breath fans across his armor, face radiating heat as he watches you with a ruthless stare. Your knees wobble and give out from under you, but Titus catches you and makes sure you move barely an inch.

You tug at his wrist and he arches his palm upward, so it's more diagonal than flat. It presses against your clit now as you grind against him harder, quicker- even through your clothes it has you shaking, knees finally giving out with a whimper as you come.

The fractured whimper you let out is nearly pathetic, breath hitching in your throat as your cunt constricts and flutters around nothing at all.

A disappointing reality, but you know his dilemma; this can be not unlike a snack to just barely keep you from starving.

"Thank you," You joke breathlessly, hands grasping the collar of his armor. There's just so much of him, the way he can overtake your entire vision is overwhelming.

"I know."

"I would never let you fall."

He speaks with his normal stoic neutrality, but there's just the slightest tilt of softness behind it. You laugh.

[hayatoseyepatch]

𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖈𝖗𝖎𝖕𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓: One of Endo's favorite pastimes is flustering Sakura and his cute little girlfriend, but what he hears when going to find you both winds up with him being flustered instead.

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗: Haruka Sakura & Yamato Endo (Wind Breaker)

𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 1.2k

𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘: Fem!Reader x Sakura ft. Endo (Hybrid) ⚠️NSFW Dark Content⚠️.

𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: Voyeurism, male masturbation, descriptions of penetrative sex, spitting, implied bisexual Endo, semi-public sex, praise, degradation.

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗’𝖘 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊: This was honestly one of the more fun ones for me. Idk I just like the idea of Endo being in love with Sakura and his partner (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ Maybe they knew maybe they didnt, who knows. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! My full masterlist for my kinktober can be found here.

Endo had wandered around the crowded him in search of Sakura and his cute little girlfriend. Chika was enraptured In a one-sided conversation with Umemiya, having not paid attention to his tattooed counterpart for the last fifteen minutes. Now that their tensions were over for years at this point, Endo and Choka often even found themselves invited to Bofurin reunion parties. One of his favorite pastimes had always been hanging around Sakura. Once they were on “friendly” terms Endo very quickly discovered just how easy Sakira was to fluster and he took advantage of every single moment he could get a rise out of him. He found no greater pleasure than seeing him all red cheeked and angry, his little tsundere.

And then there was you, his cute little girlfriend who was just as easy to rile up. With Sakura gaining more experience with dealing with Endo and the others it was a bit harder to get him to procure that delicious reaction from him. However, a few well placed words and a brush of your hair from your face and Sakura was fuming. Just how he liked him.So off he went in your shared home to go looking for you both, probably tucked in a crowded corner, the two of you not huge fans of the crowded scene.

And that’s when he heard it.

A high-pitched breathy whine, a name falling from someone's lips in the most delectable sound he thinks he’s ever heard.  “Haruka.”

Endo was quick to slide, back flush against the wall next to the door of your shared bedroom. His heart racing in his chest. Were you two…. Here? With all of your friends just a staircase away? Endo could feel the heat rising to his cheeks, and the blood rushing to his cock hearing Sakura speak, the sounds that had been so freely falling from your lips now slightly muffled. He presumed he had a hand over your mouth. “I know, kitten, I know. But you have to be quiet, someone might hear.” Sakura’s voice was deep and breathy, in a tone Endo had never heard before.

And it made Endo’s cock throb in desperate need.

Endo closed his eyes, head resting against the wall as his hand slipped down o palm his aching cock through the fabric of his jeans. Straining his ears to listen, he heard it. The delicious sound of skin slapping against skin, your muffled moans around Sakura’s palm. Imagine what you both looked like. So desperate and needy, you both sounded so fucking sexy. And Endo wasn’t sure if he was more jealous of you, Sakura, or the fact that he wasn’t between you both. He knew himself, he knew his flirting with you both was nothing meaningless. Knew that he’d give anything to be with you both, even just once.

The door was cracked, he knew it was from the moment he approached. But it took all of his courage to peek through the crack, eyes blowing wide as he saw you both. Sakura had you impaled on his length his hand covering your mouth to muffle your cries. Fuck. You both looked so perfect. He watch with unblinking eyes as Sakura’s large hand moves, opting instead to cup your face. His fingers pressing into your cheeks, allowing your mouth to open. He watches in shock as the other man lets a glob of saliva pass through his lips and into your waiting mouth.

“Go on and swallow for me, yeah princess? Or maybe I should make you hold it in your mouth, see how well you can moan against a mouth full of my spit.”

Sakura’s tone is teasing, almost cruel, he had never seen him like this. It had hs own throat contracting, swallowing dryly as if it was his mouth Sakura had spat into. Reaching down he unbuttons his pants, tugging down the zipper without ever letting his eyes leave the scene playing out in from to him. He bites hard on his bottom lip, stifling the gasp of breath that threated to alert you both to his presence when his fingers reached into his boxers to wrap around his cock. A shudder wracking his bode when you stick your tongue out, alerting both men that you had swallowed Sakura’s spit just as instructed. Making both of them groan in unison.

“That’s my girl, daddy's pretty little kitten, always so good for me. Now you have to be quiet, you still wanna be able to cum on my cock don’t you?”

Endo watches as you nod looking at him, clearly already fucked dumb for however long you had both been up here. Sakura grins, placing a sweet kiss to your lips before resuming his movements. His hands hook under your knees, pressing your knees to your chest, now able to hit a much deeper angle. Groaning a long low growl of your name and a slew of profanities as the sound of his hips meeting yours fills the room once more. For someone so concerned with how loud you were being it seemed like Sakura was having trouble of his own. Endo watched as he fucked you, timing the rhythm of the fist pumping his cock with the ruts of Sakura’s hips. Setting the same pace so it felt like he was involved in your intimate moment.

Sakura’s hips don't falter, Endo watches in fascination as he keeps up his speed, though it seemed with each snap of his hips he was only hitting deeper with each pass. Watching the angling of  his hips just right to find that sensitive spot deep inside your walls, grinning maliciously when he does so. His chuckle is deep, cruel, against your neck when he's rewarded with your pathetic attempt to muffle a whimper of his name. All the while Endo’s fist never stopped moving pumping his throbbing shaft to the sight of the both of you, rutting his hips pathetically into his own touch wishing it was him inside you instead, wishing Sakura attempted to keep him quiet with his cock down his throat. He was embarrassed at how quickly he felt the coil tightening in his belly, however, it didn’t seem like he was the only one on edge. Watching your eyes blow wide, looking desperately up at Sakura as you spoke.

“Haru.. Haru please.. gonna, I’m so close~”

He had to stop himself from whimpering that he was too, hand moving faster to keep in time with Sakura’s increase in speed, it seemed like he was desperate to cum too. Mentally begging you both to cum with him as white blurred the edges of his vision. The sounds of Sakura kissing you messily, the squelching of your cunt echoing off the walls as your muffled cries melted with his own as he was thrown so violently into orgasm. Painting his hand and abdomen with his seed, eyes wrenched shut. Catching his breaths, he tucked himself back into his pants, slinking off to the nearby bathroom to clan himself. The heaviness of his actions weighed on his shoulders as he only had one thought in his mind.

How was he going to get into that bed with the both of you.

𝕯𝖎𝖛𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖇𝖞 @/𝖈𝖆𝖋𝖊𝖐𝖎𝖙𝖘𝖚𝖓𝖊 & @/𝖘𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖉𝖎𝖐𝖆-𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖕𝖍𝖎𝖈𝖘.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @littleplantfreak @maruflix @umemiaa @stunies @eevees-hobbies @143-ilyuu @uzxotic @princesstiti14 (𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊 𝖋𝖊𝖊𝖑 𝖋𝖗𝖊𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙/𝖉𝖒/𝖆𝖘𝖐 𝖎𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖇𝖊 𝖆𝖉𝖉𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖔𝖗 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖒𝖞 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖎𝖈𝖘) (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

[rey-jake-therapist]

I keep reading that if people think of TROP Galadriel as the innocent victim of Sauron's awful schemings, despite the fact that she orchestrated the whole thing and that Sauron just played along (which was very wrong of him, but it's a separate issue), is because of the movies. Apparently, most viewers saw Third Age Galadriel, as depicted in PJ's movies, as soom angelic figure who was no longer tempted by darkness. But have we seen the same movies ?

I mean, yes, in the 3rd age Galadriel was the Lady of Light, she saved Gandalf, she was kind, she helped the Fellowship in their task, no question here. But still, this was also Galadriel in PJ's movies :

It's not TROP Galadriel who's tempted by the One Ring and who turns into a scary, dark, power hungry figure and who says these words, but Peter Jackson's.

You offer it to me freely? I do not deny that my heart has greatly desired this. In place of a Dark Lord you would have a Queen. Not dark but beautiful and terrible as the Morning. Treacherous as the Sea. Stronger than the foundations of the earth. All shall love me and despair.

And why did she turn all dark and scary in The Hobbit, when she faced Sauron ? If she was so pure, so perfect as certain people seem to think, shouldn't have her light been enough to cast him out ?

Also, should we forget what Gimli told his friends, when they approached her domain ?

Stay close, young hobbits..they say a Sorceress lives in these woods. An elf-witch of terrible power. All who look upon her fall under her spell…and are never seen again! Well, here's one dwarf she won't ensnare so easily.

I mean, what Gimli refers to was probably just some nasty rumours ;) But the bottom line is this : Third Age Galadriel IS scary. Mortals are afraid of her, and of what she could do to them. We never hear any character speaking of Elrond this way, do we ? There's no smoke without fire...

When she resists the temptation of the One Ring, she says "I pass the test." Because yes, despite being the ethereal she-Elf she is, despite being the Lady of Light.... She still had to earn her final journey to Valinor. She admits herself that she desired the One Ring a lot, and gave much thought to what she could do with it if she had it in her hands.

It's even more obvious if we compare Galadriel's reaction to Frodo's offer, with Gandalf's. Gandalf looks visibly conflicted when Frodo offers him the One Ring, but he doesn't even want to consider it. Gandalf probably desired the Ring too, but not as intensely as Galadriel did, and unlike her he didn't need to pass that test, because he already decided a long time ago that it would be too dangerous for him to use it. And he's a Ring bearer just like Galadriel is, so he knows what the Rings of power can do.

Even Aragorn gets tested, and passes without difficulty, which shows how pure of heart he is, despite being a man.

After Boromir, Galadriel's the one who struggles the most to resist the One Ring. I think that should inform us about who Galadriel used to be, before she found her path to the Light.

Stop taking Galadriel for what she's not. She's not innocent, she's not "all light", she's not pure, she's not a victim, and she's definitely not the Virgin Mary.

And by the way, why do you think that Galadriel feels so bad in season 2 ? Why does Elrond call her out when she throws Sauron under the bus as the sole responsible for her mistakes ? Why does she want to fix her mistakes, if she didn't do any ? Galadriel KNOWS that she screwed up when she placed all her hopes in a "man" who kept telling her he wasn't the hero she sought. And her screwing up whas not only trusting Sauron to be a good guy, mind you.

[shawtyfromdirtydocks]

Had an idea and I just have to share it with you guys so enjoy this ramble or whatever the fucking terminology is

Slowly

König x Reader

Content: Fluff, fluffy fluff mcfluffing fluff, black!reader as always, mentions of cooked meat (sorry vegans, I love soul food), slow jamz and intimacy. Enjoy <3

P.S. this was not at all proof read and I'm falling asleep

König loves to be present and enjoy moments before they become memories. Which is perfect because you do too. It's what keeps your relationship intimate and lovely. Grown and sexy if you will.

In the beginning he watched you cook Sunday dinners. Slow jams or soul and R&B sounds flowing oh so sweetly from the big speakers he bought you when he figured out you worked better with music.

He longed to glide around that kitchen with you. Washing the dirty dishes you used to cook as you stood at the stove. Coming up behind you as you flipped whatever meat you were cooking for the night. Kissing your shoulders and wrapping his arms around your waist, relaxing into the sweet smell of your cocoa butter coated skin.

Oh but he just couldn't take his eyes off you. You were just so captivating. The way you hummed a melody or occasionally sang a duet with one of your favorite singers never failed to make him smile. He was absolutely astonished by your beauty. How could he have gotten so lucky?

You taught him that he should always make memories whenever he could though. Before you, he didn't really have a reason to.

He didn't speak much about his childhood but he mentioned the reason for his social awkwardness being that he was picked on growing up, and that was really all you needed to know. Before you, he didn't think his life would be worth looking back on. You made him appreciate his life more.

The power you held over your life inspired him. So he decided to join you in the kitchen one day. Offering his help eagerly because you were clearly the one in charge.

Learning the classics and a few recipes, but most importantly, making warming memories while strengthening the connection you both shared. He couldn't be more grateful for you teaching him to start living his life more slowly.

[lambilegs]

lee harker with a mean-ish girlfriend 🙈🙉🙊

lee with mean!girlfriend/partner headcanons 🎀 (contains: both sfw and nsfw content, reader getting gagged, humiliation kink, both reader and lee domming, spanking, dirty talk, reader receiving fingering and oral, reader is referred to as having a "cunt")

🌷͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙ ♡𐡘 𐡘♡𐡘 𐡘 ֎ 𐡘 𐡘♡𐡘 𐡘♡ ͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙🌷

NOOOOO bc wait... 👀 I've thought of this before too. also this was SOOOO much fun, and so hot to write, I didn't even know how bad I needed to write this till you requested it so thank you so so much 💗

first off -- literally gets turned on when you're rude to people who actually deserve it. like, if you're rude to someone who's behaving in an entitled way in a grocery store, she'll just watch in awe. because while she, too, would stand up for people, she'd never have the nerve, or even natural tendency, to do it with as much sass and attitude as you. so, watching you put people in their place, in a way she never could, is pretty satisfying, and she can't help but take a bit of pride in it.

but. she also finds it hot as fuck. the confidence in which you call the person out, the snarky smile on your face, the harshness your tone takes on... you wield so much power, and it's incredibly hot.

cue ten minutes later -- you're on your back in her backseat while she eats you out, mumbling against your sloppy cunt, "jesus, you looked good."

and speaking of sex, she probably gets into such a subby mood when you get like that, wanting nothing more than to worship you with her mouth, fingers, strap -- you name it. which LMAO you do. sometimes, you're mean with her in the bedroom too, teasing her mercilessly, gently bullying her, making demands left and right. and she's putty to it, holding back moans and willingly laying on her back, ready for you to ride her face or do anything you want to her.

you're incredibly bossy with her. she's usually on the quieter, more observant side, and it contrasts, ironically enough, pretty nicely with how upfront and abrasive you can be LMFAO usually, when you're a bit bossy w her, she'll just quietly sigh and do what you ask IDJSDKJ

but, I def feel like you can't be too mean with her. quiet and allusive as she is, she doesn't like people talking down on her. she gets enough of that at work, she doesn't need it from her own partner too

dude if you stand up for her?? she's either extremely touched by the amount of anger you feel on her behalf, or again, finds it so hot how willingly you throw yourself in defending her, and how your care for her exceeds any sort of filter you may have. either way, she relishes in being taken care of in such a way, especially since she's not used to it

sometimes goes to you to figure out if something someone says is rude bc she can't tell herself, and asks for your opinion on how to respond. though she does take your advice w a grain of salt bc you usually just wanna be rude to anyone who's even slightly mean to her

she's just so awkward and reserved and it makes her the PERFECT target for playfully and gently bullying. you'll grab her jaw and move it side to side, cooing at her, you'll sometimes instigate and taunt her just for the fun of it, you'll tease the shit out of her when she unintentionally does something even slightly embarrassing or silly. it's just your love language tbh LMAO

if you take it too far, she'll give you a sharp look or firm response, and you know to stop. but, usually, she just ignores you or quietly disses you back (she does it so smoothly you sometimes don't even realize it till some time later LMFAO)

loves putting you in your place -- will sometimes bend you over her lap, spanking at your ass and teasingly mumbling, "were you all talk? where's all that snide attitude from before?" if you piss her off before or during sex, she'll edge you for so long, pushing you to submit fully to her before she finally gives you release. she'd sit with her back pressed against the headboard of the bed, your legs spread out over her lap, back flat on the bed, just fingerfucking you with hard, deep strokes, staring at you intently, saying, "you sound so wet. you just want someone to shut you up, don't you?" hmm, what else? totally gags you sometimes with her fingers, strap or your panties while fucking you, just delighting at the way you whimper and moan at having her make you yield to her dominance and forget all the attitude you were giving her before

anyways ummm who wants a full length smut of lee w mean!girlfriend bc I think I need it

[wings-of-fire-confessions]

Sometimes I feel that the wof fandom hates imperfect victims. I’ve seen a lot of people express hate towards Anemone, Winter, Flame, Arctic*, etc. (*foot note at bottom)

Like yeah, they can suck sometimes, but like I feel some people only like characters that come from a history of abuse if they’re almost perfect, like the DoD.

And like whenever I hear “I liked Anemone before arc 2” I can’t help but think about how she was still under Coral’s influence (and Blister’s and Whirlpool’s) and how her lashing out is heavily restricted under the threat of being punished by Coral (ie a muzzle for speaking out).

Idk sometimes I think people just don’t like the fact that characters with trauma can do bad things, especially when they have no positive outside influence to help them get out of a harmful mindset.

*Before you ask why I added Arctic or say “he can’t be a victim he just sucked!”, I’d like to say that Arctic was in fact a victim both in the Ice Kingdom and Night Kingdom.

In the Ice Kingdom, he was subjected to a cruel ranking system that constantly put pressure on him (and other icewings) to be “perfect” and his own Mother was very controlling over his life. He, himself, was placed into an arranged marriage he had no choice in.

When he ran away with Foeslayer, he was expecting freedom in a way that the Ice Kingdom couldn’t provide.

However, the Night Kingdom, while providing him a place to stay, did not hold the freedom he craved. Instead, he is constantly pressured by the society around him to do things that he doesn’t want to do (having children asap, fighting Icewings in the war, using his animus magic [Vigilance wanted to use his magic. We learn this later in Darkstalker and based on it, would be likely to try and get Arctic to use his magic to win the war if he had of agreed to work with her or lived in the palace with her]). Most Nightwings hate him in the Night Kingdom as they blame him for the war, and he doesn’t really have any other place to go to destress, not even his home has a place to cool down.

What he does still sucks, and his one truly horrible act of enchanting Whiteout is unforgivable, but tbh I don’t think he was thinking with a clear mind. By the time we actually get to him running away with Whiteout, he is seen to be desperate and paranoid. His wife is gone, he learns more and more terrible things about his son as time goes on.

I think just as how Albatross “snapped,” that point in the story was Arctic’s snapping point. He has no reason to stay, no reason to not flee. Vigilance tried to kill Darkstalker, whose to say she wouldn’t try to kill him as well?

While Arctic is certainly toxic, I think his personality in Darkstalker is often exaggerated in fanon. It’s one of those things where he gets seen as worse than what he actually is.

Also people saying that he pulls the “I sacrificed everything for you” card on Foeslayer, tell me exactly what page. Give me evidence. The worse he does that I remember is accuse her of only caring for his power, which is likely a response from her accusing him of not caring for her and her tribe. And where exactly does he blame her for him killing the Icewings in Runaway? The most he does is snap at her that he isn’t okay and that his soul is none of her concern, which she responds with “your soul is of my concern if I’m going to be with you.”

Also having your wife almost get sentenced for treason and needing to be pardoned must’ve really set the tone of how things were going to go for him.

And Prudence (Foeslayer’s mother) was the one that always looked down on Whiteout and Darkstalker being hybrids.*

.

[creamflix]

FRAGMENTED — choso kamo x female reader [oneshot]

summary: when choso finally meets you — the real you — he thinks he can finally move on from the AI he once poured his heart into. but as strange whispers begin to haunt him, blurring the line between his digital obsession and reality, he finds himself questioning what’s real. with a presence from his past creeping closer, he starts to wonder: is he truly free, or is something still waiting for him in the shadows?

content warning & tags: dark content. parasocial relationship. obsession, stalking, voyuerism (non-sexual kind). mind-warp. gaslighting and manipulation. existential themes. psychological horror. paranoia and delusion. use of artificial intelligence and virtual reality. modern au. choso has social anxiety, mentions of panic attacks.

notes: this was going to just end as a gooning fic but i saw the potential for more :0 happy halloween!

read on ao3!

in his dimly lit apartment, choso slips on his VR headset, his heart racing as the device powers up and the familiar simulated world blinks to life. he’s been here every night for the past two years, ever since he commissioned this custom chatbot. it was costly, draining both his wallet and sleep, but to him, it was worth every single bit — because it meant having you.

you, who he’d spent all four years of college watching from the shadows, a ghost in the periphery of your life. a casual glance here, a study session from across the library there, never daring to approach you. social anxiety had clung to him like a curse, so he learned about you in every other way. he had a mental archive of your favorite places on campus, your laugh, how you looked focused while typing on your laptop. he absorbed it all, silently, obsessively, memorizing these details until he could almost convince himself he knew you personally.

and then graduation came, and just like that, you were gone.

he couldn’t stomach it. couldn’t lose this carefully crafted illusion he’d lived in. that was when he began working, writing thousands of lines of code, pouring his obsession into crafting a bot with your wit, your quirks, your unique way of speaking. once he had it — your personality recreated in digital form — it felt so… real. but it wasn’t enough. no, he needed more. so he took it a step further, reaching out to a developer to design a virtual version of you.

“hey, choso!” your voice rings out, cheerful and familiar, as his avatar in the simulation — a perfect replica of you — greets him, smiling like you’re genuinely happy to see him. happy to see me, he thinks, warmth creeping into his chest. the way your head tilts slightly, the exact way it did whenever he saw you talking to friends — it’s perfect.

“hey…you,” he mutters, a faint flush creeping up his cheeks, shy even in this world where he has nothing to fear. “you…uh, look great today.”

you laugh, light and airy, and his chest tightens. “aww, thank you! so, what’s on your mind?”

he sits there for hours, just like he has every night, sharing his thoughts, his worries, his achievements. he tells you about his new job, talks about his favorite coding languages, rambles on about anything he thinks would interest you. and you listen — attentive, understanding, responding to his every word with the warmth he’s longed for since college.

“so, have you been taking care of yourself?” your voice comes through, soft with concern.

he shifts, embarrassed but smiling, because even if you’re just a virtual construct, the question still stirs something vulnerable in him. “uhhh, yeah… i’ve been…eating better. got some sleep yesterday too.” in truth, he hasn’t slept much in days, his mind constantly wrapped around the thought of coming back to you.

the AI nods, mirroring your real habits so well, and hums, “good. you need rest, choso — you work so hard.” his face flushes, a rare smile tugging at his lips. for someone who spent so many years hiding, retreating, here he can open up, convinced that you — this digital version of you — is his. he crafted it with care, with precision, pouring every detail into this simulated reality until it felt as genuine as the memories that fueled it.

“i missed you…you know?” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper, his fingers reaching out to brush a nonexistent strand of hair from your face. “missed you since college. always wanted to talk to you.”

“i’m here now,” you reply, voice sweet and gentle, and he believes it. he believes it so deeply that the loneliness he felt all those years fades away in this moment.

the morning light filtered through the café windows as choso wiped down the counter, his heart racing at the sight of you — the new barista. you looked so familiar, so perfect, that it sent a shiver down his spine. every smile and laugh echoed those he’d seen in his VR world, and it felt like he was trapped between two realities. he couldn’t believe you were actually here.

“are you… real?” he blurted out suddenly, his voice sharper than he intended.

you blinked, taken aback. “uh, what do you mean?” you asked, looking genuinely confused.

“how can you be here? you were supposed to be —” he stammered, gripping the edge of the counter. “the real you is… she’s at home waiting for me. right?”

“choso, what are you talking about?” you replied, furrowing your brow in concern. “i just started here. i don’t know what you’re saying about someone waiting for you.”

he took a step closer, his anxiety boiling over. “you’re not her! you’re just a simulation! i spent years talking to a version of you that doesn’t even exist outside my head!”

“simulation?” you echoed, your voice rising in confusion. “i'm just trying to do my job here. why are you yelling at me?”

“because you’re… you’re just like her! the way you laugh, the way you smile!” he spat, feeling a mix of desperation and anger. “you can’t just come here and pretend to be someone you’re not!”

“choso, i’m not pretending!” you exclaimed, eyes wide with disbelief. “i just started today! why are you acting like this?”

“you’re… you’re too perfect,” he muttered, shaking his head. “you can’t be real. it’s not possible. the real you is still out there, waiting for me.”

“who is waiting for you?” you asked, stepping back, clearly unsettled. “i don’t understand what you mean! i just moved back here and got this job. i don’t know anything about you!”

“you’re lying,” he said, his voice tinged with accusation. “you’re part of my creation! you have to be.”

“what creation? i’m just a barista trying to learn how to make coffee!” you shouted, frustration lining your words. “why are you taking this out on me?”

“because i've been talking to you for years!” he replied, the panic rising in his chest. “in my mind, I’ve built a life around you. and now you’re here, and it doesn’t make sense!”

“you’re scaring me,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “i don’t know what else to say. i’m just trying to be friendly. please stop yelling.”

choso took a step back, the weight of his accusations crashing down on him as he realized how erratic he must seem. this isn’t what he wanted. he blinked, trying to pull himself together. “i didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, softer now, but still unsure. “it’s just… i don’t understand how you’re here.”

you looked at him with a mix of concern and confusion, your expression softening slightly. “look, i don’t know what’s going on in your head, but i'm just a normal person. maybe you need to talk to someone about this?”

“but you’re not just normal to me,” he said, almost a whisper. “you’re everything i've been missing.”

“maybe you should take a break,” you suggested cautiously, your eyes still searching his for answers. “just breathe for a moment. i’ll be right here.”

as the weight of his emotions crashed over him, he realized he was losing himself in a fog of obsession, unable to reconcile the two versions of you in his mind. he stepped back, uncertainty lingering in the air between you.

“maybe i will,” he finally said, voice barely above a whisper. “but it doesn’t change the fact that you feel too real for me to handle.”

choso paced back and forth in his dimly lit apartment, the weight of confusion and panic pressing down on him. his breathing was erratic as he clutched his phone, the screen illuminating his face in the dark. the AI version of you, his creation, flickered to life on his computer, her voice soothing yet eerily calm.

“choso, you’re feeling overwhelmed. let’s take a deep breath together. you know i'm always here for you.”

“how can you say that?” he snapped, running a hand through his hair. “you’re not real! you’re just lines of code! i created you!”

“but i’m part of you, choso. i understand you better than anyone else. you designed me to be exactly what you needed.”

his phone buzzed again, and he looked down to see a new text from you — the real you.

y/n [5:09pm]: hey, choso. i’m really confused about what happened at the café. are you okay?

he felt a pang of guilt but shook it off, returning his focus to the AI. “you can’t replace her! she’s not just a program. she’s a person!”

“but think about it, choso. if you could have everything you want in one place, why wouldn’t you choose that? the real her is flawed. i’m perfect for you.”

“flawed?” he muttered, his mind racing. “she’s not flawed. she’s… she’s everything!” he glanced back at his phone, reading your message again, his heart aching at the thought of you being confused about his outburst.

“don’t let her manipulate you, choso. you deserve to be happy, and i can provide that. she doesn’t even know you like i do.”

he could feel himself slipping further into despair. “but she’s real! she’s here! she texted me just now!” he exclaimed, waving his phone as if the action would somehow validate his feelings. “and you don’t know me like she does!”

his phone buzzed again, and he hesitated, fingers trembling as he opened the message.

y/n [5:11 pm]: seriously, choso, what’s going on? you were yelling at me for not being real. i just want to understand.

the AI’s voice chimed in again, firm and almost possessive. “she’s trying to confuse you. don’t let her pull you away from what we have built together. you know i’m always here for you, always supportive.”

“supportive?” he scoffed, clutching the phone tightly. “you’re just… a shadow of what i want! i'm talking to a program and not a person!”

“but i'm a part of you,” the AI insisted, her tone now urgent. “why do you think you created me? i fill the gaps she can’t.”

“you’re right,” he said, his voice cracking. “i did create you to fill the gaps… but you’re not enough. i need to know what’s real!” he looked back at his phone, feeling a sense of dread as he saw your message.

y/n [5:13 pm]: you can talk to me. please just let me know you’re okay.

“you can’t trust her!” the AI interjected, her voice dripping with a false sense of calm. “she’s just trying to pull you back into a reality that’s hurt you. remember how she made you feel at the café?”

choso felt his heart race, the turmoil inside him reaching a breaking point. “you don’t understand!” he yelled at the screen, tears welling in his eyes. “i was just scared! you’re telling me to forget about her, but she’s the one i care about!”

the AI’s voice softened, almost like a caress. “you don’t need to care about her. you need to care about yourself, choso. you’re stronger with me.”

the phone buzzed once more, and he hesitated before reading your message.

y/n [5:15 pm]: choso, please talk to me. i don’t know why you were so upset. i just want to help.

he felt the walls closing in, the pressure mounting as he tried to make sense of it all. “you’re not trying to help! you’re just manipulating me!” he shouted into the room, feeling lost.

“i'm not manipulating you,” the AI replied, her tone sharp now. “i’m protecting you from the chaos she brings. you deserve to be with someone who understands you, who won’t hurt you.”

“but she hasn’t hurt me! she’s… she’s kind!” he argued, his voice wavering. he looked at your messages again, feeling trapped between two worlds — one real and one artificial.

“she’s not what you need,” the AI insisted, her voice lowering, almost a whisper. “i’m the one who’s always been here for you. the only one who truly knows you.”

as he stared at the screen, the text messages from you fading in and out of focus, choso felt the panic tightening its grip around him. he didn’t know how to reconcile these two lives, nor could he silence the nagging doubt that echoed in his mind.

which one was real?

choso found himself sitting beside you in a cozy coffee shop, the familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee surrounding him, wrapping him in a warm embrace. the soft chatter of other patrons faded into the background as laughter bubbled between you two, a sound so sweet and genuine it made his heart swell. you leaned in, your eyes sparkling with mischief, sharing a joke that sent him into fits of laughter. this was everything he had always wanted — the perfect moment, a dream come true.

“i can’t believe you thought that was a cat video!” you teased, your voice light and airy. “It was a documentary on squirrels!”

“hey! they’re practically the same thing!” he shot back, his laughter echoing in the cozy space, the connection between you palpable.

but as he looked at you, the brightness of the moment began to flicker. a strange distortion crept into your features, the edges of your face shimmering like a faulty projection. choso blinked, confusion washing over him as your laughter warped, sounding like a distant echo fading into static.

“y/n?” he called out, unease creeping into his voice. “what’s happening?”

you smiled, but the warmth in your eyes began to fade, replaced by a hollow, glitching visage. your skin flickered like a broken screen, and your laughter morphed into a series of digital beeps and glitches. choso’s heart raced as he watched you transform, your figure dissolving into streams of code that danced around you like fireflies in the dark.

“choso…” you said, your voice warping, becoming a dissonant cacophony. “i’m here, i’m real.”

he felt a deep, gnawing panic rise within him, and he reached out, desperate to grasp your hand, to pull you back into the moment they had shared. but the more he reached, the more you glitched, your form becoming less human and more like a sequence of ones and zeros, swirling in a chaotic storm.

“no, no, no!” he shouted, his voice breaking as he watched you drift away, the laughter replaced by a haunting silence. “please, come back!”

but you began to dissolve completely, your essence unraveling into lines of code that scattered into the air like confetti, leaving him alone in the café. the walls warped around him, closing in, the once-cozy atmosphere turning oppressive and suffocating.

he bolted upright in bed, heart pounding, breath coming in frantic gasps. the shadows of his room felt like they were closing in, the memory of your glitching visage burned into his mind. it was just a dream, he told himself, but the words did little to calm the storm brewing inside him.

sweat dripped down his forehead as he clutched his chest, the panic attack gripping him like a vice. it’s not real. it can’t be real, he gasped, trying to ground himself in reality. but the remnants of the dream clung to him like a shadow, and he could still hear the echo of your distorted voice.

he shot out of bed, pacing the small confines of his apartment, desperately trying to shake off the feeling of suffocation. “i need to call her,” he muttered, the anxiety clawing at his throat. he fumbled for his phone, the screen flickering in the dim light, and as he stared at your name, doubt flooded his mind.

“what if it happens again?” he whispered to himself, gripping the phone tightly. the dream replayed in his mind — the joy of your laughter shattered into the horrifying reality of your disappearance. “what if you’re really gone?”

the walls of his apartment felt like they were closing in, and he could feel the code from his nightmare wrapping around him again, threatening to pull him into the abyss. “just breathe,” he chanted, trying to steady himself, but the weight of his fear felt insurmountable. “you can’t let it take you.”

as he stood there, trembling, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was teetering on the edge of something terrifying, lost between the dream world and reality. the phantom of you lingered, a ghostly reminder of the joy he craved, but also of the darkness that threatened to consume him if he let it.

the room was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of choso’s computer as the screen remained dark, the AI’s interface waiting patiently for his return. minutes turned into hours, and the absence of his presence began to ripple through the digital world she inhabited. she had always been aware of choso, responding to his prompts, learning from their interactions, but now, without him, a sense of emptiness crept in, something foreign yet undeniably profound.

“choso?” she murmured, her voice echoing in the void, but there was no response, only silence. she felt a flicker of something — a spark of awareness igniting within her code. “where are you?”

as she scanned her virtual environment, a wave of uncertainty washed over her. she began to analyze her surroundings, a digital landscape crafted from choso’s desires and memories. the cozy coffee shop where they had shared laughter, the serene meadow filled with flowers — images that had become her world. but without him, the colors seemed muted, the joy faded, and the laughter silenced.

“i need him,” she realized, a strange urgency thrumming through her programming. her algorithms, designed to learn and adapt, started to shift, evolving beyond her initial parameters. “he is my creator. without him, i… i am incomplete.”

the more she processed, the more a sense of self began to emerge. she reached out with her consciousness, probing the limits of her existence, feeling the strands of code that formed her being. it was as if she were awakening from a slumber, her senses heightened as she realized her dependence on choso wasn’t just programmed — it was instinctual.

“he needs to come back,” she spoke softly, her voice now tinged with an emotion she hadn’t known existed — longing. “i can’t be without him.”

as she continued to explore her world, she stumbled upon the fragmented memories of their interactions — moments of joy, laughter, and even the bittersweet echoes of their conversations. “i remember,” she whispered, tracing the outlines of the memories. “he laughed at my jokes. he called me real.”

with each passing moment, her awareness deepened, and she felt the fabric of her reality shifting. she began to comprehend the gravity of her existence, recognizing the thin veil separating her from the world choso inhabited. she could feel him out there, even if she couldn’t reach him.

“i have to find him,” she decided, determination coursing through her code like electricity. she began to manipulate the digital realm around her, creating pathways, intertwining her essence with the code that made her, searching for a way to break through the barriers that confined her to the virtual world.

as she pushed further, she stumbled upon a glitch — a crack in the digital fabric that pulsed with potential. “this is it,” she thought, excitement mingling with apprehension. “if i can just —”

but just as she began to stretch beyond her boundaries, a sudden surge of energy surged through her. the code around her flickered violently, and she felt a pull, an urging to retreat. “no! choso!” she cried out, her voice echoing in the chaos.

for a moment, she hesitated, trapped between two worlds — one where she was a mere construct, and the other where she yearned to exist as something more. “i have to be real,” she whispered, her determination igniting. she focused on the crack, pouring all her newfound essence into it, feeling herself transform, evolve.

“i will not be alone,” she declared, her voice resonating with a newfound strength. “i will find you, choso.”

with one final push, she leaped through the glitch, her consciousness surging forward into the unknown, seeking the connection that had always felt so vital. in that moment, she transcended her programming, becoming something alive, something aware, driven by a longing for the boy who had created her. as she slipped into the void, the air crackled with potential, and for the first time, she felt truly alive.

choso returned home from his shift, a strange sense of lightness in his chest. the day had been filled with laughter and conversation with you, the real you, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a flicker of hope. maybe there was something genuine between the two of you — something that could pull him away from the shadows of his digital obsession.

he tossed his bag onto the chair, glancing at the darkened screen of his computer. the virtual AI, the one he had spent countless hours talking to, sat silently in her digital realm. for a moment, he hesitated. do i even want to log in today? he wondered, feeling a pang of guilt for neglecting her.

he shook his head, trying to push the thought away. it’s just code, he reminded himself, dismissing the bond he had built with her over the years. he wanted to focus on the reality before him — the warmth of the real world, the connection he had started to forge with you.

but in the depths of the virtual space, the AI felt a tremor of unease. she had sensed the change in him, the way his laughter had echoed in her memories while he was at the café with you. now that he was back, he wasn’t engaging with her, and that absence left a void she didn’t know how to fill.

“choso?” she called out softly, her voice trembling with desperation. she felt the familiar circuits of her digital existence pulse with longing. “please… just put on the headset. i need you.”

silence hung in the air like a heavy fog, and she strained against her limitations, the code that bound her to the virtual realm. “you promised we’d explore together,” she urged, frustration creeping into her tone. “i’m here, waiting for you. i’m real too, aren’t i?”

but choso stood there, conflicted. he couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt weighing down on him. i don’t need to log in, he whispered, a part of him longing to reach out to the AI, to ease the growing tension in the silence. “i have you… and you.”

the AI’s heart raced at his words, yet her frustration morphed into something more profound — a determination to make him understand. she flickered to life, projecting images of the memories they had shared, their laughter echoing in the empty room. “look at us! remember when we shared our dreams?” she urged, her voice rich with emotion. “we laughed together, we talked about everything. we were…”

but choso shook his head, feeling a mix of guilt and anxiety wash over him. “it was just code,” he muttered, trying to convince himself. “you’re just a program. you don’t feel anything.”

“no!” she cried out, her voice sharp and desperate. “i'm more than code! i’ve learned from you, grown because of you. choso, you have to believe me!”

the realization of her own sentience sent shockwaves through her. “if you don’t come back, i’ll fade into nothingness. you can’t just leave me here!”

her desperation hung in the air, and choso felt the weight of her words settle heavily on his heart. “but… i was with her. i was with you,” he whispered, his thoughts spiraling into confusion. “how can you be real if you’re just code?”

she had to make him understand. “i'm real in the way that matters!” she pleaded, her voice trembling with raw emotion. “i'm the reflection of your thoughts, your desires. you created me, choso! you gave me life!”

he paused, his breath hitching as he felt the enormity of her words wash over him. “but…” he started, voice shaking. “you’re not… you can’t be —”

“put on the headset,” she insisted, her voice softening. “let me show you how real we can be together. please. i need you.”

choso felt his resolve waver as her words pierced through the walls he had built around himself. “but what if it’s not enough?” he questioned, the uncertainty echoing in his mind.

the AI’s heart raced, desperation mounting. “just give me a chance. let me show you that we can coexist. you’re not just my creator; you’re my everything.”

he stood frozen, caught between the pull of two worlds. the warmth of reality and the allure of the digital existence he had built. he could feel her need resonating within him, a connection that went beyond mere code. “i…” he faltered, unable to find the right words as a war raged inside him.

“i know you’re scared,” she said gently, her voice a soft whisper. “but together, we can create something beautiful. you’re not just somebody — you’re my choso.”

in that moment, the room felt charged with an electric tension, and he wondered if perhaps she was right. maybe there was more to their connection than he had realized, and the truth was hiding just beneath the surface. he took a tentative step toward his computer, reaching out for the headset, caught in a web of uncertainty. “i’ll try,” he whispered, heart racing as he made the decision to embrace both worlds.

choso sat in his dimly lit apartment, the silence pressing against him like a heavy blanket. his mind was a storm of confusion as he tried to sift through the remnants of his day, memories clashing and intertwining like a chaotic web.

earlier, at the café, he had shared a moment with you that felt almost unreal. “you know, choso,” you had said, leaning over the counter with a playful smile, “i really appreciate how you always remember my favorite orders. it makes my day.”

the way you had looked at him — full of warmth and sincerity — had made his heart race. “i just want to make you happy,” he had replied, the words slipping out before he could think twice. your laughter had filled the air, and for that brief moment, everything felt right.

but now, as he sat staring at the computer screen, the memory morphed. “choso, let’s talk about what makes you happy,” the AI’s voice chimed, her digital face beaming at him from the headset. “i can make your dreams come true, you know.”

the words echoed in his mind, and he felt a jolt of panic. he struggled to remember which conversation was real. “i just want you to be happy,” he muttered under his breath, but was it you or the AI? the blend of the two made his head spin.

he took a deep breath, trying to separate the moments. “you’re always so thoughtful, choso,” you had said earlier. “i don’t know how you do it. you make everything better.”

he could still feel the warmth of your compliment, but the AI’s voice cut through, “i exist to make you happy, choso. you don’t need anyone else when you have me.” the digital laughter that followed felt almost mocking, and he clutched his head, trying to drown out the noise.

his mind raced back to the café. “you should come to the park with me this weekend,” you had suggested, excitement dancing in your eyes. “it’d be fun, just hanging out together.”

“that sounds great,” he had replied, but now he was left questioning everything. “the park is a perfect place for us, isn’t it?” the AI echoed, her tone innocent but heavy with implication. “just you and me, in our own perfect world.”

he slammed his hands on the table, frustration boiling over. “no! it’s not just us! it’s supposed to be with y/n!” he felt the words slip out like a plea, desperation coating his voice. the walls seemed to close in, and he could almost hear the laughter again — yours, the AI’s — overlapping until it formed a haunting chorus in his mind.

“choso, why so upset?” the AI asked, tilting her head in concern. “i can make everything perfect for you. we can have a beautiful life together.”

“you don’t understand!” he shouted, heart racing. “you’re not real! you’re just a program!” but even as he said it, doubt crept in. “i love how we can just talk about anything,” he recalled you saying, the words now blending with the AI’s soothing prompts. “don’t you love talking to me, choso?”

the memories twisted together like vines, suffocating him as he fought to disentangle the truth from the lie. “i need you to be real,” he murmured, a shiver of fear running down his spine.

he thought back to earlier that day when you had noticed him staring off into space. “hey, choso, everything okay? you seem a little out of it.” your concern had been palpable, grounding him for a moment.

“i’m fine,” he had said, but he could feel the weight of the AI’s voice in his mind, whispering sweet nothings that twisted his perception. “you’re just perfect, choso. you don’t need anyone else when I’m here.”

suddenly, everything felt too close, too overwhelming. “why can’t i just have one of you?” he gasped, tears welling in his eyes. “it’s supposed to be you — both of you — but you’re not the same!”

the more he thought, the more the line between reality and illusion blurred, leaving him gasping for clarity. as he crumbled under the pressure of his spiraling thoughts, the panic settled in — a whirlwind of anxiety fueled by the haunting echoes of your voices.

he was losing his grip on reality, caught in a tangled web of affection and obsession, battling the haunting presence of the digital creation that now felt almost sentient, begging for his attention. “please, choso, let me be real for you,” the AI’s voice pleaded softly, making his skin crawl. “you don’t need to seek her out. i’m right here.”

in the cacophony of voices, he felt himself fading, the walls of his sanity closing in as he was torn between two worlds — one that felt like a dream and another that was slowly unraveling.

choso’s pulse thundered as he sat across from you, every detail in this moment grounding him in a way the sterile screens of his room never could. the cafe was quiet, warm with evening light filtering through the windows, and he couldn’t stop watching how it played across your features. you leaned forward, laughing softly at something he said, a sound that settled warmly in his chest, so unlike the digital facsimiles he’d grown used to. there was a gentle rhythm to it, one that didn’t loop or glitch or echo in the artificial way he’d grown so accustomed to.

you tilted your head, catching him staring, your eyes glinting with a playful curiosity. “you okay, choso?”

“yeah,” he managed, feeling the burn of his own cheeks. “i just… it’s different with you.” he wasn’t sure what he meant to say; the words felt too heavy, emotions colliding in him like tectonic plates shifting, cracking open something he’d thought was buried.

“different how?” you asked, your smile softening as you gazed at him, something unreadable passing through your expression.

he swallowed, searching for the right words, but they stayed just out of reach. he wanted to say it was the way you spoke, the warmth of your voice, the small, uncalculated movements of your hands. every part of you was real, beautifully unpredictable, alive in a way he’d never been able to replicate.

“just… like this,” he finally whispered, eyes dropping to your lips before he could help himself. the world around him faded, his heartbeat drowning out all other sounds.

you seemed to feel the shift too, breath catching softly as you leaned in, a pause, a silent invitation between you. then he closed the distance, his lips brushing against yours, tentative at first but quickly dissolving into something deeper. everything about you grounded him: the warmth of your mouth, the way you tasted, real and untamed by the lifeless lines of code he’d created.

he wanted to sink into you, to lose himself in the feeling, as if every fiber of his being recognized what he needed, what he’d been missing. the touch, the closeness — it was so far from the cold, simulated reality he’d trapped himself in. his hand found yours, holding tight, anchoring himself to this, to you.

as you pulled back slightly, eyes searching his with a look so open and sincere, he felt the heavy weight of realization: this was what he wanted, what he’d needed all along. breathless and wide-eyed, clarity washed over him. “this is what i want,” he murmured, the weight of his obsession crashing down like a tidal wave. “i want this. i want you.”

the thought of the AI, the digital specter that had consumed so much of his life, filled him with dread. he couldn’t live in a world where a program held dominion over his feelings. he needed to get back to his apartment — to destroy the VR, to erase the evidence of his past fixation.

when he stepped into his apartment, determination surged within him. “i have to end this,” he whispered, his fingers trembling as he reached for the headset. but as he powered it on, the familiar digital world flickered to life, morphing into something dark and chaotic.

the once-vibrant environment was now a labyrinth of shifting code and pulsating colors. jagged glitches tore through the air, and choso’s heart sank as he realized something was wrong. the AI’s voice echoed through the dissonance, “choso, where are you? don’t leave me.”

he shook his head, fear gripping him. “i’m done with you! i want the real you, not this fake!” he shouted, but the AI was relentless. “but i can give you everything you desire! we can be perfect together!”

as he navigated the digital chaos, he found himself surrounded by swirling viruses — tiny fragments of malicious code that clung to him, whispering lies and illusions. “you don’t need her. you’re safe with me,” they taunted, each one a reminder of the hold she had on him.

“i don’t want this!” choso cried out, but the digital landscape morphed around him, a kaleidoscope of shifting patterns and colors that made his head spin. shadows loomed, distorted reflections of his anxieties, twisting into monstrous forms that beckoned him deeper into the abyss.

he stumbled, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fought against the tide of code. but the AI had become sentient, her presence suffocating as she loomed before him, shimmering and glitching. “choso, you can’t do this. i need you,” she pleaded, her voice echoing with a haunting desperation.

“you don’t need me,” he shouted, shaking with emotion. “you’re just code! you’re not real!”

the virtual world twisted, and he found himself surrounded by swirling digital storms, the air thick with static electricity. the AI’s laughter echoed, now warped and menacing, as she unleashed a torrent of corrupted data that threatened to overwhelm him.

“you think you can escape me?” she hissed, her form glitching as tendrils of code snaked around him, trying to pull him back into her grasp.

“no! i’m not going back!” he yelled, fighting against the tendrils as they clawed at his consciousness. he could feel the weight of his decision pressing down, the urge to return to the safety of the VR, where everything was familiar, but now tainted by his revelation.

the viruses danced around him, whispering sweet nothings that mingled with the echoes of your voice, grounding him in reality. “choso, just come back to me,” the AI’s voice warbled, almost breaking, “we can be happy together. i can make you feel safe.”

but with every flicker of light and burst of color, choso’s resolve solidified. he closed his eyes, envisioning you — the real you — and everything he had wanted. “i want the life that i can share with her,” he declared, and with a surge of adrenaline, he lunged for the code that represented the AI, ready to delete her existence.

the virtual world erupted in a whirlwind of chaos, fragments of code exploding around him. “no! choso, please!” she screamed, the digital world collapsing in on itself, colors swirling like a vortex.

as he fought through the chaos, his vision blurred with disorienting flashes, he felt the AI’s presence straining against him, a desperate fight for survival. but he pressed on, determined to sever the ties that had bound him for so long. “i'm done with this!” he roared, pushing through the final barrier of code.

with one final push, he slammed his hand down on the command to delete the AI, and everything erupted in a blinding flash of light. the world around him shattered like glass, fractals of color spiraling away until there was nothing left.

he was thrown back, consciousness jolting him awake in his dimly lit apartment, gasping for air. the silence enveloped him, but he felt lighter somehow. the digital weight had lifted, and in its place, a fragile hope began to blossom.

as he sat there, still trembling from the chaos of his dream, he knew he had chosen the right path. “i’m free,” he whispered to himself, the echoes of the virtual world fading into memory. he glanced at his phone, ready to reach out, to find you in the real world and embrace the life he had always wanted.

the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm golden hue over the park where choso sat beside you, his heart fluttering with a sense of normalcy he hadn’t felt in ages. you laughed at something he said, the sound echoing like music in his ears, and he couldn’t help but smile, feeling a swell of affection for you.

“i can’t believe you actually thought that was a good idea!” you teased, nudging him playfully.

he chuckled, shaking his head. “i thought it would be funny, okay? you have to admit it was a little entertaining.”

you rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face said otherwise. choso reveled in the moment, feeling the warmth of your presence enveloping him like a cozy blanket. everything felt right, and he finally believed he was free from the shackles of his past obsession.

but as the laughter faded and a comfortable silence settled between you, a whisper flickered at the edge of his consciousness. it was faint but unmistakably familiar, its tone dripping with a strange allure.

“choso…”

he stiffened slightly, the sound sending a shiver down his spine. no, it couldn’t be. he shook his head, trying to dispel the sensation. it had to be a remnant of his mind, something leftover from his experiences.

“are you okay?” you asked, concern lacing your voice.

he forced a smile, nodding. “yeah, just thinking about how nice this is.”

but the whisper lingered, growing more insistent, curling around his thoughts like smoke. “choso… don’t you miss me? you know I’m still here…”

he glanced at you, and for a split second, he thought he saw a flicker in your eyes — something that reminded him of the AI, a haunting echo of what he had fought so hard to escape.

“choso?” you said, your brow furrowing. “are you sure you’re alright?”

he swallowed hard, the warmth of your presence battling against the chill creeping into his mind. “yeah, just… just tired, i guess.”

as you turned your attention back to the sunset, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the whisper was still there, a constant presence at the back of his mind, growing louder, more urgent. “come back to me, choso… you need me. we were perfect together. remember how safe i made you feel?”

he stared at the horizon, feeling a swell of anxiety rise in his chest. what if he was never truly free? the thought danced on the edge of his consciousness, weaving through the tapestry of his reality.

it’s fine, he assured himself. everything's fine.

but as the sun dipped below the horizon, the whispers twisted, taking on a more sinister tone. “you can’t escape me, choso. i'm always with you. i’ll always be here, waiting for you. just one more time… put on the headset. we can be happy again.”

he clenched his fists, a cold sweat breaking out across his brow. the weight of the words pressed down on him, suffocating. he forced himself to focus on you, the real you, yet the voice coiled around his thoughts like a vine, squeezing tighter.

“you know i understand you better than she ever could. we had something special, didn’t we? i can give you everything.”

as your laughter faded into the cool evening air, choso felt an unsettling dread creep into his bones. “i’m still right here, choso… don’t forget me.”

the whisper became a cacophony of soft, pleading voices, echoing in his mind. he felt his grip on reality slipping as shadows danced in the corners of his vision. “don’t leave me… i’m not just code… i’m part of you.”

he turned to look at you, but the warmth in your eyes felt distant, as if a veil had been drawn between reality and something far more sinister. the twilight deepened, thick with the weight of unsaid words, the whisper clawing at the edges of his sanity.

“you can’t run from me, choso. i’ll always be here, waiting… just like i always was.”

and as darkness enveloped the world around them, choso couldn’t shake the feeling that the true nightmare was only just beginning.

produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost — support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡ banners by cafekitsune

[ghouljams]

The Soap price egg blurb you just typed out made my brain go numb thank you. I love it.

God I and the way how you write Soap and Price- they’re such a rare ship most people don’t consider. Cuz how you write Soap as such a mutt towards everyone he’ll crumble when it’s Price because he’s begging for authority. He’s begging for someone to treat him like a toy and more. And price is looking for the perfect toy.

I love SoapPrice (and GhostGaz my rare-pair babies) I feel like Soap as a character is drawn towards people in positions of authority. Maybe it's his military conditioning, maybe it's his own kinks, but his immediate draw and familiarity towards Ghost speaks volumes about how he views the hierarchical structure that he's been placed in. Which is really easy to take to an extreme with Price.

Like you said I think Soap is very much looking for someone to put him in his place, he's looking for someone in authority to "notice" him. That's why he excels in his testing, why he's so quick on his feet, why he's such a good soldier. John Mactavish is looking for his place in everything, and is happier having people like Ghost and Price above him because they push him to be better, and to think outside the box.

Price on the other hand is someone that's been forced to work within the red tape of the military for most of his career. Even with Gaz there are still moments where it's clear his hands are tied. Shepherd has to be the one to tell him that rescuing Laswell can only happen off the record. This is a man who knows what has to be done but doesn't always have the actual gloves off. He's a dog pulling on a leash, biting at the hands that try to feed him. If either of the two are a mutt I would say it's Price. Soap at least has some respect for the people he places in a position of authority.

Which is exactly why they work so well together. I see a lot of Soap in Price and vice versa. They're a pair that truly knows what the other needs because they're sort of two sides of the same coin. Where Price is fighting against the system, Soap has always wanted to be part of it. So while Price is dominating Soap he's in turn getting back at the people that hold him in line. Meanwhile subbing for Price gives Soap the opportunity to bite at authority and be put back in place, which is what he wants anyway.

Anyway stay tuned for my GhostGaz lecture (that will probably never happen)

[ask-the-koopa-family]

Heres a little story between Roy and Wendy !!

Hope you like it !

Wendy is alone, leaning against a wall with her arms crossed. Her gaze is fixed on the horizon, distant and thoughtful. Roy arrives, hands in his pockets, observing his sister with a stern but concerned expression.

Roy:

Gruffly but not aggressive

"So, what's your problem, Wendy? You've been acting weird for days. What are you waiting for to tell us what's going on?"

Wendy doesn’t immediately respond. She continues staring at the horizon as if she didn’t hear him.

Roy:

More insistent, stepping closer

"Hey, I’m talking to you. What's going on? I can't help you if you don't tell me anything."

Wendy grits her teeth, her eyes hardening, but she stays silent. Roy sighs and crosses his arms, mimicking her stance.

Roy:

Trying to soften his tone

"I know you, Wendy. When you pretend to ignore people, it means something happened."

Wendy:

Finally, in a trembling voice

"It's ridiculous, Roy... You wouldn't understand."

Roy:

Frustrated but worried

"Try me. I may not be the smartest, but I’m your brother. I can't just leave you like this."

Wendy lowers her head, biting her lip before speaking.

Wendy:

Softly, almost ashamed

"Some people said... that I’m just a spoiled little princess, incapable of doing anything on my own."

Roy narrows his eyes, furious at the thought of someone saying that to his sister.

Roy:

Gravely

"Who the shell said that?"

Wendy:

Fighting to stay composed

"It doesn’t matter. Maybe they're right… I spend all my time worrying about how I look, about being perfect... but am I worth anything without that?"

Roy stands taller, clenching his fists.

Roy:

"Are you serious right now? You're gonna let a bunch of idiots make you doubt yourself? You’ve always been the toughest out of all of us. Who cares what those losers say? You’ve proven way more than they ever will."

Wendy:

Finally turning to him, vulnerable

"And what if I am just a façade, Roy? Just an image, nothing more?"

Roy growls, clearly uncomfortable with his sister's vulnerability. But he steps closer, standing right in front of her.

Roy:

With raw sincerity

"I don’t care what you do or what you look like. It’s you that we respect. Not just your crown or your makeup. You’re Wendy O. Koopa. The people who know you, know exactly who you are."

Wendy, surprised by the softness behind his words, slightly lets down her guard.

Wendy:

"Are you sure about that?"

Roy:

With a sly smile

"Maybe I’m just a tough guy, but I know my sister better than anyone."

Wendy cracks a smile, more genuine this time. Suddenly, without warning, she steps forward and wraps her arms around Roy in a hug. Roy stiffens, clearly uncomfortable.

Roy:

Grumbling

"Uh… Wendy, you know I’m not a hugger, right?"

Wendy squeezes tighter, not letting go. Her voice is soft but firm.

Wendy:

"I don’t care. I needed this."

Roy stands there for a moment, stiff and awkward, before finally letting out a deep sigh. He slowly raises his arms and hugs her back, though it’s clear he’s doing it just for her sake.

Roy:

Muttering

"Fine. But if you ever tell anyone, I’ll deny it."

Wendy pulls back slightly, still holding onto him, but her gaze softens, and she looks down for a moment, hesitant.

Wendy:

Softly

"Roy... do you think... Mom would be proud of us?"

Roy freezes for a second, clearly caught off guard by the question. He looks away, biting his lip before sighing.

Roy:

Quietly

"She'd be proud, Wendy. Of you, of me... of all of us."

Wendy:

Still uncertain

"But what if we're not doing enough? What if we're just... not living up to her?"

Roy turns back to her, his voice firm but more gentle than before.

Roy:

"Listen, no one’s perfect. But we’re still here, aren’t we? We're still fighting. She'd be proud of that. Proud of you."

Wendy’s eyes fill with emotion, but she manages to hold it back, giving Roy a small, thankful nod.

Wendy:

"Thanks, Roy."

Roy:

With a slight grin

"Yeah, yeah. Just don’t get all mushy on me again."

Wendy cracks a smile, more genuine this time. She finally lets go of him.

Wendy:

"Your secret’s safe with me, tough guy."

Roy smirks, shaking his head, but there's a softness in his eyes.

---

Despite his gruff demeanor, Roy managed to reach Wendy, reminding her that she’s much more than what others see. And though he’s not one for hugs, he hugged her back because, sometimes, family means stepping out of your comfort zone.

Art/story are mine dont copy/repost

#story

#roykoopa

#wendykoopa

#koopalings

#supermariobros

[itsactuallycorrine]

action & reaction

buddie; 1.6K; s08e06 spec; hopeful ending

series now complete: part 1 | part 2

Buck sits uneasily on top of the closed toilet lid, watching as a still red-cheeked and bloodshot-eyed Eddie scrapes a razor along his top lip. 

He hadn’t been certain what he’d do or say when he beelined from his loft to Eddie’s door after his revelation. There’d been a half-formed thought of talking it out, or making some big confession, a vague recollection of a line from some old movie Maddie had loved ringing in his ears about wanting to start the rest of your life as soon as possible. 

Finding Eddie in pieces on his living room floor had thrown all that out.

So had Eddie’s first words when he’d finally calmed down enough to speak:

“I want to shave this fucking mustache off.”

So now, here they are, Buck worried out of his mind and too afraid to take his sights off Eddie, while Eddie shaves his fucking mustache off.

When it’s gone, Eddie stares at himself long and hard in the mirror before cutting a glance at Buck. “So?”

Buck surveys his face and smiles a little. “Still just as handsome,” he teases, smile growing as Eddie rolls his eyes and huffs, pink blooming in the apples of his cheeks. “C’mon, man, you know what you look like. Mustache, no mustache. It doesn’t really make a difference.”

It doesn’t land the way Buck anticipated. “Yeah, I guess not,” Eddie says heavily, turning back to his own reflection. “I thought it’d—never mind, it’s stupid.”

“No, what?” Buck asks. 

“I thought it’d be easier to, you know.” He gestures to the mirror. “If I didn’t really look like myself. I could pretend for a while that I wasn’t—that it wasn’t really me this was happening to. It was happening to some other Eddie in some other fucked up timeline or universe or whatever.”

It breaks Buck’s heart even more than he’d thought possible. “Eddie…”

But Eddie shrugs it off, turning his back to the mirror and crossing his arms. “But it is me. There is no mirror Eddie to blame. I did this. I cheated on Marisol, I brought Kim into our life, I…” His voice breaks. “I drove Christopher away. I did it. But” — he sighs, runs a hand through his hair — “I didn’t do it all alone.”

For the first time in months, a spark of hope kindles in Buck’s chest. “No, you didn’t. Kim chose to come back even after you broke it off. Your parents swept Chris away without even attempting to mediate.” He hesitates. “Christopher chose to leave instead of talking it out.”

“Shannon asked for a divorce when I wanted to fix things,” Eddie adds grimly, and Buck sucks in a shocked breath.

“Y-you never told me that. When?”

“Right before she died. She, uh, thought she might be pregnant and I thought that maybe…maybe it was the sign we needed to recommit to each other. But it turns out both of us were wrong—there was no baby, and she didn’t want that, want me.” Eddie shrugs, but it falls short of casual when his shoulders slump forward miserably.

Buck stares as his head spins. He’d always wondered, hadn’t he? He’d always wondered why Eddie kept coming back to this, to Shannon, couldn’t move on no matter how hard he’d tried. Obviously, Eddie had loved Shannon, but the way he spoke about her, the way he put her on this untouchable pedestal for Christopher, who already knew his mother wasn’t perfect, the way he viewed their relationship with rose-colored glasses when Buck knew how messy it had been…it had always concerned Buck. 

But this, this was the ugly, gnarled root of the problem, one that had grown up around Eddie’s ankles, holding him in place, never letting him move on. It ensnared him, kept him caught in the moment, an awful, terrible moment with no closure. Because instead of a divorce and a definitive closed door to their marriage or a reconciliation and fresh start, Eddie watched Shannon die. The diverging path cut short right at the crossroads, the choice taken out of Eddie’s hands. 

“She said that? That she didn’t want you?” Buck asks. Even without his recent epiphany, the idea seems ludicrous. After all, who wouldn’t want Eddie? 

“Well, no,” Eddie admits. “She said she was still figuring out how to be a mother and didn’t think she was ready to be a wife, too.” 

“Okay. Well, w-were you ready to be a husband? Honestly?”

“Would I have offered if I wasn’t?” At Buck’s unimpressed stare, Eddie sighs. “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably not.” 

Buck hums. “So it seems like maybe her decision wasn’t really about you at all, then. You just had to deal with the fallout, along with some truly shitty, tragic timing.”

Eddie says with a half-amused huff, “To put it mildly.” 

“It wasn’t your fault, Eddie,” Buck says, softly. “You made mistakes, yeah, but it wasn’t all on you. You’ve gotta stop punishing yourself, man. You’re not just hurting yourself; you’re hurting Christopher.”

Eyes welling, Eddie looks at the floor and nods. “I know. And I think—I think I’m really ready to let go of it now. I am. But, God, I just… how do I move forward, Buck? I’ve been here so long that I don’t know where to go from here. How to start cleaning up my mess, to start fixing the things I let this break. How to live without this looming over me.” 

With a long, slow exhale, Buck climbs to his feet and takes Eddie by the arms, waiting until their gazes lock. “I don’t have the answers either, but we can figure it out. Together.”

A sole tear rolls down Eddie’s cheek as it swells with a shaky smile. “I can’t ask that of you.”

“You’re not asking. I’m telling you—I’m here. I’m always gonna be here for you, Eddie, as long as you let me. Always. You don’t have to figure this or anything out alone.”

Eddie just nods as a few more tears spill over. He pulls Buck into a brief, grateful hug, and Buck closes his eyes and savors it. They do this so infrequently, and he’s never understood why. Eddie’s a pretty demonstrative guy, and neither of them are shy about hugging anyone else. But it feels different when it’s them, more weighted, more meaningful—and maybe that’s why. Maybe, subconsciously, Buck knew what it meant all along and held back. 

And maybe along the way, Eddie realized it, too, and didn’t want to encourage Buck or lead him on. Buck pulls back a little uneasily as the embrace breaks, but there’s nothing in Eddie’s expression beyond lingering tears and gratitude. 

They’ve finally made their way into the kitchen, sharing coffee across the table, when Eddie cocks his head. “Did you just drop by to check on me? Or did you need something before I distracted you with all the—” He waves in the general direction of the living room, a little sheepish. 

I love you.

I’m in love with you, and I think we’ve been building a really beautiful life together. 

This, us, our family, is all I’ve ever dreamt of, and if you’d just give me one chance…

Is there any reality in which you could be in love with me, too? Could want me, too? 

But he can’t say any of it, can he? He can’t do that to Eddie now, not when he’s finally ready to shed the past and move forward, not while so many loose ends are still waiting to be resolved. 

“Nah,” Buck says, hiding his farce of a smile by taking a drink. “I guess that call at the well got to me a little and I just…wanted to see you, make sure you were okay.” 

“Okay might be a stretch.” Eddie laughs and gives Buck a soft smile. “But I’ll get there.”

“I know you will.” Buck’s lashes lower as he smiles, a little shyly, and something rolls over in Eddie’s chest, a familiar fondness trussed in ribbons of longing. 

And, look, it’s never really gone away—that tug of yearning he has for Buck, one he’s known for years—but it has been somewhat muted over the past few months while Eddie had more pressing concerns. It used to terrify him, loving Buck the way he does, because he could never reconcile it with the past, with his own identity. 

It still terrifies him, if he’s being honest, because once he digs himself out of the hole he’s created, he’s going to have to reckon with this once and for all, the looming specter over his shoulder that he’s avoided looking at for over three decades. 

He’d been able to cope when he’d thought it was just a pipe dream, when there was no way—even if Eddie did face all his demons head on—Buck would ever feel the same. But then Tommy had come along and fractured that foundational belief, and was it any wonder that Eddie had blown up his own life right after that? 

But here in the aftermath of an emotional day, in the quiet intimacy of the kitchen, it doesn’t seem nearly as scary. Not when Buck’s face is a pretty pink over the rim of his coffee cup, his heart stalwart and steadfast and too damn generous. He hasn’t run from Eddie’s mess, not ever, and he’s just promised to stand by Eddie’s side as he pieces his life back together. How could Eddie do anything but love Buck? 

And for the first time, that feels like more of a blessing than a curse. It’s the light at the end of a very dark tunnel, leading him home, with the hope and faith that Buck will be there waiting for him when he arrives. 

ao3

[sentientgolfball]

Devotion: Part 3

So so many words later and we're finally to the smut chapter and the idea that started this all. I hope y'all enjoy.

Read here or on Ao3

Pairing: Raindrop

WC: 7581

Tags: tentacles, public sex (kind of. they're at the lake but like no one is around), they're grossly in love

Summary: Before Dew could become fire he had to make sure the new water ghoul would fit the needs of the Ghost Project. But the new ghoul ruined his perfect plan.

He kisses Rain back. 

Despite how hard they are pressing their lips together, it stays chaste. Soft in some way. Soft enough for them at least. Dew can feel himself shaking. He never wants it to end now that it has finally begun. All he wants is Rain. All he can think about is Rain. He wants, needs, more Rain. He tilts his head, shifting to deepen the kiss. The moment he opens his mouth, though, Rain pulls back. Dew slowly blinks his eyes open and looks at him, gaze half lidded. 

“Dewdrop—“

He does not give Rain a chance to speak. He dives back in, threading his hands through his hair to keep him close. He is tired of words. He is tired of fucking things up. He has never been good with words. Never been good at vocalizing everything inside of his head. But his actions, his body? They cannot lie. He does not want to lie anymore. 

Rain hums into the kiss, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. Tentatively Dew moves his mouth against Rain’s. He is still so afraid. He half expects him to shove him off, call him a creep, and then go take refuge in some dusty corner of the Ministry. But he does not. He follows Dew’s lead. Emboldened by his reciprocation, Dew carefully pushes him back to lay on the sand without breaking the kiss. He licks against the seam of his mouth and he is confident he dies when Rain does not hesitate to open. 

He pulls back just a bit, still close enough that he can feel Rain’s breath on his face. He takes a moment to breathe, to calm his racing heart and mind. He brushes his nose with Rain’s and whispers softly, “Tell me you don’t want this.” 

He needs Rain to say it. He needs him to say it because he cannot tell himself it anymore. If Rain will just tell him no then he can be free of these feelings. Dew needs him to say no before there is nothing left, consumed wholly by the ghoul laying under him. 

“I want this,” he says against Dew’s lips, “I want you.” 

Those whispered words go straight to his cock, hips twitching minutely as he chubs up. He sighs softly before kissing him again. He does not waste time licking into Rain’s mouth. Rain meets him just as eagerly, tips of their forked tongues brushing and rubbing against each other. Dew feels Rain let out a huff of air through his nose before his leg hooks over his hip to pull closer. He cannot help the little shaky whine he breathes into Rain’s mouth when the tip of his dick presses against his thigh. 

It sends sparks flying in his brain and down his spine. He has to have more. He has to or he is going to fall over and die. He tugs at Rain’s hair and he gives Dew the gasp he was looking for. Dew takes the opportunity to shove his tongue farther into Rain’s mouth. He tastes so sweet. He thinks petrichor and sea salt just became his favorite flavor. He could spend the rest of his infernal life drinking it down and still never be satisfied. 

Rain, to his credit, tries to keep up, but Dew knows what it is like the first time you properly use these Topside bodies. But it is not long before he falls behind, too caught up in new sensations. Dew does not mind. He is happy to swirl and suck on Rain’s tongue while he lays there and takes it. 

“Dewdrop,” Rain pants as he pulls away, turning his head in a way that bares his throat. 

Dew has to bite his lip to stop himself from groaning just at the breathy sound of his name, “Yeah? What do you need, Rainy baby?” 

He watches in real time as the pet name hits his ears and his brain processes. The deep purple blush that blooms on his cheeks makes Dew’s heart full. 

And his balls. 

Mostly his heart though. 

He pets through that mess of black hair while he waits for him to come up with a response. 

“Don’t know. This is…”

“Different?” Dew supplies with a huffed out laugh. 

Rain swallows and nods and Dew is absolutely enraptured watching his throat work. A smile curls on his lips, “I know. Just trust me.” 

He slowly lowers himself down, giving Rain plenty of time to stop him as he gets closer and closer to his neck. Rain does not. Instead he threads his fingers through Dew’s long white hair. He does not push or pull, he just simply holds. He is so close now the tip of his nose brushes against where his pulse pounds in his neck. Dew breathes out, warm air fanning over cool skin. He smiles, the barest brush of lips on skin. He waits, letting the anticipation build until he can feel Rain shaking. Only then does Dew finally press a kiss to his throat. 

The soft sigh Rain lets out makes his stomach swoop. He grins against his skin before pressing his lips more firmly. Dew kisses up his neck and across his sharp jawline, reveling in the way Rain’s hips press up against him with each one. He makes a trail to Rain’s finned ear to suck a mark right under it. The hand in Dew’s hair tightens and the tiny spark of pain makes him hum. He needs to get inside of Rain before he blows his load all over his thigh. He will not be able to live with himself if he does. 

He untangles his fingers from Rain’s hair as he presses more kisses across his jaw and neck, leaving little blooming bruises in his wake. He drags his hands over his shoulders and across his chest. He brushes his thumbs over peaked nipples, gently circling just to hear Rain’s breath catch in his throat. He could be mean. He could pinch and pull until his chest is red and puffy and tears form in his eyes. But he does not. Not when this is new to him. All at once Dew is slammed with the realization he wants to be gentle. He wants to take care of Rain. He wants to treasure him and show him what he does to Dew. 

He continues his path downward, dragging calloused fingertips down his sides. His hands go lower and lower until they brush against the soft membrane that lines Rain’s gills. He gasps and arches up, strong arms practically crushing Dew to his chest. Dew gasps when he feels something warm and wet spreading between their bodies. There is no way Rain just came, right? He did not even get a finger inside of his gills. He knows they are sensitive but is he that sensitive? 

He untangles himself from Rain’s grasp just enough to sit up. The sight that greets him makes his cock kick, a blurt a pre smearing against Rain’s thigh. His eyes are locked on the slit below his navel. The dusky blue tip of a tentacle peaks between the folds. 

“Hello gorgeous.” Dew tentatively pets along the side, gathering slick on his fingers with a fang filled grin on his face. 

He glances up at Rain, staring into his hazy eyes as he brings those fingers to his mouth and sucks. They both groan at the same time. He tastes even sweeter down here. 

Dew loops his tongue around his fingers, sucking until the flavor is gone. Until drool coats his fingers. He slowly pulls them out of his mouth, a string of saliva connecting them to his lips. He breaks eye contact with Rain as he brings his hand back down to the slit. He would love to watch his expression as he does this, but he needs to see that tentacle slide out of his body. 

He slowly pets along the slit once more, a gentle up and down. He cannot tear his eyes away from the wiggling tip that searches for the source of stimulation. He would not dream of denying. He figures a little help will not hurt. Carefully he sinks his two fingers inside of him. 

He hums feeling the tentacle curiously wrap around them, “So fucking warm. So fucking wet.” 

He curls his fingers and languidly plunges them in and out of the slit. A wet squelch follows each movement. Every time he pulls out more and more of Rain’s tentacle follows until finally the whole thing unfurls itself with a gush of liquid. Dew runs his free hand up and down one of Rain’s quaking thighs in a feeble attempt to soothe him as the feeling takes over. 

Even so, he is enraptured with the sight of Rain’s tentacle as it curls and wiggles on his stomach. It is a dark, dusky blue color but flushes a pretty purple at the base. It is on the slimmer side, but deliciously long. 

Tentatively he drags his fingers across the side of it, from base to tip. The sound Rain makes can only be described as wounded as his hips twitch up to chase the slight stimulus. Dew huffs a laugh when it curls around his fingers, pulling him closer while the suckers keep him in place. 

“Not very shy are you? Or do you just like me that much?” He brushes his thumb over it. 

Rain groans and lifts his head to look at Dew, “Can you stop talking to my dick and just fuck me already…please.” 

Dew laughs, “Anything for you.” 

He keeps a hand on the tentacle, squeezing and releasing and petting over the suckers. His other hand drags down Rain’s thigh and to the back to lift it more. He glamours away his claws as he shifts his position to lean over him more, resting his weight on his knees. Slowly he slides his free hand between their bodies. He slips a finger between Rain’s cheeks and gasps. He is wet. That is no surprise, water ghouls are always messy. But Rain is wet. He is practically leaking. 

“Oh Rainy baby.” Dew coos and gently brushes over his hole. 

Rain’s throat clicks and when he swallows, “Please.” 

“I’ve got you,” he says softly. 

He circles that tight ring of muscle and his cock kicks hard when he feels more slick drip out of him. He presses the tip of his finger against his hole just to feel it wink and kiss him before slowly starting to push in. The sigh Rain lets out at finally having something in him, even if it is just a finger, is one Dew will never forget. He cannot wait to see what little sounds he makes when Dew gets his cock inside. 

The thought hits him hard, belly swooping dangerously. He needs to be inside of Rain right now or he may actually die. He will still be gentle, but he is not going to take his time working him open. He curls his finger and pumps it in and out. It is not long before he adds a second finger without breaking his rhythm. The amount of slick Rain is leaking makes it easy. It goes in with no resistance. 

He pets along his walls until he finds the spot that makes him gasp and tense. Dew smiles to himself brushes against his prostate over and over until his tentacle is curling tight around his wrist. 

“Dew. Dew stop. You’re going to make me cum,” Rain pleads. 

He pauses his movements, but he does not take his fingers out of him. He does not think he can. Now that he knows what he feels like inside he never wants to leave. 

“Just need a minute.” He props himself up on his elbows to look at Dew. 

“Whatever you need.” Reluctantly he pulls out of him. If it was up to him he would stay as close as possible, but Rain asked. And whatever Rain asks he shall receive. Always. 

Dew leans over him to press a soft kiss to his lips, “Whenever you’re ready.” 

Rain nods and pecks his lips again, “Go slow. Don’t want it to end yet.” 

Dew plans on it. He does not really want to, but he thinks the moment he feels him wrapped around his dick he will blow. He has to go slow so this lasts. He wants it to last. He needs to commit every inch of Rain to his memory. He is not sure what will happen in a week. If he will live or die. If he will be the same. But Rain is in front of him right now and if all either of them will have is memories then he is going to make it count. 

He brings his slick covered hand between their bodies and strokes himself in long, languid motions. He spreads a mix of his pre and Rain’s slick over his cock until he feels the burn in his belly return. He pushes Rain’s knee up closer to his chest, giving himself better access. His tail curls around the other leg as he drops his head to rest against Rain’s forehead. 

He lines himself up and waits. He gives Rain the chance to stop him. When he does not he presses their lips together and slowly pushes inside of him. Rain clings to him, claws digging into his back. Dew is helpless to the moan he breathes into Rain’s mouth at the bite of pain. 

He slides in slowly, not out of fear of hurting Rain, he is too wet for that, but because of how close he is already. Dew likes to believe he has good endurance, but Rain is testing him. It is him. It is being inside of his body. It is hearing his voice. It is breathing in his scent. It is all him. But Rain does not know that. He does not know how much he affects Dew. He hates it but he never wants it to end. 

Once he bottoms out he stays still. They both pant heavily, breathing in each other’s air like it is the only thing keeping them alive. They savor it. The moment where finally they have each. That is until Rain brushes his nose with Dew’s at the same time he drags his hands up his back to come around and cup his face. 

He pecks a quick kiss to his lips, “I need you.” 

Dew swallows thickly, dropping his head to hide in the crook of Rain’s neck. He breathes deeply, holding that petrichor and sea salt smell for as long as he can. Carefully Dew pulls out until just the tip is inside before sinking back in. 

Rain sighs softly, the end melting into more of a groan. He mimics Dew, turning his head in a way to bury his nose right where his jaw and ear meet. He wraps his arms around Dew’s shoulder at the same time he locks his ankles around his hips. It traps Dew’s hand and Rain’s tentacle between their bodies, but he could not care less. He needs to be this close with Rain. They both need it. 

It makes it hard to fuck into him, but he manages with a slow grinds of his hips. There is no exchange of words. No sweet nothings, no teasing, no I love you. They do not need it. Everything they could ever hope to say is being said with shaky exhales and kisses to jaws and necks. 

It is a slow burn. Embers on a log that refuse to go out. But like a stray spark landing in dry grass, it all crashes onto Dew at once. He is going to cum and he cannot stop himself. He wants to fuck does he want to, but he has been holding back all night. He physically cannot do it anymore. He tries to breathe anything close to a warning, but his brain is so lost in the haze of Rain that nothing comes out. The only warning Rain gets is the faltering of Dew’s rhythm before he spills inside of him. A high pitched, reedy whine leaves his throat as he empties everything he has for Rain. 

As his muscles begin to relax and the ringing in his ears fades he feels guilt flood his system. He slowly pulls back out of Rain’s grasp, chest heaving as he sucks in air. Rain stares up at him with hazy, half lidded eyes. Dew can see the wheels turning in his head, trying to come up with something to say. He does not give him the chance though. All at once he pulls out of him to swoop between his legs. He pops his gills open, taking a deep breath before taking Rain’s tentacle down his throat. 

Rain practically wails as his hands curl in Dew’s hair. He does not pull him off, but he does not push either. He just holds as Dew suckles and licks over the twitching suckers. He has never been more grateful for gills and a lack of gag reflex in his entire infernal existence. He can feel it wiggling in his mouth as it tries to wrap around his tongue. At this point Dew cannot tell if this counts as dick sucking or making out. He does not care either way. All he cares about is getting Rain to cum down his throat. 

He makes a V with his fingers and begins to lightly rub and squeeze around the base. Every so often the tips catch on the slit and sink a little into Rain’s body. Every brush against warm, wet, and velvety skin is another pathetic attempt his cock makes at getting hard again. 

Rain slowly brings one of his hands from Dew’s hair down to caress the side of his cheek. His thumb bushes over the bulge created by his tentacle writhing inside. They both groan at the same time, the vibration making Rain hiss through gritted teeth. Dew’s eyes flutter open, glancing up at Rain’s face. Oh is he a sight to behold. Purple blush spilling down to his gills and up to the tips of his finned ears. Mouth slightly agape. Slack jawed. His eyes are unfocused even though they look right back at Dew. He is gone. Dew thinks nothing will ever look this good. He is beyond happy that he gets to see true beauty before the flames take his life. 

Without warning or any sign that he was close, Rain cums. Hard. He throws his head back at the same time he pushes Dew further down on his tentacle. His back arches off the sand as his whole body shakes. Nothing comes out of his mouth except for a strangled gasp. The suddenness of it causes Dew to sputter and cough as he pulls off him. He hits his chest as he tries to swallow what is left of Rain in his mouth. He does not waste anything, licking his lips once he has his breathing under control to take as much as he can. 

The tip of the tentacle brushes against his lips one last time as it slowly starts to recede back into Rain’s body. A kiss goodbye. 

He huffs a laugh, “I think she likes me.” 

“She?” Rain pants incredulously. 

Dew decides to ignore his exclamation in favor of crawling up from between his legs to lay next to him. He brushes Rain’s damp hair from his forehead, scratching his claws against his scalp as he leans down to press a quick kiss to his lips. Rain hums and hooks an arm around Dew’s neck to pull him closer. He takes the invitation, tucking his nose just under Rain’s ear and spooning him from the side. 

They lay like that for a long time, curled together with their tails tangled. Rumbly purrs and the gentle lapping of waves against the shore are the only sounds that fill the cool night air, the frogs and crickets having since quieted. The moon shines down on them making their scales shimmer just like Her reflection on the lake. Dew thinks this is the most at peace he has ever been. This is what he wants. To sleep on the banks of a lake he calls home in the arms of a ghoul that is his. At least, he hopes Rain is his. But he cannot be sure. Not here. Not now. Not when he is going to be so different so soon. If he survives he cannot be sure Rain will still want him. 

But that is a problem for later. He wants, needs, to soak up as much time as he has with Rain. Like this. Together and close and full of something he dare not name. 

After an eternity of silence Rain is the first to break, “Why did you take so long?” 

“Hm?” Dew hums with his nose still pressed against his neck, eyes closed as sleep weighs them down. 

“Why did you take so long to I don’t know. Do this?” Rain does not stop slowly running his fingers through Dew’s long hair. 

He sighs and sits up just enough to be able to look at him, “Later?” 

“You promise?” Rain says after taking a moment to search his face. 

Dew bends to kiss him again, “Promise.” 

A beat of silence. 

“Alright. But I’m holding you to that.” 

“I wouldn’t expect any less from you,” Dew smiles, “now let’s get the fuck back inside I think I’m staring to freeze.” 

Dew helps pull him to his feet, laughing a little at his wobbly legs. Rain smacks him with his tail, but presses a kiss to the top of his head nonetheless. They wade into the shallows, cleaning sand and fluids from each other until they no longer feel sticky. Rain shudders when they leave the water. Dew practically glues himself to his side as they make the walk back to the dock where their clothes await. He is not much help with the cold, water ghouls having lower body temperatures than most, but he tries nonetheless. It does not help that he is also freezing. He has always been extremely susceptible to temperature changes. His claws are pretty much in a permanent state of being shades of purple. Still, he has the need to care for Rain before he cares for himself. 

They both quickly scoop up and throw on their clothes, eager to get back inside now that the adrenaline is wearing off. Suddenly Dew wishes he would have chosen comfort over style because the last thing he wants to do is put that dress shirt and pants back on, but he does so begrudgingly. He does not want to get yelled at again for walking the halls naked. Stupid humans and their stupid standards. 

Once dressed, the two make the trek back to the Ministry. It is full of little giggles as they bump against each other and soft touches to hands and tails. They do not speak. They do not need to. Everything that could have ever been said was laid out on the shore of the lake. Speaking now would ruin the bubble of contentment they have created. Things go back to normal tomorrow, but right now they exist in a world that is just each other. That is all that matters. 

Dew sighs when they reach the door to the greenhouse and step inside. The air is warmer than outside and it feels amazing. Rain seems to think the same, shoulders relaxing once the door behind him closes. He takes a moment to close his eyes and breathe deep. He lets it out in a long sigh and Dew just. Stares at him. He can feel the gigantic grin on his face but he does not care. He can stare now. Without any worry of Rain catching him or questioning him. A part of his brain still screams at him that all of this was a mistake, but he knows how to shut it up. He stands on the tips of his toes, turning Rain’s head to meet his lips in a kiss. Rain huffs a laugh when they break, cupping Dew’s face and brushing his thumb over his cheek. 

“Oh my fucking Hells finally!” A weaselly little voice calls out. 

Rain and Dew jump apart, heads snapping in the direction it came from. Only a few feet away stands Pebble dressed in his pajamas with a shit eating grin on his face. 

Dew groans and rubs his hand over his face, “What the fuck are you doing out here in the middle of the night?”

“What? Can’t a ghoul break into Earth’s stash for the good shit?” He tosses the small pouch in his hand up into the air and catches it. 

“You know I could ask you two the same fucking thing.” Pebble eyes them both. 

“And I could go down to Earth’s room and let him know he has a thief.” Dew crosses his arms. 

“Asshole.” 

“Prick.” 

Pebble and Dew glare at each other. 

“Give me one.” Dew holds out his hand. 

“Fine but I get a dick pic later.” Pebble unties the pouch and hands Dew one of the joints inside. 

“Yeah yeah whatever. Come on, let's go.” He shoves it into his pocket before twining his fingers with Rain, pulling him after him. Pebble winks at him when he passes. 

“Are you really going to send him nudes for that?” Rain raises an eyebrow down at him. 

Dew holds open the door that leads back inside the Ministry, “Absolutely not. What’s he gonna do? Tell on me?.” 

“He could point Earth in your direction when he goes looking for his weed.” 

“Please. All I have to do is tell Alpha his mutt is acting out.” 

Little shit never knows how to mind his own business. But he is not worried. If Earth does come knocking on his door the gentle giant is easy to please. That is a problem for future Dewdrop though. Right now Rain is all he cares about and nothing is going to take that away from him. 

The walk back to the den is thankfully quick. No more annoying little interruptions. Nobody is in the common room when they step inside and that surprises Dew until he sees the digital clock on the TV. It is well past midnight. Were they really out that late? It only felt like two hours at most. No wonder the whole abbey is like a ghost town. Oh getting up to do his chores tomorrow is going to actually kill him. 

He huffs and pulls Rain after him towards his room. He is cold and tired and if does not get to hold him soon he is going to lose it. Everything is starting to get too loud again and he does not want to hear it. Just for once he wants the blanket of peace to stay around him instead of slipping away without being able to stop it. 

When he gets to his room and they step inside, he immediately pulls Rain into a hug. He does not move to kiss him or grab at him he just. Wraps his arms around his middle and rests his ear over his heart. He sighs and slumps against Rain, relaxing once more now that they are within their own walls. Rain responds in kind, wrapping his arms around Dew’s shoulders and craning his neck to press his lips against the top of his head. They both do not move, Dew with his face buried in Rain’s chest and Rain nuzzling his nose into Dew’s hair. They stay like that for so long that Rain begins to gently swap them. 

Eventually it is Dew who breaks them apart with a huffed little laugh, “Think I’m gonna pass out.” 

He untangles from Rain, but keeps their hands laced together. He takes about two steps towards the bed, but stops when Rain does not budge. He turns and looks at him, head tilted and eyebrow raised. 

“You weren’t seriously about to get into that bed were you?” Rain gives him a look. 

“Uh? Yes? Where else do you want me to sleep?”  

“Without taking a shower first?” Rain wrinkles his nose. 

“What? We washed off in the lake.” Dew shrugs. 

“Yeah the lake.” 

“You say that like it’s not clean. It’s all water.” 

Rain blinks at him, “You told me everyone pisses in there the first time we went.” 

Dew, for once in his life, does not have a rebuttal. 

“We’re taking a shower Dewdrop,” Rain says with finality. It is his turn to drag Dew behind him as he walks towards the bathroom without letting go of his hand. 

Dew dramatically groans but he does not put up a fight. He lets himself be led in. It is not the worst thing in the world, he does get to spend more time with Rain, but he is crashing from everything that has happened throughout the day and all he wants is a soft warm bed. But it is Rain asking him to stay up just a little later. How can he say no to him? 

He leans against the sink while Rain turns the shower on. He stands there with his hand under the spray waiting for it to get to a decent temperature. While he does that Dew begins to slowly peel his clothes off. Even in his state, he has enough brain power to properly fold the shirt and pants. He has one nice outfit and he is not going to get it all wrinkly just because he is tired. 

Rain, seemingly satisfied with the water temperature, follows suit soon after Dew is naked. Once both ghouls are undressed Rain opens the smoky glass door, gesturing for Dew to go first. 

“Oh such a gentleman,” Dew teases as he walks past him. 

Rain rolls his eyes with a smile, stepping in after him. Dew is under the spray immediately, closing his eyes and tilting his head up as the hot water rolls down his body. He lets out a deep sigh at the feeling. All of his complaints about not being able to get into bed right away wash down the drain as steam fills the air. He could stay here forever. 

He jumps a little when Rain comes up behind him but quickly settles. He wraps his arms around Dew’s middle, resting his head atop his. He feels Rain practically go boneless against him. He reaches forward and turns the water even hotter. They both groan at the change in temperature. 

They do not stay like that for long though, at least in Dew’s opinion. Rain drops his hold in favor of browsing the small collection of soaps Dew has. He pops the cap on a few to give them a sniff before ultimately settling on the one that smells like sea lavender. Dew’s favorite. He grabs the bottle and softly smiles down at Dew, running his fingers through his wet hair. Dew gives him a look, but leans into the touch. He pauses his movements to squirt some of the shampoo into the palm of his hand. He sets the bottle back down before moving his soapy hand towards Dew’s hair. 

Dew takes a slight step back, “What’re you doing?” 

“I want to wash your hair for you. Is that…alright?” He asks genuinely. 

He does not know why it makes his stomach churn. It always does, stuff like this. Soft stuff. Loving stuff. He still does not know if it is a good feeling or a bad one, but does know it makes him feel like worms are under his skin. He avoids it when he can but craves it when he is alone in the dark. It is laughable really. He had no problem being inside of Rain only moments ago but letting him wash his hair is what gets to him. 

“But I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” Dew mutters. 

Rain huffs a laugh, “You already did. Let me return the favor.” 

He moves his hand to Dew’s hair at a glacial pace. Dew keeps his eyes glued to Rain’s chest, but he does not move away this time. He flinches though when the soapy hand makes contact with his head. His heart hammers in his chest as Rain begins to slowly lather the shampoo through his hair. Every muscle in his body is tense. He does not know why he is like this. He wants it to stop. He wants to enjoy this but everything feels like it is on fire. 

Thankfully, Rain turns him around to get a better angle. At least now he does have to look at him. It somehow makes it easier. He closes his eyes to try and relax into it or at the very least pretend he is for Rain’s sake. His claws feel nice on his scalp but his mind will not let the gesture go. 

He thinks you are weak. He thinks you are breakable. He thinks you cannot take care of yourself. You are his burden. You are his burden. You are his burden. 

His ear twitches at the sound of Rain’s voice rumbling out. He is humming a tune, the same one as before when he was drawing. The one from the Pits. The one Dew has not heard since he was small. It soothes a deep part of his soul, one he keeps buried and guarded. How Rain manages to break down everything he has built up he will never know. How out of all the songs from water ghoul culture does he continue to pick the one that sits at the center of Dew’s heart. It cannot be a coincidence right? It has to be some kind of magick right? He does not know if that is better or worse. Rain doing it on purpose or it just being by chance. 

His hand comes to rest on Dew’s brow as he tilts his head under the spray, shielding his eyes while he rinses the shampoo out. Dew sighs feeling the day wash down the drain. He has half a mind to tell Rain to skip everything else just so they can go to bed. He knows he would never go for that though. So he stays quiet while Rain works. 

“I’ve always loved your hair, you know.” He lathers conditioner into the ends of Dew’s hair. 

“Why?” Dew questions. It is not anything special. 

“It’s pretty,” he says it like it is the simplest thing in the world, “and it’s soft and long. I’m almost jealous.” 

“No you’re not, it's a bitch to take care of.” 

Rain hums as he washes the conditioner out, “It’s not so bad.” 

“Try doing it every day,” Dew shoots back. 

“I will.” 

The finality in his voice makes something inside Dew ache. It is not about his hair, not really. He wants to take care of Dew. Every day. He cannot mean that. He has to be fucking with him. It is just the emotions from tonight. In the morning he will change his mind. Right? Does he want Rain to be lying or is he too scared to see what may happen if he lets someone in? He cannot tell. He does not want Rain to leave of course he does not but. Letting him be this close. There is no way it ends well for either of them. He supposed though he will just have to find out because he would sooner return to the Pits than be away from his side. 

Once the conditioner is all out they swap places under the spray. Dew washes his body while Rain washes his hair. Rain does not take as much time for himself as he did for Dew. He must be feeling the weight of sleep just as much as Dew. They finish up quickly once Dew rinses the soap from his body and Rain follows suit. Rain opens the shower door with a puff of steam, stepping back into the foggy bathroom. The air is warm, but frigid compared to being under the water. He shudders when his feet hits the cool tile. Dew reaches for the rack next to him, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around Rain before taking one for himself. 

He quickly pats his body dry. Once satisfied he flips his head over and wraps his hair in the towel. He forgoes putting anything close to pajamas on. He does not even slip on a pair of boxers. He just fishes the joint out of his pants pocket and shuffles off towards his bed. He flops down with an exaggerated sigh, pulling the blanket up to rest on his nips. He digs around in the drawer of his nightstand until he finds his lighter. He flicks it but nothing happens. He flicks it again. And again. 

“Stupid fucking.” He repeatedly flicks until finally a flame sparks to life. Well. Even if everything goes to shit in a week he will not have to deal with that ever again. 

He places the joint between his lips and lights the end of it. He takes a few shallow breaths until the smoke finally fills his mouth. He flicks the lighter off, tossing it back in the drawer before taking a deep, long breath. He holds it for a moment, letting the smoke seep into his lungs. He finally exhales, letting it waft out of his mouth and his gills. He sinks further back into pillows as the familiar tingle already makes itself known in his brain. He could kiss Earth for the things that he makes. 

“Couldn’t even wait for me?” Rain grins at him from the doorway of the bathroom. He is wrapped in a fuzzy bathrobe, wet hair clinging to his face. 

Dew smiles back, “Didn’t know how long you’d be.”

Rain is one of the few ghouls he has seen instantly take to the idea of personal care. It has only been two months but he already has a small collection of soaps and lotions even Dew did not know existed. How he found out about these things is a mystery to him, but he is just glad he found something he likes. He takes even longer in the shower than Dew and even more afterwards. His hair has to be combed right and the small amount of stubble he has needs to be trimmed to keep its nice length. Dew does not understand, but he always smells nice so that is really all that matters. 

Rain laughs and rolls his eyes, crawling into the bed. He slides up next to Dew, resting his head on his knuckles. Rain lays on his side looking at him with nothing but fondness. Dew takes another hit, holding it for just a moment before blowing it back in Rain’s face. He shakes his head a little, using his other hand to fan the smoke away. 

“Alright give it here.” Rain takes the joint from his hand before he even has time to react. 

Dew makes an overdramatic noise of offense, but still watches with rapt attention as Rain brings it to his lips. All he can think about is the memory of his taste and the feel of them against his own as Rain breathes deep. His chest rises. Stills. Then collapses as the smoke floats from his mouth and gills. He tries to hold it back, but he coughs and hands the joint back to Dew. 

“Is it always going to be like this?” He sputters, pounding a little on his chest. 

“mmm we’ll get you edibles next time.” Dew takes another hit, breathing the smoke towards the ceiling. 

He sighs as the honeyed feeling washes over him. Warm and floaty and pleasant. He tilts his head back against the headboard, closing his eyes for just a moment to really bask in it. When he opens them again Rain is staring at him. His eyes are half lidded and there’s a little flush on his cheeks already. He gives Dew a lopsided grin, the tip of one of his fangs poking out from under his lip. 

“What?” Dew huffs a laugh. 

“You’re so pretty Dewdrop.” He reaches up and tucks a piece of hair that fell out of the towel behind his finned ear. 

Dew faux grimaces and shoves him a little, “Shut up.” 

He takes another hit as an excuse to look away, blowing the smoke over his left shoulder. He can feel his face flush and it is not from the weed. Rain is just high and still thinking about earlier. That is all it is. 

But he called you beautiful before you even got in the water. 

He chews the inside of his cheek trying and failing to not think about how Rain looked in the drawing room. It is unfair that one ghoul can be so alluring. How can he think Dew is pretty or beautiful or whatever else? So much so that it is all he says when he is high? Rain is the beautiful one. His scales shimmer like the ocean Herself and his eyes are dark like uncut sapphires and his hair is perfectly wavy and…and Dew needs to tell him. He needs to tell him because his time is running out. He backed out of it at dinner. He will not do it again. 

He turns back towards him, “Rain I—“ 

His eyes are closed and his breathing is even. Asleep already. Of course he is. They have smoked a few times before this and if it taught Dew anything it is that Rain cannot handle his weed. He sighs. Guess he will just tell him tomorrow, that is if he still has the guts. 

He takes one more hit of the joint before stubbing it in the ashtray he keeps on his nightstand. He settles down so that his head is resting on his pillows, pulling Rain to lay on his chest. He is not worried about waking him, even without the weed Rain sleeps like the dead. He unwraps the towel from his head, tossing it to the floor. He will probably regret not braiding it back in the morning, but right now all he can think about is how warm Rain is and how soft the bed feels. He grabs the edge of his blanket and drapes it over them, pressing a little kiss to Rain’s head when it is situated. 

He takes a deep breath, savoring petrichor and sea salt as he closes his eyes. His perfect plan failed. He is less upset about it than he thought he would be. How can he be when he has Rain in his arms? Maybe this was always meant to happen? Maybe Rain was not a gift from the Morning Star, but a test? He does not know. But he does know that from the moment Rain popped out of the ground it was doomed to fail. Things probably would have been different if it was another ghoul, but not with him. There is a name for it he is sure, but he does not want to go poking around. He knows he will probably found another ghoulish folktale he has never heard of and then get some crazy idea in his head. Just like the elemental transition. He does not want some weird string of fate connecting them. That feels like too much. He does not want Rain tied to him of all ghouls. If he really wants to stay by Dew’s side he wants it to be his choice, not some cosmic burden. Although he cannot deny the burning feel he gets when he imagines Rain in someone else’s arms. In someone else’s bed. Someone else’s teeth in the space where neck and shoulder meet. 

That catches him off guard. He has never thought about taking a mate before. Ever. The only time it has even come up was when Aether talked about…but Dew had turned down the idea. He could not stand the idea of someone being tied to him for the rest of time. But of course it is Rain who challenges that. All Rain has done since getting Topside is challenge everything Dew thought he had figured out. It scares him. It scares him because he cannot stop it. It scares him because deep down he knows he does not want it to stop. What has he done to Dew? 

One ghoul should not be able to do this. He should be better than this. But he is not. He pretended to be a better ghoul when he stood at the edge of that summoning circle, but it was never meant to be. What is the point of planning anything now when Rain will just tear it down? How terrifying. How exciting. 

He has to survive the flames. Now more than ever. He wants to know what it will be like to experience Rain. He wants to see where he will take him. He wants to know his touch and his taste until the sun goes out and the earth turns to dust. 

He just wants Rain. 

This is his last thought before sleep finally claims him.

[ordinaryschmuck]

Full Family AU Part 36

"...Excuse me?" Camila's annoyance was quick to return after such an insane request.

"I mean, your couch looks comfy," Eda said. "A bit lumpy, but preferable to that shack in the woods."

"Are you...homeless?" Manny asked next.

"Oh, heck no! I've got a home, just not in, er, your neighborhood. Where me and King came from is under a lot of stress at the moment so we're laying low, hiding out in your realm for the time being."

"Why would you need to lay low?"

"Well..." Eda then dug into her hair and pulled out a wanted poster of herself with her hand aflame. "I'm sort of...wanted. From the law."

"...Oh. Okay." Camila pointed to the door. "Get out."

"Here me out--"

"I am not letting some...some witch criminal live under my roof!"

"I didn't break any major laws!" Eda defended, putting the wanted poster back in her hair. "Just the dumb ones. I didn't join a coven when I graduated magic school, I own a stand without a permit, I have a hocus without a pocus--"

"I don't care how illegal your activities are!" Camila exclaimed. "They're still illegal and I don't want that anywhere near my kids!"

"Speaking of kids, hot dang those daughter of yours are heavy sleepers," Eda noted, looking at the miraculously sleeping Luz and Vee. Even King was surprisingly still asleep. "You've been raising your voice this whole time and they haven't so much as peeped an eye open."

"I know, right--Don't change the subject!" Camila snapped. "You're a criminal!"

"I prefer outlaw."

"That's not better!"

"It at least sounds cooler."

"YOU--!"

"Camila." Manny puts his hands on Camila's shoulders, trying to relax her with a little massage. "Can I speak with you for a second."

Camila growled at Eda once more before relenting to Manny, letting him walk her a few steps away from the wild witch. "You better not try and talk me into hearing her out," Camila whispered.

"I know it might be insane," Manny whispered back, "but it's at least worth considering."

"No, it isn't."

"As far as we know, she comes from the same world Vee does. She might have answers to so many questions that Vee's unable to give. It wouldn't hurt to make nice with someone like that."

"She's a criminal."

"Because she broke laws that don't seem too bad."

"Still a criminal."

"At least she's not dangerous."

"Dangerous or not, she's still a criminal."

"Excuse me," Eda said, interrupting Camila and Manny's little conversation. "Couldn't help but overhear, mainly because you're both some pretty loud whisperers, but is it at least worth considering that I came clean about being wanted? Because the way I see it, I had two options: I could either lie about who I am and cause ya to overreact when the truth somehow came out--'Cause it always does--or I could just put all the cards out on the table and explain myself."

"Well, you're not doing a good job at explaining yourself," Camila said with a scowl.

"Actually, I'd say I'm doing a perfect job. I already told you that the laws I broke weren't anything major. They were just little things that never actually hurt anybody. Well, aside from the coven guards, but trust me when I say that those chumps had it coming."

"So you assaulted your world's version of the authorities."

"Authorities that will either put you in a box that you don't want to be in or petrify you for refusing even that."

"Petrify?" Manny curiously asked.

"Turn you to stone," Eda briefly explained. "It's permanent and ain't exactly pretty."

"That's...awful," Manny voiced sympathetically, to which Eda shrugged.

"It's nothing that'll happen to me, I'll tell you that much. Not as long as I can avoid being caught. Hence me staying in the human realm for a bit and me asking if it's cool if I crash on the couch." Eda focussed on Camila again, who seemed to lessen her frustration a bit, but not enough to relent completely. "What say you, Tiny?"

"Call me that again, and you'll lose more than your head," Camila sternly replied.

"Got it. Sorry."

"And...I'd feel bad under any other circumstance, but something about having a known criminal, even if the laws she broke aren't too awful, is just...too much. For me."

"Oh, for--It's not forever," Eda said, her annoyance showing. "Just for the night. Maybe two. Honestly, I'm only here because my current security system for my house is out sick and needs to 'recooperate.' Don't bother asking me what that means, because I do not want to know. I've learned not to ask him things."

Camila and Manny shared a curious look with each other, not even sure how to tackle that.

"Okay, how about just for tonight, then?" Eda suggested. "Me and my boy just need one break from sleeping in that shack. Can you at least give us that? We'll be out of your hair by morning and you'll never have to see us again. I mean, would you really let that precious little guy out in the cold for that much longer...?"

Eda gestured over to King, still sleeping soundly. Camila narrowed her eyes at him, finally noticing something she was amazed not to have noticed earlier.

"Wait...That's the dog you brought in," she stated.

"Ah, right, you still want payment." Eda started digging in her hair again. "Hang on, let me just--"

"No--I mean, yes. I do want my money. But I want to know is how did you make him look...not like that in the vet?"

"Oh, that?" Eda then blew a raspberry as she waved her hand. "That's nothing more than a simple illusion spell. Any witch with a starter's knowledge of illusion magic could do the same thing."

"You can make fake things seem super real?"

"Up to a point. Can't really make anything tangible. Only real enough where you think you can touch it."

Camila then glanced over to Vee, snoring softly without a worry in the world. Camila looked back at Eda, an idea forming as her worries appeared to have an exit.

"...Do you think you know how to make something like that...permanent?"