#obviously there could have been several other endings where [blank] is still around

[bottomvalerius]

Idk who needs to hear this but um

Killing one queer, disabled character in a full cast of queer, disabled characters is not “burying your gays.” It’s just complicated (and imo good) writing.

🤷🏻🤷🏻🤷🏻

[dilfspitdrinker]

Let The Light In | Joel Miller x f!reader

Description: You’ve been babysitting Joel Miller’s daughter all summer. No matter now much you try to deny it, you know you’re into him. But it’s just a little crush that you thought could never be reciprocated, until one fateful phone call. The shift between you two is irresistible, and you’re in for more than you ever anticipated. A/N: so much pining, so much denial, so much self doubt. My goal is to have these guys clawing at the walls for each other before going feral. lmk how I'm doing bae. Hope y'all like this chapter even though it's mostly just two phone convos, lowkey thought the first one should've been at the end of the last chapter but too late for that now lol. Ch 6 is in the works. I heart you. Masterlist

Chapter 5

Joel called his brother the minute you were gone. He’d been out of the dating scene for so long now, ever since his split with Sarah’s mom when she was still a baby. He went through a period of dating around while she was still too young to remember, but soon came to the conclusion that no one was good enough for his daughter and she’s the only girl he needed anyway. You were the only person he’s had any desire to date since then. But now he was floundering, with no idea what kind of setting or activity would make a good night out. He figured Tommy, who was closer to your age, was his best shot at getting this right. Or maybe he’d suggest the stupidest idea Joel had ever heard. Wouldn’t be the first time.

On the other end of the line, Tommy sounded like he was choking. “What?!” He sputtered out a laugh, “You’re goin’ on a date? With who?”

“You don’t know her,” Joel muttered, already fed up with his brother’s antics.

“Obviously I don’t know her, that’s why I fuckin’ asked. Who the hell is this girl that agreed to go out with your grumpy ass?”

Joel was glad you actually hadn’t seen much of his grumpy attitude. For the most part, he was only like that at work, and left it at the door once he was home. “Will you just help me out here? I haven’t done this in a while.”

“What, get laid?”

“Fuck off. Why did I even fuckin’ bother with you-“

“Alright now, I’m done, I swear. So what does this girl like to do?”

Joel blanked. You liked painting with Sarah, you liked baking, you liked the beach. None of which were viable date options. “She uh, she likes tequila sunrises and margaritas.”

“Did you meet her at a bar or something?”

“No.”

“Jesus, man, is that the only thing you know about her? You’re not givin’ me much to work with here.”

He knew you’d been on several coffee shop dates. You said you liked the low-pressure atmosphere for a first date. But he wanted this to be more special than that.

Tommy offered the best he could, “Well since you know her drinks, and you apparently didn’t meet her at a bar, how ‘bout you take her to one?”

“Not a bar.”

“Why not?”

“I want it to be nicer than that.”

“How about a nice bar?”

“You are such a useless sack of shit.”

Tommy burst into laughter again. “You really tryin’ to impress her, huh?”

Joel sighed deeply, “I wanna treat her right, she deserves it.”

“Now I really wanna know who this is, gettin’ you all heartfelt? Haven’t seen that in a long while.”

“Can’t say I have either.” It was true. Something about you made Joel’s heart mushier than an overripe fruit. He’d felt twinges of it since the start, but had just barely started acknowledging it.

“Well since you’re a big softie now, how about dinner somewhere? Can’t go wrong with that.”

Joel only knew that you liked that one takeout place, and that wouldn’t do. “Where?”

“Figure it out yourself, you ain’t that clueless.”

“I oughta skin you alive.”

“Always the charmer,” Tommy’s shit eating grin could even be heard through the phone. “Good luck man.”

Joel tossed his phone onto the couch and stared at the ceiling. So then, dinner… somewhere. He racked his brain for every place that was at least more upscale than a diner.

His phone pinged– you got home safe. He sent back a quick goodnight text.

He decided to sleep on it. No use staying up waiting for inspiration, it was late enough already. He lumbered off to bed, anticipating that it would be a bitch to get up in the morning.

*. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * ·

The following day, you debated sending Joel a good morning text. You stared blankly at the phone in your palm for a solid five minutes straight before ultimately deciding against it. You huffed in frustration, wanting to throw the device out a window. You’d never felt this twisted up over a guy before, overthinking your every move. You always felt at ease around Joel before you made that call, before things got too personal. Was it really worth it to risk that? If this thing – whatever it was – didn’t work out, you had no idea where that would leave you two. Now that you thought about it, you hardly knew what a best case scenario “if it does work out” would look like either.

You got yourself ready for the day, cutting off the thought spiral. Staying busy was effective, for the most part. But there was always a space reserved for Joel in the back of your mind. You were brushing your teeth, but in that space you were on his couch with his hands all over you. You were driving to class, but in that space his lips were trailing down your neck. You were scrawling notes, but in that space you were sitting in his lap, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt and– fuck, new goal, see him shirtless.

It was a futile effort; as the morning dragged on, it only became more difficult to expel the blend of memories and imagination. You could only surface from your daydreams for long enough to throw together the final paragraph of your essay.

Work kept Joel busy. He was subjected to more teasing from Tommy, but that was expected. He could clear his face of emotion, but as much as he tried to clear his mind and focus on the task at hand, he couldn’t push you out entirely. In the searing heat of the Texas sun, the thought of you was a cool relief. Your image lived so pristinely in his mind. He could see you right in front of him, looking up, eyes so wide and shiny, and in the depths of them was something so… needy. Wouldn’t make it through the day if he continued that thought.

You were finally having lunch in your favorite coffee shop, reviewing notes from the lecture you just got out of. You couldn’t recall a single detail for the life of you, and were irked to see that your notes were pretty incomprehensible as well. You flipped the spiral notebook closed, resigning your efforts, you’d redo them from the textbook later. You nearly sprang up from your chair at the sound of your phone ringing. You pulled it out, already knowing who it was. For all your doubts earlier that morning, you had still giddily anticipated his call.

“Hi Joel,” you bit back a smile.

“Hey darlin’, how’s your day treatin’ you?”

“It’s been okay, cut it close with my essay but I finished it on time.”

“I’m sorry darlin’,” his tone a bit sheepish. “Don’t let me distract ya next time.”

You chuckled, “It was worth it.” The proposition of next time was something you stored away in your mind for later.

He made a noise of approval, “Glad I made a good impression.”

You were glad he couldn’t see you, the cheeky expression plastered on your face clearly read shut up, bastard. As much as you wanted to elaborate on just how good of an impression he made, you didn’t want to melt into a puddle on the coffee shop floor. “How’s your day going?”

“It’s work,” he grunted. “Hotter than hell out here. But I’m on my lunch break now, and talkin’ to my favorite girl.”

You caught yourself swinging your feet under the table.

“‘Scuse me, second favorite girl. As much as I like you, darlin’, can’t boot Sarah off of first place. Hope you understand,” he said wryly.

“I won’t lie, I was little jealous for a second there, but I can’t blame you. Sarah’s my favorite girl too.”

Joel’s heart swelled at that. Truly the easiest way to get to him, for better or worse, was through his daughter. And you seemed to do that every damn chance you got. All the times he’d collected her scattered art supplies and noticed new markers that you must’ve bought her, even after he told you not to. When he overheard you two singing together– something she somehow got too shy to do around him. Every time he found a container of leftovers in the fridge and knew you’d cooked her favorite meal. None of it was ever lost on him.

“So I got an important question for you,” he began.

“Yes?” you smiled uncontrollably now.

“Italian or Asian?”

“Asia is a pretty big place, Joel. What country are we talking here?”

He let out a hearty laugh, your new favorite sound. “Don’t tease me, you know I ain’t as bright as you. It’s uh, Chinese.”

“Olive Garden or Panda Express… tough decision.”

“It’s neither of those places,” he said gruffly, unamused.

You stifled a giggle, oddly satisfied with yourself for annoying him. “Let’s do Italian.”

“Does Friday night work for you? Let’s say, 7?”

“That’s perfect.”

“Alright, darlin’, I’ll see you then.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

You thought he’d say his goodbyes then, but he didn’t, “I got about fifteen minutes left of my break, I can uh, still chat if you’re not busy.”

You were more than happy to continue the conversation. It filled you with something akin to pride, hearing that he wanted to spend his break talking to you. Plus, you were eager to find out some more details about him. It took a bit of prying, but you uncovered that he could play the guitar.

“Yeah, I don’t bring it out much anymore.”

“Why not? I’d love to hear you play!”

“Maybe if you’re lucky you’ll get a private concert.”

You toyed with the ends of your hair, “Do you sing too?”

“I can, not that I’m any good at it.”

You hummed, “I bet you’re great and you just don’t give yourself enough credit. How do you feel about karaoke bars?”

“Never been, actually.”

Appalled, you asked if he was joking, and even more appalled, heard that he wasn’t.

“Why not? They’re so fun! I mean I know it can be annoying if someone forces you to go up there, but it only takes a couple drinks to loosen up.”

“Well maybe I don’t want my talents exploited,” he said smugly, and if he were next to you right now, you’d pounce on him.

“Okay, we’re going,” you managed between laughs, “If it’s the last thing I do, I’m dragging your ass to a karaoke bar.”

“Only because it’s you, I swear,” he shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

It was too easy to talk to him, even when you felt the conversation was clunky on your end, he just bounced off you and kept it flowing. There was an irresistible charm in the way he spoke, and it was captivating just how damn effortless it seemed. His lack of karaoke experience seemed like his only flaw, and that would shortly be amended.

He informed you that his break time was up, and you detected some disappointment in his voice. “Friday at 7, I’ll pick you up. Have a good rest of your day, sweetheart.”

The new nickname had you squeezing the edge of the table, “You too Joel.”

You gave yourself a minute to scream internally before packing up your bag and quickly heading home, where you could scream externally in the comfort of your room.

Chapter 6

Masterlist

[feralbutfluffy]

44: Crowley

Chapter 44 of Too Wise to Woo Peaceably

***

Crowley had just had, quite literally, a Hell of a day. 

First, he’d been picked up, stripped down to the studs, and put back together. 

Then, he’d watched Aziraphale fight The Metatron, helped him make the bastard disappear, and now they were finally back at the bookshop where Aziraphale had just admitted to wanting him - quite desperately, he’d said - over eighty years ago. Crowley wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with the information but he figured he was entitled to at least a minute to process it.

Aziraphale obviously didn’t agree. He was tearing at the skin of his middle finger with the nail of his thumb, looking more irritated by the second.

‘Well, know it now,’ he’d said, the impatient, haughty tone of it suggesting there was an unspoken ’ ...you absolute dolt ’ tacked on the end. Crowley wanted to shake him.

Or kiss him.

Maybe both. Probably both.

The angel was unbelievable. He’d been distressingly anxious to the point of tears about sinning or some such, and then... this. Telling him he’d wanted him back in 1941. Quite desperately! Crowley let the words circle around in his head.

He just needed a minute. He needed to think, which was damnably difficult with Aziraphale sitting there watching for a reaction. He didn’t want to make a single move until he was sure it wasn’t the wrong one. He was trying to stay completely still until he had it all straightened out in his head.

He was really trying.

Unfortunately Aziraphale was starting to look like he was reaching the limits of his patience, so Crowley felt obliged to say something.

Better safe than sorry.

“Right.”

Aziraphale’s brow furrowed. “Right?”

“Ng. Good to know. Thought I’d misread that whole situation.”

Aziraphale’s face went completely blank. “Good to-? Oh?”

“‘S fine, water under the bridge. Let bygones be bygones. All of that.”

Aziraphale looked a bit stunned. “Bygones. Of course,” he said, nodding in agreement.

Well. That settled that.

“...Except,” Aziraphale forged ahead, sounding like the words were being pulled out from between gritted teeth, “it’s not really - technically - bygones.”

Was he saying-?

No. Crowley told himself to remember his honeycombed mental faculties; they clearly couldn’t be trusted. He brushed past it.

“But, 1941. I mean... Why didn’t you tell me?”

Aziraphale’s eyes flew wide in surprise before narrowing. “Oh, I don’t think you’re in any position to ask me that.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

"I think it's a bit rich of you to be taking the moral high ground on the subject of keeping things to yourself," said Aziraphale snippily, then turned away.

"Why didn’t you tell me you’d been living in your car?”

“What?” Crowley wondered if it was possible to get emotional whiplash. 

“During that whole business with Gabriel and- Well. You said you wanted your apartment back because you were bored of living in your car. How long had that been going on? Why hadn’t you told me?”

“This has absolutely nothing to do with anything,” Crowley grumbled. 

He knew it sounded petulant. He didn’t care. Why were they talking about this? 

“It has everything to do with everything! On the topic of things we haven’t told each other, it seems entirely appropriate to ask why you - for several years, apparently! - failed to mention you were living in your car. Really, Crowley!”

Aziraphale sounded annoyed bordering on exasperated, but he was certainly looking much more composed. Crowley thought the newfound assurance probably came from the familiar feeling of having him on the back foot.

How exceptionally irritating.

“I don’t see why it matters. T’was fine.” Crowley rolled his shoulders uncomfortably.

“Of course it matters! You know you could have stayed here! You were here most of the time anyway, what possible difference would it have made?”

Crowley’s mouth was set in a hard line. “Leave it,” he muttered tightly.

“No, Crowley. I will not ‘leave it’! I cannot believe you let stubborn pride get in the way of asking for help! It’s perfectly absurd! And more than a little offensive-”

No no, no. He didn’t get to do that. Crowley cut him off, scowling.

“You said, “You go too fast for me.” You said that! And now you’re asking why I didn’t ask to bloody well move in?” 

Aziraphale jerked backward and stared at Crowley with evident surprise. 

“Oh.”

Crowley blew out a frustrated breath and looked away. Any normal day and he'd have jumped up and paced around the room. Actually, any normal day and he probably would’ve stalked out the door. He would have done something - anything - to relieve the frantic nervous energy building inside him. 

Instead, he was pressed into the sofa next to Aziraphale, discussing their cohabitation - or lack thereof - and only just about managing to act nonchalant about changing seating positions.

It was excruciating.

He couldn’t think of anything to say, so he said nothing.

Aziraphale was sitting ramrod straight, still staring at Crowley. “I- I’m sorry you didn’t feel you could ask, I certainly didn’t-” he broke off and tried again, his voice softer. “That was a long time ago. And I didn’t mean it, not really. It was-” His hand fluttered in the air, searching for words. “I was overwhelmed.”

Crowley shrugged and tried to sound casual. “Yeah. Well. Took it to heart.”

“I can see that.” Aziraphale looked deeply affected. There was something that looked suspiciously like sadness in his eyes. 

“I do wish you had told me, Crowley. I would have- I really would have liked you to stay. You would have been welcome. More than welcome.”

Crowley swallowed uncomfortably and sidled a questioning glance at the angel, unwilling to make the moment more painful for himself with the addition of direct eye contact. Aziraphale nudged Crowley’s leg with his foot, and it was so wildly out of character that Crowley jumped at the unexpected contact.

“I think-" Aziraphale sighed. "I think we’ve been rather silly, perhaps.”

Crowley could feel himself trembling with the effort of staying still.

“I think you’ve been keeping things from me all this time and - Muriel told me about your trip to Heaven, by the by - and I think, I could be wrong, but, well, I could well be wrong- I mean it’s entirely possible I’m jumping to-”

Crowley felt like he was waiting for the sword of Damocles to fall on his head. 

“Just say it,” he said wearily.

“Well is it possible you might have thought that by keeping things from me you- you’ve been- I mean to say, you’ve thought you were perhaps… protecting me?”

Their eyes met. Crowley’s mouth was dry as parchment.

Obviously, he wanted to say. Obviously, you precious, oblivious idiot.

“Yeah,” he said instead. Slowly. Warily.

“Can I-?” Aziraphale gestured between them and Crowley had no idea what he was asking but he nodded anyway, because he’d never been able to deny the angel anything, had he?

Well. Almost anything. 

Come with me… to Heaven!

He stiffened at the memory before being hauled back to the present by Aziraphale shuffling closer. He forced Crowley over until they were sitting thigh to thigh.

“Is there anything else you haven’t told me because of this entirely misguided intention of shielding me from harm?”

‘Shut up and die already!’ 

‘Extreme sanctions.’

‘Anyway, Armageddon the sequel, that's a nah.’

“A few things,” he admitted. 

“Serious things? Important things?”

“Yes. Probably.”

“Why?" Aziraphale looked hurt. "Did you really think I was so weak? So incapable?”

Crowley started to shake his head, slowly and then more vigorously.

“Did you think so little of me?”

“No. No .”

“Then why?”

Crowley spread his hands helplessly. “Didn’t want to tell you things that might hurt you,” he said eventually. “Just, yeah. Mn. Didn’t want to hurt you.”

Aziraphale was so close it made his skin prickle. He clenched his jaw. The angel’s head was down and he was looking at Crowley’s yellow socks with a pensive look on his face.

“If you had just talked to me-”

“Isn’t that just-”

They stopped. Aziraphale gestured for Crowley to continue.

“Well it's just... Isn’t that how it goes? You get into difficulty, I help you get out of it… Practically tradition!” He sounded defensive and a little guilty. “I don’t know why we’re talking about this, honestly. It’s- You know I think you’re-” He hissed through his teeth, and started over. “Obviously you’re not weak or incapable. I mean, The Metatron- You know. You must know. Anyway. Look. I just wanted to-”

“...Be the hero,” interrupted Aziraphale, not unkindly.

Crowley bristled.

Aziraphale gave him a gentle push with his shoulder. “You are, you know. Almost always.”

An embarrassed heat worked its way up Crowley’s neck. “Nng,” he said.

“You should know though that I don’t actually need you. I mean, I could have extricated myself from those situations-”

“Of course,” he said dully. Of course he didn’t need him. Presumptuous to think he might. The embarrassed heat became a simmer of shame.

“... What I mean to say is, I could have got myself out of those situations, I think, but I didn’t, because I- Well.” Aziraphale cleared his throat and continued, sounding a bit sheepish. “I rather wanted you to come to my rescue, you see. It always makes me so happy to see you, to- to turn and find you in my corner.” 

Crowley blinked. Searched for words, found none.

“So, ah, that’s the thing, I think. I hope that made sense. Did it?”

Did it? Crowley didn’t know. He thought he understood, but the understanding was being dragged backward by a clawed fear digging its heels into well-worn notches. His mind was completely useless, whiting out into a screaming blankness.

“I don’t need you, Crowley. I mean, I do, but only- What I'm trying to say is that I don't need you to shield me from the truth, or protect me from whatever it is you think I might feel. I don't need you, but I do want you."

There was a silence, and Aziraphale swallowed audibly. "All the time, actually.”

Crowley couldn’t hold a single coherent thought together. A colossal wave of emotion crashed over him and he was tumbling through churning chaos, unable to breathe and with no idea which way was up. His fingertips dug into the leather cushions.

”Not just in 1941, Crowley. All the time.”

Crowley’s eyes darted around the room, frantically looking for something to ground him in the moment. Aziraphale reached out to gently, gently turn his face towards him.

Their eyes locked and Crowley had to swallow down a pleading whine. He searched Aziraphale’s face and found only resolve, and concern, and tenderness, and something that looked like - but couldn’t possibly be - love. He heard a choked whimper escape from his throat. 

He couldn’t bring himself to care. Any embarrassment was burned away by scorching desire.

Aziraphale curved both hands around Crowley’s head, being very careful to avoid hurting him, and brought them down until he was cradling his jaw in his hands, his thumb gently smoothing the skin next to his mouth. 

“All the time, Crowley,” he repeated, then hesitated a moment before continuing. “That is to say…Now.”

Crowley felt as if his muscles had turned to brittle stone. Part of his brain was suddenly afraid that he was still elsewhere, that he was still in the white room, that everything that had come after had been a dream, and that his imagination was crafting this entire unlikely scenario out of longings long-buried. 

Aziraphale kept his eyes on Crowley as he closed the distance between them. He did it slowly, so slowly, giving him every chance to pull away. 

A spark of panic sputtered to life. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t real. This was-

Aziraphale’s lips met Crowley’s, soft and tentative, and the spark of panic was immediately snuffed out.

Aziraphale opened his mouth the tiniest amount, moving against his lips, coaxing him to kiss back. He angled his head to deepen the kiss, and Crowley finally, finally, felt his muscles unlock and melt into a moment he’d yearned for but never thought he’d be lucky enough to get, not really, not ever.

And all it had taken was the kind of grievous bodily harm that would traumatise someone for at least a century, and a fight to the death against the Voice of God.

Crowley would do it all over again if that was what it took for him to have this moment.

He had the blurry recollection of Muriel calling him a masochist, and one corner of his mouth curved up as he flicked his tongue against Aziraphale’s, laughing against his mouth when the angel startled. 

This was happening. This was real.

This was bliss.

[loverlylight]

Sometimes it's just... I dunno, odd trying to build up to being a functioning human again. And I have made a lot of progress, but sometimes it's odd what I still haven't got back, if that makes sense? Putting a read more because this got long and talks about suicidal ideation and all that.

Like, eight months ago, I was just blank. I could respond physically to stuff, but I was in so much emotional pain my mind was just not really there, I couldn't speak much and from what I've been told when I did speak it was very dull and unemotional. I couldn't force myself to do anything I did not have to do, and my body was also barely functioning because of all the breathing issues and weakness and the fact that I was somehow hoping I could starve myself to death without anyone noticing which yeah is stupid but I wasn't in the best state of mind, and anyway that resulted in me several times just sitting motionless for hours doing nothing. There were multiple times where I'd go days without eating, or forcing myself to eat but being unable to keep from crying because I knew eating was keeping me alive which I did not want, and I obviously wasn't keeping track but mom estimated that days when I would eat I'd have like 500 calories a day. And I either wanted to die or was thinking about how I could follow through on that desire in a way that would cause the least amount of trouble for people. (I remember one time, since I live on the second floor, I was weighing jumping out the window but decided that not only would that likely not flat out kill me but that we live right near this tiny playground our complex has and I was like okay I don't want to risk a kid coming across me and getting traumatized or anything. Also had a serious discussion with my sister about whether it would be better for her & the family if I died for my body to be found or not.) There were a lot of times when I got up to the edge of taking action, sometimes I would have tried if my body had more energy, and then when I finally did try but stopped myself in time, and... I dunno. Basically, for the longest time I was completely unable to do pretty much anything.

And now, like, I'm getting better at stuff. I can't be anywhere too crowded or without having a way to leave if things get to be too much, but I'm able to drive again, and more than just down the street. I'm able to interact with the world and other people, even though it's still kinda shaky and different. I consistently eat two meals a day, I still fall down multiple times a day but I'm able to go on a full walk around the block, but I'm just... I just find it kinda weird what my brain's doing, like I'm able to take some initiative to connect with other people but it's a lot... shallower on my end, for lack of a better term. I still care about people very much, but the ability to do something about that care is not very strong. Like, gifts, in past years I've put a lot of thought into not just the gift but also like how I'd wrap it and the type of tag and all that, but this year while I still got people gifts, I didn't have the mental energy to put in the thought I'd have liked to. Anyway, I have gotten this far and lack of sleep is catching up to me so, uh, bye.

[ridiasfangirlings]

I know you've done hanahaki before but I only recently realized there were more afflictions like it. There's tenshibyou which means the afflicted person grows wings and the longer their unrequited love goes on, the more beautiful and angelic the wings become. Could you do a scenario of Fushimi afflicted with his unrequited (unrealized?) feelings for Munakata, please? Thank you!

Imagine Fushimi with these gorgeous full angel wings and everyone thinks he looks amazing, meanwhile Fushimi is complaining constantly because they’re annoying and it’s getting hard to walk through doors :P Say he gets hit by a Strain whose powers are unknown, it’s only that people who have been hit suddenly start showing various afflictions that disappear under unknown circumstances. Munakata is naturally concerned, as they know so little about this, and he asks Fushimi into his office so he can look him over. Fushimi clicks his tongue and complains that it’s nothing, he’s fine. Even so Munakata is being very solicitous around him, stating that Fushimi needs to look after the condition of his body and to let Munakata know if anything begins to pain him. Fushimi looks away with a quiet click of his tongue, muttering ‘annoying’ even as he feels this tinge of pain in his back.

As the day goes on the pain gets worse but Fushimi tries his best to ignore it and work through it, staying up late to complete his reports even though his back is severely paining him. Munakata comes into the office himself to tell Fushimi to go to bed, it’s been a long day and Fushimi looks pale. As Fushimi tries to argue he suddenly doubles over in pain, Munakata is immediately by his side, trying to get Fushimi to look at him and tell him what’s wrong. Fushimi manages to grit out ‘my…back…’ and that’s when this pair of wings just sprouts from his back, maybe with like black crow feathers that flutter down everywhere. Munakata notes that this must be the Strain power as Fushimi sits up, feeling better now that the wings have sprouted. He picks up a feather and mutters ‘so annoying,’ like he doesn’t see what the point of something like this is.

Fushimi claims he’s feeling all right beyond the wings but Munakata remains concerned and decides to do some further research into this. As the days go on Fushimi’s wings go from black to white and become increasingly more beautiful but maybe at the same time it starts to take a toll on the rest of his body, like first he just starts finding his endurance going lower and he’s tired all the time but soon it’s affecting his mind too, as his wings become more angelic he finds himself having trouble remembering things. Munakata meanwhile hasn’t spoken to Fushimi as much because he’s so worried and focused on researching Fushimi’s condition and unknown to him this is hastening Fushimi’s decline, when Fushimi sees that once again Munakata isn’t in his office his wings shake and more black feathers turn white as Fushimi suddenly finds himself wondering how he got here, he can’t recall walking into this office.

Munakata ends up visiting a hospital where he finds someone who was reported to have the same condition as Fushimi but it’s progressed much further. The person is now just like a hollow angel doll, staring blankly at the wall with even their hair gone white and they don’t react to anyone or anything. Munakata is obviously extremely concerned and maybe this is when he manages to find someone who did recover, in interviewing them Munakata learns that the progression of the ‘disease’ reversed after that person’s longtime crush confessed their love. This is when Munakata gets an urgent call from headquarters, Fushimi’s taken a turn for the worse.

Munakata hurriedly returns and realizes that perhaps he’s stayed away too long, Fushimi’s disease has progressed faster than any other he studied. He finds Fushimi in his office, sitting by the window absolutely still with hints of white in his hair, eyes blank as he stares out. Munakata says his name and Fushimi’s feathers rustle slightly but he doesn’t move, hair growing more white even as Munakata watches. This gives Munakata an idea, he doesn’t know if this gamble is correct but he feels that this is the one way he can save Fushimi. He asks Fushimi to look at him and finally Fushimi turns and looks, when he wouldn’t react to anyone else. Munakata realizes that this truly must be up to him and he just leans forward and kisses Fushimi gently, asking Fushimi to return to him and confessing his feelings. Fushimi murmurs ‘Captain’ and imagine him just falling forward as feathers suddenly fall from his wings and swirl around them, surrounding them as he collapses right into Munakata’s arms. 

[red-dyed-sarumane]

yes we do want the void oc lore

okay !!! i hope this makes sense

void's one of my psychic ocs their ability/power being that they can distort, displace, & change audio, visual, tactile, scent, and taste sensations in a limited range around themself. this often isnt the smoothest & seems similar to a glitch on a computer so thats how it got its name. theyre agender (amab but thats literally only relevant in adult situations) idk their exact hight but somewhere around like 5'2"

their real/past name was ansta. they also used to have red-brown hair & purple eyes but they thought that was boring & always used their ability to make their eyes bright blue & their hair the black-blue gradient.

they had good grades in school but got bored easily, so they often used their ability to pull various pranks in classes. they had a friend (crian) that would help them in their pranks with her own ability & even tho everyone knew it was the two of them, there wasn't much proof if any so they never really got in trouble. they definitely used to be a playful, confident type of person.

However they got involved with one of the popular girls at their school, & once she got a bit close to them she started using them, manipulating them, etc. part of her bullying was saying things like "u dont even have ur own personality do u? ur just a void of a person" & Thats where the nickname void came from.

crian figured out early what her plan was & tried to talk some sense into void, but the bullying really put them into a corner & whenever they tried to do something about it, the popular girl would step in & lie to whoever they told so no one would believe them. once she got what she wanted from void, she got even hasher in her bullying until void finally broke one day. their mind went blank & they ran out of school & didnt stop running.

when they finally got their senses back, they didn't remember anything, not what happened or where they were going or even really who they were. they lost their phone while they were running so they didnt even have that to see who they knew or what they were like. they just knew the word void felt like a name & they didn't want to turn around and find out where they came from. so at 16 they just kept going until eventually, several towns & a Large distance away, they found an abandoned house deep in the woods where it was very unlikely anyone would come across them. once they decided on staying there they got themself a new phone & different things so they could actually live there.

even tho they dont consciously remember anything, the whole incident still haunts them, they have no confidence or self esteem, they dont even have control over their ability anymore & that stresses them out & makes it Even Worse so they hid away even more than they needed to.

eventually as they stayed there they gained a growing interest in the deity of the stars & joined various forums & the like to keep up with their appearances & interviews & various other things. they never talked too much, but they got a decent following for their photo set edits. this interest ended up turning into a gachikoi situation, even tho they never really wanted to actually meet the deity since they hated themself & didnt feel they were worthy of it or that the deity should be bothered by someone like them. but also theyve been away from people so long at that point they dont actively name it as a crush (it is).

despite hating themself theyve never self harmed in the way of cutting their self harm manifests as excessive isolation (obviously) & occasionally skipping meals. & self deprecation too.

probably the most interesting thing tho is that when they snapped & couldnt control their ability anymore it permanently altered them that their eyes & hair stay the colors they wanted as a kid (unless of course their ability goes off a changes it for a bit. but thats like their "natural" now) In Fact in my little au where they get together with said deity, their kid inherits their eye color meaning their ability is powerful enough to permanently alter genes/dna/whatever. but they cant use it properly anymore so its really not a threat to anyone

[hautevaux]

@caeca-iustitia asked:

Everything that day had been going as expected, no change or break from routine. It seemed that a certain gunman had forgotten what Vaux had told them about his birthday- though the mere thought of the aforementioned gunman had an ominous feeling spread through Vaux’s gut.  Then, around 10 in the morning, the truth smacked Vaux in the face. A heeled boot carefully kicks his door in and a familiar figure ducks into the building with all the grace one would expect from a person holding several sparkling mint-green gift bags and a simple yet elegantly decorated cake. “Good morning!” The gunman seemed cheerier than usual as they saunter across the room and neatly set the cake- revealed to be a birthday cake- in front of the tailor. They smirk down at him before shifting the bags off their arms and into their hands. Handing one over, their smile softens. Within the gift bag lay a beautiful set of sketchbooks which Vincent had meticulously labelled for Vaux to use when designing. Each one was obviously rather expensive and high-end even if the price was unknown to the tailor. The next contained a slender black box. The brand name on the top of the box was that of an expensive Wutai-based brand that often sold out right after launching new products. Upon the box being opened, it revealed a pair of hair sticks which Vincent had seen and thought Vaux may like. The third held a selection of various expensive yet durable artist's pencils from one of the top brands in the industry. They came in all kinds of shades and Vincent had hoped to let Vaux pair them with the sketchbooks since they wanted him to enjoy every part of making clothing equally.  The final bag- for now- was heavier than the last three. Inside were two things, a card that was full of information from a well-known perfume store which did custom blends in Sector 2 and an ornate perfume bottle that changed colour depending on how you looked upon it. It was inlaid with delicate lines of rose gold and upon uncapping it, a familiar scent would hit the tailor. It was an exact dupe of the perfume that he held so dear and the card provided would allow him to have it mixed whenever he liked so he would never run out again.  “Right! Get your behind up, honey, we are going shopping!”  The gunman moves forward to pull Vaux up and pull him into a warm, comforting hug as they lean in to whisper in his ear. “Happy Birthday, Vaux. I’m going to spoil you rotten today and I want to hear no complaints out of you. Just enjoy yourself and let me handle things, okay? Today is your day and you deserve to be pampered and loved.”

Vaux physically jumped upon the door to his store being booted inward, panic ever swift to rise upward into his very chest only to be quelled seconds later at the sight of the other. With his heart still hammering, Vaux offers a blank look of mild annoyance - if only for the brief fright - ere he sets his eyes upon the presented cake 'pon the reception desk.

There comes a moment from Vaux where he is entirely silent; the sudden realisation that Vincent had remembered his birthday despite it being mentioned in passing months prior hitting him. If he was to be truthful, Vaux had not even recalled it himself - having begun that day just like any other.

The gift bag was quietly accepted, Vaux's expression conveying both his surprise and his overwhelmed state. He couldn't remember the last time he had celebrated his birthday, couldn't remember the lithe gifts he had received nor the celebratory events. He knew he'd been rather young, that it had been before his vicious seizures had become evident...A long time prior.

One could argue that once he had left home he could have celebrated however he wanted, but he'd not had the time - he'd been so focused on trying to better himself and his skills, his position, his life. He'd forgotten those traditions.

His focus returns to the bag, hands gripping the sketchbooks that had been within, the sentimental smile upon his expression truly showing how much they meant to him even if he had not yet spoken a word.

The hair sticks were naught short of beautiful, too, and they reminded him much of how his grandmother used to wear her hair - and to perhaps embrace parts of his culture that he had forgotten would be good for him. A connection to the good things he remembered.

The pencils that followed were just as adored, sparking memories of using nurses pens to doodle designs of long dresses and flowers when he'd been in the hospital. If his child self had known he would one day be gifted such beautiful instruments... He wouldn't believe it. And mayhap, in the moment, Vaux didn't believe it now.

Finally, the perfume near bought a tear to his eye and he couldn't resist putting some on - a moment taken to smile and quietly tear up. He'd never felt so spoiled, so thought of, and Vaux was still in such a state of shock and overwhelmed that finding words was utterly difficult.

Arms don't hesitate in wrapping around Vincent in turn, his little smile briefly buried against their person, ever thankful.

"Shopping -!?" He exclaimed, tilting his head back enough to eye Vincent more easily: "-- after all of this?!" Overwhelmed. He'd received more than he had in years, as wonderfully thought of gifts, he'd not expect any more. No, the wondrous things he now had in his possession were to be treasured, he'd never ask for more. "-- you've already spoiled me rotten. "

His smile is still a smite teary, the gentle laugh punctuating the end of his sentence. He knows not what to say other than -

"--thank you, for all of this. Endlessly."

[rabbid-rabbitt]

i think what my ex did to me is beyomd fucking me over

were both survivors of similar things, except im free and they were still stuck with their family. we knew each other for around 6 months and started dating because one of my parts fell in love with theirs, we fell quickly and many of our alters ended up dating each other passionately but most importantly my system head genuinely trusted them, she wanted to see them free and to spend our kives together. we created a planfor them to leave their abusive family and fly over to us where we would get married so they could legally settle here. my whole family knew about this and were willing to welcome them into our home, my stepdad, mum and i were going to get uo at 4am and drive 2 hours to the airport to pick them up. ny parents who have no obligation to this internet stranger who they have never met, were willing to pick them uo and welcome them into our familt because they saw how much i loved them and MY MUM EVEN SAID WE COULD END UP MOVING OUT SOON!! me moving out was something that was never mentioned before because i cant live alone and she doesnt trust others to take for me. but anyway me and my other partner (who they knew about and were friendly with) and his partner (also now my partner) spent a lot of time and emergy creating an escape plan with all of our knowledge of these groups and general safety information. my system spent hours and stayed up past exhaustion comforting our ex and giving them our whole heart in hopes they will escape and we would be able to live our lives together, we had plans to financially support them until they could legally get a job which would've been rlly hard on our situation but we were willing to do anything to get our FIANCE! YES WE WERE ENGAGED!!!! to safetyn happiness, we found them a therapist which they would aee when they came here so they could start deprogramming properly.

but on the day they were to escape, some things went wrong but we actually managed to them sorted and the airport staff themselves helped them get a direct flight here rather than a layover when they missed their first flight, we had plans to fix everything that went wrong and me and my other partner were by their side the whole time, i was shaking and on the verge of an anxiety attack irl while they were at the airport but after they got their new ticket they stopped responding. they were gone. obviously i thought i would never see them again because yk these groups work that way, fucking hell being shot point blank at an airport would be so much less embarrassing than what they actually did. i was so unwell that night my partner had ti comfort me and stayed up until i went to sleep because he was afraid id kill myself.

while i was asleep my ex talked to my other partner and a mutual friend where they apologised FOR DISAPPOINTING THEM! but when we finally got talking they had to be TOLD to apologise to me for them to actually do it then not even 24 hours after they hurt me so badly (which they coupdnt even explain btw) they asked if i would still marry them and then called my system head being angry at them a punishment over something beyond their control. they called their father to pick them up. they didnt share the fact they had a previous escape attempt that didnt work. they didnt follow the plan we worked tirelessly on and perfected. And had the audacity to be angry at our system head for being rightfully betrayed. they kept guilt tripping and acting like they were the victim until they just straight up ignored us for days, knowing that was an extreme trigger. which lead to a suicide attempt that we had an ambulance come for because my mum was too terrified to drive us to the hospital. now i did lash out at them, but they also said repeatedly to tell them how i feel and called rightful anger a punishment, im not proud of lashing out n i did apologise for it which more than they ever did for fucking us over so badly. in fact several ppl told me that i wasnt mean enough, that i handled it so well for how badly they fucked me over. during pur final talk where i demanded closure, it took them being ASKED by a mutual friend (in the chat to keep things civil) to give a half assed apology. like how are you that bad of a person you cant even apologise for fucking over your fiance who you dreamed of spendimg your life with..

anyway im out of the severe depressie episode they caused me because i had my meds upped but our system head has not recovered and in fact has changed anlot since we last properly saw her shes locked herself away and doesnt trust anyone anymore

[oyasuminto]

mayhaps m!kylar with a bully!fem!pc where our soft yandere boy finally snaps and drags the pc in the school closet nd,, breeds her? and as much as she hates to admit it she got addicted to his cock and keeps dragging him in the same closet for a quickie? 🥵👉👈

It’s just too easy to pick on that creep. He’s so tiny that she can lift him clear off the ground and slam him into lockers, he flinches at every sudden movement, and he’s such a fucking crybaby.

Some may call her cruel, a bully, and they certainly wouldn’t be wrong, but it’s not like Kylar doesn’t deserve it, especially after a pair of her underwear disappeared from her gym locker. She may not have solid proof that it was him, but who else would be creepy enough to steal a girl’s panties!?

The way he reacts when she teases him in other ways just cements it; he shudders if she gets a little too close while threatening him, just a brief flash of her panties leaves him awkwardly tugging his hoodie down.

God, he’s a loser.

Is she playing with fire? Perhaps, she’s heard stories about that little freak pulling knives, but he’s way too much of a coward to actually do anything.

Right?

She doesn’t even notice the storage closet opening, nor the small hand reaching out, until she’s grabbed and pulled with enough force to send her to the floor.

The freak is grinning as he pins her wrists in place and secures them with a zip tie. She could probably break through the cheap plastic with ease, but a slowly approaching headache and the glimpse of a knife make her reconsider.

He’s just trying to scare her. That’s it. He’ll wave that shitty little pocket knife around, act all big, and then run away all terrified.

Just like he always does.

She tenses when the metal blade is held just inches away from her throat.

“Y-You’re so mean to m-me,” he mutters, “but i-it’s okay, I can f-fix that...”

There’s a loud rip sound, followed by a sudden coldness on her pussy.

The remains of her panties are tossed into the corner of the closet, and it’s only then that the bully really notices the lack of light in Kylar’s wide eyes.

No.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

She begins trembling and squeezes her thighs together, only for Kylar to pry them back apart and kneel between her legs, preventing her from trying again.

Kylar shushes her, two slender fingers forcing their way past her lips and pressing down on her tongue. “I n-need to teach you a le-lesson.”

He places his knife on the floor, blade still pointing towards her, and traces his now-free hand down her shaking body, over her breasts, stomach, and thighs, before finally dipping between and brushing against her pussy.

“You’re n-not a virgin, are you?” Kylar doesn’t wait for an answer before roughly thrusting a finger inside. “I’ve h-heard stories, seen t-things.”

She sniffles, trying to fight back tears. She can’t cry in front of the creep, can’t show him weakness. Maybe he’ll leave her alone if he realizes she won’t break.

“Still t-tight...” He’s talking to himself more-so than her, entirely enthralled in her pussy.

Christ, what a fucking virgin.

He withdraws his finger and licks it clean with a quiet moan. “...So sweet...”

With a lopsided grin, Kylar shoves his shorts down his thighs and pulls out his hardened cock, precum already leaking from the tip.

It’s bigger than she thought it would be.

The head of his cock rests against her pussy, threatening to penetrate.

He leans over her, forcing her knees against her chest and leaving her muscles burning. “Y-You’ll look beautiful f-full of my children.”

With that, he thrusts forwards, burying his entire cock inside of her.

Kylar’s movements are erratic, hips snapping against her ass as he watches every little change in her expression.

She hisses out something about it hurting, but the fingers in her mouth turn her words into nonsense gibberish. She doubts Kylar would care even if he could hear. The freak’s too far gone at this point.

His knife is still within his reach, one wrong move and the blade could end up buried in her chest. She wouldn’t put it past him, not when she’s realizing that the stories about him threatening people for the smallest things are all true.

Instead, she squeezes her eyes shut and pretends to be literally anywhere else. Pretends that Kylar isn’t whining and rutting against her.

But she can’t.

Every desperate thrust brings her crashing back down to Earth and slaps her with the reality that she’s trapped in a storage closet with some psychopath, one who seems intent on fucking his way into her womb, like some shitty hentai made for horny virgins who’ve never even seen a real pussy.

Of course he’d read that crap.

Her snarky thoughts are the only thing keeping her from breaking down, the sole thing keeping her sane.

“Gah!”

By some miracle, Kylar’s cock strikes that one bundle of nerves that has her seeing stars.

“Th-That feel good? Make...make that f-face again.”

He angles himself in just the right way to hit her g-spot again and again and again.

She can feel her eyes roll back and her body go limp. The sudden rush of pleasure mixing with fear and pain is too much for her brain to handle.

And her mind goes blank.

When she comes to, it’s just in time for Kylar to pull her down on his cock, allowing him to cum deep inside her pussy.

He’s breathing heavily as he straightens up and pulls out. It seems like only then that he realizes what he did.

“I’m...I’m sorry! P-Please don’t t-tell anyone!”

Then she’s alone.

She doesn’t even bother to clean the cum out of her pussy or check her locker for a spare pair of panties, instead heading straight to the school roof, where all the other delinquents hang out. Several of them notice how disheveled she is; hair tangled, shirt partially untucked, wrists bruised, gait awkward, but none comment on it.

Whitney looks her up and down with a snicker. “What? Did you get shagged on the way here?”

“Something like that,” she replies, snagging a cigarette from Whitney’s packet.

Whitney lightly shoves her and mutters something about owing them a smoke. She just gives a noncommittal grunt.

The next few days are unsettlingly normal, and she fucking hates it. As much as it disgusts her to admit it, Kylar hasn’t left her mind, and it’s not in that I’m-gonna-beat-the-fucking-shit-out-of-you way that she thinks about most perverts. She’s addicted, to that fucking freak’s cock. One rough fuck in a storage closet was all it took, and now she wants more. Just one problem;

Kylar’s back to running away with his tail between his legs.

She ends up having to threaten a few people to get him in the right place at the right time.

The greasy creep is trembling when she slams him into a wall, obviously expecting some kind of violent vengeance.

Instead, his lips are captured in a bruising kiss.

“You’re comin’ with me, freak.” Kylar doesn’t get a chance to respond before he’s being pulled by the collar of his shirt.

Any students present in the hall move out of the way, assuming that the resident outcast is about to get his ass beaten again.

She grins when Kylar is thrown on the closet floor, much like she had been. He’s whimpering, tears pricking the corner of his eyes.

“Quit bitching,” she says, straddling the petite boy, “you’re gonna shut the fuck up and let me cum, got it?”

Kylar doesn’t resist when she pulls his cock out of his shorts, but his eyes do widen when she lifts her skirt to reveal a lack of panties.

“Not such a big fuckin’ man now, huh?” She spits into her hand and uses it to lubricate Kylar’s cock. “You’re some loser virgin! It’s not fuckin’ fair!”

Her head falls back as the loner’s cock finally slips inside of her. Kylar’s hips are already trying to hump upwards, but she holds them down.

“You’re my toy, that means I call the shots.”

Kylar ends up leaving the closet with a limp, a luminescent blush, and some very conflicted feelings.

It becomes a dirty little secret between the two of them. She makes it clear that Kylar’s body will never be found if he tells anyone, and there’s not a chance in hell that she’ll admit to becoming addicted to that fucking loser’s dick.

She has to keep up appearances, of course, so Kylar’s still being shoved around like always, but now there’s an added layer of sexual tension to everything she does, and Kylar knows that he’ll get to empty his balls in a warm, fertile pussy at some point that day.

It’s an odd dynamic, but it works.

[quaranmine]

New World, New Faces

When the hermits moved to their new world, they were excited to welcome two new members. But maybe one is an old friend instead . . .

Grian hasn't seen Pearl since Evo. It's a shock.

No romantic relationships or content warnings. Mainly emotional hurt/comfort, but probably more emphasis on comfort. Hermits: Grian, Pearl, and Mumbo primarily with a little bit of Scar and Xisuma as well. Reblogs appreciated and AO3 link in reblog!

Words: 3893

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

These days, Grian was pleased to say that the Watcher’s didn’t occupy his mind nearly as often as they used to. Except on certain late nights where he lay in bed and thought of before, his time was mostly spent having fun--scheming, pranking, building, planning, mining, laughing with friends. It wasn’t something he could forget, but the hermits had become his new home, and as years passed the edges of those memories had dulled a bit.

The other times where the Watchers occupied his mind were update days. Since joining hermitcraft, Grian had gone through several updates with the rest of the server. Sometimes they moved to a new world, and sometimes they stayed in their old one. No portals of bedrock ever appeared, but Grian always thought of them just the same. It always felt like maybe, just maybe, one day he’d turn around and see their signature portals once again.

Watchers didn’t always leave portals to update worlds. Grian hadn’t known that until he’d been put to work as a Watcher himself. Oh, the Watchers were still in charge of updating worlds, but they often did it more subtly, without grand towers and quests for portals. It’s hard to retain status as a myth when everyone knows your calling card, afterall. Admins always knew when it was time to update. Grian hadn't, back on Evo, because he’s always been told.

It turned out Evo had been different, and Grian didn’t know how to feel about that. Evo wasn’t the only world to receive special attention from the Watchers, but it was one of their favorites. Why them, though? Why did the Watchers keep such a close eye on their world in particular? Why were they left towers and clues and prizes and punishments, when other servers were mostly left alone?

Why did they kill everyone and kidnap Grian?

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

Grian stood in a group with the other hermits, eagerly waiting for the move to the new world. He bounced a little in anticipation. He was excited for the new update--he knew very little about its contents, but it seemed like there would be some new building blocks to play with, according to Xisuma.

He already had plans for the new world--new bases and new shenanigans. Grian was excited to build close to his friends. Xisuma had informed them that another update would come in a few months, and for the hermits to stick close in the time being so that new land would be freed up for the coming update. Grian had already known about the second update for a while, as all Watchers do, but he let Xisuma handle all of this as admin. Those days were behind him, now, and there was no reason to start exercising Watcher powers in a world that was carrying on just fine on its own.

“Is everyone ready?” Xisuma shouted over the chatter, trying to do a headcount. “Hey!” he shouted, trying to get everyone’s attention. Slowly, the chatter quieted.

“Looks like it,” said Iskall.

“Good,” Xisuma said. “Now, before we go, I wanted to remind you that we have two new people joining us this time. I’ve already made arrangements with them prior so they’re gonna be waitin’ for us when we go through.” He grinned. “Be on your best behavior for me, alright?”

“I’m always on my best behavior,” Keralis replied, and Xisuma rolled his eyes fondly.

Grian smiled, remembering his welcome to hermitcraft a few years ago. Unlike this time, nobody had been expecting him. Grian hadn’t been invited like these two new hermits had been, he had just been there when the hermits arrived on their new world. None of the other hermits knew quite why he was there, but they’d all accepted him graciously nonetheless.

Grian liked that memory. The truth is, he’d fled the Watchers and picked an uninhabited world at random, not realizing it had already been reserved by Xisuma. That was a failure on his part as a Watcher, because he was supposed to know about stuff like that. But he had been too busy running to worry about it and besides, there was nobody on hermitcraft to punish him.

The hermits had welcomed him with kindness and made him part of their family. Now he’d gladly do the same for these new soon-to-be hermits.

“Okay . . .” Xisuma said, typing something into his admin panel. “I’m just setting up the portal now.”

They were all gathered in the shopping district, right in front of the Town Hall. Grian took his chance to take one last glance around at the world. The diamonds in the trees glittered in the morning light, sending little reflective shards of light scattered on the ground. Moving worlds was always bittersweet, because it meant parting with the things he’d worked hard on and the places he’d made memories at. But it was also one of his favorite things to do, because it gave everyone a blank slate to work with, sparking endless new creativity.

“I wish I could take some of those with me,” chuckled Scar, as he walked up next to where Grian was standing. He pointed at the diamonds.

“Well of course you want them, Mr Mayor!”

“Uh-uh,” Scar said. “I’m not the Mayor anymore! This is a new world.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to see what we get up to in the next one, huh?” Grian asked. “Do you have any plans?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” Scar teased.

“I guess I will.”

“Do you have any plans?”

“I don’t know,” said Grian. He thought for a moment. “I might make a cave base. I guess I’m waiting to see what’s out there for inspiration before I start.”

“Well, I look forward to seeing it,” Scar replied. “Oh! It looks like Xisuma is ready.”

Grian looked up, to see X opening a portal. It wasn’t a nether portal, nor was it like an End portal. It wasn’t a Watcher portal either, but an Admin one. Grian had come to realize that Watchers supplied Admins with the means to move into updates on their own when they wanted to. The bedrock portals and scavenger hunts were reserved for their favorite worlds--their toys.

Sometimes the Watchers liked to flex their powers, but the universe is not kept running smoothly if all your time is spent flexing. Grian brushed away the thought, choosing to focus on his friends in front of him instead.

One by one, the hermits stepped through the portal, which swirled light blue and hovered just slightly off the ground. Grian hung back, wanting to be one of the last ones through. He wanted to make sure everyone made it through alright, but Xisuma had to be the very last person, since he needed to close the portal. When it was finally his turn, he gave Xisuma a smile and walked forward.

Grian stepped through, into the bright sunlight of a village, and was surrounded by the voices of his friends.

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

Spawn was a village in a grassland, next to a swamp and overlooking the ocean. It looked a little plain, but the hermits hadn’t left their mark on the world yet. Behind Grian, Xisuma stepped out into the new world and the portal vanished behind him.

Everybody was crowded around a ditch chattering, apparently exchanging greetings with the two new hermits that stood inside it. Grian held back for a moment, taking it in and basking in the sounds of his friends’ voices. Finally, he wasn’t the new one anymore--a few people had rejoined the server in the last world, but they’d all been old friends, not new ones. That had left him being the most recent addition, not that anything felt like it was recent anymore.

Grian was already thinking of ways to prank the new hermits and draw them into the life of the server.

“Alright Mumbo!” Xisuma said. Grian grinned. Mumbo was supposed to introduce them. Mumbo, of course, didn’t know this, because where’s the fun in that?

“Oh-oh me?”

“It’s go time!” Cleo said.

“This is it!” said Xisuma.

“I’ve clearly very obviously been put up to this,” Mumbo started. “And because everyone thought it’d be much funnier to have me bumble through it without really knowing what I’m talking about, and that is definitely going to be the case!”

The hermits chuckled. Grian walked around the back of the group to try to catch a glimpse of the new people below.

“We do have two new hermits,” Mumbo said, “down in this crevice.”

Grian caught a glimpse of red and brown hair.

“GeminiTay-”

Grian’s world stopped and he felt his breath catch in his throat. She had her back to him, but he’d recognize her anywhere. Her brown hair spilled out from behind a black hoodie.

But she’s dead.

Was this some sort of cruel trick from the universe?

“-and PearlescentMoon.” The rest of the hermits cheered at the announcement, giving the new members a warm welcome. Grian said nothing, his mind spinning a mile a minute.

There was no way it was actually her. The Watchers . . . the Watchers had killed her, and every other Evolutionist. Grian didn’t know why. He would never know why, because with the Watchers it was always “you can’t possibly understand.”And Grian couldn’t. When Grian had finally escaped them, he tried to go back to Evo. It was a foolish attempt, one that would certainly have endangered the lives of anyone there, but nobody had been left there and the buildings were all destroyed and overgrown with vines and Grian had been forced to conclude the heavy truth that all of his old friends were gone.

He didn’t remember what he did after that. He just ran.

Before he could stop himself, the words came tumbling out of his mouth. “Pearl? Is that really you?”

She turned, hearing her name and--it was. It was her. Her hair had blonde highlights around the bangs now, but he’d recognize her anywhere, like her face and the faces of all the other Evolutionists were seared into his brain.

“. . . Grian?”

Grian just stared.

The other hermits had caught onto their mini debacle, and were watching them. “Grian, do you know her?” Mumbo asked.

“Y-yeah, I do,” he stammered.

“Grian?” Pearl shouted, and in an instant had scrambled up the ditch. She stopped in front of him, face pale and eyes wide, like she’d seen a ghost. Maybe he was a ghost, maybe he’d died the day they took him from Evo.

“Pearl,” he whispered.

Suddenly she threw her arms around Grian in a hug and squeezed. “Oh, it’s been so long,” she said, voice muffled.

Grian froze, but slowly reciprocated the hug. He felt numb and like he wanted to cry and scream at the same time, hands shaking, but Pearl’s warm embrace drew him back down to reality.

Pearl pulled away, blinked tears from her eyes and met Grian’s stare. Then, her gaze drifted further down, landing on his folded wings that peaked out just above his shoulders. Tentatively, she reached out to stroke a feather. “What happened to you?” she asked softly.

“I thought you were dead,” Grian said by way of answer.

“Well, I’m not,” Pearl said, and for a moment Grian almost didn’t believe her, and grabbed her wrist tightly, just to see if it was real. Pearl let him. “They took you,” she said.

Grian just looked at the ground, uncomfortably aware of how many people were watching him. Ironic, almost--he didn’t want them watching him so that they wouldn’t know about the Watchers. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the hermits. He did. He’d trust them all with his life a thousand times. He just . . . didn’t want to explain. The hermits were a good bunch. The unspoken rule was that you didn’t ask about anyone’s past unless they spoke first, and Grian knew they’d abide by that for him as well. But he could do without the turned heads.

“Alright everyone!” Xisuma shouted suddenly, startling Grian. “Let’s go, let’s get to work, this season won’t start itself!” Slowly, the hermits began to disperse, branching off into groups. “How’re ya gonna start the season if you don't chop down a tree? I’ll get to work protecting these villagers.”

Xisuma threw a glance over to them, and Grian mouthed a thank you. Xisuma just nodded, and left them alone. Grian was overwhelmed with relief at the admin’s gesture.

He turned back to Pearl.

“I-I can’t believe you’re actually here,”Grian said. He smiled and the moment he met her gaze, his eyes began to blur with tears.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” she cried. “When we got back from fighting the enderdragon you . . . you were just gone. They left a note for us . . . said it was necessary for you to be taken. All in rhyme, of course.”

“Of course it was in rhyme . . .'' Grian muttered, suddenly very angry. All the Watchers and their unknowable ways, always distilled down to some pithy saying. A life-changing event relayed to his friends in another stupid little poem. He’d written a few himself and despised it.

“I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again. Do you . . . do you mind if I ask what happened?” Pearl asked. “I’m just happy to see you here but I-”

“No, it’s alright,” Grian said with a sigh. “They took me after I fought the enderdragon, and said I was going to be one of them. I didn’t want to go but-well what could I do? So I went with them, and they promised to let me hang around the server. They lied to me, they never let me Watch Evo.” Grian paused, and felt the cool trail of a tear dripping down his cheek. “They later told me you were all dead.”

“Oh, Grian,” Pearl said, and pulled him into another hug, and that was it for him. He began to sob.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “It’s just a lot-”

“I know, I know,” she whispered.

“They-they . . . I didn’t enjoy it there. So I, I ran away. I tried to visit Evo but--there was nobody there. I figured they told the truth then, that you really were dead. I ran and found the hermits and I’ve been living with them every since, and oh they’re so wonderful but I could never forget-”

“It’s okay.” Pearl comforted. “I know, I know. We came home after finding the dragon and our place was ransacked, and we were given instructions to leave. And . . . eventually after we left, the group disbanded and we went our separate ways. But, we’re all alive.”

“Really?” Grian asked.

“Yes.”

“Everyone?”

“Yes.”

“Can I- can I see them?” he whispered. It felt forbidden.

“Of course!” Pearl exclaimed. “I’ve kept in touch with everyone, I’m sure Xisuma could help you visit if you asked.”

“Xisuma . . .” Grian thought aloud. “I haven’t told him,” Grian admitted. The admin certainly knew something was up with Grian, because players didn’t normally randomly appear in worlds they weren’t supposed to, but he’d welcomed Grian with open arms to the server and never asked a single question.

“I’m sure he would understand.”

“He would, but Pearl, I don’t want to put anyone in danger! I’m not supposed to be here!” Grian hissed.

“So then don’t tell him everything. Just say you want to visit some people. He’ll understand, I know he will,” she replied. Grian pondered it for a moment. She was right--he could just ask to visit someone. Other hermits did it all the time. Maybe--maybe a few server hops wouldn’t cause a problem. Maybe this was something within his reach, after all this time. The thought exhilarated him.

“But please,” Pearl added. “Please tell someone else, not just me. How long have you been hiding?”

Too long.

Grian didn’t answer, and the two of them stood there and listened to the crash of the waves on the nearby shoreline. The air was hot and salty, and in the distance he could hear Xisuma opening and closing doors in the village.

He didn’t know what he felt, it was like too many emotions had happened in too short of a period of time and left him burned out like a forest after a wildfire. His hands had stopped trembling, but he felt deeply tired.

Happy. You feel happy.

Grian’s communicator chimed from within his pocket. He withdrew it.

GoodTimeWithScar > Grian: are you okay

Grian smiled, and typed a response.

Grian > GoodTimeWithScar: yes

“Who was that?” Pearl asked.

“Scar. He wanted to know if I was okay.”

“Are you?”

Grian met her eyes. “I am now.” It was close enough to the truth. Grian shifted his weight between his feet, suddenly restless and tired from trying to process all this new information. “Speaking of other hermits, we should get going, yeah? We can’t let them get all the resources without us!”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she chuckled. The hermits had already spread out seeking resources, but not too far yet; Grian and Pearl could still see several of them talking to each other across the field.

“Pearl, before you go--” Grian started, looking serious. “Build next to me, alright? I...I want you to be around.”

“I promise,” she replied.

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

“Why are you following me?” Grian knew why, but he wanted Mumbo to bring it up. He was torn--on one hand, he truly appreciated his friend’s concern. It was nice that others were looking out for him, a warm reminder of what their little community stood for. On the other hand . . . he’d really have just appreciated being left alone.

“You look like you have a purpose!” Mumbo exclaimed instead.

Huh.

Grian shook his head. “I’m just heading north,” he replied, shielding his eyes and looking up to see the position of the sun.

“I was just like, ‘Man, it looks like he knows where he’s going,’” Mumbo continued and Grian laughed.

They walked to the edge of the swamp, and began to cut down the trees. Starter tools were a necessity in a new world, and they had no stone.

“Ugh, I have to take down this whole tree, and then I have to replant it,” complained Mumbo.

“Wait-why have you got to replant it?” asked Grian incredulously, while getting wood for himself and not replanting the tree.

“Well I-I can’t just deforest things!”

This is going to be SO much fun to tease Mumbo with.

“Whatever you say, tree boy.”

They continued to work, getting wood, and then venturing into a shallow cave to get stone. The whole time their coms kept buzzing, buzzing, buzzing with combat death messages. Just another day in the hermitcraft world, thought Grian. Have they declared a spontaneous war up there? Either way, Pearl and Gem were getting the full introduction today, he thought with a chuckle.

Exiting the cave, they spotted a shipwreck not too far away, and decided to explore it. Grian pulled out a soggy buried treasure map, and they decided to go after it in a boat. Grian wanted to relax in the boat, to just breathe in the sea spray and try to calm his still-racing thoughts, but unfortunately Mumbo was the driver, and he was not a very good driver if you asked Grian. Grian had been tasked with navigation, which was a difficult thing when the driver couldn’t see the map you were describing.

The loot was good, and they divided it between themselves and then struck onward in the boat, this time with Grian commandeering the vessel. They looped back around to the shipwreck only to find a group of hermits that were a little too late to the prize. Pearl, Ren, and Doc were gathered around the boat looking a bit disappointed.

Mumbo and Grian decided to taunt them.

“Who got the loot?” shouted Ren.

“We got the loot!” Grian shouted back.

“Oh it was you guys,” said Pearl. Grian stuck his tongue out at her and cackled.

They looped back around to show off the Heart of the Sea, but Mumbo dropped their only diamond by accident and that was when Grian decided to steer the boat away before they lost any more valuables.

“I can’t believe you dropped the diamond,” Grian sighed.

“I was flexing too hard, I’m sorry!” cried Mumbo.

It was too comical, and Grian couldn’t be mad at his friend. They rowed on, closely following the coastline. After a few minutes, however, Mumbo asked a question.

“The new hermit, who we just saw with Doc and Ren--Pearl--is it. . . is it okay if I ask how you know her?” Mumbo spoke gently, knowing he was treading around a potentially sensitive topic. Grian knew the topic would have come up eventually, after he’d basically had a breakdown in public when he saw her.

Grian stopped the boat, and looked into the water, not at Mumbo’s face. “Yeah, I figured you’d ask. We used to be on a world together. The . . . the world I was at before I came here, actually.” It wasn’t the full truth, since he’d been to many worlds as a Watcher and had lived on the Watchers’ world for a while. But Evo had been his last home.

“Oh,” said Mumbo.

“We were friends,” continued Grian. “We were close. But I was told she was dead. Clearly, though,” he just simply gestured instead of finishing the sentence.

“Clearly she’s not dead,” Mumbo finished. “I see. Who told you she was dead?”

“Someone who didn’t have my best interests at heart.” Grian had never fully told his friend about what had happened before he joined hermitcraft, but the other man knew that it was a difficult past and had comforted him on more than one occasion--mostly after he’d first joined and the pain was still fresh. It had dulled with time and Grian had become more and more adjusted to his new life.

Seeing Pearl again was a miracle, but it sure sharpened the pain.

Grian rested his elbows on the side of the boat and pressed the heels of his palm into his eyes. “It wasn’t just her, either, they told me everyone on the server was dead. And-they’re all alive. All of them. It’s fantastic news, brilliant news, I’m just-”

“Thinking of the people who didn’t have your best interests at heart?”

“Yeah.”

Mumbo laid a hand on Grian’s shoulder. “I don’t know who they are,” he began, “but I know they’re not here now. You have us now, and you have Pearl here too. That all is in the past.”

Grian stared out over the water, watching as the sunlight sparkled and danced over the waves. “You’re a good friend, you know that right?”

“Well, I do try to be,” Mumbo chuckled. “Now-I think we should probably go pick up Scar over there, I think the poor man is going to drown!”

“Oh no!” Grian said, and scrambled for the oars, and then they were off.

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

When Grian, Impulse, Scar, and Mumbo created the Boatem Pole, Pearl was there to join them.

When Grian woke up in his makeshift camp the next morning, he was happy to see Pearl setting up her own starter base on the other side of the Boatem Pole.

When Grian showed up at Xisuma’s base two days later, he asked for permission to visit other servers.

[intheticklecloset]

You're the Coolest (Haikyuu!!)

Primary Universe

@happyandticklish We're going back in time again! Consider this a bit of backstory for the events of "Burn Some Calories." I personally really love this one; there's not enough ticklish Noya in the world and he's so dang cute! Thanks so much for the fun prompt! Enjoy! ^^

~

This little first-year was at once making him look really bad and pushing him to do even better.

From the moment he’d introduced himself, Yuu Nishinoya had taken the court by storm. The kid was a natural libero, able to receive and defend better than anyone Asahi had ever known before. His bright smile and outgoing personality lit up the gym, making practice both more fun and more intense as everyone strove to do better, inspired by his energy.

Asahi admired him greatly for that. He, too, promised to work harder and improve in all areas so he could be worthy of sharing the court with Noya. As time went on, though, he found that it didn’t seem to matter how hard he worked; the first-year was always several steps ahead of him. While Daichi, Suga, and the others began to serve better, block better, and spike better, he himself – the ace of the team – remained steadfast in doing just as well as he always had. Sure, every practice was helping him improve, but only marginally compared to his teammates. Noya was always smiling and encouraging, but Asahi felt more and more like he was being left behind, and the weight was crushing him.

All of that changed one night after practice.

“All right, guys,” the captain announced, “time to call it a day. First-years, clean up. Second-years, put the gear away.”

Everyone shouted their affirmation and scattered to do as they were told.

Noya came bounding up to him, grinning. “You were great today, Asahi! You’ve been working on your serves, right? I can tell.”

Asahi gave him a tired smile. “You don’t have to do that, Noya.”

“Huh? Do what?”

“Act like I’m making such great progress.” Asahi gripped the ball he was holding before tossing it into the bin nearby. “I’m obviously not.”

“Sure you are.” Noya looked up at him, eyes wide and earnest. “If I’m having to work harder to receive them, that means you’ve been working harder to improve them. It’s logic.”

“That’s more a testament to how amazing you are than anything.”

“You think I’m amazing?”

Asahi looked down at his underclassman, astonished. “Of course I think that. You are amazing, Noya.”

Noya beamed, gently pushing his fist into Asahi’s chest. “You’re amazing, too, ace.”

“Not compared to you. You’re so…so energetic and adaptive and tough, and I’m…I’m none of those things.”

“Tough? I’m not tough,” Noya laughed. “You’re the tough one.”

Asahi tossed another volleyball into the basket. “Yeah, right.”

“You are!”

“Noya!” Tanaka snapped from the supplies closet. “A little help would be nice!”

“Hang on a second, Tanaka,” the libero called back. “I’m giving a pep talk here.” He turned to look up at Asahi again. “You’ve got to believe in yourself more, dude. I can see you’re improving. All of us can. Why can’t you?”

“Sure, I’m improving. Just not enough.”

“Everyone moves at their own pace.”

“I’ll never be as awesome as you.”

Noya frowned, and the look was so unusual for him that it gave Asahi pause. “I’m not as invincible as you think I am, Asahi. I’ve got weaknesses, too.”

“I have yet to see one.”

“Where do I start? My test scores are average at best, I’m total crap at serving – kind of why I chose to play libero, honestly. Oh, and don’t get me started on my luck with girls—”

“I meant physically,” Asahi said quickly, putting an end to that train of thought. “Physical weaknesses. On the court. I haven’t seen any.”

Noya hesitated for a moment, suddenly looking embarrassed. He glanced around to make sure no one was listening in, then lowered his voice. “Look, I’ll admit something to you, because you need the encouragement and I trust you. But you’ve got to promise not to tell anyone else, okay?”

Asahi swallowed, nodding.

“I’m ticklish,” Noya said quickly, cheeks turning pink as he spoke. “Like, stupidly ticklish. One poke and I’m completely useless.”

Asahi stared at him. He scanned him up and down, his mind automatically filling in the blanks. Ribs, sides, waist, knees. All places he’d attack first if he were to tickle Noya. Not that he was going to, of course. Not after the libero had specifically said he trusted him.

“Oh,” he said at last, voice soft. He blinked, straightened. “Well…I suppose that counts.”

“Nishinoya!” Tanaka yelled.

Noya whirled around and ran to him. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!”

Asahi watched him go, then blindly – as if in a daze – picked up the rest of the volleyballs and helped take down the net, putting it away for the night. Ticklish, he thought, and that was all he could think. Noya’s ticklish. Noya’s ticklish. Noya’s ticklish.

Once the gym had been cleared up and cleaned up and the captain had locked the doors, Noya found Asahi again, prancing up to him as if it was the first time he’d seen him all week. “So, feeling better now, ace?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I guess so.” Asahi took one glance at the libero’s smiling face and lost all control. He wanted to see that smile more. Wanted to make him smile like that more. He was dying to hear what Noya sounded like when he was tickled. So, in a flash, he grabbed the little first-year’s sides and squeezed.

As promised, Noya immediately burst into giggles and crumpled to the ground, his legs giving out beneath him. “Nohohoho, Asahi!” he pleaded, holding up his hands defensively as the ace knelt down to join him and dug in again, more purposefully this time. “Nahahahahahahahaha! P-Please, I tohohohhohold you, I’m reheheheheheally ticklihihihihish!”

“You had to know I’d want to see for myself,” Asahi countered, beaming at the adorable sight but lightening his touch slightly.

“Ahahahahahahahaha! Sehehehehehee?! I’m n-nohohohohohot so tohohohohough, am I?”

“You’re the toughest person I know, Noya.” Asahi snatched up both of his wrists and held them above his head, using his free hand to wiggle his fingertips into the grooves of the libero’s ribcage. Noya spasmed, laughter spilling out of him faster than he seemed able to keep up with. “You’re just a sensitive guy, that’s all.”

“Tehehehehehell that to the lahahahahahahadies!” Noya retorted, squealing when Asahi found the backs of his ribs and kneaded there. He tossed his head back and laughed unguarded. “STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

Part of Asahi thought he should stop, but another, stronger part of him found that he simply couldn’t. Noya losing control of himself like this was just so…so unprecedented and unusual, not to mention the cutest thing he’d ever seen. He swung a leg over to pin his thighs down and dug in a little harder, enjoying the shriek he got in response.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE, ASAHIHIEHEHEHEHE!!” Noya begged, smiling uncontrollably as mirth burst out of him in helpless waves. “STOP, PLEHEHEHEHEASE, I CAHAHAHAHAN’T TAHAHAHAHAKE IT!!”

“You’re really ticklish, huh, Noya?” Asahi asked, half-teasing, half-serious. He trailed his fingers down to the libero’s belly and scribbled there. “It’s kind of cute.”

“SHUHUHUHUHUHUHUT UP!! I’M NOT CUHUHUHUHUHUHUTE!!” Noya insisted even through his frantic cackling and squirming. “I’M THE COHOHOHOHOHOOL, CONFIDENT LIHIHIHIHIHIBERO!!”

Asahi laughed with him at that. “Oh, are you, now? Not so cool and confident when I’ve got you pinned down like this, hmm?” He poked at Noya’s belly button, chuckling at the “eep!” he got as a reward. “Let’s see. Where’s your worst spot?”

“HAAH?!” Noya made a distressed noise through his giggling, twisting every which way under Asahi’s grasp. “N-Nohohoho, no, plehehease don’t, I cahahahahan’t take it! Reheheheheally!”

“I haven’t even found it yet!”

“Y-You wihihihihihill,” Noya replied, sounding nervous, his eyes panicked. “T-Then you’ll nehehever want to stop. Nohohoho one ever dohohoes.”

At that, Asahi pulled back, releasing Noya entirely as he climbed off of him. He frowned. “Whoa, dude, I’m sorry. Is this…is this traumatic for you?”

“No,” Noya groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes, still laying on the ground. “It’s just…I’ve got this reputation, you know? You were telling me yourself that you think I’m some awesome, unbeatable volleyball star. I…I like being cool like that. And this undermines that coolness.”

“Then why did you tell me?” Asahi asked. “If you were worried it would ruin your reputation?”

“Because it’s you,” Noya said, uncovering his eyes to look at him. “I trust you.”

I trust you. Those words again, with more meaning this time. Asahi smiled at him. “Then do you believe me when I say I’ll never tell anyone else about this? I’ll preserve your reputation. Don’t worry.”

“But…” the libero looked away, seeming embarrassed again. “My worst spot makes me sound ridiculous when I’m tickled there. There’s no coming back from that once you’ve heard it. That’s why I…I don’t want you to try it.”

Asahi felt a little wounded. “Why? Do you think I’ll think less of you?”

“Everyone always does. Once you lose your cool, you’re no longer cool. You know?”

“Noya, I’ll never think you’re not cool just because you’re a little ticklish. That’s silly.” When the libero didn’t answer, he continued, “But if you want me to stop here, I will.”

Noya turned to look at him again, and he frowned. “You really want to, don’t you?”

Asahi could feel himself blushing, but he couldn’t help it. “I mean…yeah. Tickling you just now was…was fun. I’d like to hear what other sounds you make. But not if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Ugh.” The first-year covered his face with his hands. “You’re the cool one, Asahi. I’d never let anyone else do this, you know? You’re the only one allowed to see me like this.”

Asahi’s heart leapt. “So…is it okay? Or do you want me to stop?”

“It’s my thighs.”

There was a pause. Taking that as an invitation, Asahi cautiously reached out to try said spot, but stopped when he realized Noya was still hiding. He leaned forward and gently pried his hands away, forcing him to make eye contact. The ace smiled, then carefully grabbed one of the libero’s thighs and squeezed.

Noya spasmed again, his smile back in an instant, and just as instantly covered up again.

“Don’t hide,” Asahi said, pulling his hands away again. “I want to see that smile.”

“You’re the worst,” Noya whined, giggling. “The actual worst. I can’t believe I’m letting you do this to me-EEEEEE!! NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

Asahi chuckled, scratching and scribbling along his thighs, enjoying how the lightest touch forced him into this amount of hysterics. “You know what, Noya? This is way more than just cute. This is cool.” He found the inner thighs and kneaded, making the libero toss his head back and scream like a banshee. “This is really, really cool.”

“NO IT’S NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOT!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHASAHIIIEEEEEE!!”

“Yes it is! Seeing you laugh so freely like that, like you don’t care who’s watching or listening? That’s really awesome. You’re the coolest, Noya.”

“SHUT UP, SHUT UHUHUHUHUHUHUHUP!!”

“Don’t be rude! I’m your upperclassman. I know what I’m talking about.” Asahi left Noya’s thighs, darting back up to his ribs and scribbling wildly, enjoying the tussle of trying to keep up while the little libero squirmed around on the ground, curling up, giggling wildly. “You’re so cool. The best first-year in the bunch. Don’t tell the others, though.”

“Please,” Noya wheezed, grabbing onto Asahi’s wrists, too weak to actually push them away. “Please, stohohohohop tehehehehelling me I’m cohohohohool whihihihihile you’re tihihihihihickling me!”

“But you are!” Asahi insisted, grinning at how red Noya’s cheeks were becoming. “I already thought you were cool, but your laughter is awesome. I think you’re cool whether you’re ticklish or not. I want you to believe me. Do you, Noya? Do you believe me?”

“Yehehehehehes, all rihihihihight, I’m the c-cohohohohohoolest kid on the theheheheheam!” Noya relented, giggling so hard he was gasping for breath. “Plehehehehease, stahahahahahap it! Let me gohohohohoho!”

Beaming, Asahi did as he was asked, allowing Noya to catch his breath before reaching down to squeeze his shoulder. “You’re the best, you know that? When you’re around I always want to do better. To improve. Having you share this with me and letting me indulge a little bit makes me feel like I can do anything. Because if our cool, confident libero trusts me enough to do this, there’s nothing I can’t do. Right?”

Nishinoya looked up at him incredulously, then burst out laughing all over again. “Oh my god, you’re such a sap!” he cried, clutching his stomach as he rolled onto his side. “All right, fine, you’ve convinced me. I’m glad my being so stupidly ticklish makes you feel invincible.”

“You’re not stupidly ticklish. You’re extremely ticklish,” Asahi countered, reaching down to scribble at his belly. “Because you’re an extremely cool person.”

Noya beamed, giggling, allowing his friend to have a little more fun at his expense.

From that day forward, he never called his sensitivity stupid again.

[nothing-but-dreamy]

BLACK TIE

A/N: Thanks again for this idea @mindlessstories

I hope you have fun with it

Pairing: LEON KENNEDY x READER

Words: 1.736

Warnings: fluff, cursing, Leon in a suit

Synopsis: Yn and Leon are on a mission with fancy clothes. But somehow the mission is not the most interesting thing...

"W-What the bloody... What are you wearing?", Yn asked as she checked the appearance of the man in front of her. The guy was neatly dressed in a white suit shirt, black suit pants and a black jacket. Even a black tie was bound around the man’s neck. Quickly, Yn checked the number of the hotel room once again in fear she had mistaken it and might stand in front of some stranger. No, it was the right room and actually, it was also the right guy. It was just … even if it was part of the mission, Leon S. Kennedy had swapped his typical, casual leather jacket with a tuxedo. It was a sight for sore eyes. Unusually and at the same time, perfectly fitting as if Leon would be some kind of secret undercover supermodel instead of an agent.

Leon, amused about Yn’s big eyes and astonished expression, chuckled and stepped aside, letting his partner in who was still watching him as if he would be an alien. A handsome one but still. Leon closed the door, "It's a tuxedo. That's what you wear on a bow and tie event.", he explained and watched how Yn rolled with her eyes.

“I know what it is but to see you in it… and by the way! Black Tie, Kennedy! It’s called Black Tie! And not ‘bow and tie’.”, Yn explained for maybe the hundredth time since they both got assigned to this secret mission. In fact, the job was easy. A rich weapons dealer had started to ‘extend’ his sortiment with some BOWs. His business was flourishing. But instead of just catching him, Yn and Leon had decided it would be better to bug the dealer to get information about his clients as well. Therefore, they were able to dig out the whole nest.

“I don’t care what these events are called. They’re all the same. It’s just to show off how rich and important everyone is.”, Leon said and leant with crossed arms against the doorframe.

“I know how much you hate these things.”, Yn said, grabbed her bag and aimed for the bathroom to change her outfit as well, “But I have to admit, you look good in this tuxedo. It suits you.”, she said through the half closed door.

Leon smirked, “Oh, really? You know, maybe you could show me how much you like my outfit?”, he asked flirtatiously.

Yn opened the door again and stepped out, “Focus on the mission, Kennedy.”

Leon was hearing her words but his mind went kinda blank as he saw her robed in a floor-length, backless, black dress. The silky-soft fabric hugged all her curves perfectly and gave much input for many, many x-rated fantasies. Slowly, Leon’s eyes wandered upwards until he met her challenging glance. Slowly, he stepped forward with a smirk, “I might hate these events but I could get used to seeing you working in such a stunning outfit.”, Leon said low.

Yn saw dirty thoughts glittering behind his steel-blue eyes and smirked, “Take a picture, it might last longer. Come, we have to go.”, she said, passed Leon and knew that he was staring at her back all the way.

**

Thirty minutes later, Yn and Leon were entering a huge, pompous decorated ballroom. Chandeliers bathed the room in dim, atmospheric light. Soft jazz music played in the background. And obviously a whole diamond mine had exploded because it was sparkling and twinkling in each corner. The room was filled with high-society and in the middle of it two special agents who tried to fit into this kind of world.

“Shall we split up?”, Leon asked low.

Still with a wealthy smile on her lips, Yn shook her head, “Let us take a round together and then, if necessary, we split up.”, she said and linked her arm with Leon’s.

The idea had been good but quickly, they had to admit that the room was too stuffed with people. And because they searched for a guy, and everyone looked kinda the same in their black suits, they had difficulties finding their subject.

Evading into a quiet corner, Yn looked up at Leon, “That’s not working. There are too many people here. Alright, we split up. I walk around a bit. You could monitor the guys who are without women like the group over there at the bar.”, she said and nodded unobtrusively into the said direction while putting a small intercom into her ear to activate it and gave Leon the other earpiece who mirrored her move. With a serious expression, her eyes met Leon’s, “If one of us finds him, the other one comes to the position.”, she said and was about to leave.

Leon held her back, “Be careful, okay?”, he said and looked her caringly but serious in the eyes.

She smirked, “Of course. I’m not the one with the reckless moves like fighting against infected dogs on a motorbike.”, and with that, she stepped back to vanish in the crowd.

Leon chuckled about her boldness and shook his head before he followed her idea to aim for the bar. He ordered a drink and while waiting for it, Leon looked left and right to check out the people around him if their target would be with them. Leon was just about to check an older man with salt-and-pepper hair as fragments of a conversation waved over to him, catching his attention.

“These women are all the same. Rich, wealthy and absolutely boring.”, one tall man said before taking a sip of his Whiskey.

“Yeah, or ugly. I mean, how many surgeries are really necessary? I get the impression that all these women here are just made out of plastic and silicone.”, another man said. He was a bit smaller than the first one.

Leon was just about to leave as the third guy said something that caught his attention to the point that he fully turned over to them, “You might be right except with this pretty thing over there. What? None of you haven’t seen her yet? Okay, then, she’s mine.”, the guy said and let it sound as if the woman was just a piece of meat and he was the lion to hunt it down.

Leon knew he had to focus on the mission and he really was about to leave the group of idiots behind but then, he noticed the way how the guy looked at the unaware victim. It was a lust filled glance that even Leon felt disgusted by the sight. The guy was pretty sure about himself that he would be successful to win the woman over this evening. The guy, tall, dark haired and looking like a lot of money, licked over his lips while his eyes showed that he looked at a point that was lower than the woman’s waist. Now more interested in who the innocent lamb might be, Leon followed the guy’s glance and felt how his blood ran hot and cold at the same time.

Yn stood there, talking with an older lady and facing the group of guys with her back. The dress gave a beautiful sight of her flawless skin. While she talked, her body moved beautifully and she even swayed a bit to the soft tune of the music so that her hair fell over her bare back, dancing a little through the air.

“You can’t have her! I saw her first. I just couldn’t say anything because I became speechless by her eyes.”, the first, tall guy said.

“By her eyes? Forget them! Look at her god damn ass. So round and juicy.”, the guy said and his eyes became filled with raw, sexual hunger.

That was enough for Leon to forget the mission for a moment as he walked over to the group, “I couldn’t miss hearing how you were talking about this young lady.” Leon said low, getting the attention of all three men at the same time, “Stay away from her. All of you. Or otherwise, things will turn ugly.”, he said with a kind of threat lingering in his voice.

One of the men stepped closer to Leon, slightly towering over the agent and looking down, “Who do you think you are, huh? Nothing we do is your concern.”

Not impressed at all, Leon stepped forward, holding the man’s glance, “She’s mine, get it? Therefore, yes, it concerns me how you are talking about her. So, do yourself a favor and stay away from her or I will become your worst nightmare. And trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”, Leon said threateningly, leaving no room for any further arguments.

The guy stared at Leon for several more moments and considered his best next step but in the end, the guy saw something in Leon’s eyes that told him to better back off. And after another few seconds, the guy stepped back, nodded to his friends and disappeared somewhere else.

Leon went back to his drink and emptied it in one big sip. As he placed the glass back on the counter, Yn stood already next to him, leaning against the bar with a smirk on her lips, "So, I'm yours, huh?", she asked low.

With a shock filled glance, he stared at her and swallowed thickly, "Oh, uhm... Well... I- I didn't like the way he looked at you.", he stammered with an apologetic glance.

Yn nodded, "Yes, I heard that.”, she said, tapping at her ear with her index finger to remind him of the intercom. As Yn saw his awkward smile, she stepped forward, “You know, to see you jealous and protective was kinda cute. But it was unnecessary, don't you think? I'm not your girlfriend."

Leon also stepped forward, a smirk was playing on his lips while he snaked his arm around her waist to bring her even closer, "Actually, we're just one date away that I can call you mine."

"Oh, really? Then, I would say we count this evening as a date, what do you think?", Yn suggested whispering against his lips which were just inches away.

"Deal.", Leon breathed before he kissed her. It was a deep kiss. Filled with hunger to show off to whom Yn belonged to. Yn tugged on his suit jacket to bring him even closer, knowing exactly where these clothes would land later this evening…

[writerpeach]

Hot & Cold

LOOΠΔ Kim Lip x Male Reader

9836 words

---

Read on AFF

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The stars shined bright as you wandered through the downtown streets aimlessly, taking in the cool crisp air of the nighttime sky. Music filled the streets and your ears as you passed through a variety of stores, each one with its best wares on display to tempt you.

You were searching for a gift for Choi Yerim’s upcoming birthday, clueless on where to even start looking for ideas. It had been several weeks since you had been introduced to her, and while you knew a little about what her likes and dislikes were, buying the perfect gift that would make her special day seemed a daunting challenge.

The three of you were inseparable lately, spending most of your time outside of work at your favorite lunar themed cafe and the cutest barista that worked there who always threw in free drinks. Lately though, Hyejoo had spent more time than usual preoccupied with her new job until the late hours of the night, leaving you without her help and on your own for your quest.

There were the obvious choices of flowers and candy, and while you had to start somewhere those were boring choices. You wanted your gift to be special and worthy of the girl who you had spent so much time with lately, a girl who brought nothing but happiness and positivity into your life.

Walking past dozens of places, you waited for a store to catch your attention as most failed to offer anything substantial. One in particular caught your eye. Maybe it was the mannequins in the window wearing cute dresses that you easily pictured Yerim wearing, but this place spoke to you.

There wasn’t anything special or out of the ordinary as you walked in, a small looking boutique with high ceilings and bright lights, shelves filled with meticulously folded shirts and pants in diverse sets of colors, while plentiful dresses and accessories lined the walls.

You carefully looked around, not wanting to knock anything out of place as you browsed, unsure where to even begin. There didn’t seem to be anyone else in the store, which wasn’t surprising given it was rather late in the evening, approaching nearer to closing time than you expected.

“Oh, hello, sir! Welcome to Lippington’s Exquisite Clothing,” you heard a soft husky voice call out in the distance, breaking the silence as you craned your head to see a slim blonde heading in your direction.

The clack of high heels on the wooden floor grew louder with each step as she approached, her hips swaying as she sauntered through the clothing store to close the distance, forming a small smile on her lips.

When the blonde woman stepped into frame you were met with her beauty at point-blank range. It was fairly unmistakable that her golden locks weren’t natural, not that it made her any less beautiful, not a hair out of place and there must have been a lot of effort put into maintaining such a wondrous shade. You didn’t know a thing about fashion, but the black sequin dress she had on sparkled in the light, doing her small body wonders and fitting perfectly.

It seemed a little risque for a place of employment, showing off bare shoulders and barely covering up her upper chest, but you weren’t one to judge, especially when she pulled it off flawlessly. It wasn’t too tight nor was it or too short, leaving part of her body to the imagination and above else it looked expensive. You’re pretty sure it wasn’t something that could have been picked up off one of the many racks.

Her fingernails were painted dark black, something you always loved on a woman as the color matched her dress, topping it all off with a light shade of red lipstick that made her small lips pop out.

You had to snap out of your haze as you caught yourself staring, frantically darting your eyes around the store in an attempt to not appear rude.

“My name is Jungeun, can I help you find anything?”

“Ah, actually, yes. I’m looking for a present for a woman. She’s young, about your age.”

“Of course, I’d be happy to help. Is she your girlfriend?”

“Uh, not exactly. She’s a good friend of mine,” you said, stumbling over your words as true as they were. You still hadn’t formed any type of relationship with Yerim, and hearing those words out loud brought out several feelings.

The beautiful woman sensed your hesitation in answering her simple question but was eagerly happy to help anyways.

“We have several sections for women to choose from. Is there a style that you think she would be interested in?”

You found yourself caught unprepared by all her questions, even though they were just to help out. Now, whereas Hyejoo was often a sweatpants and t-shirt type of girl, Yerim loved to put in effort into her outfits, even if it was a simple trip to a convenience store.

“She wears dresses a lot. Mostly cute ones.”

“I see. Let me show you some dresses that I can help you pick out that you think she would like.”

The woman led the way as you followed, trying not to focus your attention on her backside as much as you would have liked, stopping at the front of the store in a section with several racks of dresses surrounding a giant mirror.

“Do you know what size your...friend is?” she asked, and you’re pretty sure she was teasing you. You definitely didn’t know Yerim’s size. Hell, you didn’t even know how dress sizes worked.

“No, I don’t,” you said, having a brief moment of panic. You could have asked Hyejoo, but calling her at work was an option if you could have gotten ahold of her.

“I could show you a picture of her, would that help?”

“It’s a start,” she coldly said. You grabbed your phone and looked through several pictures trying to find a suitable one that showed her body off the best, making sure to not accidentally click on the folder of private pictures Yerim had sent for your eyes only.

You came across one of your favorite pictures of Yerim, wearing a cute white flowery dress standing in front of the mirror, looking adorable as usual. You handed Jungeun your phone who stared at it intently for several moments as if she had just seen a ghost.

“Yerim…” she muttered under her breath.

“Oh, do you know her?”

“Yes,” she simply stated, handing you back her phone. “We met at Girl Front Academy and studied together for three years until we went our separate ways. I haven’t talked to her since then, but it seems she’s still sickeningly cute,” Jungeun said, and you couldn’t tell if her reaction was of annoyance or not.

“Her body isn’t too far from mine, but she’s much curvier than I am. She always had better thighs than me,” she said, and this time you could definitely tell she was annoyed as if she were lacking in the body department.

“I’ll show you a few things that should fit her.”

The smile faded from her lips as she went through several clothing racks, picking out a dress from each one that stood out in a completely different look.

“Some of these may not be her style. This one is a little frilly, and this one is maybe a little too revealing,” Jungeun said, letting you see them all. They all had their appeal, and while you could have just gone overboard and bought them all, you didn’t want to seem desperate. You needed to find the perfect dress and had confidence that this woman would help you do just that.

“I like these two,” you said, choosing one that was casual and one that was formal. Jungeun was right, one was too skimpy, too gaudy, and one was too...you couldn’t find the words but there were much better choices. They all looked nice, but the dresses left behind didn't really didn’t match Yerim’s style.

“Both excellent choices,” Jungeun said, holding them up side by side. To her left was a simple purple cocktail dress with a wide neckline and thin straps, which seemed to be about knee-length, ruffled and slightly see-thru at the base. You selfishly wanted it to be much shorter, knowing her luscious thighs being covered up was a crime but remembered this was a gift for her and not you.

The other dress Jungeun held was colorful to say the least. Lace with black at the top, dark red at the end and woven colorful fabric in the middle, equipped with a multitude of gemstones. The dress was much longer than the previous one, given Yerim’s height it would practically be touching the floor, but also had a more elegant touch to it.

To say you had trouble deciding between the two would be an understatement. Given your ignorance, you would have picked the dress on your left based on color alone.

It was a good thing you had someone who seemed to be rather informed on the subject of clothing given that it was her job as she sensed your indecisiveness as your eyes wandered back and forth.

“This one would be good for any occasion, it's thin and comfortable without being too skimpy,” Jungeun said as she held it up higher than the other.

“Now, this one is better suited to dinner parties, weddings, ceremonies, that type of thing. It’ll flatter her body more but she’ll look out of place at a cafe obviously.”

“You have a knack for this, Jungeun.”

“Ah, well, thank you,” she shyly said. “You don’t own your own store for several years without knowing a little something about fashion.”

“You own this place?”

“I do. This’ll be the third year running this place. It’s been a little dead lately, but it’ll kick back up when spring comes.”

Jungeun let out another small smile, and you’re pretty sure her arms were getting tired from holding both dresses up.

“They’re both really nice dresses, but if you still can’t decide I could help out and try them on. I may not have the body that Yerim does, but it’ll look better on me than on a mannequin.”

“You’d do that? That seems like a lot of trouble, you really don’t have to, I’m sure you have plenty of other things to do.”

“It’s not that much trouble, there’s not much else to do as you can see. Might just close up early tonight if nobody else shows up.”

“Thank you, that would be appreciated.”

“It’s no problem. I’ll be back in a bit,” she said, heading towards the fitting room in the corner, taking both dresses with her. You waited just outside the door, taking a seat on the bench not unlike the same way you had for both Hyejoo and Yerim the dozens of times you were dragged away shopping with them.

She didn’t take that long to change into the first dress, walking out of the dressing room looking ready to take the runaway.

“What do you think?” she asked, as she spun around, letting you see every aspect of her in the casual dress.

“It’ll hug her body better, but it fits me nicely. It’ll look nicer with heels of course,” she said, taking note of the fact that she was barefoot. She did look rather nice in it, the dark color offset the brightness of her blonde hair, giving a glimpse at her luscious long legs as she modeled it for you.

“I like it.”

“Don’t choose until you see the other one. I’ll be right back.”

You gave a gentle nod as she disappeared back into the dressing room, and you eagerly waited for her return wanting to see a more close up look of the other dress. You had all but chosen this dress already, the formal dress had its work cut out for it and had some stiff competition.

More time passed than was expected while you waited for her to try on the other dress, not that you felt the need to complain. Maybe she was doing something different with the second dress that required more time as you sat there patiently, wasting time on your phone.

“Hey, uh. I could use some help,” you heard her call through the dressing room stall. You got out of your seat and headed over to her direction to check it out.

“What do you need?” you asked through the other side of the door.

The woman took a second of hesitation to respond. “I think the zipper’s stuck. It won’t budge. It’s unlocked, you can come in. I won’t bite.”

You’re not sure why she added that last part, but you opened the door and stepped inside to see her back to you, the zipper caught at the top of the dress. You grabbed it carefully and inspected it, pulling it down several times to no avail as it refused to work with you, unable to move like when you woke up in the mornings. Nothing worked, and you didn’t want to be too forceful with it.

“It’s not moving.”

Jungeun sighed loudly. “I should have designed this one better.”

“You designed this dress?”

“Yes, most of the clothing in this store is my own design. Anything that’s not is from other designers I know or collaborations.”

“That’s impressive.”

“It’s nothing really, I’ve been doing this my whole life,” she said nonchalantly. “Now, if it’s not going to unstuck itself you’re just going to rip it open.”

“You want me to rip it? There has to be something here we can fix it with.”

“It’ll take too long. Just be suck it up and rip it, I can fix it later.”

“If you insist,” you said, holding on to both sides of the dress you tugged hard on it, tearing the zipper down the middle as the sounds of fabric being torn filled the room as the dress became collateral damage.

“Impressive,” Jungeun said as your attention was on the now ruined dress, the zipper all the way down and dangling off to expose her back.

“Thanks, now let’s hope this other dress doesn’t give us the same type of trouble.”

“I’ll step out,” you said, heading towards the door when Jungeun’s eyes stopped you.

”What, have you’ve never seen a woman undress before?”

“Of course I have, but-”

“But what? It’s not a big deal, but if you’d prefer to wait outside, be my guest. I won’t be long.”

Well, you couldn’t let this opportunity pass you by now.

“I’ll stay then.”

“Good. Enjoy the show.”

With your back flat against the wall Jungeun began undressing, pulling the purple thin straps down her shoulders and hesitating, teasing you for a moment as your eyes met. Taking her time, she slipped her arms out of the purple cocktail dress and slowly peeling it down her body just past her waist, exposing her tight toned midriff.

Jungeun never kept her eyes off you, inching the rest of the dress off her body and wiggling her hips until gravity did the rest. The discarded garment draped around her ankles, leaving her in an alluring pair of simple white underwear, sheer in enough places that still let your imagination run wild. It was quite an unexpected sight.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, trying your best to keep your mouth closed as you let out an audible deep exhale at such a gorgeous woman. Her complexion was beautiful, her skin fair and immaculate and you desperately wanted to reach out and touch her body.

“Judging by the way you can’t stop drooling over me, I’m going to guess you like what you see?”

If seeing her tight body on display wasn’t enough, she had positioned herself (perhaps even strategically so), in front of the mirror, giving you the perfect view of the white thong nestled in between her firm buttcheeks.

“Your turn,” Jungeun said, snapping you out of your trance as she placed her hands on her hips.

“What?”

“It’s not very fair for me to be the only one who’s undressed is it? Come on, I wanna see what you’re packing,” she said, her lips curling into a smirk as she crossed her arms.

Things had certainly escalated. When you walked into this store you hadn’t expected to be seeing the owner in her bra and panties, and you certainly didn’t expect you were about to match her level of nudity.

If you needed any further encouragement, her round dark eyes let you know that she wasn’t joking, and when a woman in her underwear tells you to do something you didn’t dare disappoint.

Taking a deep breath you began unbuttoning your shirt, removing each button until you had stripped it off and tossed it on the ground. Jungeun eyed your bare chest like you were a piece of meat, not unlike the way you had gawked over her earlier.

“Keep going,” she urged, and bit her lip deeply, showing her approval as you unbuckled your belt and unzipped your pants, not wasting time in yanking them off and kicked them away. It was difficult to process. There you were, standing across from a beautiful woman that owned the clothing store you had spontaneously picked, obviously ogling your mostly naked body while you were doing the same in return.

The whole series of events had gotten you so aroused that you hadn’t realized that your shaft had become full mast, sporting an unavoidable bulge through your boxers.

“Do you usually get this hard just by seeing a woman in her underwear?” she teased, as you looked down in embarrassment as your package dying to poke through, your cheeks instantly reddening.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, it’s perfectly natural,” Jungeun said as she approached your side of the small changing room, closing the distance and cupped your crotch, causing your body to tense up.

“I’d be a little disappointed if you weren’t getting excited,” she said, continuing to squeeze your crotch through your boxers.

"How would you like it if I took everything off?" Jungeun asked, using her free hand to run her hands through her golden locks, ruffling her perfectly styled hair seductively.

“I’m not that easy, you’ll have to at least buy me a drink to get my panties off. But I’ll give you a little something to hold you over,” she said as she slowly dropped to her knees on the stack of clothes that had piled up in the middle of the floor.

Jungeun wanted one thing as she grabbed your boxers and swiftly yanked them down to your ankles, your hard cock throbbing as it was released from its frustrating restraints. Her eyes lit up in excitement as she grabbed your cock and squeezed it with a gentle pressure, delivering slow pleasurable strokes as her thumb rubbed your sensitive swollen tip, making you leak over her slim fingers.

“It’s been so long since I’ve had some good cock. Too long,” Jungeun said as she flattened her tongue against the base of your shaft, slowly drawing upward and taking her time. You let out a soft moan as her pink tongue reached your swollen cockhead, swirling around and planting a wet kiss on your tip that made you shiver in delight.

“You’re so fucking hard,” she said as her wet tongue explored every inch, lapping up every drop that escaped from your leaking slit. Her lips pressed deeply against your throbbing shaft, moving from base to tip and not letting a spot go without a wet kiss that sent tingles up your spine.

“You did this to me,” you replied, and Jungeun answered not with words but with actions as her pouty lips parted with your shaft as it entered her warm mouth, her soft lips squeezing tight around your throbbing flesh as her cheeks hollowed.

“F-fuck, that’s good,” you moaned, leaning back into the dressing room’s wooden wall, as you watched Jungeun work your cock, bobbing her head up and down as her tongue followed, playing with your sensitive underside.

Jungeun’s mouth felt heavenly, her soft cherry lips wrapped tightly around your cock as she pleasured you, focusing on the first few inches of your flesh as she enveloped it with warm and wet sensations that overwhelmed you.

“That feels amazing, d-don’t stop,” you said, as the blonde woman who was practically still a stranger never ceased her oral assault on your cock. Her warm lips left a trail of warm saliva as you felt more of her throat, watching the deep lust in her eyes as she slowly sucked you off.

Shortly after you felt Jungeun’s mouth pushing deeper, her full lips sliding down your wet shaft with ease, distracting you and making you forget everything else. Jungeun wasn’t kidding as she seemed to be deprived of the taste of cock as she hungrily slurped on your shaft, voicing her satisfaction in giving you such a wonderful blowjob.

You couldn’t just stand there and watch the action unfold as you ran your fingers through Jungeun’s pretty blonde hair, guiding her movements as you placed a hand on the back of her head. She took the hint in stride, taking more of you down her throat as she gave your shaft deep satisfying strokes from base to tip, sticking her tongue out to please every inch of you she could.

“Jungeun…fuck,” you moaned, unable to control yourself any longer and grabbed a handful of hair, forming a tight fist around a makeshift ponytail as you used it to assist her into a faster rhythm that she didn’t seem to mind.

You kept Jungeun’s mouth busy, using her ponytail as your personal set of reins to force her mouth to the very end of your base repeatedly, using her mouth without mercy. She gave no sounds of discomfort, if anything she voiced the opposite as she slobbered all over your needy shaft, covering it with her messy drool as her throat was kept filled.

You kept this up for as long as you could, savoring Jungeun’s wet and hot mouth and occasionally gave glances towards the mirror to distract you with her delicious backside as the sounds of her slurping on your cock filled the room that caused you to moan even louder.

“F-fuck, Jungeun, I’m about to cum,” you said, releasing the tight grip you held on her hair as it fell back onto her beautiful shoulders.

“I wonder what you’ll taste like,” Jungeun said as she withdrew your cock from her wet mouth with a loud pop, using her tongue to frantically trace around your swollen tip, pushing you even more over the edge.

Jungeun could sense your climax wasn’t backing down as she took control of your cock, furiously stroking it as she opened her mouth and stuck her pink tongue out as she prepared to finish what she started.

You were almost there as your breathing shallowed, every long stroke from base to tip Jungeun gave your shaft made your balls tighten even more, her tongue flicking against your dripping slit to expedite your impending orgasm.

“J-Jungeun, I’m cumming!” you cried out as her grip tightened, her eyes laser-focused onto you as your throbbing cock shot cum directly onto her wet tongue and into the back of her mouth as she emptied you.

Multiple thick spurts of cum fired from your tip that caused you to moan with need, each feeling better than the last as a milky white pool collected on Jungeun's wet tongue as she worked your shaft, making sure to drain your balls thoroughly.

Jungeun made sure she squeezed out every drop as she kept her mouth open, making a show of swirling your fresh load, sloshing it around before she closed her mouth. You watched the beautiful sight of Jungeun's throat gulping as she swallowed it all.

“Not bad, I guess,” she said, displaying her now empty pink tongue and licked her lips, sucking the sensitive tip of your depleted shaft to make sure there were no more remnants left, forcing a reaction that made your entire body shake.

Jungeun stood back up and gave your cock a few final strokes, making sure she kept a tight grip with every twist that drove you crazy.

"Okay, get out,” she abruptly said, as you leaned back against the wall in exhaustion.

“W-what?” you replied, trying to catch your breath as you picked out which clothes were yours from the discarded pile.

“I have to close this place up, it’s late and there are a lot of things that have to get done. You can leave after you get dressed.”

“What about the dress? I still need to buy Yerim something.”

“You can pick it up tomorrow, I'll hold it for you. You wanted this one didn’t you?”

“Y-yes, it’ll look good on her.”

“No, it’ll look great on her. We close at ten, show up anytime before that.”

“Can I at least get your number?”

“Ugh, fine I guess,” she said as you dug your phone out of your pants that you hadn’t bothered to put back on.

“Hope you enjoyed that. I don’t do that often, I just felt bad,” she said as she keyed in her number into your phone.

“You felt bad? That must be why I can see that wet spot on the front of your panties, Jungeun,” you said, and she quickly broke eye contact, embarrassed by her obvious enjoyment.

“You can let yourself out.”

Jungeun grabbed her clothes and left without another word, giving you one last glance at her perfect rear as she left the dressing room. You got dressed in a rush, not wanting to stay any longer and excited the clothing store, still feeling the fatigue setting in.

✦✦

Work kept you at the office longer than you had planned to be, which always seemed to always be the case, something that couldn’t be helped. After finishing tedious paperwork and last minute preparations for the next day you didn’t step out of the building until roughly after nine p.m and headed straight towards Jungeun’s clothing store, not bothering to change your clothes.

You made your entrance as quiet as possible, which wasn’t that difficult given she was finishing ringing up a customer as patiently waited for their transaction to finish up, casually browsing the clothing selection in the meantime.

“Didn’t think you were going to show up,” you heard, the unmistakable husky voice of Jungeun as she approached your area of the store. Her outfit was a little less flashy today, wearing a tight white top that showed off the outline of her breasts and very short jean shorts that showed off her amazingly long legs.

“Had a lot of work to finish before I could come here.”

“I know that feeling,” she said as she grabbed the purple dress you had decided on from behind the register.

“Don’t worry, this isn’t the same dress from yesterday, that one has been repurposed. This size should fit her, but if it doesn’t feel free to return it.”

“I’m sure it’ll fit her just fine. You know what you’re doing,” you said.

“I’d like to think so. You can go ahead and swipe your card now.”

“It’s cheaper than the price tag was yesterday,” you said as you inserted your card back into your wallet, putting in your pin number and completing the transaction.

“I threw in a discount. Think of it as a present from me to Yerim,” she said, batting her eyelashes as her lips formed a sweet smile.

“Thank you, Jungeun. That was very generous of you.”

“It’s not what you think. I’m just doing this as a favor, I don’t like you or anything,” Jungeun said as she bagged your gift for Yerim and handed it to you.

“I’m sure she’ll love it. Have a good night, Jungeun.”

You took your next step but before you could even finish placing your foot down Jungeun grabbed your wrist, keeping you in place.

“Aren’t you going to buy me that drink?” she asked, gently squeezing your arm with her small hand as you looked down at her pretty fingernails.

You didn’t typically drink on a Thursday night, but you also didn’t typically get a blowjob in a dressing room from a beautiful woman. It’s not like you couldn’t use it either, work continued to pile up and you hadn’t even had a chance to depressurize from it all.

“Okay, I’d like to buy you a drink, Jungeun.”

“Good, because I could certainly use one. Maybe even two.”

“I know the perfect place.”

“I’ll need to finish up here, looks like nobody else is showing up so I can get started on closing. Send me the address, I’ll meet you there in an hour.”

✦✦

Just a little over an hour later you pulled up a chair in a familiar place, taking a seat at the counter in your favorite dive bar you had been to dozens of times - both yourself and with the company of Yerim and Hyejoo. Taking a look around there was both familiarity and a lack thereof to the place.

New paintings had been hung, the walls painted with a fresh coat paint that made the place pop, and the rickety wooden stools had been replaced with fancier black ones, adding a hint of sophistication to the joint. It still needed tons of work but it was a start.

“Hey stranger. Haven’t seen you in a while,” you heard a distinctive deep voice speak out, one that could only belong to your favorite bartender Heejin. Your eyes met as she flashed a beautiful smile as she wiped down the counter.

“Work has kept me away from this place,” you said, as Heejin’s lips formed a deep out on her features. It was difficult to see in the dim lights, but her hair had been dyed a lighter shade of brown, making her more beautiful than the last time you came here.

“You here alone? I’m used to seeing you with those two cute girls,” she said, putting up bottles of alcohol and restocking clear straws on the counter.

“I’m waiting for someone. Met her yesterday.”

“Ooh, how exciting. Tell me all about her,” Heejin said as she leaned forward, capturing your attention.

“I don’t know that much about her yet other than she’s a fashion designer. She owns her own clothing store downtown by the pier.”

“Wow, that’s impressive. I’m sure she’s lovely. Can I get you started on anything while you wait?”

“I’ll just take a beer for now.”

“Coming right up!”

No more than a few seconds later Heejin placed down an ice cold mug directly in front of you filled to the brim with just a touch of foam. You slipped a few dollars in her stuffed tip jar, earning an ear to ear grin as she excused herself.

Moments later the seat next to you became occupied, the familiar perfume wafting through your nostrils that could be one person, Jungeun.

“Sorry I’m late, I had some last minute customers I had to deal with,” she said, placing her large purse on the bar counter in front of her.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m glad you could make it,” you said, taking your first sip of beer and wiping the foam from your lips.

“This place is a bit of a dump, isn’t it?” Jungeun bluntly said, not mincing her words.

“I don’t come here for the atmosphere.”

“Why do you come here then?” she asked, as Heejin came back and bent over to grab something off of the lower shelf, her tight pants doing her body justice as she flashed a smile as she rose up.

“Oh I see why,” she said, letting out a loud chuckle as she covered her mouth with her hand.

“That’s not it,” you insisted. “I like the drinks here. It’s not as bad as it used to be.”

“Well, I’d hate to see how bad it looked before,” she said, rolling her eyes as she signaled Heejin over.

“Hi there! What can I get you?”

“A glass of red wine please.”

Heejin was nothing but diligent and before you could blink Jungeun was inspecting her half-filled glass of dark red wine, determined to find something wrong with it before indulging. For some reason she didn’t seem like a wine girl to you, but to be fair you didn’t know much about her other than she gave a spectacular blowjob.

“You’ve slept with her, haven’t you?” Jungeun said out of the blue, swirling her glass around before taking her first taste.

“What?” you said, nearly choking on your malty beverage.

“The cute girl with the brown hair. The way she looks at you makes me think she’s done more than serve you a drink,” Jungeun teased, crossing her legs.

You sighed loudly. “What are you a mind reader? Yes, I may have seen her naked on an occasion...or three.”

“No, it just seemed rather obvious. Who you sleep with isn’t my business though,” Jungeun said, and you swore there was a hint of jealousy in her tone as she swirled her drink in the dim light and watched the red liquid sloshing around.

Jungeun looked around, unsatisfied at what she saw. Clearly she was used to a higher stand of establishment. Her wine glass was already half-finished, she quickly threw her head back and poured the rest down her mouth, and you can’t say you ever saw someone drink wine like that.

“I’m tired of this place. Let’s get out of here.”

“We just got here-”

“And I know a better place we can go that doesn’t have bad music. ”

“Where exactly would that be?”

“My apartment,” Jungeun replied, flashing seductive bedroom eyes.

“If you were that eager we could have just skipped this part.”

“What, and miss out on a free drink? That’s the only reason I showed up.”

“Oh, and here I was thinking it was because you enjoyed my company.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I-It’s not like I wanted you to fuck me,” Jungeun said, making a show out of fixing her hair as she left her chair and grabbed her purse.

“I’ll meet you outside, thanks for the drink.”

Jungeun became harder to read with every minute you knew her. One minute she was batting her eyes and flirting with you and touching your shoulder, the next she barely seemed interested in you. It didn’t matter too much as you just had a personal invitation to her place and that was your golden ticket. You had barely touched your drink but that didn’t seem as important anymore as you paid your tab and left Heejin a generous tip as always.

“Guess someones getting lucky tonight,” Heejin teased as she waved goodbye, and you weren’t quick sure what you were getting yourself into.

A short ten minute taxi ride and you were following Jungeun up a set of stairs and waiting for her to unlock her apartment door.

“It’s not much, but it’s cozy,” she said as she bent down to remove her heels as you slipped your own shoes off and gently placed them carefully on the ground.

“I’ll give you a quick tour,” she said, gesturing for you to follow her as you took a quick look around. The living room was small but decorated with various paintings and a white leather couch big enough for multiple people, with small black throw pillows on either end. Underneath the glass coffee table was a huge blue rug and a pink makeup pouch left behind.

“Here’s the kitchen. I don’t cook much,” she said as her bare feet walked through black marble tile floors that looked spotless. It wasn’t the fanciest kitchen, but you would have loved to make a meal here sometime. In the center was a small kitchen island and a few stools, the counter wiped clean and a bowl of delicious looking fruit that you couldn’t tell was fake or not.

Jungeun led you past the kitchen as you looked at the various appliances she had gathered, a high-end blender caught your eye that rivaled those you had seen at cafes.

“Here's the bathroom,” she said, a huge assortment of various types of makeup lined the counter, once again perfectly clean as if she was expecting a visitor. Her shower was quite spacious, it was definitely the first time you’d seen one large enough to have two showerheads. The wall was patterned with black tile that contrasted nicely with the rest of the white bathroom.

“Last stop,” Jungeun said as she took several steps ahead of you, giving you the chance to take in her body as her hips swayed and you watched her long legs.

“And this is where you’ll be fucking me,” Jungeun bluntly said as she stopped at her bedroom.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Miss Jungeun.”

“And why’s that?” Jungeun asked as she took a step towards you, closing the distance as she placed her hands on your shoulder.

“Who says I’m going to fuck you here? You’ve got a nice kitchen, a living room…”

Jungeun leaned in and planted a deep kiss on your lips, the taste of her lingering as she pulled back and you could see the lust in her eyes.

“You’re convincing me.”

“Then let me convince you a little more,” she said as she spun around on her heels and walked away from you, disappearing into the bathroom and shutting the door, leaving her out of sight. She didn’t spend much time inside, dramatically opening the door and came out in a luxurious white bathrobe as she appeared back in view.

“You should have a seat for this,” Jungeun said with a mischievous smile on her features as you did as instructed, taking a seat on her bed and feeling her silk sheets as you leaned back.

Jungeun made sure she had your full attention as she slowly began to untie the cotton belt around her waist, opening up as she draped it off her broad shoulders as it fell to the carpet underneath her.

The sight displayed in front of you was nothing but breathtaking, causing your jaw to drop as Jungeun’s perfect tight body was dressed in the sexiest pair of lacy red lingerie that left very little to the imagination.

“Red looks amazing on you.”

“It happens to be my favorite color,” Jungeun said, as your eyes feasted on her stunning body, unable, nothing could lose your focus. The dark red color contrasted perfectly with her milky skin. Her breasts were pushed up nicely, showing off her wide hips and delicious legs that never seemed to end.

“Are you just going to sit there and stare, or are you going to come touch me?”

That was the only invitation as you lifted your body off the mattress as your hands were practically magnetized to her body. You started at her thighs, feeling how soft they felt against your palms as you moved to her deadly hips, nothing but satisfied at how good they felt to grip.

You couldn’t help yourself one bit as you snaked around her waist and squeezed her ass with both hands, pulling her towards you and grabbing as much as you could, thankful for the fact that Jungeun loved to wear skimpy thongs. Your palms were full of her soft flesh as you kneaded them, giving her beautiful backside a loud slap that echoed and made her gasp.

“F-fuck,” Jungeun said, her words light and airy as you moved to the front of her body, up her toned midriff and up to her chest, squeezing her perky breasts through the annoying piece of fabric keeping you from them.

“Jungeun,” you said with a lowered voice as you tempted her with the idea of kiss, tilting your head as you licked her neck and whispered in her ear.

“I’m dying to fuck you.”

“P-please. You’re making me so wet,” she whimpered desperately as you buried yourself in the crook of her neck, sucking on the soft skin there with no intention to stop. Jungeun was giving herself to you in no time, letting out soft erotic moans as you nibbled on her beautiful neck.

“God, you’re so gorgeous.”

“T-thank you,” Jungeun replied as her cheeks blushed a shade of faded red as she anticipated what was next.

“Can I take this off?” you asked as you slipped a finger underneath one of her bra straps, as it practically screamed to be let loose.

“Y-yes, please take everything off me. I want you to see every inch of me.”

Her voice was just the ticket you needed as you found the clasp of her bra and unhooked it, keeping eye contact with Jungeun as you slipped the thin straps off her shoulders and tossed it out of view.

Your pants tightened as you saw Jungeun’s exposed breasts for the first time, small yet powerfully perky, not unlike Yerim. You gave several teasing licks on her nipples, causing a series of whiny moans to leave her lips as you focused on one breast, pinching the other as your lips slurped and nibbled freely.

“G-god, just fuck me already,” Jungeun begged, and it seemed she didn’t share your patience in wanting to take your time with her.

“You need it that bad?”

“Y-yes. I want you to ruin me,” she said as she looked at you doe-eyed, lips quivering as she wanted to give herself to you fully.

“I’ll be happy to then,” you said as you tilted her chin up and gave her lips one deep tender embrace, rubbing your hand across her soft cheek.

“Hold on, one more thing,” Jungeun said as scurred into her huge walk-in closet and disappeared inside it. She emerged after a few moments with something unseen in her hands as she came back into view.

Jungeun grabbed your wrist and flipped it around, dropping a bundle of red braided rope onto your palm as she shyly smiled.

“What do you expect me to do with this?” you asked, playing dumb as you felt the soft fabric of the rope.

“I want to be tied up and fucked. What else would you do with it?” she asked, biting her lip in anticipation.

“Only if you want to of course,” she added.

“I want to,” you said. You definitely wanted to. You had Heejin to mostly blame for unlocking this side out of you.

You stared into her eyes intently for one intense moment before abruptly grabbing her hips and spinning her around, admiring her naked back and her barely covered asscheeks. Jungeun’s breath hitched as you grabbed her delicate wrists and pulled them behind her back, wrapping them both in beautiful red rope as you bound them together tightly,

“Too tight?” you asked, resting a hand against her toned back and caressing her skin.

“Not at all,” she replied as you spun her back around as your eyes met, and you couldn’t help but smile that Jungeun was now at your mercy. You took advantage of this right away and roamed her body with your hands, squeezing her breasts and moving downward as you brought two fingers against her clothed heat, confirming the wetness of her cunt that was soaking through her panties.

“Safe word?” you asked as pressed two fingers against her clothed core as her legs twitched.

“Eclipse.”

“Good, then let’s get started,” you said as you helped her lower to her knees as she pressed into the carpet as you began undressing, scattering clothes around Jungeun’s body until you were left in your boxers. Your bulge poked through the material desperate to be freed, a stark reminder of the previous day

“Look what you did, Jungeun,” you said with a smirk on your lips, admiring her half-naked body as she was at your whims. Her skin grew warmer as she knelt patiently as you removed your underwear, slick dripping down her thighs and making the only piece of clothing left on even wetter.

Jungeun admired your cock with a hunger like no other as you grabbed it and slapped her pretty face with it, letting her suck your swollen tip for several seconds before removing it, causing a cute pout to form on her features.

“Don’t be greedy,” you said, caressing the side of her cheek and watching the need in her eyes.

You couldn’t help admire how pretty Jungeun was as you rubbed her soft lips with one finger, and without asking she instinctively sucked on your fingers sensually. She had a wanton need for anything inside her mouth as her lips and tongue wrapped around your fingers with the same amount of desire she had given to your cock.

Jungeun slurped hungrily on your fingers as you pushed them in deeper, moving past both knuckles and creating a slow rhythm as she gagged but her eyes begged for more as you felt her warm messy saliva seeping everywhere, making a mess everywhere.

You waited just a little longer, letting Jungeun continuously suckle on your fingers until you felt she had enough, wiping her leftover saliva down her neck and chest as you gave her stiffened rosy nipples one more pinch.

“That’s all you get for now,” you said as you helped her stand upright and lifted her frame onto the bed. Jungeun did what she could to assist as you positioned her on her knees with her ass raised as her face plopped down on the sheets, resting her chin on the mattress.

You took your position behind Jungeun’s bent over body, the thin piece of fabric nestled between her ass being the only barrier between you and nirvana. The flimsy piece of underwear was almost as dark as blood but did little to hide the wet spot soaking through, and it was hard to focus your eyes on a single part of her tight body, or the way her hands were tied behind her back.

Your hands explored Jungeun’s backside, her skimpy thong was a poor excuse to cover up any skin as you fondled her cheeks. You almost didn’t want to remove such a daring garment from her body, it looked too good on her. The thought occurred to push it to the side, giving you the best of both worlds but your animalistic urges took over instead as you grabbed the thin piece of fabric and tore it right off her body.

Jungeun gasped loudly as you tossed the ruined pair of underwear away, every inch of her body now exposed for you and all it took was one look down at her beautiful pink pussy to make your erection even stronger than you thought was possible.

Taking one more look down, Jungeun had already spread her legs for you as you grabbed your shaft and lined it with her entrance, rubbing her pink pussy lips with your swollen tip as you felt her wetness collecting on it.

“P-please, just fuck me, already. Use me!” Jungeun begged, which only motivated you to keep up the teasing, slipping yourself dangerously close to entering her and withdrawing at the last moment just to hear her whimpering moans.

“F-fuck, please!” Jungeun continued to plead, and you felt a hint of pity for her desperation and nudged yourself against her pussy, the heat radiating off her body begging you to enter her.

Just a few more seconds of teasing was all you could take - you needed her just as bad, and in one perfectly smooth movement you popped your hips and entered her, both of you overwhelmed by a hundred different sensations.

“Oh god,” Jungeun said as you moaned simultaneously, watching your tip being swallowed up by her suffocatingly tight pussy. You took a moment to let it all sink in before moving, the initial warmth and wetness surrounding your cock taking your breath away.

You didn’t remember how long you took, it could have been just a few seconds or several minutes to get used to the intense sensations as you started thrusting inside Jungeun, her silky warm flesh clinging tight as you grabbed her hips and found a rhythm, picking up speed gradually.

“F-fuck, your cock feels so good, stretch my pussy out, p-please ruin me!” Jungeun begged, her naked body at your mercy. There wasn’t much point in taking your time when both of you wanted the opposite, Jungeun’s intoxicating warmth enticing you to not keep your sluggish pace for long.

With a bruising grip on her satisfying hips, you no longer felt the need to be gentle with her and intensified your pace with every stroke, bottoming her out every time as her delicious cunt squeezed your throbbing shaft, keeping her pussy plenty filled.

The rhythm grew and grew as did the lust and desire in the room as your hips hurled against Jungeun’s ass, leaving the harsh sounds of flesh smacking against flesh that was music to your ears.

“P-pound me, f-fucking pound my pussy,” Jungeun said, her words now muffled into her pillows as your pistoning hips gave powerful thrusts as deep as you could fit your cock.

“I need to hear you, Jungeun. You’re so wet, you like being fucked like this?” you asked, grabbing a rough handful of golden hair and tangling it around your fingers, tugging back on it harshly to free her head from the comfort of her pillows.

“F-fuck yes, please keep using me!”

Her lustful words washed away any worries you were being too rough with her as you gripped a fistful of hair tighter, keeping her head upright as her pussy clenched in approval. Jungeun moaned even louder as your vigorous thrusts continued, her juices spilling out of her cunt so freely as the arousal was heavy in the air.

Jungeun’s moans turned into loud husky screams as you kept a handful of pretty hair clenched, pounding into her hole carelessly as you glanced down at her bound wrists and releasing one of your hands from her hips and without warning slapped her tight ass.

Her flesh rippled hypnotically, encouraging another slap to her behind on the other side as her walls pulsated in response.

“Harder, make it hurt,” Jungeun said, a mixture of demanding and begging and you weren’t going to back down as you winded back your arm and swung hard against her cheeks, the delicious echo of your palm striking her cheeks until the color began to match the restraints around her tied wrist.

Jungeun let out deep satisfied moans after each smack against her now tender flesh, the clench of her cunt matching the rhythm of your forceful strikes of her backside. The color of her cheeks grew darker and tears formed in her eyes from such pleasurable pain. WIth every few slaps you gave her sensitive red flesh a squeeze, rubbing out the sting until you upped the impact of flesh on flesh.

Your only regret was you were unable to see the satisfaction in Jungeun’s gorgeous eyes, but if the way her pussy was dripping all over your cock you knew she was loving every second of it.

Giving Jungeun’s bright red cheeks a break, you used your hands to explore what skin you had access to, running your hands up and down her back, feeling the sweat dripping off it as you fucked her mercilessly, the hard smack of the headboard slamming into the wall with every thrust.

“Does that feel good, Jungeun? Do you like being fucked like a little slut?”

“Y-yes, I love when you fuck me like a toy, please don’t stop,” Jungeun said with strangled words, too lost in the pleasure to think of anything else.

You released the grip on her hair, letting strands fall to her shoulders that stuck to her sweaty back as you prepared for your next step, grabbing her hips and pushing her down until she was flat on her stomach and her knees pressed into the sheets.

Your thrusts came fast and loose as your legs were spread onto either side of Jungeun's body as you fucked her senseless in this position, able to achieve a deeper sense of penetration that drove you crazy.

It didn't take long to become unhinged, your pace wild and reckless as you held on to the sides of her ass for leverage, slamming repeatedly without any concern as the room filled up with her needy moans.

"Oh my god, you're so deep! Fuck me just like this, please fuck me just this, oh fuck, oh fuck!"

Jungeun's cries threw gasoline on the flames of passion as you used more power in your hips, and you were content to make sure she couldn't walk for a week as you railed her into the mattress.

You swore the bed was about to give out, and you didn't give a damn and only focused on the hot dripping flesh you were spearing yourself into.

"You fuck me so well, holy shit! I'm so close!"

“Good, cum for me you greedy slut. Cum all over this fucking cock,” you said, as sweat drenched your forehead, the air in the room growing harder to take in. Jungeun could barely remember where she was, her mouth constantly agape as drool spilled out of her lips, moaning breathlessly as the fire in her abdomen grew and grew.

“Ah! I-I’m cumming!” Jungeun said, barely able to form words at this point, powerless to do anything else. Her pussy pulsated uncontrollably around your shaft as you kept the same relentless pace as she creamed all over you, the warm flood of juices spilling onto your crotch as she came hard, toes curling behind you and her thighs visibly shaking.

Jungeun let out a slew of profanities as her orgasm hit her like a train, and you didn’t let up one second and fucked her through every intense second, the loss of her limbs to grab hold of anything drove her insane as her labored breathing filled your eardrums, every moment of pleasure almost causing her to black out.

“H-holy shit,” Jungeun managed to say as her high gradually faded, the aftershocks in her body firing off every so often that she could hardly catch a breath, her thighs flushed and stained with slick, overflowing on her silk sheets underneath your sweaty bodies.

Jungeun’s wonderful orgasm came to a close, and now it was your turn as you grabbed her bound wrists and held them tight, steering yourself towards your much needed bliss as you gave it your all. Her pussy was so deliciously wet after her climax, lubricating your harsh movements inside her thoroughly fucked cunt and sending spikes of pleasure everywhere throughout your body.

You gave her the final pounding she deserved, her pussy stuffed with every inch of hard flesh as you moved furiously inside her, wringing out all the pleasure out of her body that you could take until you felt that familiar and welcome tightness in your core that signaled the end.

“Jungeun, I’m about to fucking cum,” you growled, endlessly fucking into her warm hole to coerce your orgasm on a path to pleasure with no brakes.

“Cum wherever, on me or in me, please just cum for me,” Jungeun said, and you took no time to figure out just where you wanted to do that.

Savoring the final moments, you gave a few more hammering thrusts into Jungeun’s body before you withdrew from her warmth, pulling her up and helping her off to the side of the bed as she took position on her knees, her arms still tied behind her as she anxiously awaited the finale.

You had Jungeun just where you wanted her as she had the biggest grin on her features as you stroked your cock from base to tip, and she knew just where your load was going and licked her lips.

“Are you going to paint my face?” she asked, already knowing the answer as you stroked furiously in response, planning on using her as your canvas.

“Give me your cum, please cum on my face, please. Cover me in your thick load, please please please, cum all over my face, I need it so fucking bad,” Jungeun desperately begged, her needy words being the one last thing that set you off.

It took less than a few strokes for you to erupt as you unloaded all over Jungeun’s gorgeous face. You let out loud satisfied groans and fired your first thick shot of cum that landed on her forehead, ending up in her disheveled hair.

You emptied your balls all over her cheeks, her full lips, her cute nose and chin as you squeezed out every last drop, not letting anything go to waste as her face was covered in pearly white, the look of satisfaction in her eyes as you were drained.

Jungeun licked what she could, frustrated with her hands still tied up and out of commission as the mess you had just deposited on her stunning face began to drip down slowly, spilling off her chin and onto her chest as you collected yourself and tried to regain your breath.

She had never looked more beautiful.

Jungeun leaned forward as you guided your cock one more time into her mouth as she cleaned you off, gently sucking your sensitive tip dry with your load staining her face. You took one more moment to admire your handiwork before untying her wrists.

“You okay?” you asked as she regained the use of her hands, the first thing she did with them was to stroke your softening cock, giving one more wet kiss.

“I’m great now,” she said, heavily breathing as you exchanged tired smiles.

“You really covered me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt such a huge load,” Jungeun giggled as you sat on the edge of the bed, nearly collapsing on it.

“I only have you to blame for that,” you said.

“I’ll go get cleaned up. You can join me if you want, or you can rest here. Either way you better be ready for another round,” she said, slow to stand upright as she turned into her now ever familiar pose, her hands on her hips with a stern look in her eyes.

“You’re insatiable, Jungeun,” you said, still struggling to find your breath again.

“N-no, I’m not. It’s not like I enjoyed your cock inside me,” she scoffed, spinning on her heels as she disappeared into her bathroom.

You still felt the tingles of your intense climax as you looked around the room, sinking into the sheets and wondered what else she Jungeun wanted, or rather what she wanted you to do to her.

You’d just have to be patient and find out.

[rotshop]

UGHHH this is so bad. (head in hands) LOOK. look. im sleepy tired and i just needed to warm up w/ something and also took exactly One break during this to grab a dirnk !!! shhh.

-

This was by far the worst situation you could've been in. Nevadean winters were a simple fact of how it was, but that didn't take any of the bite from the freezing winds. Some years, it would be a decent one, there would be a fair amount of hot and cold days and little snow. Not entirely pleasant, but you could work with it with in relative ease. Other years though, the season seemed to just throw it all at you, shoving everything off the shelves and toppling dominoes to see how you'd fair. It was the cruelest whenever those years came about.

This though? This had to be a fucking joke.

The others had already been on edge about the mission, as you and your partner didn't exactly have the best relationship. There'd been several attempts to switch things around so that threat would be eliminated, but ultimately they'd proven fruitless. So, with great reluctance they went along with it, though Deimos had been particularly adamant on you all meeting back up as soon as possible. He'd been especially antsy and anxious as the mission had drawn ever closer, voicing the most concerns and posing the most questions to you. He wasn't the greatest at hiding his worries when it came to those he considered close, you admired that about him.

It was almost funny with how right he'd been to worry about it. Not only had there been far ore agents and mags than expected, there was also jack shit worth taking. Obviously, this had been some sort of trap in an attempt to catch you all off guard. It'd worked, evidently, just not in the way they'd probably expected. At some point or another, it was decided you all had to get out and go. Sanford was far too injured to continue on, 2b was too stressed to think straight, and you and Hank had the luck of getting trapped on the other side of base.

You didn't exactly feel too surprised when you'd been yanked up by the back of your shirt and thrown into the back of a truck, door slamming shut seconds after. You could see a hoard of agents and mags alike nearing closer, unable to tear your gaze away from them even as your partner got in the driver's seat. There was a bit of commotion from them, barking into the comms. about needing to get out and go. You were still too distracted even when they'd begun to speed off, and far too distracted to hear Deimos' confused shouting get cut.

You could tell it was coming, somewhere in between all the pre-existing stress and dread. It was like your own version of getting a headache shortly before it storms, except all it did was tell you you'd be royally fucked for the next day or few. It was always a little too hard for you to decipher exactly how long it would be, a little too fuzzy of a reading for you to say anything accurate on the matter. All you could tell was that it was coming soon, it wouldn't stop just for your less than friendly company.

-

Three days. You'd been stuck driving out here for three days now.

Originally, the plan was to drive off until the agents would give up, turn around, and go back to base to find the others. It'd started off easy enough, the agents chasing after you seeming to lose interest in the hunt after a good while, turning and leaving. You weren't sure why at the moment, but the action had shifted something uncomfortably in your chest. It just felt too easy, too convenient.

You'd soon figured it out when the storm had started to kick in. It didn't seem too bad at first, a minor inconvenience that drew a little grumble and a lean forward in their seat from your companion. Then, it'd worsened and worsened. By this point, neither of you knew where you were. Sure, the anti-aahw had been all over Nevada- but that was just of the Nevada they knew about. It wouldn't be far fetched to suggest you'd both gotten turned around and were now god knows where.

Eventually, it was decided there was no progress that could be made here. You'd both have to either hope for a place to stay or that the car wouldn't fair too uncomfortably. Which, considering the lack of space in it and you with far too little energy to get into an argument, the first would be the blessing of the two. It wasn't too long until your quiet prayers from the back seat had been answered, the faintest of outlines among the storm showing some form of shelter. You could already feel exhaustion settling in, far too quickly for your own comfort. By the time Hank had pulled over to walk in, he'd had to reach into the backseat and tug you by the collar of your shirt with an impatient noise, a gentle encouragement laced with the threat of dragging you out.

You were sure you couldn't have pulled your legs further to your chest than you already had. Your spine was already beginning to set with soon-to-be-aches and cramps as you curled into yourself. You'd attempted to keep yourself as taut as possible, not wanting to look as pathetic as you felt in that moment, half-shaking on the cold hard floor of some abandoned complex. Hank had gone off a while ago, leaving you in the lobby to go look for a room to stay in- a room for him to stay in.

You'd lost track of time, too focused on trying to keep it all together as your mind threatened to go blank and shut down. It was the worst when it was like this, where you could only lay and hope for exhaustion to kick you into sleep at one point or another. Your limbs all felt heavy with weight, uncomfortable with just how impossible it seemed to move them. Every part of your body felt locked up, stuck and stiff how it was when you'd dropped down to the floor. You were at least glad you'd fallen to face the door, able to see the snow falling from your position.

Sure, it was the cause of your current estrangement. Yes, it meant you were stuck with the man who hated your guts with a burning passion. Despite all that, it was still pretty. It was surreal to see the sky something other than a burning red, though that oddness was fully welcomed if it meant a break from that damned color.

You'd been snapped out of your daze by a light nudge to your back, you attempted to summon up a sound of acknowledgement- coming up with nothing. The lack of a response earned another, rougher nudge, shoving against your spine uncomfortably. You'd jumped away from the contact with a little mix of a whine and hiss, head jerking back to meet the eyes of your 'assailant.' Red lenses met your gaze, looming over you from your place on the ground.

"Get off the floor and come with me," it wasn't a request. He'd always been especially bossy with you, a little colder and more detached from you. It didn't take a genius to tell he was on less than stellar terms with you.

You didn't have time to stagger up onto your feet, a hand finding its way to the collar of your shirt to yank you up once more. The world spun around you in a haze as you stumbled forward, attempting to re-balance yourself as best as you could in the short breath you were given. Apparently, it hadn't worked well, you ending up crashing into Hank in the process. He'd barely stirred at the movement, still as a statue despite your disturbance. Distantly, you'd noticed how his hands had moved to your back, keeping you upright. You'd also noticed how they weren't a bruising grip on your form-

"....walk?"

You'd blinked. You had no clue what he'd even asked, did he ask anything in the first place? I mean, you could've totally just imagined it. Maybe you were just dreaming already, it happens sometimes..

"I don't ask questions just for you to not answer. Can you walk?"

You'd opened your mouth to speak, shutting it shortly after. Your tongue was like lead in your mouth and your voice seemed to have gone for a walk. You weren't going to play the chances of you not answering again. Instead, you'd simply given a little nod. He was..surprisingly warm, in all honesty. You found yourself leaning further into him, unconsciously nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck.

He seemed satisfied by the answer, giving a little grunt of acknowledgement before pulling away. You'd caught yourself before you'd fallen, sleep snapping from you momentarily again as reality came back. By the time you found some sort of feelings in your legs again, he was already down the hall, not waiting for you by any means. You were grateful for the little burst of energy that'd found you, stumbling after him quickly.

You were reaching for his arm before you could really even process it, holding onto him once more in a moment of unconscious indulgence. You missed the little curious glance he gave you, and the way he'd pulled his arm (and subsequently you) a little closer to him. Admittedly, you leaning onto him so much did force him to slow down a bit, much to his chagrin. He didn't make any comment about it though. You didn't either, happy to just stay close as you just barely stayed awake enough to continue walking with him.

-

The mattress felt far more comfortable than the floor.

"Better than laying on tile, isn't it?" Came the sarcastic question.

Nevermind, fuck this mattress.

You'd given a little hum, stirring a bit as you got comfortable. You were still curled up as small as you could, some sort of attempt to salvage what little heat you had. The thin fleece blankets didn't offer much relief from the elements, serving more as an empty pressure laying on you. Despite that though, it seemed you were given some mercy, as you were just edging into unconsciousness.

"I'll be in the next room over so don't be loud, alright?"

You'd nodded slowly. There was a pause. There was an abnormally long pause, to be exact. After a few breaths you could hear the clinking of metal and the shuffling of cloth. Curiously, you'd poked your head up, looking at the man over your shoulder in confusion. He'd met your gaze, pausing for the briefest of moments as he tugged his jacket off.

"What're you doin?..." you'd managed, words slurring together drearily.

He'd given a short 'tsk,' continuing his previous ministrations as he answered. "What I'm doing is making sure you don't go into some little coma on me, I'm not carrying your ass around if you pass out that hard. That's on you."

You'd given a little displeased hum at his words, narrowing your eyes slightly at him. He didn't react. Laying your head back down, you'd sighed in some sort of content, peaceful enough in the deteriorating room. You could feel yourself falling asleep, thought slipping from you as you finally found some sot of rest.

Just before you really fell unconscious though, you could feel the weight of a jacket being draped over you. You could've sworn you felt a hand settle on your arm for a moment, tracing a few shapes and lines idly before reluctantly pulling away. You were so sure you heard the faintest of 'Goodnight,'s before the door clicked shut. You could have just been hearing things or dreaming them up, though. You'd just have to ask him about it in the morning.

[obae-me]

Hi! It said requests were open so here is one. So pretty much how the brothers would react to an MC who says "I love you" after they had helped them with something. Thats something I do regularly, like someone helps them and they respond with "Oh my gosh I love you, thank you so much!" Cause. Affection. Idk, i just found the idea to be cute.

This is such a cute idea! I hope I pulled it off okay, for some reason Belphie’s is a bit angsty because I like pain I guess, but most of it is fluff! Thank you for your suggestion! 💜

Lucifer

He openly admitted it caught him off guard at first. What he will never admit is how harshly the air escaped from his lungs. Or how quickly his mind went blank at the words. 

He had simply brought MC some tea, noticing how hard they had been studying. Working day and night to try to catch up and understand topics demons themselves had spent decades learning. He was proud of them for working so hard. He settled the tea down by them, watching them beam with appreciation. 

“Is that for me?” 

Their question elicited an amused hum from him. “Is there anyone else in here?” 

They wrapped their fingers around it excitedly, entirely grateful. “Ugh, thank you, I love you, I needed this.” 

He had been lucky he settled the teacup down before they spoke. Had it remained in his hands, he most assuredly would’ve dropped it, or spilt the contents at the very least. He was not prepared at all. They hadn’t been down here nearly long enough to fall in love with him, right? Was he that alluring? He must’ve done something wrong, he was sure he had been focused solely on being intimidating. He didn’t remember doing anything in particular to elicit such a response. He was flattered, but...maybe--surely-- he had heard incorrectly. 

“You…” He blinked a few times as he shoved his emotions into the back of his mind, the silent screaming in his head muffled by his usual calm exterior. “..love me?”

MC covered their mouth with their hands, recognizing his confusion no matter how hard he tried to hide it. “No, no!” 

Well now he was a bit irritated, and secretly disappointed even. Were they playing a joke on him? 

They stammered and turned more in their seat to look at him. “What I mean is, I just kinda use the term ‘I love you’ as a general term, not an…” They blushed, “..intimate one. I say it all the time to people, I’m really sorry for confusing you. I’ll try not to say it as casually.” 

It was a bit unusual to hear something like that thrown around so often, it reminded him of his days in the Celestial Realm, love thrown around at the drop of a hat. The Devildom was a lot less...affectionate. He shook his head, any sign of his surprise now completely gone from view. “Don’t change a harmless habit like that for me, I just wasn’t expecting it. I’ll know now for the future.” 

It takes him quite a while to get used to it, taking every ounce of concentration not to blush whenever MC says that they love him. Once he does get used to it, he’s fond of it and may or may not continually go out of his way to perform some simple gesture to encourage them to say it to him more often. It takes even longer after that for him to finally respond with “I love you too” making them stop dead in their tracks, heart fluttering, mouth ajar, much like he did that first day when he brought them a simple cup of tea. He relished the look on their face.

How such a human stirred up these feelings within him is beyond his understanding. 

Mammon 

He was an open mess when MC first expressed it to him. He’d done what? Just find a pretty rock on the ground? It was shiny and smooth, surely worth a fortune, but when he went to see how much it was worth, it was declared utterly worthless. So he gave it to MC--but only because it was useless okay?! It’s not like he likes MC or anything, that’s not what this is about. Obviously.

He handed it over, acting casual, like it was nothing. Their eyes lit up at it, watching it glint mesmerizing colors in the moonlight, reacting like it might as well have been a diamond. “Whaaat, it’s so cool, I love you, thank you!” 

“Don’t say I never do anything for-” It had taken a few seconds to process, but once he realized the words that had come out of their mouth, he went frozen. Rigid. His other brothers might’ve called it a miracle. His jaw was open, his glasses had somehow slipped to the end of his nose, threatening to fall off. He didn’t even blink.

“I’m sorry, I guess demons aren’t quite used to that huh? I use it as a friendly term, I used to say it to my friends all the time back home.” 

He was still as stone for a good long time, gradually building up the concern in MC’s chest the more he was reactionless. Had they broken him? Once he finally gathered his one erratic brain cell in order, it was like someone hit a sudden unpause. He quickly puffed out his chest with both his hands on his hips. The explanation they gave him went in through one ear and out the other, as he was still focused on the ‘I love you’. 

“Don’t freak me out like that, human, but of- of course if you were to love someone, it’d be me, eh? I don’t blame you, it would be hard to resist the Great Mammon.” 

He’ll get a big head about it, strutting around, bragging to anyone who would listen--not that he gave them a say on the matter--that MC expressed they loved him. Doesn’t matter if there were romantic intentions or not, MC loved him, and he wouldn’t let it go. He’ll ignore the fact that MC will say that to most anyone.

“Yeah, well, when they say that about me, it’s different!” Or he’ll put on an act. “Yeah? Not like I care about some dumb human!” 

The more he takes time to know MC, the more possessive he acts, and he gets a little bent out of shape anytime MC says ‘I love you’ so casually to anyone other than him. Mostly because he’s greedy for it, he wants those words to be his and his alone. He wants MC to be his...and his alone. 

“Oi, MC, you can’t just go saying that to anyone...It’s our thing...you know?” He’ll get endlessly teased about it by everyone in the household, but no matter how much he gets pestered about it, he still wants to hear MC say it.

Only if things get romantic between them, will he be vulnerable with MC. Whenever they’re alone, he’ll get in close, melting against MC’s touch. With MC he can feel these strange and addicting feelings. With his hidden insecurities coming to light, he’ll ask MC the same question every night. “You love me, right? Like...love love me?...I...love love you too.”

Levi 

MC had been convinced they gave the poor boy an actual heart attack. Although, to be perfectly fair, almost anything MC does puts Levi in a tizzy. It’s not their fault, he’s just sensitive. 

They had been playing games together, nothing too unusual. Together, MC and Levi, the Best Friend Duo, battled an intense match against other real players. It had been close, but with both of their talents combined (admittedly Levi doing a lot of impressive carrying) they managed to strike victorious. 

MC felt a rush, their head tingling a bit. They had been on the edge of their seat the whole time, positively exhilarated when they won. “Whoo! That was all thanks to you, Levi! I love you!” 

First, MC heard the controller clatter out of his hands. They turned to look at him, his face went completely red, his eyes flicking back and forth out of control, not focusing on anything in particular. He had a hand clutching over his chest. Then to add on top of that, he completely collapsed. 

“Levi!” MC’s shout was loud enough to bring some of his other brothers to check the commotion. After a short examination, they declared that Levi was fine, just dazed and lightheaded, although the color in his face refused to go away for quite some time. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, I meant it in a friendly way.” 

He’ll end up locking himself in his room for days on end after the event, trying to wrap his head around how ‘I love you’ and ‘friendly’ could ever be even remotely the same. That’s not how it’s supposed to go! It’s supposed to be like...like in fiction where both of the love interests are alone, finally having the chance to meet up under a pretty sky, possibly under strenuous circumstances beyond their control, inevitably forcing them to admit their feelings! 

He’ll get over it, he always does, but when he comes back he finds out MC now deliberately avoids saying ‘I love you’ to him. They meant it for his own safety, truly, but his Envy is now rubbing away at his normal shy personality. 

It'll get to the point where he can’t hold back anymore. “How come you tell everyone else you love them but me!” 

“Because last time...you collapsed, and then went MIA for almost a week! I didn’t want to hurt you anymore. Is this not what you wanted?”

He ends up using his arm to cover his burning face. “I...I...I...I…” After several more consecutive ‘I’s, Levi finally tells MC that he didn’t want to be treated differently, he wanted MC to tell him that they loved him too. “Because I...lo..lo...lov...I appreciate you, MC!” 

MC will chuckle a little, giving him one of his favorite headpats. “I love you too, Levi.” He doesn’t collapse this time, but feels his knees get a little weak. He refuses to remove his arm from his face because now there are fresh tears flooding from his eyes that he doesn’t want MC to see. He loves them too, so much his physical body can’t handle it. Even if he doesn’t have the courage yet to say it, he’ll tell them one day. 

Satan 

He’s quite angry with himself for how he reacted, which isn’t a huge surprise. He does wish he would’ve handled it better, but he had no idea those three words would be sprung on him so suddenly. 

He’s usually quite down to earth, but not even the many romance novels he’s read--and if you tell anyone that he reads gushy romance novels, he will kill you--had prepared him for this. Where was the buildup, the slow rising passion before the eventual confession? Despite occasional temper tantrums and pranking tendencies, he’s truly an old soul. He’s a ‘my dearest, shall we take a stroll, and perhaps, should our shoulders brush, would you permit me a show of boldness, of passion, I dream for the day our fingers intertwine’ kinda guy. So MC’s ‘I love you’ was many chapters early for him. 

He’d crossed paths with MC near the front door to the House of Lamentation. MC had just gotten back from RAD, being kept by Diavolo himself. Every one and a while, after classes, Diavolo personally checks up on them to discuss the program. Meanwhile, the demon of wrath was just on his way out, a full stack of books in his arms. 

“Hey, Satan, where’re you off to?” MC attempted to catch his gaze behind the many tomes stacked against his chest. 

“Ah, off to return these books back to the Library.” Some hair fell before his face, but with the absence of free hands, he utilized a puff of air from his mouth to blow the strands away. 

“I see, be safe then, love you!” 

The words caught him off guard, and with his focus distracted, his foot caught against an unfortunate crack in the pathway. He tumbled, the books in his arms scattering themselves all over the front yard. MC turned and attempted to help, but with Satan’s panicked scramble, he ended up smacking his head against MC’s. 

“My-uh-apologies-I-” He stuttered while he frantically tried picking up the books, only to have some continue to slip from his arms. 

“Here, use my bag,” MC opened the backpack that had been around their shoulders. It was already full of some textbooks and assignments, but it was enough to lessen some of the struggle. He gave them a small thank you as he slung the bag over his shoulder, the remaining stragglers tucked under his arm. He waited till MC went back into the house, and then he angrily tore the front gate off its hinges. He looked like such an idiot just now. 

He knows MC means not much of it other than general affection, once he thinks about it. Alongside Lucifer, anytime MC now says it, he’ll act unaffected by it. The truth is, the never ending rage burning beside him magically subsides anytime those words fall from their lips. 

If he works softly and intelligently enough, perhaps he’ll have forged a tight enough bond where MC can say it for real, and the fire in his soul can find some peace. 

Asmo

Honestly, despite his over dramatizations and flamboyant nature, he’s the least affected out of all the brothers. Trust him, he’s had plenty of demons try to crawl their way back to him after a night of fun, insisting that they’re in love with him. So, he’s heard it a lot, and it’s not his favorite. That being said, he discovered that MC is probably the only one he’ll tolerate the dreaded L word with. 

He’d sat there, working on MC’s nails, giving them one of his—as he calls it—Asmo-tastic manicures. MC appreciates the pampering, even if Asmo uses it mostly as an excuse to hold hands and get close to the human. 

When Asmo was complete, MC looked down at their newly soft hands with beautifully decorated nails, feeling a bit closer to the demons now that they had matching manicures. “It’s beautiful, Asmo, I love you, thanks!”

His chest did flutter a bit, and he let out a stream of giddy giggles as he pressed MC into him for a hug. “MC, you’re so cute, I can’t take it!” 

He had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t use the words ‘I love you’ ever, no matter what, but if MC was using it so casually, why can’t he, it didn’t mean much of anything right? He quickly turns a 180 on the idea, and says it as often to MC as he can. 

“Bye, MC, love you, dear! You’re wearing the outfit I gave you? I love you!” But his new form of affection is now not just centered towards the human, it’s now directed towards his brothers as well. No one is safe. “You’re giving me this, Lucifer? I love you! Beel, a snack for me? I love you!” 

He’s such a hype man, and the affection spreading throughout the House of Lamentation by his and MC’s hand is infectious. Even if they don’t mean to, simply Asmo’s added influence has the brothers saying ‘I love you’ to each other more often, which has led to plenty of entertaining moments. Mammon said it once to Lucifer on accident, which admittedly filled the eldest with a bit of pride, especially at seeing Mammon’s mortified face. Beel and Belphie have no problem saying it between themselves, although it leaves them softer than they had been in a while. But perhaps the most shocking of them all was when Lucifer sleepily mumbled it to Satan, who then parroted it back to him without thinking. Both were a bit flustered, but Satan was so angry about it he wanted to tear both Lucifer’s and his own tongue out. The two refuse to talk about it, but they were both a little softer to each other that week. 

But why are we talking about the others? This should be all about Asmo! You know how when someone continually says something out of irony after a while they end up speaking it unironically? That’s what was happening to Asmo, much to his confusion and unfortunately his fear. He had never...loved someone before, not in a romantic way, it was too much commitment, it was too much...emotion. But the more he continued telling MC he loved them...the more he started to believe it. The more he noticed the little things about them that he couldn’t get enough of. So one day, he stopped saying ‘I love you’ altogether.

MC met with him in private, concerned over his new out of character action. “Asmo? What’s wrong, I noticed you’ve been...distant, which isn’t like you.” 

Of course they would notice, they always did. “Oh...MC...I…” For once, he was actually shy, covering up his own beautiful face to hide, an incomprehensible action. He could barely speak, he was so...scared? “MC I think...I...I think I love you.”

Beel 

He was second place in the ‘staying calm’ category when MC said it. He’s a family man, loving those around him is in his nature. So hearing MC say those words, he merely took it as a family thing, and he was all too happy to bring MC into the family. 

He noticed MC had been looking just a bit run down, and so, he shared a single snack with them. They practically glowed, looking up at him with a heart-melting smile. “Thanks Beel, I love you, thank you!” 

Suddenly the food he was eating tasted ten times better, and he had been fully convinced for a while that it was some magic spell MC put on him. He almost ends up crying. Honestly, it’s been such a long time since he’s heard words like those. He didn’t realize how starved he was for affection. He pulls them into a tight hug that lasts for several minutes. He let them go eventually, but only because he needed hands to eat. He continued to scarf down the mouth-watering food, although the ache in his stomach wasn’t as pronounced as it had been. 

He ends up giving MC a little snack anytime they say ‘I love you’, because he finds them adorable, and his way of reciprocating affection is with food. He loves MC immensely, so it’s only natural he shares his favorite things with them. Only, he was unaware that he was more or less training MC and himself by doing this. In fact, it was unbeknownst to everyone save Satan, who is very aware of what Pavlov’s Theory is. Satan doesn’t say anything though, he wants to see how this plays out. 

The more MC says ‘I love you’ the more they get rewarded by Beel, and the demon has now conditioned himself by associating food with MC’s tenderness and endearment. MC steadily increases the time they spend with the demon of gluttony, almost stuck to his side as often as Belphie. MC finds they can’t help but smother him with love and affection, which Beel can’t get enough of since gluttony is his sin. And Beel discovered that he always has some sort of treat on hand that he refuses to touch because it’s MC’s. 

The day MC finally caught on was the day Satan finally intervened. He himself spent some private time with MC, and, much like Beel had for a while now, he gave MC an unsolicited treat. 

They hardly looked at him as they instinctively stated, “I love you!” Then ended up pausing for a long time. Satan teased them mercilessly before he explained, and MC felt their entire body grow hot with embarrassment. However, they took this opportunity to do something for Beel in return. They prepared a big meal for him, texting him to bring him down into the dining room, just for the two of them. His eyes grew wide at the sight of the banquet, but for once, his first instinct wasn’t to eat. He wrapped MC tightly in his arms, tears almost streaming down his face. MC’s presence seemed to satiate him almost as well as a twelve course meal. 

“I love you, MC! I love you so much!” 

Belphie

As shocking as it is, Belphie reacted the most severely. Which if you actually take the time to think about it, probably isn’t that surprising at the end of the day. It was the last thing he expected to hear, especially after everything that happened. 

All he had done was run into MC in the hall. Lucifer had called Light’s Out and anyone who didn’t want to be punished would be heading straight to bed. Since he sleeps all day, he was fairly awake at this hour, not to mention recently he had felt annoyingly restless. Finally free to roam the house like he wished left him wandering and wanting. There was still something he needed, but he wasn’t sure what. MC stepped past him to get to their room, already looking exhausted, a large yawn escaping their lungs. 

“Heading to bed?” They asked him, and he still found it difficult to bring his eyes up to theirs. 

“Maybe soon.” He acted nonchalant. 

MC rubbed their eyes, gently touching his shoulder as they passed. “Okay, love ya, get some good rest.” 

He was grateful MC had immediately walked into their room, because he wasn’t prepared for how extreme his body would react. He found the energy upholding his legs went missing, and he had to lean against the closest wall to keep from crumpling to the ground. He continued to try to trick himself into believing he didn’t care. They were a human, he didn’t care, why would he care? Why should he feel guilty for everything he’d done? He was a demon, a monster, he’d embraced that when he fell, or he thought he did. But...being around MC...it made him feel like he was back in the Celestial Realm, filled with hope, with love, something he was sure he’d never truly feel again. 

He recalled before the inevitable fall what his dear sister had told him before his life had been shattered before his eyes. “Remember Belphie, I love you.” 

He couldn’t hold himself up any longer, clutching his pillow to his chest as the hole in his heart he had filled with sleep and anger crumbled away. He pressed his face deep into the fluff of the cushion as he sobbed. His heart felt like it was stinging like wounds often do when they’re cleaned and healing. It hurt. It threatened to break him. He had tried avoiding feelings. How could MC be so nice to him after everything? What had he done to deserve it? 

Beel, influenced by the magical connected emotions to his twin, left everything he had been eating behind to come get him immediately. The intense pounding in his chest worried him to no end, he needed to find Belphie now. He found the demon of sloth curled up on the floor of the hallway, convulsing and shaking from violently crying. Beel hated seeing his beloved brother like this, but on the inside he was secretly thankful. He knew Belphie couldn’t keep acting like nothing mattered, it wasn’t healthy. He was finally coming to terms with everything, opening the door to finally, after all this time, being able to move on. 

The next time the human sees the youngest brother, they see that he’s a little more aware, maybe not quite awake, but mindful of the people around him. For once, he talks about what he’s going to do in the future, looking forward instead of repeating broken events of the past. He finds that being around MC, if they’ll let him, helps the feeling in his ribs hurt a bit less, that the personality he thought had been locked up was starting to escape. Life itself matters a bit more than it used to. He has to be ready though, because he can’t afford to cry in front of his brothers the next time MC tells him ‘I love you’. Even if they think nothing by it, it means more than the world to him. But as always, he’ll act apathetic about it. 

He’s working on it though, and all because MC showed him a bit of kindness despite his unforgivable actions. All he needed was a bit of love.

[onecanonlife]

Wilbur wakes up one morning to find white in his hair. This is—irritating, for several reasons, but that’s all it is. An annoyance. A distraction.

There’s nothing deeper at work here. There’s nothing wrong at all.

(Or, the stresses of the presidency give Wilbur a white streak of hair earlier in canon, and somehow, this serves as the cry for help he can never bring himself to make.)

(word count: 6,249)

(first part) (third part) (fourth part)

——————–

Part Two

He tries to pen a letter to Phil. It’s more difficult than he remembers.

Dear Phil, he starts, and that’s good, that’s fine. All is well here in L’Manberg, he continues, and that’s good too. But from there, he’s stumped. What next? What does he tell him about? This is the part where he’d launch into a cute story, something Fundy got up to, or some trouble Tommy caused. But nothing comes to mind. Nothing recent, anyway. But the last letter he sent to Phil was—a month ago? Two, now? So he needs to write, because Phil’s far from a helicopter parent, but he still likes to know what he’s up to. Will still worry, if he gives him a reason to.

So, he needs to finish a letter. Needs to stop procrastinating.

He could write about Niki’s bakery. He can’t remember if he told Phil about it or not. He probably hasn’t, not if it’s truly been that long since his last missive. So he sets his pen to work, scratching out a few more sentences, and he reminds himself that he doesn’t need to be overly verbose. Phil doesn’t need an essay. Just a paragraph or two to assure him that he and everyone else are well, that he’s having fun, that he’s thriving.

Telling him about the bakery will work for that. Except, then, after a bit, he ends up writing, It eases my mind to visit. Truly, it’s one of the only places I let myself relax, and—no. No, that won’t do. That will make him sound as though he’s stressed, and he doesn’t want Phil to worry about that. There’s nothing Phil can do about it, and he couldn’t stand it if the admission led his father to think any less of him. He’s not going to—to start complaining to him. That would be ridiculous.

So he scratches the line out and continues on, except then, he writes, I worry that I’m shirking my responsibilities, but then, I’m probably doing that anyway, simply by virtue of not being, and he stops before he can finish that sentence, because, no. Simply, no. He is absolutely not telling Phil that.

He bites his lip. He’s already scratched out enough that he’ll probably need to start an entirely new draft anyway.

He sets the tip of the pen to paper.

I’m exhausted, he writes, but my mind won’t allow me to rest. Too many shadows in too many dark corners, I suppose. Too many thoughts circling. It’s like a hurricane in my head, and I should be in the eye, but I think the storm wall has caught me. I’m tossing in the air, at the wind’s mercy, and I’m afraid of what will happen when I fall.

I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know why I ever assumed that I did. And I feel afraid, because my inadequacies are failing everyone around me. I have to protect them, have to keep them safe, but sometimes I close my eyes and see everything aflame, or I see Dream and his friends flooding into the Final Control Room. We were betrayed, there. I’ve never told you this, but we all lost a life. Me, Tommy, Tubbo, and Fundy. I couldn’t do a thing to stop it. Somehow, I never thought that dying would be terrifying for me, considering who my mother is, but it is. I was so scared, and I still am.

I think I’m a disappointment. I think that if this country fails, it will be my fault, and it will only be right if I go down with it. My people have little faith in me, and they’re right not to, but I can’t bring myself to step down, because at the end of the day, I’m addicted to the power and responsibility. I’m nothing without it. If I can’t manage this, then how can I deserve the trust and faith that others have placed in me?

Most days, I think that everyone hates me. Most days, I think they’re right to do so. I can’t trust anyone. Not completely, not fully, no matter how much I love them. I feel very alone.

He stops writing. Reads it over. Feels his lips quirk up into a wry smile. He’s certainly not sending that.

But the smile fades away after a moment. He supposes that he hoped writing it all out would make him feel better, but if anything, he feels more tired. Drained. Wrung out. Blank.

He fishes around for a new, unmarred sheet of paper.

Dear Phil, he writes, All is well here in L’Manberg. The city is thriving, and my people are well. I really do want you to visit sometime—but not yet, of course! We’ve been having a spot of trouble with creeper holes lately, and I don’t want that to be your first impression. Between you and me, it’s just a little bit embarrassing.

It’s been a while since I last wrote. I do apologize for that; I don’t know where the time goes. There’s always so much to be doing, and I’m more and more thankful for this chance every day. It’s a lot of fun, having a country of our own, and we’re all working to make it as good as it can be. You should see Niki’s bakery—you haven’t tasted heaven until you’ve tasted something Niki’s baked, I swear. She’s a goddess, really, an essential pillar of our society. Baked goods make the world go round.

Tommy and Tubbo are well, and getting into just as much trouble as usual. Fundy grows up more and more every day. I’m so proud of them all.

Be careful of undead infants, and tell Technoblade I said hello, if you get the chance.

All love,

Wilbur

He sets down his pen and rereads. He’s satisfied with that, and more importantly, Phil will be as well. Now all that’s left is to let the ink dry and—

“Hey, boss man,” Tubbo says, opening the door to his office without knocking. He startles, violently. “How’re things coming?”

His heart shouldn’t be racing. It’s just Tubbo. But he came in without warning, which is—irritating. It’s irritating. That’s what it is. He feels himself flushing, just slightly, but surely it’s annoyance.

“There’s a lot of ‘things’ you could be referring to,” he says. “Are you going to be a little more specific?”

“Nah,” Tubbo says, meandering further into the room. But it’s not a regular meander, it’s a Tubbo sort of meander, which means that he’s here for a purpose. He just doesn’t want to reveal it just yet, or perhaps he’s figuring out how he wants to approach it. “Just wanted to know about general things. Big, vast things. Deep things.”

“Deep things,” he repeats, nodding. “Not much of that going on at the moment. Not a lot of deep things in paperwork.” He pulls the nearest sheet of paper closer to him; technically, that’s what he ought to be doing, not writing letters to a father that’s worlds away. He scans the words; it looks like something complicated about trade, something that sets his head to pounding already. The words swim, like they’re dancing, like they’re taking glee in the way he can’t comprehend them.

“I thought there were lots of deep things in paperwork,” Tubbo says, and he looks back up. “I thought that’s why the print is always so small.”

“Maybe,” he says.

“It makes sense to me,” Tubbo says. “Wilbur, is your hair really white?”

He freezes. “What?”

“Niki said that your hair is turning white,” Tubbo says. “Like an old man’s.”

Anger flares. He thought—he didn’t like that she found out about it, but he at least thought he could trust her with it. Thought that she would keep it to herself, that she wouldn’t let it spread to others, to others that might take it and try to use it as a knife to his jugular. But here is Tubbo, and Tubbo is so obviously staring at his hair, eyes flicking across his forehead and around his ears, and he won’t see anything. He double-checked when he arrived at the office; all of the white is under his hat. But he doesn’t like that Tubbo is looking, that Tubbo is actively trying to see, that Tubbo is treating him like some kind of curiosity, and that Tubbo surely must have some sort of opinion and that opinion cannot be anything but—

“Niki said that hair can turn grey or white if a person is very stressed,” Tubbo says, casually. “Are you very stressed, Wilbur?”

Oh—oh, fuck. Is that actually a thing that happens?

“I told her, it was a bad dye job,” he mutters, glancing back down at his paper. The words remain incomprehensible, but he’s not focusing on it. He nudges his pen with his finger, latching onto the light clicking sound it makes as it rolls and then comes to rest.

“Yeah?” Tubbo asks doubtfully. “What, were you trying to dye your hair white?”

He grits his teeth. “Was there something you needed, Tubbo?”

“Nothing I needed, really,” Tubbo answers. “I just wanted to see how you’ve been doing. Seems like forever since you came out of this office. Do you live in here now or something?” He keeps talking before Wilbur can reply, which is just as well, since he might as well live here, considering the state of his room. “And I think I’ve got a new design for a TNT cannon. Kind of streamlined, you might say, if you wanted to check it out. But I think you should just come and hang out with me and Tommy sometime. You never really do that anymore.”

He has a few feelings about TNT cannons. He doesn’t think about TNT too often, because when he does, his mind fills with fire and smoke, and his heart starts beating faster, climbing into his throat, and he wants to run, wants to run far and fast and away, wants to sit and shake until his body can’t move anymore, even when he knows very well that nothing around him is exploding, that his country is secure and his friends are safe. But some days, he can’t so much as smell smoke without a memory rising up to overwhelm him.

Once, he found himself zoning out in the middle of a conversation, a nearby campfire taking him far away from himself, and be barely returned in time to cover for his lapse.

He’s not a fan of TNT cannons, and he can’t bring himself to pretend to be, not even for the sake of Tubbo’s enthusiasm. And—

Hanging out with him and Tommy sounds nice. He misses them, he admits, and some part of him misses the old days, the first days and weeks and months on the server, when it was them and a dream and his fingers dancing on the frets of his guitar, his voice strong and steady and hopes high on the wind, words ready at his lips and Tommy a force of chaos at his back and Tubbo clever and quick by his side, and he just—misses it. Misses them. Misses it all, misses the days before so much was riding on his shoulders.

But he hasn’t the time.

“I’m sorry, Tubbo,” he says, and tries on a smile. “I’m a bit busy right now. Take a rain check?”

“Sure,” Tubbo says, and shrugs. “Later, then. You say that a lot, though, do you know that?”

He winces. Tubbo smiles. He means no harm. Probably. He thinks he would know if Tubbo meant him harm.

And then, Tubbo leaves, and the tension leaves him all in a rush, leaving him—exhausted. Exhausted, and near tears, for some reason, but he blinks those back. That can wait. He doesn’t cry in his office. That’s unprofessional; anyone could walk in on him, and then where would he be?

What was he doing before Tubbo came in?

Right. The letter. He glances it over, scoops it up, and tucks it away in an envelope. He’ll chuck it at the next crow he sees.

---

It’s Tommy who barges in next, a day later, though at least this time, he’s somewhat expecting it. Because if Tubbo knows, then Tommy knows. That is simply the way of the world. He has a difficult time imagining anything ever coming between those two, even information that would be better kept to oneself.

“Why the fuck is Tubbo going on about your hair, then?” Tommy says, with no preamble, and despite himself, Wilbur smiles. That’s Tommy, all the subtlety of a charging bull. And the question is just as irritating as it was yesterday when it came from Tubbo, but he’s more prepared for it this time. He looks up from his work—work that he’s actually doing, at the moment, and he feels rather proud of himself for it—and meets Tommy’s gaze squarely.

“I’ve had an unfortunate encounter with some hair dye,” he says. “The hair dye won.”

“What the fuck?” Tommy says, but there’s already a laugh in his eyes. Good. Tommy is fairly easily deflected, he’s learned. Because Tommy looks up to him, he knows, and that means he’ll willfully look away from any evidence suggesting that perhaps he is not worthy of admiration after all.

It makes him sick, the way he’s thinking about it. Makes him feel like he’s using Tommy, somehow, taking advantage of his affection, when really, that’s the last thing he wants to do. Tommy is his little brother, his little brother by choice, by years spent on the road together, by hushed conversations in the dead of night as the stars bear witness, by all the little intricacies they’ve learned about each other as time continues to pass. Tommy is his little brother, which means it’s his job to protect him, as best he can. He’s done a piss-poor job of that lately. Tommy only has one life left now.

So he can’t fail him again. And perhaps it’s selfish of him, but he doesn’t want Tommy to think he’s failed, either. If it ever turns out that Tommy hates him, he thinks it might kill him.

“Can I see?” Tommy asks, and he prepared for this, too, braced for it. With a long-suffering sigh, he sweeps his hat off his head and angles his face forward, letting Tommy take a good look.

“Satisfied?” he asks.

“Holy shit,” Tommy says. “How the fuck did you manage that?”

“Very impressively,” he says, and puts his hat back on. He’s sure to tuck all the white back under it. It’s a practiced motion, by now. “Or perhaps not very impressively, as it were.”

“Well, it looks sick,” Tommy says, and Wilbur glances at him immediately. He doesn’t seem like he’s lying. He seems almost—impressed? But he sees him looking right away, and immediately backtracks. “Sick as in disgusting, obviously. It makes you look old. Like an old, old man.”

Tommy’s joking, of course, is all bluster and smoke, no fire. But something in his chest stings, and he realizes that the words hurt, and more than that, they hurt because it’s an echo of what he tells himself. He doesn’t like to look in the mirror anymore—though he never did to begin with, actually—but he is well aware of what he looks like. The white hair is just one more symbol of his failing faith, his lack of ability to handle the job that he set himself out to take in the first place. He should be able to do this, and yet, he can’t, and the white hair—well.

After what Tubbo said, it can only mean that he’s weak. Physical proof of his incompetence. That’s really the only way to look at it.

“Shut the fuck up, child,” he says. “Why don’t you go and find a juice box to drink?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Tommy says, and the song and dance is familiar. Tommy rolls his eyes at him—the disrespect in this house is unbelievable—but he turns to go, and that means that Wilbur’s won.

What he’s won, he doesn’t know. Some more self-disgust, maybe. That’s what it feels like.

Lying to Niki. Lying to Tubbo. And now, lying to Tommy. What a stunning specimen of humanity he is. Working through them all like he has a checklist.

And then, Tommy stops in the doorway and looks back.

“Wilbur?” he asks. “You really are alright, aren’t you?”

And that gives him pause. Tommy’s not supposed to ask him that question. If anything, he’s the one who’s supposed to be asking Tommy that.

“It’s just that,” Tommy continues, “I don’t see you around so much, these days. Except for when there’s a problem, and you come out to try and solve it with, with your words and shit. Diplomatic shit, innit? You do that, but you don’t just—you never come to just spend time with us anymore, like how it used to be. And I just sort of miss that, you know? So I was thinking that maybe we could try and do that again, sometime soon? Just, hanging out, like the good old days?”

The good old days.

He doesn’t quite have the heart to tell Tommy that the good old days are long over, that they have been long over since the day Sapnap came to arrest them all for starting a drug empire and the forest around them was set ablaze, since the day they declared independence from the Dream SMP, since the day he in all his naivety declared that all they had to do was ignore the conflict and it would pass them by, since the day he was proven so very, very wrong. Since the day he learned that as much as he values his words, his diplomacy, his efforts toward nonviolence, some people only recognize power in iron and steel.

Since the day he watched his men, his comrades, his family die around him, and knew that he led them to that fate. Since the day Tommy traded his life and then his discs for their independence, and he knew that he couldn’t do a thing to help.

The good old days are long gone. The good old days belong to a different version of him, one that was young and hopeful and stupid, one that had no idea what he was getting into. And he likes to think that he’s still hopeful, that he still strives for a better future, but—

He’s learned. Nothing comes easy, here. There will be no more halcyon summers. The days are getting colder, and there will be no more rest.

“Sure,” he says, and this lie tastes far more bitter than all the rest. “I’d like that.” He gestures at his desk. “I’ve been really busy, but I would like to spend time with you. I’ll let you know when I can, alright?”

And Tommy believes him. He sees it in his answering smile, and he hates himself.

“Sounds good, big man,” Tommy says. “See you later then, yeah?”

“See you later,” Wilbur agrees, and then Tommy, too, is gone. He’s alone in his office, with his duties and his thoughts, and neither of them are kind.

Not that he thinks himself deserving of much kindness.

---

He waits two weeks before visiting the bakery again. It’s not completely intentional; he doesn’t have much time to get away anyhow. But part of it certainly is. He doesn’t want to come again so soon, doesn’t want to know how Niki’s going to look at him, doesn’t want her to poke and prod at something that isn’t important, that is a minor, irritating detail. He doesn’t want to discuss it, and he thinks that Niki might try, so he stays away.

But not forever. He can’t bring himself to take so drastic a step, even if his visits are a bit of a distraction. One that, perhaps, he can’t really afford.

So he steps inside and immediately wants to backtrack, because Niki’s not the only one here. Fundy and Jack Manifold are both sat at the counter, and both of them are looking at him now, having swiveled in their seats to watch his entrance. And that means he can’t leave, because if he leaves without saying anything, they’ll ask him why he did that, and he’ll have to make up something to avoid admitting that he’s been a little bit terrified of interacting with people lately. Because absolutely no one can know that.

Because it’s stupid. Pathetic. He’s pathetic, and he’s become quite accustomed to that word. It seems to live in his head now, like it’s made a nest in his brain, a little roost. Pathetic. Everything he does feels pathetic to him, and probably to everyone else around him.

“Oh,” Jack Manifold says. “Hi, Wilbur. Didn’t expect you in.”

Fundy doesn’t say anything. Just blinks at him, tail swishing. He finds that he doesn’t know what to say. But he needs to think of something, some reason for being here, and if he can manage it, some excuse for extricating himself quickly. The silence has gone on just a little too long, and he’s been standing in the doorway for a full five seconds now, and he needs to come in completely because it’s weird, what he’s doing, and they’re going to call him on it.

And then, Niki pops her head between the two of them, leaning far over the counter, resting practically all of her weight on it.

“Wil!” she says, and smiles. “I’m glad you came! I’m making honey bread, and I know you like that.”

And just like that, he relaxes. Not completely, but to ask that of him would be to expect the impossible. It’s enough.

“I do,” he agrees, and steps further in, letting the door close behind him. “Seems I have good timing.”

The tension in the air—imagined or real? He’s not sure—dissipates. Jack grins at him, raising a glass of—probably not alcohol? He doesn’t think Niki keeps alcohol stocked in here, or at least, none other than the cooking variety. Might be milk. And Fundy still doesn’t say anything, but his tail keeps twitching, and his eyes keep darting between him and the empty stool next to him, and he really hopes that’s an invitation, because that’s how he’s going to take it.

He slides onto the seat, letting his coat fall behind him. His hat, he keeps on. He’s not laying his face on the counter today. Not with other people here. He probably wouldn’t have anyway, tempting though it is. He always feels sleepier in here. It’s probably the warmth.

But he won’t fall asleep.

Niki’s gone back over to the ovens, inspecting her bread. He can smell it on the air, fresh and sweet, and his stomach twists. Has he eaten today? He’s not sure that he has. Though he definitely did yesterday—evening. He thinks. Definitely. A couple apple slices shoved in his mouth, swallowed without really tasting them. But it counts.

“What have you two been up to lately?” he asks. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Not too much,” Jack Manifold answers easily. “Mostly been hanging around Tommy and Tubbo. Getting into mischief, you might say. Nothing too serious or anything!” he is quick to add, seemingly remembering exactly who he’s talking to. “Nothing—I mean, nothing illegal, no, sir. Not us. But, you know, it’d probably be best not to share the details.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Fair enough,” he says. “As long as it’s not something that I’m going to have to clean up later.”

“We’ve already cleaned up,” Jack says.

“Good.” He looks at Fundy, and affection blooms in his chest, sudden, almost overpowering. His boy’s grown up of late. He can barely remember it happening. It seems that only yesterday he came up knee-high, and now, he’s a man in his own right. But still his little champion, always. “How about you? I know we haven’t been fishing yet. I’m sorry—you know that’s the first thing on my list when I finally get a bit of time.”

Fundy glances away. “I know,” he says. “I’ve been fine.”

“I’m glad,” he says, and Niki saves him from having to say anything else—though why he thinks of it as a rescue, he isn’t sure—by walking back over and placing some bread on the counter before them.

“Fresh from the oven,” she says, “so it’s hot. Be careful.”

It smells nothing short of divine. Niki smiles, pleased, as Fundy and Jack reach for a piece right away, and he isn’t far behind them. Though he tries to be a little more neat about it than the other two are being. The way they’re digging in, he’d think that they’re starving. Frankly, he can’t blame them for it, not when it’s Niki’s food on the line, but he still tries to have a bit more decorum.

“Niki,” Jack says, mouth full, “you are an angel among mere mortals.” Fundy doesn’t say anything, but his tail is swishing happily.

Niki rolls her eyes, and takes a bit of bread for herself. “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she admonishes. “But thank you, Jack.” And then, her gaze drifts to him, and he finds himself stiffening. For no reason. It’s Niki. It’s just Niki. He trusts Niki. She’s basically his best friend, and he’s comfortable here. He is. This is a place of safety, as much as there are such places to be found. Safety, true safety, is not a thing that exists, not really. But here is as close as he can get to it.

Why can’t he let himself unwind?

Is it because Jack and Fundy are here? He hopes not; that wouldn’t be fair to them. They are his countrymen, his citizens, and more than that, Fundy is his son. What would that say about him as a parent, if being around his child makes him nervous? Not just nervous in a I-hope-I-don’t-fuck-up-my-kid way, but in a I-don’t-feel-safe-here way?

But his shoulders are stiff, slightly hunched. He can’t force them down. So he has to hope it’s not too obvious, that the lines of his coat disguise the hard set of his posture, a stance that indicates he thinks there’s a threat, if they know how to read him right. Which they shouldn’t. They shouldn’t.

“How about you, Wil?” Niki asks, and he takes another bite of bread. Small, so as not to get crumbs everywhere, and he swallows before answering.

“It’s as good as always,” he says. “Do I have to say it?” Though it sits heavier in his stomach than usual, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“I’m glad,” she says. “It’s been a little while since the last time I saw you. You are eating properly, right?”

It’s concern, not an accusation, no matter how misplaced. The question shouldn’t raise his hackles. But it does, and all that’s left is to keep it from showing, to keep it from his voice.

“Of course I am,” he says, and before he can get anything else out, Jack laughs.

“Wouldn’t do to have our president starving on us,” he says, and his voice is light, full of laughter, joking. It’s a good thing that Jack feels comfortable enough to joke with him. He’s glad, because—he doesn’t know him all that well, definitely doesn’t trust him, not yet, but Tommy and Tubbo seem to like him, so it’s good that he’s fitting in, that he’s found a place, that he likes it here. Though liking isn’t always enough to stop the betrayal before it comes. He ought to keep a closer eye on him, just in case, but—that wasn’t the point of this.

The point is that, joking or not, Jack is completely right. It wouldn’t do to let his eating habits interfere with his duties. He’s already weak; is he going to add malnutrition on top of that? Never mind that he often doesn’t feel like eating, these days, that he really only has an appetite when he’s here, in the bakery. He needs to keep his strength up so that he can get things done. And he can’t force himself to sleep, so that problem is out of his hands, but he can force himself to eat.

Jack couldn’t have known what he was prodding at, of course, when he made the comment. But he takes another bite of bread anyway. It’s tough to swallow, even though it tastes delicious. He doesn’t know why. He’s never had an issue eating Niki’s food before. He hopes this doesn’t become a pattern.

And he hopes it’s not because there’s other people here. It would be an explanation, at least, but not one he likes. The implications there wouldn’t be—good, to say the least.

“Jack,” Niki says quietly, admonishingly, and he wishes she wouldn’t, because he doesn’t want Jack to examine what he’s just said, to analyze it as anything other than a joke. So he musters a smile, a quirk of an eyebrow, and Jack grins back at him.

Safe territory. Level ground, even footing. Relatively speaking.

And then Fundy pipes up.

“Hey, Wil,” he says, and Wilbur wonders, suddenly, where he picked up the habit of calling him ‘Wil’ or ‘Wilbur’ more often than he calls him ‘dad’. Not that he minds it, but it’s curious. Could it be from him? He himself calls Phil by his name more often than not. Perhaps it’s genetic. But then Fundy continues, “Is your hair actually, like, turning white?” and Wilbur is no longer interested in thinking about little details like that.

He’s tense again. Tense enough now that they can probably see it, even without looking too hard.

“Why is everyone so interested in my hair, lately?” he asks. “It’s just hair. Grows out of everyone’s head. Except for yours, Jack Manifold.”

“Point,” Jack Manifold agrees, but there is a gleam in his eyes, behind his glasses, that says he too is interested in the direction this conversation has taken. Not ideal.

“It’s just that,” Fundy persists, “it’s a little bit weird, right? If it’s turning white like that? Is that normal?”

“It’s not ‘turning white,’” he says, which might be a mistake, because he’s lying through his teeth, now. “It was a bad hair dye incident. Nothing you need to be concerned about.”

Jack laughs. “How’d you manage to fuck up hair dye that badly?” he asks, and the way the question is phrased is irritating; he doesn’t want Jack to start thinking he’s an incompetent fool who can’t dye his own hair properly. But he’ll also take this line of questioning over the other, so perhaps it balances out.

Except then, Niki splays both her hands on the counter. Any earlier levity that she had is now gone.

“Is that so?” she says. “That’s not what you told me.”

His heart is pounding again. He really, really hopes that he’s not developing a condition of some kind. He’d know if he were having a heart attack, wouldn’t he?

“I’m pretty sure that is what I told you,” he says, and Niki shakes her head.

“No, you told me that it wasn’t dye, when I asked,” she says. “And then you said that it was, but you were lying.”

She doesn’t sound angry, which is perhaps the worst thing about all of this. She doesn’t sound angry that he’s lied to her, taken advantage of her trust and fed her a blatant falsehood. Her voice is calm, matter-of-fact, and there’s a glimmer in her eyes that isn’t annoyance or betrayal or any of the other emotions she should be feeling. Instead, it’s concern. That blasted concern again.

He doesn’t deserve it.

“Really?” Jack says. “Huh. Well, what’d you do that for, then?”

He’s changed his mind. The worst thing about all of this is that there are other people present. That he’s not alone with Niki, which would still be an undesirable situation, but manageable. Jack Manifold and Fundy are both here, staring at him, expecting answers that he doesn’t want to give, and Fundy—

Why is his son looking at him like that?

“Why are you all so pressed about my hair?” he demands. “It’s hair. You don’t even see it.”

“I mean,” Fundy says, “like I said, it’s just kind of weird, right? I don’t think hair just turns white for no reason. Not unless you’re really old, which you’re not, I don’t think. So I guess we’re just curious about what the reason is.”

He doesn’t want to talk about this. This isn’t why he came here. This place, this bakery, these people, it’s supposed to be an escape from his responsibilities. The only one he allows himself, even though he knows he shouldn’t. It’s the one place where he doesn’t have to think about his own failings, where he can relax a bit and let himself be, if only for a little while, but here they are, pushing him on this, and he doesn’t want it. Doesn’t want to be reminded of his incompetency. And they don’t know, can’t know exactly what they’re doing to him, but—

He slams his hand against the counter, sudden emotion boiling over. They all jump, the three of them. Niki’s eyes widen, and Fundy’s ears press back against his skull.

“Then don’t be,” he snaps. “Leave it the fuck alone. It’s really none of your business, is it?”

There is a moment of silence. The only sound is the crackling of furnaces.

“I guess not,” Fundy mutters, and he realizes what he’s done.

He’s just snapped, lashed out at his friends, his countrymen, his son, and for what? Because their questions are stressing him out? He should have turned around and left the moment he saw them in here, no matter what they would have thought, because this is worse. This is so much worse than that, and now he feels like an absolute shitstain of a human being. What kind of person gets so fucking upset over questions about his hair?

“I’m sorry,” he says. Too little, too late. “I didn’t mean—” Fundy is looking at him. They all are, and suddenly, he can’t bear it. Not any longer. “I’m sorry. I’ve got a lot of work to do. I really should be going. Thank you for the bread, Niki.”

It’s painfully transparent, and he is very aware of the fact that it’s the exact same way that he rushed out of the bakery when he was last here. Except this time, there are more people here to witness his shame.

History repeats itself, he thinks, bitterly. History repeats itself, and it only gets worse.

But he’s not staying here. He can’t. He just—can’t. Because he feels very upset over such a stupid little thing, and he’s upset that he’s upset, and now he’s upset other people, and he can’t stay here any longer, because if he does, the gods only know what’s going to fly out of his mouth next.

“Wil, please stay,” Niki says, but he’s already standing.

“Be seeing you all,” he says, and the door isn’t far, but it feels like miles, because he can feel their stares burning into his back as he makes his exit.

“Aw, wait, Wilbur, you don’t have to—” Jack starts, but he’s out the door. He’s out the door, and he lets it swing shut behind him, and the words cut off. He doesn’t have to listen to them. So if Fundy says anything, he doesn’t hear it, and he wonders why that makes him feel so much worse. Worse than he does already, which is no mean feat.

His stomach growls. He’s hungry. How many bites of bread did he take? Two? Three? Not enough to be filling. But somehow, he already knows that if he seeks food elsewhere, it will turn to ash in his mouth. And he can’t go back, not after the scene he’s just made, so he’s going to have to be hungry. Which is fine. He’s fine. He’s fine, even though he’s just fucked everything up, and he rather thinks he might not be able to show Niki his face ever again. So, no more bakery. No more safe place, and wow, he is being a dramatic fuck, isn’t he? But he can’t help himself. He never can.

He should have known better from the start. There is no such thing as safety. No exceptions. He should have tried harder to remember that. And he’s not angry, not anymore, not really, because they weren’t aware of the hornets’ nest they were stirring up; rather, he’s angry at himself, for losing control, for letting himself react, for not being able to handle a simple question with the poise and calm that is expected of him as president.

For being weak. That’s what it comes down to. His weakness. Persistent, and now, persistently on display.

He does a lot of screaming into his pillow that night. It doesn’t help. And sleep, it seems, is determined to continue its avoidance, so the night stretches long, and even his tears eventually run dry.

---

The next day, Niki comes to his office.