#╰ * inbox. / just beyond the fog. ❞

[ferociiumarchive]

simon riley « @designedparadigm » made an offering; "Don't even try to get up." (Ghost) 「 prompt. 」

Danny had never dealt too well with sitting still, or in this case laying down. A far too familiar restless energy crawling beneath his skin, making him want to claw at his own skin and dig till his fingertips would be covered in his own blood and he was reduced to nothing but a gory mess of raw skin and dripping crimson.

However he wasn't alone.

And so teeth were gritted and a huff left split lips, the noise purposely loud enough to be heard by the other, as childish as that might seem. The words spoken by Simon rang far too similar to an order than anything else and Danny found himself raising a brow. " Oh ? Or what ? Ya going to tie me to the couch ? I'd love to see you trying that. " Guess even in such situations, he still enjoyed being an impertinent asshole.

It was then that he tried to sit up. A mistake. Searing pain bringing forth a hiss. " Fuck. " One of his hand coming to press against part of his stitched up abdomen, feeling the wet fabric under his palm. Just his luck.

[glitter-epoch]

your zayne hand fic was just sooo hot thank you for the food!!! this anon is wondering if you could do a spicy xavier fic as well, with maybe the prompt… darkness or black out? THANK YOU

nsfw, 18+ only, mdni!

OF COURSE. screamed when i saw this in my inbox. thank you for the kind words i’m so glad you like it!!! 

fem!reader | 4.7k words smut under the cut, 18+ ONLY mdni!!! do NOT!!!

. . .

warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, light evol heresy switch xavier if you squint maaaybe. kiiind of.

. . .

you’re stepping out of the shower when the lights go out.

they heave like a car that’s just run out of gas, the wires in the walls giving a pathetic, zappy little hhhh before fizzling out.

you step forward too far, the darkness and the icy air of the mostly granite bathroom startling you. a scream escapes you as you scamper forward, trying not to trip. your fingertips meet smooth stone.

as you grip the sink in the dark, embarrassed by your own outburst, your phone blinks to life on the counter. for a moment, the bathroom is illuminated. fog is receding on the mirror and on your phone’s screen as all of the warm air in the room is sucked out, replaced with wintry breezes that leak in from outside as the heat system in your apartment dies.

shivering, you pick up the phone. it's xavier.

“is your power out?” you sigh, putting him on speaker. he lives one floor above you; maybe his is fine.

“yes. was that you screaming?”

he echoes off the walls. his voice is raspy and fond, the way it always is when-

“were you asleep just now?” you ask. “it’s not even 7 o’clock.”

“yes,” xavier yawns. “it’s winter now, so it gets dark outside early. are you okay?”

“no, i almost broke my legs.” 

xavier pauses, and you realize he’s probably about to ask if you’re serious.

“…do you mean it-“

“no, sorry, i’m just kidding.“

you glance around the bathroom, shaking like a wet dog in a storm. and there is, you realize, a storm outside; rattling the hedges in the courtyard below and splattering the technicolor billboards of linkon beyond. that’s what cut the power.

your clothes are folded on the toilet seat; a soft pair of sweatpants and one of the deepspace hunters’ crewnecks- too big for work, too comfy not to lounge in. but you’re thinking of other things. 

your hair drips water onto the tile like a clock ticking, the neighbor’s wind chimes are casting shadows on the wall, and lighting is striking in the distance.

you swallow an embarrassingly large lump of anxiety in your throat.

“xavier?” you prod. he’s been patiently quiet until now.

“i’m here.”

you almost smile at how sweet he is.

“this is ridiculous, i’m really sorry…”

he waits another patient second more.

“do you want me to come to you?” he asks. 

“please.”

there’s a knock on the door. you flinch, nearly knocking the phone off the counter.

“is that you?” you exclaim.

“i came downstairs when you stopped responding. i’m glad i’m at the right door, though. i can’t see.”

. . .

xaiver comes with a flashlight. “i thought this might make you feel safer.”

he’s wearing the one crewneck- white, with the detailing on the bottom- all that really matters is it looks cozy. he’s clearly brushed his hair since waking up, but it’s already piecing together on his forehead and over his ears like it usually does; silvery-blonde sections looking just as soft as he is. his hair and his palms and the column of his throat seem to shine a little bit, like he’s bioluminescent from the inside. maybe it’s his evol. in truth, you’re probably just imagining it. he’s xavier; everything about him is a little off-kilter and mezmerizing.

he presents the flashlight to you as he shuts your front door behind him and peers around. “wow. it really is dark.” 

his eyes are wide; glossy spheres that catch the slivers of remaining light in your apartment. you try not to stare. 

“thank you,” you grin, a little embarassed. 

flipping the switch on the flashlight is useless; the battery is dead.

in the dim moonlight filtering through your front room’s blinds, you see his porcelain face go a little crooked; he grins and frowns at the same time, lopsided.

“of course,” he hums.

you thank him again anyways (warmed that he thought to bring it) and try to lead him to the closet, feeling along the walls. “i should have candles in the closet.”

xavier follows you, albeit, not close behind, like he’s trying to stay out of sight.

“are you hiding?” you quip, although your heart has started to pump with more effort in your chest. 

“no,” he says from behind you. “i’m trying not to bump into you. you scare easily.” he’s quiet for a moment. “clearly.”

you turn over your shoulder, scowling at his vaguely silver outline. “i do not. quit stalking; just walk with me.”

you’ve been stopped for long enough in the darkest stretch of the hallway that xavier’s on you, then; he bumps into you on accident, a good head-and-a-half taller. his chest and the insides of his biceps are warm as he politely slides two hands up your shoulders and clamps down on them. you suck in a breath and he steadies you.

“see?” he mocks softly. 

xavier removes his right hand from your shoulder but seems to keep the other one in place, like he’s worried you’re going to knock into the wall (you might). he lifts his palm up to you- which is large enough to take up the area of your face- and a golden light blooms from the center line on his skin, extending slowly to his fingers. 

once your face is lit up, the corners of his lips quirk up the tiniest bit; his eyes go soft.

there are only so many things you could say: i’m not jumpy, you touched me. i’m not jumpy, i’m in love with you. 

none would save you any dignity, so you just swallow a shaky breath and complain, “you could’ve done that when you got here.”

“i thought the flashlight would be more thoughtful.”

his frame and his warmth hover beside you like a heat lamp as you walk. he smells good; like soap, and expensive fabric softener, which is ridiculous, because you’re certain if you asked him what fabric softener he used, he would reply, “why would i need that? isn’t fabric already soft?”

you come to the doorknob. “okay. back up.”

he does. the air behind you becomes significantly colder as you pull open the door to the closet.

thunder cracks outside as if its splitting the sky in two. you flinch, yanking on the door, heart in your throat; the vacuum cleaner tips over, falls out, bounces off your head.

“ow,” you hiss, clapping a shaking hand to your forehead. 

xavier returns; his chin near the top of your head as he seems to shield you from the rest of the (unfavorably) dark corridor, sticking his arm into the closet to prevent any other heavy stowed items from landing on you. the light in his palm has gone out. 

“are you okay?” xavier worries, almost certainly suspecting your mood is going to be more bruised than your head.

thunder cracks again in succession, three times, like the beating of some hellish drum. a scream escapes you. you duck, actually duck- and xavier loses you in the dark of the closet. he feels around for a moment until he finds your forearm and pulls gently.

“oh my god,” you pant. “sorry, sorry-”

“you’re really afraid of thunderstorms, aren’t you?” he asks softly; perhaps partially to tease you, but with xavier, it’s hard to tell. he’s so blunt and open-booked that nothing and everything sounds like a judgement when he delivers it.

you nod, unable to do anything else at this point. “apparently.”

“you’re shaking,” he comments- and you are, like a- “you’re like a little dog.”

you scowl at him, having thought it yourself but assumed he would be kind enough not to say it out loud.

“what, like the little rabid white ones with crust around their eyes? how dare you?” you huff, turning your head, but he’s still holding you; one big hand on the small of your back now, warm as a heating pad.

“okay,” xavier sighs, and his grin is audible. “let’s go.”

his hands glow like lanterns all the way to the den.

. . . 

you wake up and even the moon has darkened.

storm clouds form a thick and heavy blanket over the sky, snuffing out any light from the cosmos. the den and even your distant kitchen are completely dark, the furniture forming only the vaguest lines in your sight. there are lines on your face, almost certainly, you think; forcing your head and neck up like a cobra, your torso and the front of your thighs glued to something warm and mostly solid. you press your fingers to your face and find indents in your cheek and across your eyelid from where your face was smushed into whatever is beneath you.

xavier. it’s xavier. 

his face is perfectly serene, the smooth and pearlescent slopes of his cheeks and browbones perfectly still and almost visible in the dark. but his lips aren’t parted and his arms are slightly stiff; if he’s asleep, it’s only partially. 

you flinch, just barely, shocked at his presence there more than anything. it comes back to you in small blinks; yes, you had laid down with him, he’d insisted. no it’s not weird. of course i don’t mind. it’s a little ridiculous for you to act like you’ve never fallen asleep on me before (true). and at some point, you’d both wriggled into this position; with your entire body draped over him, blanket on the floor, both of you hot as irons. 

in his light-sleep, xavier seems to feel you jolt. one hand comes to the back of your head and pulls you down, depositing your face into the crook of his shoulder. he’s laying on his back, fitted perfectly into the corner of the sofa; he’s all encompassing.

“no,” xavier demands, albeit gently. “go back to sleep.”

his voice vibrates against your cheek. you’re tired, sluggish, your limbs are heavy; but your heart thumps in your chest, something almost like panic rising in your throat. certainly he knows what this looks like, knows how it feels- you’re completely twisted around each other.

“xavier,” you argue.

“you were happy,” he rasps, lifting his arms up. he wraps them completely around your head, sealing you in. the weight of his biceps are heavy on you; you knew he was strong, obviously, but he really is…strong. his chest is carved beneath you. “you were happy when you were asleep. so do it again.”

“you just want to go back to sleep,” is your reply.

xavier shifts, and one hand drifts down to the middle of your back. he pulls you into him and squeezes, like he’s stretching. you inhale deeply as your face drifts closer to his collarbones, exposed as his sweatshirt is pulled in every direction by your sprawling weight. your mouth falls open as he holds you, deliberately tight, now; you’re sure of it. he’s practically using you like a stress-ball.

he feels your breath on his neck and his eyes flutter open slowly, fingers twitching to a stop.

“what are you doing?” he chirps.

you could smack him. “what are you doing?”

the thunder returns before anyone can answer, like it senses you’re awake. xavier responds instantly, plucking a fallen blanket off the ground and draping it over both of your heads. in breaths, you’re locked into one another; in a world under the quilt. 

you peer up at him in the complete blackness, feeling his breath on your nose.

“better?” xavier asks.

the sound is surprisingly resonant; he’s ridiculously close.

you feel around his chest and arms, trying to find his head. he inhales, choppily, but doesn’t stop you.

“you are doing something…” he murmurs. his body responds to you, shoulders rising slightly as your fingers dance over them.

“i’m just trying to find your face,” you retort (doing something).

xavier takes your hand and presses it to his cheek. “here.”

you gulp. what are you supposed to do now?

it’s quiet for a moment, rain ricocheting gently off the windows of your apartment. the thunder is distant for a few breaths, rolling far away but seemingly making its way back, like engineered waves slowly picking up speed in a wave pool.

xavier’s heart is always slow, so slow that it sometimes worries you. but his breath is not; the movement of his hands is fast. if he’s not nervous- he’s at least worked up.

thunder cracks. before you can jump or blink or even breathe, he pulls the blanket even further over your heads and reaches for the small of your back, dragging your body up until the top of your head presses into his chin.

you let him, allowing your head to drop onto his chest, unsure of what else to do and not quite able to think of anything else to do as his hands roam around under your sweatshirt; exploring the slopes and ridges of your back and spine.

“your heartbeat is so fast,” xavier murmurs, but his voice is far-away, too; his hands are greedy as he searches for something on the plane of your skin- knots, nerves. soft things, for himself. “you aren’t this afraid of a storm.”

“no,” you cave, essentially coming clean. “what are you trying to do?”

he stills, hands still under your shirt. “are you uncomfortable?”

“no,” you blurt. “no.”

you’re almost certain he smiles; his breath is soft and quiet for a moment. “then can i keep going?”

you pause, nervous. “keep going with what?”

his chest is suspended for a moment. he doesn’t answer. 

in the silence, you’re just barely emboldened enough to whisper it, though you’re not entirely sure what his plan is: “keep going.”

the storm seems to be on his side as a low, rumbling roll of thunder passes by your window, lightning following- for the shortest second, you can see his face; lips swollen with sleep, and parted, his eyes closed. 

your trembling returns for a myriad of reasons. this propels xavier to wrap an arm around your waist and sit up, taking you with him; your knees are forced to bend, thighs spread out on either side of him. you straddle his lap, the blanket slipping off your head.

xavier’s eyes flutter open slowly, ever sleepy. his hair splays around him, lighter than the rest of the room. his expression is almost a smile, dazed and determined, and his eyes seem to light up as they rove over the mere outline of your face in the dark. “i’ll distract you,” he says, sliding his palms onto your knees.

he waits, hands heavy. 

“what are you…” you begin.

oh. he wants you to sit.

you do; he’s hard under you, and he inhales. 

“xavier…” you whisper, uncertain not of your own desire, but his. “i didn’t think you…you never-”

“i never what?” he says, swiping your hair off one side of your neck. “your hair is still wet.” his fingers tangle in the damp strands at the top of your spine, roving up to the top of your head. “are you cold?”

“n-no,” you manage. 

xavier leans forward, his lips close to your neck- then he stops, looks up at you. his eyes are practically the only things visible in the room; but he seems to be able to see you quite well.

“can you see in the dark, or something?” you pant. he doesn’t answer. instead:

“you want me,” he remarks, quiet. 

“you want me,” you retort, instantly defensive; this doesn’t feel real.

xavier- tall and lithe and hard under you, clawing to keep you close to him- blushes still, his cheeks almost red. he smiles, almost, pupils as big as saucers.

“you do want me,” he answers for you, nodding as his lips latch onto your neck.

it’s a ploy. you inhale, stretching your back for him; so naturally, his hands drift to lift up your sweatshirt, then glide up your waist, up to your ribs. he swipes his thumbs over the skin there, and gasps slightly when he finds nothing there; no bra under your hoodie.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper, for no real reason, but you’re not thinking straight. 

xavier doesn’t even ordain you with a response to something so stupid. he just reaches higher, palms your breasts, both of you inhaling as your nipples pebble under him. 

“i can see you,” xavier whispers, his lips on the shell of your ear. “i can see far in the dark. but you can barely see anything…”

you feel feverish; hot and dizzy and unable to take a full breath and xavier pushes your sweatshirt up to you neck, urging you to slip it off.

“do you want to?” he asks, breathless.

you’re the one who ignores a stupid comment this time, slipping off the hoodie. wet strands of hair fall over your shoulders and face, tangling over xavier’s fingers and dangling in front of his eyes. 

he stares at you through the dark, eyes languidly darting all over your naked body; like he doesn’t know what to do first, like he’s astonished that you’re something he’s really looking at.

xavier looks up at you, practically drooling. “is this still okay?”

“are you kidding me?”

he responds with something low, a primal and somehow still grateful sound from the back of his throat, and leans forward to catch your breasts with his mouth. his teeth graze over your nipple, his lips finding it a moment later; it slips in and out of his mouth, slick from the wetness of his mouth.

you inhale to hide a moan, sinking lower into his lap; grinding over his length unintentionally. xavier’s mouth drops off of you, and he inhales deeply; trying to get back to you, to keep working at your breasts, but he can’t.

“d-don’t,” he murmurs, “don’t.”

you wonder if you’ve really made him uncomfortable. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean-”

“it’s not you,” he replies. “i can’t- if you keep-”

you inhale, body barely moving, and even this is too much for him. xavier completely leans back from you and tears his own shirt off; light hair splaying around his head as the shirt lands on the floor. he pushes you back slightly, until your thighs are resting on his thighs, away from his lap.

he tugs at the waistband of your sweatpants. “do you want to keep these on?”

and he’s sincere, waiting for you so patiently, despite the slack in his jaw and the glaze over his eyes. you come onto your knees, sitting up enough to push the pants down to your shins; he reaches behind you and pulls them all the way off.

he takes you in again, in nothing but your panties, like he isn’t sure if he’s really awake- despite being the one to instigate this encounter in the first place.

instigator, you think. it’s the perfect term to describe him. 

after a moment of polite gawking, he pulls on your waist like a handlebar; drags you back to him so you’re sitting with your thighs spread and balanced on either heel. as evil as he secretly is, he watches you as he brings his fingers to your panties; running his knuckles along the clothed surface of your core before pulling the fabric aside.

you gasp; one hand covering your mouth. he smiles sweetly. thunder follows.

“see?” he says, pawing innocently at your folds before running the back of his hand over the bundle of nerves there; quick to drag them slowly down again, and up again, over and over. “you needed something to distract you.”

you’re looking down, trying to see what’s happening; his face is somewhat visible, as it has been, but his hands and your thighs are not. 

xavier tests one finger at the base of your cunt; to see what you’ll do, how wet you are. his mouth falls open.

“oh…”

you’re not sure if he’s making fun of you or if he’s just shocked; but more likely than not, it’s the latter, because his eyes are big as dimes when he looks up at you, reclined against the arm of the sofa, with you on top of him.

you’re trying to remember when you got into such a compromising position. 

“can i?” he amends himself. “do you want me to?”

you almost can’t answer, so you nod, and a moment later, manage, “yes, p-please.”

‘please’ seems to set him off. his middle finger slips inside of you easily, meeting no friction. at first, you try to watch; feeling his wrist moving up and down as he pumps inside of you. then he adds a second finger and you don’t even try to look anymore, letting your head fall back.

you feel his eyes on you as you do this, pressure building in your lower belly. 

“does this feel good?” he asks, all sincerity.

“s-so good.”

“look,” he whispers.

there’s a warmth in you before you do, but even then, you can’t guess what you’re about to see- a light, faintly glowing, illuminating the thin flesh around your pelvic bones and fading out over your navel. his hand, inside you; glowing.

“xavier!” you scold. 

for a moment, he changes nothing; he watches the light wax and wane as his fingers move inside you, and you watch it, too- despite your immense humiliation- both of your mouths hung open. you aren’t sure if you’re about to curl in on yourself from embarassment or pleasure, but xavier must see the strangled expression on your face, because the light goes out.

“you get embarassed so easily,” xavier remarks, leaning forward with one hand still inside you. he uses the other to brush your damp hair out of your face, and runs the pad of his thumb over the lines on your cheeks and eyelid; places where your face was smushed into his sweater. “look at me. do you see me?” 

“k-kind of.”

he smiles, movements never slowing. you squirm in his lap, vying for more despite his steady pace. 

“i think about you,” xavier murmurs into your neck. “everyday. all the time. there’s nothing you could do that i wouldn’t want you for. don’t you see?”

you nod, emboldened by his words, thinking that you should thank him but too busy thinking about other, more immediate things.

as you’re squirming in his lap, you push forward, finally; sit on the hard length of his cock. his fingrers curl inside you and you whine.

xavier hisses and exhales. he looks up at you; the marble of his eyes shining in the dark.

“do you…” you pant, struggle. “do you want to…”

xavier nods. he keeps nodding, at first, and doesn’t even say anything- he sits up to wrap and arm around your waist and he’s still nodding. then:

“yes,” he murmurs into your ear. “i didn’t-”

you grind onto him again. his fingers leave you, steadying himself with that now unoccupied hand. 

“…w-want- god- please, don’t…”

so you wait, feeling guilty again, but of course, he doesn’t mean do nothing- you realize moments later, he’s just begging you to slow down.

“i didn’t want to ask,” xavier continues throatily, gently lifting you off of him to roll down the waistband of his own sweatpants. “i didn’t want you to think i’d be disappointed if you said no.”

you smile at him, sick at how sweet he is. “i want to. please.”

he’s kissing you as he finally kicks off his sweatpants- you feel him buck his hips up as only his underwear remains. maybe, if you could see anything, you would have lingered in this moment a little longer. but you’re barely any help as he kicks those off, too; uses his own strength to hold your hips in the air over him, not setting you down.

“are you sure?” xavier pants.

“i am extremely sure.”

he inhales shakily and leans forward to press you to his chest, adjusting himself under you; then he sets you down, lowers you onto his cock. 

both of you gasp; you inhale so sharply it stings. you can’t see him, can’t see anything but his blown-out pupils- but you’re full, completely, as he takes your hips in his hands and asks:

“are you tired?”

his voice is trembling, but not desperate; he’s trying not to buck up into you, you’re sure. 

you can’t lie, so all you do is nod. your entire body buzzes, your head swims; you are exhausted, but you do want him.

xavier nods, pressing a kiss to the plane between your breasts. “that’s okay. just relax.”

and he is ridiculous for saying this, because then, he begins to move you himself; sliding you up an down on his length, slowly and gracefully at first- until you moan over him, and he seems to crack, bouncing you up and down to his liking.

“x-xavier…” you whine, but he’s relentless. 

your hands landing on his chest as you droop forward only egg him on. he presses one hand flat to your back, forcing you to collapse onto him, then goes back to moving your hips. he’s pounding into you, his breath and his voice strangled and fast in your ear, but his heart still beats slowly in his chest- the rhythm of it is intoxicating to you. you listen, one ear pressed into the space between his collarbones: 1…2…3…

you realize, now, that the slow heartbeat is just what’s providing his inhuman stamina: he’s anything but calm. 

“you don’t know…” xavier murmurs, rocking in and out of you, sounding very far away. “you don’t even know…”

“know what?” you manage. 

“how much i think about you. how much i want you- you don’t…”

he sits up suddenly, your head draping over his shoulder, and continues to move you up and down; hot inside you. your legs are practically numb. the coil in your stomach tightens and releases, threatening to unfurl; you’re not sure how long it’s been. your head falls back and xavier catches it, pausing to press kisses to the column of your throat. you squirm, now settled onto his lap again; cock still inside you. 

xavier grabs your hips and seems to be restraining himself from holding you still.

“if you do that, i can’t- i’ll-”

you know what he’s going to say, so you keep doing it. xavier latches on to your neck with his mouth as you grind on top of him, exhausted, but it’s enough. one of his arms is still looped around your waist, squeezing the flesh of your hip. the other draws tracks through your hair, and stops to grab a fistful at the top of your head; you moan, but he doesn’t release you- clearly not knowing his own strength, how tightly he’s gripping you. 

that’s it for you; the sensation low in your belly blooms as his cock twitches inside you.

he bites down on your shoulder when he cums. not nearly hard enough to hurt (he would never), but it’s so unbridled and unexpected that you come undone on top of him moments later; allowing him to squeeze you to him and pull you both back to lay flat on the sofa.

for a moment, there is only quiet rain and heavy breathing. xavier lifts his hand to pluck the hair out of your face again, running his fingers over those same lines on your cheeks that he must be able to see through the dark- how unfair, it is, that he’s been able to see practically the whole time, and you’ve been nearly blind.

a clap of thunder bursts somewhere in the distance. you’re busy panting, pawing around for xavier’s face in the dark.

“see? you’re not even thinking about the thunder anymore,” he breathes. “you must have had a good distraction.” and then, both endeared and confused, he asks, “what are you looking for?”

“i’m trying to find your head so i can smack you.”

[strawberryfairi]

Synopsis🌹: After discovering a strange yet alluring red book in a boutique bookstore, you find yourself sucked into a strange world, where all of your inner most desires exist…

Pairings: Wakasa Imaushi X Musician! Black Fem 🤎 Reader (ANYONE CAN READ🧚🏾‍♀️) Content: Author AU, scifi, Musician! reader, reader is a talented nerd, smutty (slow burn) romance, tiny doses of angst, adventure, futuristic city, magic?, !!sexual tension!!, etc (just find out the rest, lol)

w.c: 4.2k💠 Released: November 3

Previous | Next | Chapters Masterlist

A/N🧚🏾‍♀️: Lowkey the ending of this chapter...idk like it's kinda not giving to me idk. Like it's ok but it's not at the same time. I'm probably just in my head😭 But anyways I hope y'all enjoy this chapter! Also, the smut is coming very soon so don't worry....gotta love a lil "slow burn"😈

C.W: None

Tags: @nixalozt @lilthana @wakasaishot

↳ (Let me know via inbox or the comment section if you would also like to be tagged here for this story🩵). Enjoy guys!!

𝟔 || 𝐀𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

The scent of old wood and a faint metallic hum filters through your foggy mind as you stir. Slowly, your eyes flutter open, met by the dim glow of muted blue and purple neon lights seeping through the cracks of a wooden ceiling.

You wince as you shift into a sitting position, a dull ache spreading through your limbs. Your fingers flex against the cold, hard surface beneath you. You're lying on a white floor.

"I'm gettin' tired of waking up in random places like some drunk..." You grumble under your breath, massaging your lower back with a hand.

As you move, something warm slips off your shoulders—a blanket quilt that must have been thrown over you while you were unconscious. Confusion gnaws at you. Simultaneously, you hear a small thud on the floor right next to you. You shift the blanket off of you, noticing that same purse from the first time you were here is next to you. 

You grab it, checking the contents like before. 

This time, it's different. Yes, there's a handy lipgloss and liner, but now there's an actual wallet inside. 

"Where the hell were you when that robot was all up in my face...?" You grit out, narrowing your eyes as you snatch the wallet. 

It's sleek, and actually metallic which is strange to you. Leather is usually the go-to for wallets back on earth. Metal is mind blowing. There's an ID inside, your picture and a citizen number like that cyber police bot was asking for. 

Citizen ID: 1186-25

It shows your status as immigrant, your sex, it even somehow has your birthdate on it too. 

How is this possible?! 

A slight unwanted panic begins to rise in your chest, but before it can fully take hold, the sound of muffled footsteps reaches your ears. Your head snaps towards the source—a door just beyond the workbench, cracked open with the words "Employees Only" etched into its wood in fading silver paint.

Then, the door creaks open fully now, revealing a tall figure in the doorway. For a split second, you tense up, but then you catch sight of his face—a kind face. The man standing there is older, though not elderly, with gelled back dark hair that has a striking silver streak running through the front. His lavender-colored eyes, oddly familiar, were filled with concern.

"You're awake," the man says, his voice low but gentle. He takes a step forward, hands raised slightly as if to show he means no harm. "You had me worried. I found you passed out in the back here, but there weren't any sign of injury, so I figured I'd let you rest."

You blink, the fog in your mind beginning to clear as you take in your surroundings. The room around you is small and cluttered, filled with what looked like old tools, spare parts, and strange devices you don't recognize. There's an unmistakable smell of dust and the faint hum of something electronic, though not in the modern, sleek sense you've become used to in Neon City. Everything here seems...dated, though not necessarily from your world.

"Where am I?" You ask, your voice raspy from the lack of use.

The man smiles softly. "You're in my shop. It's called 'Echoes.' I deal in musical instruments, sound systems, and the like."

"Is this...the underground?" You ask cautiously.

The man lets out a hearty laugh, "No, but I can see why you'd think so."

"So, I'm in Neon City?"

"Yup. You're on the Lower East side of the city." He nods, "You must've had a crazy night."

"I definitely did." You chuckle, recalling the events of the last time you were "dropped" in Neon City.

"Well, feel free to look around if you're feeling up to it. Take as much time as you need."

You smile lightly, genuinely appreciative of his thoughtfulness, then nod. "Thank you."

You stand and make your way out of the backroom, stepping into what was clearly the main area of the shop. As soon as you cross the threshold, your breath catches in your throat. The space before you is a literal treasure trove of musical artifacts—some familiar, some utterly alien.

Shelves line the walls, crammed with instruments and sound equipment. Old record players with intricately detailed designs, boom boxes that looked half-scrap and half-art installation, and microphones that seem to shimmer with a life of their own.

Curiously, you wander down an aisle, fingertips grazing the objects as you pass. A sleek, silver device caught your eye—it looked like a cross between a violin and a guitar but had no strings. Instead, it hums softly when you pick it up, vibrating beneath your touch.

"What is this?" You ask aloud.

The shopkeeper, who had followed you out of the back, smiles faintly. "Ah, that's a Virelax. It's a stringless instrument—well, stringless in the traditional sense. It uses sound waves to produce music. You control the pitch and tone by adjusting the frequency with your hands, like so." He demonstrates, running his fingers over the air just above the device. A soft, ethereal melody began to play, the notes shifting with each subtle movement of his hands.

Your eyes widen with a gasp. "Woooow!"

The shopkeeper chuckles. "It's one of the newer instruments in my collection."

You set the Virelax back down carefully and continue exploring, your heart filled to the brim with excitement. You come across a large, circular object with glowing blue orbs embedded into its surface. When you touch one of the orbs, a deep, resonant bass note echoes through the shop.

"Oooo! What's this one?" You ask, intrigued.

The shopkeeper nods appreciatively. "That's a Tymbrys. It operates on a similar principle as percussion but it's entirely digital. Each orb represents a different frequency, and you can create complex rhythms by pressing them in sequence."

"Ha, an electric bass..." You murmur with a grin.

Your fingers dance over the orbs, creating a spontaneous rhythm that pulses through the air. You grin, momentarily forgetting your confusion and the strange circumstances of your second arrival. For now, you're completely lost in the world of sound.

As you move further into the shop, something else catches your eye—a large object in the center of the room, partially covered by a thick, dusty cloth. There's something about its shape that tugs at your memory, something so familiar. Without thinking, you approach it and slowly pulled the cloth away.

You gasp loudly, your eyes sparkling with excitement. It's a concert grand Steinway & Sons piano!

The sleek, black surface is worn with age, but the instrument is unmistakably from Earth. The keys, though dusty, gleam faintly under the neon lights, and for a moment, you can almost hear the soft hum of music that had once been played on it.

The shopkeeper appeares beside you, his brow furrowed in curiosity. "That's an odd one," he remarks. "I found it many years ago, though I never could figure out how it worked."

You can't help the small giggle of amusement at his deep wonder of the instrument. "It's a piano," You inform, your voice soft with reverence. "It's from Earth; where I'm from. An acoustic instrument."

"Earth..?" He murmurs with furrowed brows.

"You can get real interesting with the keys—that's another name we call it. You just press down on the keys and there's—have you never thought to try it?" You ramble, thoughts coming out a mile a minute.

The shopkeeper chuckles at your burst of enthusiasm. "Of course not. I didn't know what it was."

"No no, I feel that. That's valid." You nod. If there was a strange object as huge and heavy as a concert grand piano, you'd leave it alone too.

"Can I...?" You trail off, pointing towards the pretty instrument. 

"Please. You're the expert." He raises his hands in surrender. Without another word you go and take a seat on the piano bench, adjusting your skirt as you do. You sit there for a minute, grazing your fingers along the keys before finally striking the first note, and slowly building a song.  As your fingers get accustomed to the new chord changes your heart makes up, some lyrics begin to follow after, meshing with the melody line you made.

The shopkeeper's eyes widen in awe as the music washes over him. "Incredible..." He murmurs under his breath. Nearly stumbling in the process, he goes and places his hand on the holographic panel by the front door of his shop. The door slides open, and the neon sign that say "OPEN" flickers to life.

The sound filters out for the outside world to hear. Almost instantly passerby's stop in their tracks. The citizens of Neon City are accustomed to synthetic, electronically produced music. The natural, acoustic sound of the piano is foreign to them—alien, yet captivating. One by one, people begin to gather outside the shop, peering through the windows to see where the strange sound is coming from.

As you play, more and more people gather until there's a large crowd, their faces pressed against the glass, eyes wide with wonder. Some even venture inside, drawn by the unfamiliar yet beautiful sound. Soon, the whole shop is filled with a crowd, all listening in rapt silence as you play. You aren't sure how much time's gone by when your hands finally slow to a stop, your right foot on the damper pedal creating a soft resonance from the last chord you played. And the, as you lift your hands from the black and white keys, a roar of clapping and cheers nearly makes your heart leap out of your chest. You turn around, just now noticing the crowd that's formed. There's strange looking phones out, recording still or just finishing up as others continue to cheer for you. 

Your cheeks warm from the praise. It's something you've never been able to get used to even after all these years of performing. It's crazy having so many eyes on you, so much attention. But it's heartwarming nonetheless. 

The people begin to disperse, going back to their regularly scheduled programs. You fiddle around haphazardly with the keys some more before the shopkeeper makes his way over to you with a warm smile. 

"Here," He says, handing you a small handful of what you could only equate to reddish pink, gem-like coins. "You put on quite a show earlier, something I've never seen, and I figure you need something to eat after that. Consider it a 'thank you' for...whatever that was." His expression softens, and his tone takes on a more serious note. "I haven't heard sounds like that in...well, I've never heard them."

You smile flattered as you look at the foreign currency in your hands. "Thank you, really. But... I don't want to take your money," You mumble, feeling both touched and conflicted. "I'll be fine."

The shopkeeper chuckles and shakes his head. "You're not from around here, right? Look, let me help out—it's no trouble, really. Just a couple credits for a bite. And who knows, maybe I'll see you around again."

After a moment's pause, you smile gratefully. "Alright...thank you so much." You clutch the "coins" in your purse, glancing back to give him one last appreciative look before stepping out onto the streets.

In the morning light, the streets look almost ethereal. The glow from the enormous holographic ads seemed less intense in the sunlight, more muted yet still mesmerizing as they pulse across towering screens. Large advertisements hover above the streets, holographic models and products being promoted by smiling faces and energetic gestures. A soft hum fills the air from the thousands of small mechanical parts working in perfect harmony throughout the city, powering its lights, transportation systems, and other technologies you could hardly recognize.

You wander down a broad avenue, marveling at the towering buildings that stretch up to meet a bright, cloudless sky. Many of the structures seem designed with metallic finishes, causing them to glint and gleam as the sunlight hits their polished surfaces. The streets are bustling with people of all different looks and styles. Many wear clothes embedded with tiny, flickering lights, some with holographic patching that changed designs as they moved. Others have more minimalistic but edgy styles, their eyes shielded by sleek, transparent visors.

Lost in the flow of the city, you let your feet carry you forward, absorbing each new sight. Vendors line the sidewalks, with food carts offering strange, colorful snacks that you can't even begin to name, and tiny drones buzz around, delivering parcels or providing live updates about city happenings. You feel yourself moving in tune with the morning vibe—a different rhythm from the nightlife you'd experienced, but captivating in its own way.

Eventually, your eyes caught sight of a small diner on the corner of a bustling intersection. Its design was a blend of sleek metal and soft, ambient lights, and a neon-blue sign flickered with the words "Circuit Diner." The place seems busy enough but not overly crowded. Through the large, clear windows, you can see customers seated in metallic booths with robotic waiters gliding past them, delivering plates of vibrant food.

Curiosity got the better of you as you push open the glass door, and the inside is even more entrancing than it looks from outside. The walls are adorned with minimalistic light strips that cast a soft glow, making the space feel both futuristic and surprisingly cozy. Screens play holographic images of abstract art that seem to move in time with a soft, ambient soundtrack playing in the background.

"Good morning, citizen," Chirps a robotic voice, and you turn to see a sleek, mid-sized metallic server gliding over to you, its faceplate reflecting your curious, semi-bewildered expression. "Welcome to Circuit Diner! May I recommend our most popular breakfast combination?"

You blink, unsure of what exactly a "breakfast combination" would entail here in Neon City, but nod nonetheless. "Uuuhh, sure, I'll try it."

"Excellent! Your order will be ready soon." The server says with a polite and chipper "beep" before gliding away.

As you wait, you take in the sight of other patrons around you. Some sat alone, scrolling on transparent screens projected from tiny devices worn around their wrists or in their hands, while others sat in groups, chatting animatedly about topics that sound damn near alien to you. You catch snippets about racing, new tech upgrades, trending styles, and names you don't recognize but file away, curious to learn more about this city that feels both familiar and otherworldly.

After a few moments, the robot server returns, setting down a tray with a strange yet appealing meal. The food looks almost too beautiful to eat—perfectly shaped and colored in a way that makes you wonder if it's meant to be eaten at all. There's a glass of ombre purple liquid that seemed to shimmer slightly, along with a small plate of neon-colored bites that look vaguely like fruit but don't smell like any you know.

Taking a tentative bite, you're surprised by the burst of flavors—sweet and slightly tangy, with a soft texture that melted in her mouth. You can't help but smile, savoring each bite and sipping the purple drink, which tastes like a refreshing blend of berries and mint with a hint of something you can't quite place, but it's amazing.

As you sit by the window, enjoying the quietness of your breakfast, you feel a prickling sensation on the back of your neck, an unshakable feeling that someone was looking at you. You glance outside, and your heart involuntarily skips a beat.

Wakasa stood there, just beyond the glass, his lilac eyes locked onto yours. A storm of emotions passed across his face—surprise, confusion, then something darker, almost like hurt or frustration. You can't look away, mesmerized by the intense gaze he had fixed on you, like he’d been searching for you without even realizing it. For a second, you forget where you are, that you're just two people in a bustling, neon-lit city; it feels like the whole world has gone quiet, leaving only the two of you in a strange silence.

Your heart began to race, and you quickly drop your gaze down to the table, hoping he didn't notice the flustered look on your face. But by the time you look up again, he's already pushing through the diner door, his steps quick and purposeful.

You watch, your nerves on edge, as he moves through the space with that effortless confidence of his, like he's barely aware of the way people turn to look at him. He scans the diner, eyes narrowing until they land back on you. In an instant he's at your table, his expression unreadable. A strange mix of irritation and relief, but his gaze is intense, like he has something he needs to say but can't quite find the words. You decide to speak your piece first. 

"Hey, Wakasa!" You smile brightly, "I didn't think I'd ever see you again-

"Are you serious? Where the hell have you been, huh?" He cuts you off, not at all interested in your little chit chat.

You're completely caught off guard, your face contorting into a look of bewilderment. He looks so genuinely upset, and you've never heard his voice come across so stern before.

"I-I was..."

"You-you were? Do you realize it's been three whole days? You had me out here searching for your ass thinkin' something happened to you! You got the audacity to be sitting here in your little cutesy ass outfit eating breakfast!" His words spill out in an uncharacteristic rant, frustration and annoyance evident in his tone. He shakes his head, glaring down at you as if you'd committed some grave offense.

You try not to laugh at the sight of him—the usually laidback, stoic man, standing in the middle of a diner, upset because he couldn't find you. It's actually sweet, in its own strange way. You can't help but mess with him a little.

"Well, yeah," You shrug casually, forcing yourself not to laugh too soon. "I mean, don't they say to always keep a man on his toes—"

"Don't play games with me," He snaps, his tone serious, though there was an edge of something softer beneath it. "You disappeared. Like a ghost. No trace, no word, nothin'. I thought—"

"Not you being worried", You giggle, hovering a hand over your smile, "Not you...caring."

You laugh out loud at the way his eyes narrow at you, his jaw tensing up as he tries to keep his annoyed expression. "You're pissin' me off..." He grumbles.

"I'm sorry! Ok, really, I am sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry." You reply, forcing the smile down so you can try and get serious. He only gives you a low grunt in response.

"You forgive me? Com'ere." You say softly, taking his hand and looking up at him with your best doe eyes you can muster. His scowl deepens, but it doesn't last very long. He sighs heavily, his shoulders relaxing just a little.

"Yeah, whatever." He glances at the seat across from you, then back to your beaming face. "You gonna let me sit, or am I just s'pposed to stand here while you finish eating?" 

You chuckle and scoot over, gesturing to the seat across from you. Wakasa takes a seat, still grumbling under his breath about how you're such a pain, but the relief in his eyes is unmistakable.

"You know," Wakasa starts, leaning back against his seat, "I've got a race later tonight. Pretty high-stakes one, too. How 'bout you come and watch me?"

Your eyes light up immediately, a spark of excitement unmistakable in your expression. "You want me to watch your race?" You couldn't even try to hide the enthusiasm in your voice. Last time he was so adamant about you not coming along to watch that kid Jaxon's race, now he actually wants you to go. 

"Yeah. I mean, you missed the last one," He replies, the corners of his mouth curving upward, almost like he's enjoying your reaction. "Figured you'd wanna actually watch a race this time." 

Another rush of excitement washes over you; after all, you'd heard Wakasa and even Benkei briefly talk about street racing and its wild world of high stakes and pride, and whatnot. So to be able to see Wakasa in action makes your heart race. You laugh lightly, "Yeah, for sure, sounds like fun. I'll be cheering for you."

A/N🧚🏾‍♀️: Why my name for that instrument (virelax) sound like a damn medication for people 60 and above with like 99 different symptoms that come with it😭💀 absolutely do not entrust me to name instruments🤡

[ahamkara-apologist]

Uh. You said to put this suggestion in your inbox so here 👍

Aeris sucking Taniks' dick under the table in some backwater bar on the edge of the known universe. Both tipsy and making baaaaad decisions.

Have fun writing lesbians n have fun writing this eventually yeah 👍

I'm havin a fuckin blast and am on a roll, so I'm more than happy to oblige!

(Quick note- there's some dirty talk and mentions of extreme sadomasochism in here, but no worries, Aeris is very much into it. There's also a reference to an accidental mutual bond bite as well- dw about it :))

.

Deep in the core of his still-beating heart, beyond the fog of the alcohol, Taniks sensed that this might have been a bad idea. 

It had started off more as a means of testing the limits of his new pet than it had been about testing the boundaries of what his sordid reputation allowed him. Get the Young Wolf under a collar under the freak’s own volition, start forcing him to do things that Taniks would sooner dock himself than ever even think about giving in to. Push his limits, break them through, drive him off so that they could go back to killing each other instead of…whatever the fuck odd sort of mateship the both of them had stumbled into. 

The problem was that the Lightbearer was genuinely into whatever fucked-up shit he threw at him. And this was no exception.

Under the table, the hot wet muscle of Aeris’s tongue pushed itself between the plates of his sheath, lapping eagerly at the soft flesh beneath. Taniks cursed into his drink, crappy old plasteel boards creaking as his mechanical toes curled, and forced himself not to buck forward as the human’s soft lips coaxed his swelling hemipenes out into the open, taking the intact one directly into his mouth. Another gulp of his drink settled him a bit, while the claws of his left secondary tightened on the leash leading to the guardian’s collar. He felt the slight bob of movement on the end, felt the soft puff of air as the human briefly choked, and then squeezed his eyes shut at the near-silent moan, the small hands resting on his thighs tightening as Aeris dipped his head further down his shaft. 

It wasn’t like he was sullying the bar’s reputation. This place was a shithole in every sense of the word; Taniks only ever went here when he was really desperate for glimmer, and every single time without fail, he was tempted to just burn it all down so he could watch the rat’s nest of society’s lowest scatter to the stars. Maybe hunt a few of the cockier mercenaries down, remind them why the services of Taniks the Scarred were worth such a high price. Toy with them a bit, then splatter their brains to bits against their pretty little ships, take them in to give to Eramis for her to play with. Or he could let them escape, let them think they were safe, and then called Eramis in to go play with them herself, give her something to do when she grew sick of playing politics.  

The Sol system’s worst, and he was its Kell. The thought amused him more than it should, and he chuffed into his drink as he set about fucking his pet’s throat. 

Others knew what he was doing, he was sure. The bar was dimly lit, and had that peculiar cocktail reek that resulted from a bunch of different species all mingling together to drink themselves sick, but that did not matter; all eyes were inevitably drawn to Taniks the Scarred. He’d come in with a Lightbearer on a leash in an unusually good mood, and that Lightbearer had mysteriously disappeared after a couple of drinks without a struggle. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where he’d gone, and the shitty little booths held nothing. He didn’t think it was fear alone that was keeping all but the drunkest of whores from looking over to his corner. Didn’t matter which Lightbearer it was. It was still a Lightbearer, and it was still Taniks, and he could honestly probably just start fucking him on the table for all to see and still get away with nothing more than a few odd murmurs here or there, or scandalized whispers from the exiled idiots still clinging to titles and glory rather than accepting the fact that they were seen as worse than scum in their old faction’s eyes.

Not like it mattered. Wasn’t like he was welcome anywhere anyways, apart from Eramis’s House. And he wasn’t keen to hear her lecture him on the dangers of fucking with Lightbearers 

Aeris pulled himself off of his intact hemipene to give his severed one some attention, mouthing at it with those soft, fuzzy little mammal lips while trying his best to stick his tongue down the hole in his shaft- something he’d been doing more recently, like he was trying to fuck the seminal channel with his tongue. Taniks grunted, and kicked him in the ribs to get him to move back to the intact one, more interested in easy pleasure than trying to process if he liked the oddly electric sensation it gave him. Sticking a cold metal rod down its length to keep the passage dilated was a very different sensation than someone sticking their tongue in it, while the tight hot pressure of Aeris’s throat wasn’t far off from fucking a nice tight cunt. Maybe even better, because he could make him choke on it, and he knew that the little freak would rather asphyxiate than stick a knife in his thigh and call it quits. 

The server- a Vandal clutching a serving platter like it was his lifeline- came over to his table, practically reeking of fear. Taniks considered shifting his leg to better hide what Aeris was doing to him, but the alcohol burning in his blood told him otherwise. Instead, he just cocked his head and lounged back against the wall, chuffing in amusement as he felt Aeris’s throat convulse around him at the movement, his useless little human claws scrambling against his thighs. 

“Fuck do you want?” He grunted, baring his teeth; he’d unlatched the lower part of his helm so that he would be able to drink, and it showed off his mandibles quite nicely. The mark that Aeris had left on the side of his neck remained hidden by a mixture of his mantle and his scarf; he didn’t want anyone to know that this was anything more than an act of humiliation, instead of the alternative, which was that it was an act of humiliation that occurred after being bound together by a mutual fuckup. “I didn’t call you over, now did I?”

“I-I have come to ask if you wish for more drinks. And-” A hard swallow, the vandal’s eyes darting back to the bar- “and to request that you take any relations you may be having to your ship. Respectfully.”

Taniks cocked his head, then made a show of looking under the table, to where his pet knelt between his legs. Aeris’s ether-blue eyes stared back up at him, half-lidded with drunken arousal and teary from his choking, the collar around his throat doing a fine job at covering the mating-mark marring his neck. He was suckling at the head of Taniks’s cock, each pull sending a pleasant tingle of heat flushing through his abdomen, and the hard line of his own cock was clearly visible through the tight civilian pants Taniks had told him to wear, the fabric darker near the tip. It was a pleasant sight, and the rush of power that surged through him paired well with the alcohol. “Why? Want to join him?”

The Vandal’s eyes dipped down on instinct, and then shot back up, a fearful chitter sounding in his throat. Whether it was because he recognized the human playing with his hemipenes, was appalled by the state said hemipenes were in, or was just terrified at the thought of letting those teeth come close to his own pricks, Taniks wasn’t sure. Didn’t really care either. “N- you’re scaring the other patrons.”

“You can fuck his ass if you want.” Taniks continued on as if he hadn’t heard him speak, jerking on the leash to yank Aeris up further onto his lap, pulling him half out from under the table. Aeris choked, scrambling for purchase on Taniks’s thighs, but he saw the way his cock twitched in his pants as Taniks offered him to the server vandal, the colour of his cheeks changing the way that it usually did when Taniks was about to do something he wanted to him. In the back of his mind, the part that was still sober, he noted how funny it felt that he was able to recognize that now. “Good fucking luck getting off on him, unless you like sticking your pricks into fucked-out whores. I fucked him open last night, he’s still just as wet and loose as he was then. But I’m hardly going to judge someone for their poor tastes.”

He dropped his voice and leaned in closer, shoving Aeris back under the table. He went with a soft yelp, which Taniks fully ignored as he loomed over the trembling vandal. “Or you can give us more of what we ordered, and fuck off before I grab you by the muzzle and tear your head off your scrawny little body for wasting my time and ether speaking to you.”

The waiter got the point. He scrambled off like a scorch cannon had gone out under his ass, and Taniks leaned back in the booth again, pleased. There was a brief pause, and then Aeris’s mouth was back on him as soon as he got settled, this time forgoing his hemipenes entirely to lap at the entrance of his broodpouch, trying to entice it to unfurl under the hot, warm pressure of his mouth.

Taniks closed his eyes and indulged him, letting his body relax into the building pleasure. The din of the bar faded to a dull roar around him, made irrelevant compared to the sloppy sounds of the Lightbearer’s mouth on his cunt and the soft, short moans he made as he opened him up enough to fuck him with his tongue. The pulsing heat on his entrance barely did anything for him, and Aeris’s movements were getting sloppier and sloppier as the ether Taniks had consumed earlier began to come through in his slick, but the feeling of something warm, wet, and wriggling against his hole was still enough to make him think wistfully about how good it felt to be fucked by something.   

Maybe he’d show him his toy collection when he brought him back to the ship, or let him fuck him with that weirdly rigid stick of a prick. It wouldn’t do anything for Taniks, but it would be amusing to watch, and then he could fuck him again while he was still loose-limbed and shaky from it. Overstimulate him, see if he could make him fucked out enough to lose control of his Light again like he did last night, when he’d cried out and let out a charge of arc energy after he’d been too drained to come. Turn him into a crying, bleeding mess that would still beg Taniks for more, let him push him to his limits and still have it not be enough, because he was just as much of an outcast and a freak as the one who’d claimed him, and had found the second-best place Taniks could put him other than his final grave. 

Remind Taniks that he’d put the collar on him because he wanted the amusement of having the Lightbearer that killed him twice at the end of the leash, instead of the alien that he’d claimed in a rush of frantic, needy heat when he felt those blunt human teeth clamp around his throat in a mating bite, the only one he knew he’d ever get.   

He pulsed at the thought of it, and tugged on the leash without looking, not wanting to leak all over the chair despite the ever- present filth of the place. Shit was hell on his joints when it gelled up. Aeris coughed, but set to cleaning up his lengths with great enthusiasm, the moan in his throat sending a pleasant buzz up the length of his cocks as he licked them clean of precum.     

A different server returned when Aeris was throatfucking him in full; this time, it was a captain-sized Eliksni, and she wore the twisted sash of a sex worker around her hips. She placed the drinks on the table without meeting his eyes or looking at his toy, giving him a respectful nod; he returned it, albeit stiffly, and then leaned back against the wall, sinking into the hot pleasure radiating through his body as he slammed back their drinks- all but one. 

Now uninterrupted, the pulsing heat of the human’s throat around his intact prick built him towards orgasm quickly, and he rode it out with a low purr of satisfaction, rocking his hips in tandem with each bob of the guardian’s head. Heat coiled in his lower abdomen, aided by the alcohol, but it still wasn’t quite enough to tip him over the edge. Forgoing the leash and choke collar entirely, he grabbed Aeris by the hair, then forced him down til his nose hit his sheath- and then, as the human spasmed and choked and gouged his blunt nails into the sparse skin still left on his thighs, he came down his throat, holding him there until his dicks stopped pulsing and Aeris’s lips were starting to turn blue. 

He could tell he wasn’t quite finished, not yet, but the rest of it could wait until he was back on the ketch. He hooked a claw under the collar, then pulled his pet up into his lap, not bothering to check if Aeris was still breathing. Not that it mattered much, he supposed, but he still was, and he came willingly, if not with great effort. As soon as Taniks released his collar, he collapsed against him, panting; there was come and drool tricking down his chin, with more gelling up in his hair, and his blue eyes were distant, staring at a fixed point that Taniks couldn’t see. Bruises dappled his neck, with some bleeding scrapes from where the barbs of the choke collar had dug into his skin, and his lips were puffy from the barbs of his cock raking over them. But the most damning part of the picture- and the one that amused Taniks the most- was the wide wet stain at the crotch of his pants, as well as the conspicuous absence of his erection. 

“‘Course you’d come from me using you like that, you filthy little whore.” He raked a claw through the jizz in Aeris’s hair, resisting the urge to groom it out, then held the last of the alcohol to his mouth, a fruity little ether fizz that probably made up more of a drekh’s rations than what half of them in the bar would ever get in a moon cycle. He could feel their stares from here, but he didn’t bother to look up, even though all of them scrambling to look busy would have made for quite the amusing sight. “Drink. Don’t want to insult our lovely patrons.”

Aeris drank. He downed the whole thing with the same foggy, distant look in his eyes that he had when Taniks had pulled him onto his lap, which was enough to tell him that whatever he was saying was falling on deaf ears. He chuffed at him, clicking his mandibles in mock-disappointment, then stood, dropping him off of his lap to jerk him towards the door. “Follow. This place was a waste of our time.”

The Lightbearer stumbled after him, and though he didn’t have much of a choice with the leash around his throat, Taniks liked to believe that he would have looked just as pathetic parading him around behind him otherwise. To the sex worker who served them last, he flipped a cube of glimmer, but he left nothing else. Their lives were payment enough, and they knew it. And as the other patrons watched them stumble out of the bar, staring after them with disgust and curiosity and revulsion and fear, he knew that what he had done was writ plain on Aeris’s face, marking him as his just as clearly as the collar around his throat or the scars on his neck. 

Taniks, the Scarred. Taniks, Guardian-Keeper. Taniks, Lightbearer-Tamer. 

He liked the sound of that. 

…So long as Eramis didn’t find out.

[massivedrickhead]

Love your fics. Can you do a bechloe 5 and 24?

I'm so sorry this took me so long to get to. I actually started writing it weeks ago, but then got distracted by other stuff and then started writing something totally different. I kept coming back to it because it's the last of the concerned/worried prompts from my inbox, but in the end I couldn't think of anyway to expand it beyond this.

So it's super short and feels a little unfinished, but this is all I could get out for this prompt, and I didn't want to just abandon it.

5. “Why are you crying?”

24. “Please open the door.”

Prompt taken from here.

Read on AO3

-

“Chlo’?” Beca knocked on the bathroom door. “Are you okay? You shut the shower off like fifteen minutes ago.”

“Uh huh,” Chloe replied, sniffing. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Wait, are you crying?”

Another sniff. “No.”

Beca turned her head until her ear was pressed against the door, and she heard Chloe take a shuddering breath before the sounds of her cries got louder.

“Baby, can you open the door? I just want to make sure you’re okay,” Beca said. “I can give you some privacy if that’s what you want, but I need to make sure you aren’t hurt or anything.”

“I’m not hurt,” Chloe said, her voice sounding tired and strained. 

Beca sighed. “Please open the door.”

Beca heard the sound of the lock sliding back into place, and she gave Chloe a second before she turned the handle and pushed. 

Chloe was still wrapped in her towel and sitting on the tub's edge. The tops of her shoulders, her cheeks, and the tip of her nose were still red from the heat of the shower, and the mirror was still fogged.

“What’s going on, Chlo’? Why are you crying?”

Chloe kept her gaze on the floor as she sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “I just had a bad day,” she said. 

Beca’s chest tightened. “Did you…” Her voice trailed off, unable to ask the question.

Chloe shook her head. “But I want to,” she said. 

“Okay,” Beca said, stepping further into the bathroom. She crouched down so she fell in Chloe’s eyeline - she knew she wouldn’t be able to get her to look up right now - and the tears clouding her eyes made Beca’s stomach hurt. “What do you need?”

Chloe shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “A hug would be nice.”

Beca grinned. “I can do that,” she said. She stood up and let Chloe bury herself into her chest. It didn’t take her long to start crying again, and Beca pressed her lips to the crown of her head. “I’ve got you,” she said, softly. A hand rubbing up and down her back. Her skin was warm, and Beca wondered how hot the shower had been. 

“I’m really proud of you,” Beca said, once Chloe’s sobs seemed to die down.

Chloe scoffed and pulled away to wipe her eyes.

“I am,” Beca insisted. “You wanted to… To… You know, and you didn’t. And I’m proud of you for that.”

“I thought I’d be done with this by now,” Chloe said, accepting the tissue Beca handed her so she could wipe her eyes properly. “I didn’t realise getting better would be this hard.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing amazing,” Beca said. 

“I just… I wish I felt like it was working,” Chloe said.

“Give it time,” Beca said, her hands covering Chloe’s. “You’ve got a lot of healing to do, it won’t happen overnight.”

Chloe nodded. “I know. I just wish it would.”

“I wish I could make this easier for you,” Beca said.

“You already are, I promise.”

“I love you,” Beca said, pressing another kiss into Chloe’s head. “So, so much. Please don’t ever forget that.”

“I won’t,” Chloe said. “I promise. And I love you too.”

[writer-darling]

Are You Ever Dreaming of Me?

Chapter 9: The Great War | Read Chapter 8: Out of the Woods!

I NEVER USE Y/N OR ANYTHING LIKE IT THANK YOU SO MUCH :)

Rating: M - Mature ((for now, but there WILL BE explicit stuff later sooo (18+ MINORS DNI)

Pairing: Ezra (Prospect, 2018) x F!Reader

Warnings: Good old enemies-to-lovers trope. age gap (10 years). Nothing super descriptive for Reader but they are described as having hair. Tension, ofc, especially sexual tension out the wahzoo. Adult language. Alotta feelings and things of that nature. Banter. Flirting. It’s E-to-L, you know where this is going. Feral Ezra (he starts at a 75% but ends up at about a 76.9% in this chapter). Mentions/descriptions of violence, blood, injuries. If there are any that I missed, please inbox me to let me know and I will add them in :)

Word Count: 6.1k

Summary!: A battle breaks out between your crew and a rival group. It's up to you and Ezra to get things under control. Can you two make it out alive?

******

“All that bloodshed, crimson clover

Uh-huh, sweet dream was over

My hand was the one you reached for

All throughout the Great War…”

He goes from being completely relaxed and peaceful to tense and stressed instantly as you both drop down to the floor. Ezra looks at you for a moment, watching you put on your radio and helmet and zipping up your suit. Before he turns then grabs his thrower... but he can't just leave you when he’s not certain where the gunshots are coming from. He turns back around to speak to you, his voice now hushed, almost to a whisper.

"I've got my weapon charged, but I gotta get to my tent to suit up. Then I’ll deal with the commotion outside. Meanwhile, you need to go and get away from the camp. Deal? If anythin’ happens, promise me that."

“What?” You’re shaking your head as you crawl on all fours over to your own weapon, charging it up in record time as the combat outside continues. “No way, I’m not leaving you.” You hear the sound of someone yelling, 

“Ambush!” 

Clearly requesting backup. Ezra’s eyes are like steel now as they look towards the tent entrance as if trying to see beyond the zip. But his attention is back on you as you speak again, your rifle now cocked and ready at your side.

“Either we go together or we both leave.” You say, knowing damn well he won’t leave his fellow crew, just like you won’t.

Ezra sighs and he nods once to show he understands, much to his chagrin. You're a stubborn thing, that's for sure. His heart races at your response and he’s not sure if it’s from the determination in your eyes to stay with him, or out of pure fear and concern for your safety. Regardless, he pushes it aside for now. He needs to focus on getting you both out of this alive. "Well, I guess that means we both go," he says, trying to keep the resignation out of his voice, "but you need to stay close. I mean close. If I tell you to move or take cover, you do it immediately. You're here to help, not to be a hero. Deal?”

You don’t need to be told twice, nodding sternly as the adrenaline takes over. “Deal.” You respond. There’s another round of gunfire and a brief look of fear flashes across your face but you force it away. “Let’s get out there.”

Ezra gives you the firmest nod he can give as you prepare yourself, and then he moves over to the tent’s entrance, both of you standing completely upright only once you’re both in position. "Alright. Follow my lead." He's looking at you once more before he readies himself to step forward, his hand on the zipper of the tent. "On three. One... two... three," he says, and then he's already moving through the opening. You don't even have time to breathe - he's already in the middle of this. You'll need to stick close to him.

You do as he says and stay behind him closely. The sight before you two is awful, bloody. An acrid mix of blood and gunpowder hits your nostrils as soon as you step out of your tent. The sight of gunsmoke is still fogging up the area. There are a few bodies already littering the dig site, maybe about 7. Some you recognize, some you don’t; the latter likely those that ambushed you. Cases of gems belonging to the rest of the crew are scattered all over the site, most of them broken open with some gems accompanying them. Crushed gems are scattered all along the terrain, the fragments glittering brightly amongst the soil.

Ezra's grip is tense as he moves closer to the bodies, his thrower trained and ready to fire at a moment's notice. He's trying to get a good idea of the situation... How many of them are there? Have they already left, or are there more waiting out on the edges of camp? He stops for a moment and looks back at you, still keeping his rifle out. "You okay?" he asks quietly, his tone gentle, but tense and filled with concern as he meets your eyes briefly before making another sweep of the area. There's just... no way he can lose you out here. He won’t.

“Fine.” You respond with a small assuring smile, though your eyes are also tense and narrow as they do their own sweep of the grounds. The gunfire’s stopped but that doesn’t mean the danger is gone. There’s an eerie silence as you two move across the camp. Like trouble is just hiding amongst the trees, waiting to make itself known. You walk as close to Ezra as you can, the two of you getting back to back to cover each other as you both survey the campsite for the smallest sign of harm.

It’s a quick, but tense walk to Ezra’s tent, only a few feet away. Before he heads inside he speaks:

“Any trouble, you run.” His tone is clear: he’s not asking. You nod and do another sweep as you keep your thrower raised, watching him head inside for only a second before your eyes are on the lookout again. 

He suits up faster than you thought physically possible, his helmet and radio in place when he rejoins you outside. His eyes are darting all over the place as he keeps his thrower up and pointed at any potential threat. He really, really doesn't like this situation at all. He was so happy two minutes ago, and now he's in the middle of a firefight. He sighs softly and speaks in a low voice, tuning his radio to your channel as you both reposition back-to-back once more. 

"This is no good," he says quietly, his face tight with tension. "We’re still in danger - please, be on the lookout. There's absolutely no point in us gettin’ hurt, or worse, over this."

“Yeah, tell me about it.” You say, your eyes fixated and razor-sharp as you two begin to move again. It all seems so still, too still.

Ezra moves over to the two nearest bodies and starts searching them for anything of value. Any clues on which group they could be, any sign of why they chose to attack. He continues to scan the area, keeping watch while he searches... "You notice anythin’ about these rivals?" Something in his voice makes you inspect the corpses just a little bit more.

“They’re dressed like us.” You say. “I know some of these faces but the others I know damn well I’ve never seen before.” You add, keeping your voice hushed. “This was a planned ambush. But which of the groups around us was it?”

“Take a look at their boots,” he points out, using his boot to gesture to the nearest body’s shoes. You do as he says and focus your eyes on the boots. There’s nothing particularly special about the boots themselves but,

“They’ve got clay on them.” You remark, taking note of what Ezra pointed out. The bottom of the boots are caked with mud, but bright red-orange chunks of clay pieces are lodged amongst the dirt. Your gaze flits to the next assailant and you see that the bottom of their shoes are in a similar state. “That means it's the group near the river.” Your eyes go to Ezra as he nods grimly. Both of your radio signals suddenly go off and you look at each other before taking quick shelter behind the watchtower. You both press the button on your radios to switch over to channel 3.

Ezra presses his headset up closer to his ear. He listens for a few seconds, his expression serious as he switches the safety on his thrower. He doesn't want to take any more risks in this moment, and he holds his breath while you both wait in the short silence,

A voice crackles through the signal,

“Ezra, colt, what are your positions?” Denver’s voice floods both your earpieces and you let out a sigh of relief. 

“We’re on site; Ezra and I found each other once the ambush began.” You lie, not telling him you two were together the whole time, knowing that’ll only worsen the rumors. If you two don’t die out here first.

Ezra's eyes light up and he lets his shoulders relax ever so slightly. He listens carefully for a moment and then he speaks into his own radio next, his voice firm and clear. "We're safe, but we need some help. We've already got various crewmembers down. I'm requestin’ assistance and evacuation from camp. How's it lookin’ on your end, boss?"

“Affirmative. Sending backup now. Negative on the evacuation; we can't afford to leave the site right now, there are too many of our crew scattered.” You can hear the sounds of gunfire and Denver yells out a few commands to the crewmembers with him. Ezra closes his eyes in frustration, his jaw tensing for a moment,

“If we linger, we’ll be killed.” He insists and you both wait for a response.

“We’re staying, Ezra. That’s an order.” Denver responds. Your eyes flit to Ezra as he clicks his teeth, still frustrated but he nods.

“Yes, sir… How are y’all holdin’ up?” He asks. 

“We’re still in battle here,” Another round of gunfire in the background complements his words. “A good portion of us are managing to hold the fort in the dining tent. Most of the rivals are gone, and a few ran off towards your area. They scattered once the gunfire began, and probably couldn’t handle the bloodshed. You two hang tight and try to find survivors from our crew. Backup will be there soon.”

Ezra lets out a deep sigh as this is clearly the most positive piece of radio chatter he's had since he started this conversation. He gives another affirmative before signing off, and then he turns back to you. "We need to find survivors and bring them back." He's talking as if he's your superior in both his tone and his attitude. He expects you to listen. "Are you up for that? Are you with me?"

Usually, you’d argue with him, bicker, and be difficult. But now, he’s your friend, your partner in battle. And you know you have to obey if you want the both of you to get out of this mess alive. You nod clear determination in your eyes. 

“I am; I’m with you.” You say firmly and check that your thrower is charged again as you two come out from your temporary shelter slowly.

He nods once and looks around carefully before he speaks again. "Alright," he says, his voice quiet and his eyes moving around constantly, "we need to check the rest of this site. Let's stick close, and be ready to run if things go bad. If you even get the slightest inklin’ that this is about to turn into a situation, you need to warn me immediately. Just say the word and I'll start makin’ a dash for it. We can keep an eye out for others as we move, but safety always comes first. Deal?"

“Deal.” You nod and follow him. You two find a few injured crewmembers and take them to the nearest tent on the far left of the camp. They’re all too hurt to fight, leaving you and Ezra as the only strongholds.

In the distance, you hear another commotion and turn. Your eyes widen as you see more members of that rival group running towards you both, their guns aimed. But you’re outnumbered 5 to 2 and you turn to Ezra.

“Run!” You yell and wait for him to move before you do. Gunfire begins to rain down on you both.

Ezra's eyes go wide as you yell out your command, and in the next moment, he's already turned and sprinting away as fast as he can, making good time. He briefly glances back for you as he suddenly makes a hard right, taking a tight turn around a large rock formation. Just as he's going around, he yells back to you over his radio, "I'm going to lead them away from here. When I do, I want you to get the hell outta here! Understood?!"

“What?? No!” You yell back as you run, the sound of gunfire no longer following you, but following to where you saw Ezra last. “Are you crazy?? You’re outnumbered, they’ll kill you or catch up to you!”

"It's not a choice, rook!" Ezra calls back as he begins to run again, in zigzags as the gunfire rains down on him once more. There's a burst of gunfire off to your right, and then the sound of Ezra yelling out in pain... but then it all goes quiet.

Everything's so quiet, and you can't see where he went after he rounded the corner. You don’t hesitate even as your body goes cold and your heart drops into your stomach. 

“Ezra!” You yell. A sudden zip brushing your suit shoulder makes you look up and you spot one of the enemies from the group that has now followed you. You’re quick as you both get into a shootout, one of your strikes finally hitting their shoulder and knocking them down, you don’t hesitate as you shoot again, this one piercing their helmet and hitting them square between the eyes.

Before you can dwell on that much, you watch as the group of enemies that went after Ezra suddenly walk back into view calmly. But they’re not looking at you, so you drop down into the tall grass. At that moment, you hear more shouting and more gunfire behind you.

Turning, you spot the backup you requested coming in hot. There are 7 members of your crew and you smile despite your concern for Ezra. You watch as they run towards the group of 4 rivals, and let them handle things as your attention is now solely focused on finding him.

“Ezra, come in! Ezra, answer me!” You yell into your radio, deep dread filling every cell in your body, threatening to paralyze you but you force your legs to keep moving.

As the gunfire behind you continues, you can hear the radio signal cut in and out while you yell for him. Your crew members don't even hesitate when they see what's going on - they all start to fire back at the attackers, and they manage to take out two of them. The other two run for cover as the situation changes dramatically in the next few seconds...

There's silence for a few more moments and you feel like they could be hours. And then Ezra's radio signal finally kicks on. His ragged breathing is the first thing you hear and the relief you feel is instant. He speaks next and while his voice is strained, obviously in pain... he's alive, and that’s what matters most to you.

"Are you okay?" He groans, his voice a rough pant.

“Are you??” You ask, still running and looking for him with your weapon at the ready. “Where in Kevva’s name are you??” You ask.

"I'm alive," he says, his voice grim, and there's a slight grunt as he speaks. "Those bastards shot me good... I can't keep up like this. You need to go back." Another bullet rips through the bushes nearby at the same time he's talking, but you only glance back once before you run faster, not knowing or caring if that bullet was meant for you or not. Then he adds, "There's no way they came here randomly. They're lookin’ for somethin’, and I think we've already made a mess of their plans. You need to leave, okay?"

“Like hell!” You respond. “Absolutely not, I either leave here with you or I die here, Ezra. Now tell me where you are!” You say.

"I'm at the caves, alright?" he says, letting out another grunt of pain, "Please, go!"

He doesn't waste any time explaining the situation to you. And you don’t waste time trying to convince him, all your focus is on finding him. Just then, a burst of gunfire erupts from the direction of the caves. Ezra isn't kidding... this situation is about to get very bad, very quickly. You can't leave him.

"Please!"

“No!” You yell back and cut the radio, even as you hear him start to protest. Your legs burn as you push your speed to its limits, but after another few seconds, the caves finally come into view.

You can hear the sounds of a struggle. Your eyes narrow slightly as you go in through the nearest entrance, turning on the light atop your gun. The near-darkness is cut as you make your way into the cave, your body tense. Your eyes go to where the sound is coming from and you almost freeze when you see that he’s in the middle of a scuffle with an enemy, his gun a good distance away. But Ezra’s got the upper hand from the looks of it as he straddles his assailant, punching him. The man’s glass helmet is shattered and as you hear bones breaking, you don’t know if the helmet’s shattered from the force of the punches or from so many attempts at breaking it. 

But then the situation shifts when the man punches Ezra on his right side and Ezra yells in pain, falling. The man moves and is quick to crawl on top of him. 

A scream lodges in your throat as a knife appears in the man’s hand suddenly as he raises it, aiming to stab it into Ezra’s chest. Your heart clenches almost painfully at the look of fear in Ezra’s eyes. A bullet zips from your weapon and hits the man square through the jaw, making him yell and Ezra freeze. You hadn’t even realized you’d taken a shot until his panicked eyes glance up. When Ezra sees that the bullet wasn’t meant for him, he relaxes, moving out from under his assailant. 

You move next as you hear the enemy gurgling blood and approach them both, using a final bullet to put the man out of his misery. You drop down to Ezra’s side as you take cover. He quickly crawls over to where his gun lies and grabs it before rejoining you and getting into position beside you. His eyes meet yours just as you both hear more men coming through, both of you once again aiming your guns forward.

The relief that fills you is immediate even as you see that he’s clearly injured. As an unrecognizable group of 4 comes in, you and Ezra immediately begin to shoot. Ezra grunts with effort and pain after every shot, but you’re too focused on the firefight to take a good look at him.

“Miss me?” You ask your eyes forward.

He lets out a quiet chuckle as a shot zips dangerously close to your left shoulder, and another brushes over Ezra’s hair. "Ah, you're somethin’ else." He remarks as he hits the man who took a shot at you square in the heart, while you hit the man who went after him in the leg. "Thank you," he adds. You only nod and keep it up, the adrenaline making this fight seem like it lasts 5 seconds and 5 hours all at once.

After a few minutes, the gunfire stops... but only because all four of your attackers are dead. You can see all four of them on the ground. You and Ezra slowly rise from hiding. "Are you hurt?" He asks, breathing roughly as he limps closer to you, his eyes scanning your body.

“No, but you are.” You say, straightening up and feeling the relief of the fight’s end wash over you. “Where are you hit?” You ask him, your attention is now undivided as you zero in on his injury.

"My right side," Ezra says, lifting his arm up to reveal a fairly large wound that's now bleeding out onto his suit. 

“Was it a clean break? Straight through?” You ask, and he nods.

“Yeah… think so.” He grits his teeth in pain as he talks, and he keeps his right arm down at his side. "I'll be alright," he says in an attempt to reassure you, even though he's in a lot of pain. "We need to treat this, though."

“Goddamnit. We need to get you back to camp, fast. Can you walk?” You ask him, your eyes scanning him for any other injuries.

Ezra nods once as he lets out a sigh, "Yeah... I can walk. It's gonna hurt pretty bad, though."

He winces at the pain of having his right arm up at his side. He looks over at you and nods. "I'll be fine. We'll get through this... just like we've always done. Okay?" he says with a faint smile. You nod in response, the worry clear in your eyes as they flicker between his face and the large bloodstain on his suit. "Now let's get going. We've got med kits waiting back at camp."

You nod and immediately fall into his left side, slinging his left arm over your shoulders and letting him lean his weight on you as you two walk back to camp together. You’re trying to be as gentle as possible but you’re also trying to rush, knowing he needs medical attention as soon as he can get it.

You send a signal to Denver and his voice floods your radio.

“Colt. where are you?”

“Exiting the caves, sir. Ezra’s hurt. I’m walking him back to camp now.”

“Sending two men your way. How bad is the injury?” He asks. You glance over at Ezra as he winces, almost tripping on the uneven soil again.

“One gunshot, straight through, on his right side. Below his ribcage. I can’t tell yet if it hit any major organs.” 

“Alright. Keep walking you two, help is on the way.” 

“Clear.” The signal goes quiet and you don’t speak again as you and Ezra continue walking.

Ezra leans on you the entire way, moving as quickly as he's able. Occasionally, he makes a sound of pain through his teeth or yells if he trips or moves too quickly... but he's pushing forward despite that. 

You can see the camp up ahead - just a minute or two more. It seems like everything has been shifted over to the dining tent. There are men outside already, all of them helping tend to injured survivors... and a few of them rush over to meet you as you get closer. 

They take Ezra from you and carefully guide him into the tent. You follow close behind them, your eyes not leaving Ezra until you’re inside, where the dining tables have been shoved to the far edges to make space for cots and medical equipment. They place him on the nearest empty cot, where you see two more men already waiting. Few prospectors have medical training other than the basics. Yourself included. You remove Ezra’s helmet and radio for him, setting them aside on the floor.

Ezra's wincing in pain as he's moved onto the cot, and you notice that he's clutching at his side and looking up at you with a grim expression on his face. The two men who brought Ezra in leave to go help elsewhere, while the other two get to work right away. They're wearing gloves and sterile attire and you watch as they cut away at the immediate cloth covering his injury.

“How can I help?” You ask; you’d rather be put to work somehow and offer assistance than just sit around worrying about him. If you can help stop his pain somehow, you’ll feel better and so will he.

The man working as the primary attendant looks over at you. You briefly recall his name is Terrant. “You can help hold him down."

You remove your own helmet and radio, along with your gloves, tossing everything aside next to Ezra’s gear. You wash up quickly before you get onto the cot, near Ezra’s head. He lets out a moan as Terrant begins to dig into the wound, but he grits his teeth and keeps his mouth shut. As you start pressing down on Ezra's shoulder, his face contorts, his face pale and sweaty.

“Hey, look at me.” You say softly, speaking to him in a low soothing tone. “How are you holding up?” You ask, trying to get him to keep his eyes on you and not on what they’re doing to him.

Ezra lets out a long breath of air, but he manages to keep his eyes on you. "I'm not doin’ so hot," He says in a whisper - but he's staying calm and controlling his breathing to keep his pain under control. When he speaks again, he's still quiet, but he manages a soft smile for you. "How are you?" he asks, "You okay?" He looks at you for a moment before he closes his eyes, knowing what's being done is for the greater good.

“I’m fine.” You say, and the shock in your voice is evident. You’ve barely got a scratch on you. “You’re a goddamn lunatic, you know that??” You ask with a soft laugh. “You ran off by yourself, chased by a crew of four. Do you have a death wish??” You ask him, your tone light but it’s clear that you’re very concerned about him.

Ezra chuckles as you call him a goddamn lunatic, but his laugh is cut off as he's suddenly hit with another wave of pain. His eyes shoot open, and you see his eyebrows clench. He takes another long, slow breath, and after a few seconds, it passes. "...I've survived worse," he says, finally looking back up at you with a faint smile. "Besides, I knew you'd come to rescue me, starflower."

That pet name again. You smile and shake your head, even as a light blush creeps into your cheeks. “You’re lucky I’m stubborn and don’t like following your orders.” You say. “Besides… you saved not only my ass but the asses of those injured. What happened to ‘not being the hero’?” You tease softly, quoting him from earlier.

Ezra laughs as you quote himself back to him, and he shakes his head once. "How could I not try to save that perfect smile of yours?" he asks playfully, and then he looks away... even now, he's flirting with you. Even in a situation like this, he still has it in him to make you feel special... but now isn't the time for that. For now, there are more important things happening here, so Ezra takes another deep breath. "How’s it lookin’? Any hope?" he asks, sounding genuinely nervous.

You nod and refocus, looking over at the crewmembers tending to him. It’s looking a lot better already. They’ve cleaned away the blood, and start applying some sort of antiseptic to the wound. This makes Ezra grit his teeth even more... but he knows how important it is that they properly treat him. With less viscera, it’s not as terrifying, making you relax further. You grab a rag from the medkit and clean the sweat away from his face and hair.

“They’re almost done with one side.” You say softly. “Just keep looking at me.” You instruct, leaning a little closer to him.

Ezra looks back at you as you lean in. "I don't have any intention of lookin’ anywhere else, sweetheart," he says softly, and for once he's not trying to be flirtatious. You can hear the sincerity in his voice as he's doing so. You reach your hand up and take his, gently squeezing it, and he smiles at you... maybe not as deeply as he normally does, but his eyes convey more than any words could. "Can you stay here with me ‘til the healing's done?" he asks, his voice soft. You smile softly. 

“Oh, what, you thought you could get rid of me that, easy, huh?” You ask. “Absolutely I’m staying.” You say, squeezing his hand gently in comfort. His grin widens and the relief in him is palpable. Your lips brush his temple before you can stop yourself.

His hand goes limp in your grip as you do - he flinches in his cot, mostly from surprise, and his eyes seem to go wide for a brief moment as if his entire world stops for a second... But then he's got a smile on his face, and he looks at you with a raised brow. "Now, why'd you have to go and do that?" he asks playfully. "Just couldn't resist, huh?"

“Fuck you.” You say, even with a wide smile. “It’s called being grateful, jackass. Maybe you should try it sometime.” You respond with a good-natured eye roll.

Ezra laughs at your response and smiles as he squeezes your hand back, a hint of playfulness to his tone. "Fair enough," he says, returning the eye roll. “For the record, you did save me back. So I suppose you just owe me one ass-savin’.” He says playfully. You grin in response. 

“Oh, I do, huh?” You ask, smirking. “I mean you’re the one saving someone you said is only ‘tolerable,’” You quote him with a knowing smile.

Ezra lets out a long breath of air, and he laughs softly. “Well, I think we’re long past that, rook. Wouldn’t you say?” He asks, and then he smirks a little bit before he speaks again. "Besides, I’m a hurtin’ man right now, clearly on my deathbed! Are ya really gonna tease me about my ego some more?" His eyes twinkle with amusement and the sight is a relief to you. You look around for a moment and spot Denver directing two more injured crew into the tent.

“Maybe just a little. You gotta admit, your ego’s bigger than most.” You don’t realize how insinuating that sounds until you look over and see the look on Ezra’s face. You roll your eyes. “Kevvasake, you really are 14 years old.” You mutter with a grin.

His eyes light up, a short laugh escaping him even as he’s in pain. He blushes, and then he tries to think of something to say, but he comes up empty. You roll your eyes at him, blushing yourself. 

“Listen, I didn’t realize what I said until after I said it, alright?” You say with a grin, backtracking.

“Right..." he says playfully, "Sure you didn't." He smirks and rolls his eyes at you, but he's still laughing a little bit. "I'm the 'kid' here, right?" he asks, and when he sees you're blushing and getting flustered, he can't help but smile going quiet for a minute or so before he speaks again. 

"And, since you didn’t leave me for dead I guess that means you really like me, yeah?" he asks, a little smirk touching his face. His voice is still low and soft, but it's impossible for you not to smile at it. 

“No, of course not, this entire friendship was all a ruse to let your guard down and get shot, as was my plan all along.” You respond sarcastically before your tone softens, becoming more sincere. Your eyes bore into his as the atmosphere shifts between you both. 

“Yes, I do.” You respond honestly. You can tell he’s surprised by your sincerity but he doesn’t let it faze him too much, blushing and smiling instead. 

“Well… I can admit that I really like you too." There's a slight smirk on his face as he says that, a more rogueish twinkle in his eyes as he leans in a little bit closer. You grin and kiss his temple again before the other prospector next to Terrant speaks while Terrant cleans off the tools he’s been using,

“Okay, we’re done with the entrance wound, now we gotta do the exit wound.” The man says. “Can you help me get him on his stomach?” He asks you and you nod immediately.

“Yeah, I can do that.”

“Ok, on three.” You two carefully flip Ezra over on the cot and he shouts in pain, making your heart break a little.

“Easy, Ezra, easy.” You say softly as the two others begin working. Ezra nods even as his face is contorted in pain, his eyes shutting for a moment. “Hey,” You say softly and tilt his chin up to find you. “Uh-uh, keep looking at me.” You say, boring your eyes into his. He nods and does as you ask, his face red and a sweat on his brow. You clean it away with the rag. He moans in pain but he stays still, his gaze locked on yours. “Really rethinking saving my ass now, huh?” You joke.

“Oh, never.” He responds with a breathless laugh as he tenses every muscle in his body to keep himself still. “I’ll take this any day as long as you’re still here to look at me with those pretty eyes.” You roll your eyes at him but grin, kissing his forehead again. You smile and keep him distracted until Terrant’s wrapping up.

“Ok, we’re just about done here.” He says, giving Ezra’s wound a final rub down of antiseptic. You smile, relieved, and kiss Ezra’s temple once more.

Ezra's eyes go wide again when you kiss him on the temple for a third time, a tingle shooting through him as he holds his breath again. He quickly gets his composure back, though - but he's still blushing. He looks at Terrant, then he raises an eyebrow and speaks in a grim tone. "Is that right?" he asks, "All patched up then?"

“Yeah, looks like the bastards missed your liver by about 3 inches. We’re gonna give you something for the pain; a good amount of morphine. It’ll probably put you to sleep, let your body heal and rest.” Terrant says as the prospector assisting him prepares the injection. Your eyes go wide and you quickly look away, hiding your face, even though you’re not the one receiving the shot.

Ezra grimaces as he sees the needle come out, but he doesn't flinch when it punctures his skin. He holds himself very still for a moment, letting out an occasional grunt of pain as the medication flows into his vein... but he just keeps holding your hand, and he squeezes it gently before the drugs fully kick in. He looks up at you with a slight smile, and then he closes his eyes. "I'm here... I'm here," he says quietly, breathing deeply. "I'm not goin’ anywhere, okay?" he says, his voice soft and gentle.

You look at him in surprise. “Are you comforting me??” You ask him incredulously. “You’re the one getting injected!”

Ezra laughs for a moment before the morphine starts to take effect, and his laugh quickly becomes muted and muffled. "I can do both, can't I?" he asks softly, his voice trailing off slowly before the drugs start to affect his voice. As his breathing goes shallow and his body starts to relax, he just smiles at you. "I'm here... promise..." he says one last time, his eyes closing and his breathing now very soft. You watch him and your heart stutters as the last thing he does is whisper your name before he finally falls asleep.

You laugh at him softly as tears sting the corners of your eyes, a myriad of emotions running through you. “Blessed Kevva, you really are a lunatic.” You mumble, but he’s already fully asleep. You kiss his forehead once more and brush his hair out of his eyes. You’re just watching him as he sleeps and petting his hair.

Terrant clears his throat to grab your attention and you focus on him.

“He’s really lucky, but he’s not in the clear yet. This next 72-hour period is important to ensure that his injury isn’t infected. I know a lot of the groups like to poison their shots to damage enemies further. He’ll need to be monitored around the clock for the next few nights.”

“I can do that.” You respond immediately. “Whatever it takes.” Terrant nods.

“Ok. I’m gonna go help out, but if he wakes up again, you call me.” He says, You respond with another nod and he leaves with his assistant after you’ve thanked them for all they’ve done. Your eyes go to Ezra and the worry still settles in your heart as you go back to caressing his hair.

You realize then that you don’t hate Ezra, you don’t like Ezra… you love him. You truly love him.

******

I have to say I was especially excited to upload this chapter. It's the chapter that inspired this whole series in the first place. I had to reread the battle scenes so many damn times to make sure I got it all and it made some sort of sense. Hopefully it worked, haha. Next chapter will be up next week! Thanks a million and see you in the next one!

Tag List:  @luz-introvertida @castleamc @moralesfish  @december-gal1 @castleamcc @hillarymurray4 @supernaturalgirl @supernaturalgirl20 @sherala007 @littlemisspascal @practicalghost @donnaa @scorpio-marionette @kayleezra @amandanik23 @maxpbxtch97 @lowlights @shadesofnerdlygrace @harriedandharassed @carefulnowprincess @amneris21 @horton-hears-a-honk @xdaddysprincessxx @trickstersp8 @mandy-sings @mswarriorbabe80 @permanentlydizzy @teddy2510 @bitchwitch1981 @jedi-in-crocs @ezras-girl @theredwritingwitch @thesoftdumbass @readingiskeepingmegoing @pedropascalposting

Links!

Join the Tag List here

Ao3 link here

TikTok here

Story Playlist here

The Masterlist here

[venusandsaturnsrings]

man,,,, i just got finished blowing over this one scenario,,,,,,,,,,,,,, now im brainrotting over it so im gonna dump it to u lmao

based off that slasher au because idk whats wrong with me lmao

u are absolutely fucked in the head, u think. every book u read, every movie u have liked, its sickening u think how absolutely hot and bothered u get when a killer is involved, hunting down the protagonist like a wild hunter off to hunt its prey. rather than ur heart throbbing in anxiety, u know that it's something else completely when ur fingers go down and slip inside ur wet panties.

still, those were all in books, fantasy. harmless.

this? this is real.

an orange haired man grinning manically at ur quivering form, deep blue wild eyes staring straight at ur soul.

a rather shiny knife embedded at ur throat,,,

"well, well, what's a cute thing like u roaming around these dangerous parts at this hour?"

honestly if it wasn't for his other hand overlapping your trembling lips, u would have let out a moan. he probably thinks ur terrified beyond belief, scared with an inch of ur life.

he adjusts ur position, u being laid flat on ur stomach, the knife settling in front of ur throat as he straddles u from behind.

it was too much,,,, too much!!!

"i--are u wet?" the man said with incredulity in his voice before laughing at ur pathetic meals and whimpers. suddenly, u felt his other hand push aside ur soaked underwear and plunge his fingers deep with a loud squelch.

this time, u didn't held back ur moans.

"dirty, dirty, is this what u were hoping for?" he pressed himself closer to u and despite the hazy fog hovering over ur mind, u felt the distinct bulge of his large cock. with a grin u can't see, he nicked ur neck with the pointed tip of his knife, earning a whimper and squeeze of ur walls on his thrusting fingers.

maybe u will die after this but by god, it was worth it.

-simpy

this has been ROTTING in my inbox im so sorry to my beloved simpy T^T but i’ve been selfish with it… this is so yummy n so good n i wanna make a full proper ACTUAL fic for slasher childe like this bc murderous man x victim that’s into it is such a cute concept hehe… ermm for now pls accept my love n many thanks n i propose this as an idea:

being fucked by the handle of his knife <3

[for-a-longlongtime]

I don't think I've been in your inbox. Such an oversight on my part.

So Oscar and I somehow spoke through the thick fog of his cigarette smoke, he's curious about how you got into sandwiches. What made you want to tackle them, take them on and make them your own?

He's also curious if you want to run your fingers through his hair while your fingers glide over his chain. He's got some conditions, ones that he's going to tell you when I leave. He is curious if you're going to be obedient or if he's going to have to tame you.

He's giving me the evil eye a little so I'm going to go. Oscar would like to get started.

Enjoy! Love Nerdie! ❤️

Nerdie <3 There's not really a moment when I "got into sandwiches". I'm still discovering my writing style and process, and it's not so much that I set out with the intention of writing a certain something - it's more about what comes to mind and sparks an idea. First and foremost it's about characters that speak to me and their relationship (whatever that may be), because people - real or in fiction - are just so damn interesting.

I write what I also like to read (which goes beyond f/m), and when it comes to m/m or m/m/f, m/f/nb, nb/nb/m, f/f/m fic etc - there isn't a ton of that in this fandom (though it feels like there's definitely been an increase over the past year). As a queer woman who isn't very traditional (marriage was never a goal for me, and I've never wanted kids, plus I'm not the type to stay in a job or even live in the same place for 10+ years), I like reading fic that reflects me and the people around me in some ways, including the complexity of those relationships. So I like reading good m/m/f fic (or f/f/m, etc) because I believe that you can love or desire more than just one person in real life as well as fiction, and I like pairings that are interesting. There's plenty of Frankie x f!reader fic out there -- and lots of it is good, but I want to read Frankie x nb!reader or m!reader (or an original character) because their stories interest me, their dynamics, etc. Or to see how someone with Frankie's personality responds to someone like Pike. And what if you fall for someone who is already in a committed but not so much traditional relationship?

This may all be way more serious than you intended my response to be, but there you go. Also, sex between people who desire each other and who are compatible is just simply hot - to have, to read or to write, or to watch - whether that involves two or three people.

ANYWAY.

Oscar's curls, man. They're a thing of fucking beauty, I can't even stand it. 😍

Me and obedient though? Nahhh... you know I like to stir things up.

[pinkvaquita]

*writes in your inbox*

It was sudden, unexpected.

For both of them.

It had been maybe four in the morning, the sun wasn't even starting to rise, and the air was cold, a simple breath looking like a cloud of fog.

A certain carbonated cookie hadn't been able to sleep, rolling from side to side on her bed as her mind whirred with thoughts, some not as sweet as others.

That stupid curly blonde with his stupid yellow eyes in his stupid uniform with his stupid goggles...

A clock ticked, stirring the cookie from her thoughts. It was five in the morning.

Grape Ade, gently setting aside the lipstick stained goggles she'd been holding for the last eight hours, trying to calm her boundless imagination, rose to her feet, and started on her way out of her room. Maybe she just needed a snack or something to distract her, to occupy her mind enough for it to stop obsessing over that, dumbass- so much.

Enough to finally let her get some rest, even if only an hour of sleep before she's woken by one of the other cookies, for some ungodly reason.

Walking through the halls of the building, slowly making her way to the kitchen, Grape Ade was staring at her hands, the soft taps of her feet against the solid floor barely numbing her thoughts.

Butter Roll, the cookie on her mind at this very moment, she almost swore she could hear his voice in the distance. Her mind could be playing tricks on her, though. She chose to reason with that idea, rather than believe he was up at this hour.

After all, the sound of his voice wouldn't ever leave her mind anyways.

She could feel her cheeks heating up as she walked, her hair beginning to bubble. It caused her to press her hands up to her face, hiding her face as she tried to settle her thoughts.

When she tilted her head back enough to look up, her eyes widened, just as she bumped right into a wall. For a moment, Grape Ade was stunned, stumbling back as her hands, still covering her face, stung from the impact.

Goddamnit.

She took a step back, taking her hands away from her face to gently shake them, lightly blowing on them as if that would fix the tiny indents in her dough.

With a small grumble, she rubbed her cheeks, her hair bubbling with frustration. She was so enamored with this man that she was bumping into walls, it was annoying beyond belief.

She was so enamored with him, that she didn't even notice the tap of boots against tile flooring as someone grew nearer to her.

"I can't believe this...I'm bumping into walls over a guy!" Grape Ade explained, as she held her hands out at that wall that dared to appear in her ways moments before. "...A really handsome and sweet guy...but still a guy!"

She growled with irritation, just about to punch the wall, until suddenly, she's tackled into another wall, pinned up against the solid surface.

Whatever air was in her lungs had left them, stunning her once more as whoever had pinned her obscured their face in her neck. Not like that helped them much, as their curly blonde hair was a dead giveaway to the carbonated cookie.

Alongside their buttery scent, the way they held her wrists, the feeling of a still warm oven mitt against one of her wrists, the slight view of their uniform under all their hair. It was obvious, at least to her.

"B-Butter Roll!" She exclaimed, further surprise filling her eyes as she tried to pry her wrists from the other cookie's hands. "Are you alright??- Did something happen??-"

"Stay still." Her eyes widened, Butter Roll's voice was firm, almost commanding, yet there was an underlying softness to it. It was odd, maybe a little worrying, but it's not like she knew what to say either.

Before Grape Ade could even say anything else, Butter Roll had lifted his head from her neck, revealing his dilated pupils, shaking like a pair of spinning plates.

His hands fell from her wrists, oven mitt discarded in favor of feeling her dough under both of his hands as he placed them on her waist. His hold on her was so firm that his chipped nails were almost leaving crescent shaped indents in her dough.

His gaze drifted away from her as he began to speak once more, as if he was embarrassed. "...What you've been saying the last few weeks, Grape Ade..."

The carbonated cookie could feel her heart skip a beat.

"...Are your words true?- Would you, truly let me do such things to you?..." The question was almost innocent, if it weren't for the context behind it, that Grape Ade knew all too well. Especially since the words the director was speaking of were her own.

But she didn't hesitate to respond, nodding rapidly almost immediately, watching as a bright red blush rose to his cheeks, spreading across his face.

For a moment, Butter Roll was silent, but that silence didn't last very long.

With a tiny, muttered, "good", he brought her closer to him, mashing their lips together as he closed his eyes. His hands trembled against her dough, fingers tapping against her sides in a rhythmic pattern as they kissed.

The carbonated cookie was frozen in place the entire time, her hair already bubbling as her face burned bright red.

He was kissing her! Butter Roll was kissing her!

When he pulled back, breaking the kiss, Grape Ade released a breath she didn't know she was holding, steam rolling off the top of her head as her eyes swirled. She felt dizzily giddy as her mouth hung open, like her head was spinning. Might have been the lightheadedness though.

"...Was that-" He had begun to ask, yet was cut off by Grape Ade as she firmly planted her hands on the sides of his head, her hands tangling into his hair as she tugged him back towards her.

Her parted lips crashed against his for the second time that hour, and the rest of the morning blurred together from there, with neither thinking much through.

Things only focused once, when they nearly got caught on their way to her room, but even then, that felt like a hazy memory in it of itself.

- *HIGH PITCHED SCREAMING* I FINISHED IT AISHDWAGHEIAHWEA WOOO

slkjdlkjslkadjklsajdklasjdlkasjk I ALREADY REATED TO THIS IN DM BUT DEAR FUCKING GOD I LOVE THIS SO MUCH THAT EVERYONE ELSE SHOULD SEE IT

[salface]

tag drop 1 : basics

[ferociiumarchive]

simon riley « @designedparadigm » hung on the phone; ❛ it's my thigh or nothing. i'm not helping you get off. ❜ (Ghost)

          ↳ & more smut sentence starters.

Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. The familiar saying echoing in the back of Danny's mind even when it didn't exactly apply to whatever the two of them had going. And then again Danny was highly positive that whoever came up with such saying didn't mean this.

The ghostly mask forgotten on the ground somewhere near them. Trapped between the cold wall pressed against his back and the warm and solid body of the other man. His own skin usually cold to the touch now flush, much like the pale crimson dusting his features when another shaky breath was swallowed down. Fingers wiggling, the subtle flex of his wrist, his way of testing the grip Ghost had on them as he kept Danny's arms above his head. Pierced tongue slowly sliding across his own lips, over the cut left by the bite that draw blood from the other, hazel hues focused with their usual intensity on the other's gaze, except there was a fire roaring behind them, excitement clouding them. Taunting words on the tip of his tongue, words that never saw the light, forced to be swallowed back when Ghost's knee parted his legs apart, a thigh suddenly pressing against his clothed groin; against his stirring desire.

Fuck.

Heat ( . . . and was that need ? ) pooling and settling deep in his core, dragging something akin to a whine from his mouth as his head fell back against the wall, leaving his throat exposed. This. Gods, this shouldn't be happening. When did he falter, allowing the other to take control of the whole situation ? But most importantly why wasn't he fighting for it ? He knew why, however it didn't mean he was going to acknowledge it. A shudder. Was it a reaction from the words spoken or the feeling of the other's thigh pressing against him ?

Either way, Danny found himself taking a sharp breath, head lifted as his gaze was brought back to Ghost. Despite his current state there was a smirk upon his features, impertinent as ever. " You have to try a little harder if you want to boss me around. "

[papillon-mechant]

broken beyond repair| fwb!r.w. x reader|

word count: 1.9k

summary: maybe agreeing to a fwb relationship with the guy you’re in love with isn’t the best idea

warnings: smut (not a lot, just a small section) all hurt no comfort, subdrop

a/n: hi i’m finally posting something. this is the fic that i basically fully wrote in nani’s inbox a while ago lol, i decided i’m turning this into a little series, cause i’ve always wanted to do one and this is a good fic to break into parts. hope you guys like it :) (also italics is reader pov)

I’d have to be a total idiot to deny my feelings for Ron Weasley. I guess I’ve got what most girls don’t get with their crushes. Him, in my bed. Me in his. But it’s not the same, because it means everything to me, and to him, it means nothing. When I agreed to a friends with benefits agreement with Ron, I thought it would help suppress the feelings that I had for him.

I thought if I focused on the sex, I wouldn’t have to focus on the way my heart pounds out of my chest when he holds me after. I wouldn’t even say the feelings were the worst part. The worst part is hearing the way he speaks about Hermione, and having to act like it doesn’t feel like a hex to the chest whenever he brings her up.

You were currently half naked, laying face down on Ron’s bed, his hands palming at your bright red cheeks, pulling your body back against his with every thrust of his hips. His movements are eager, a heated force behind each one. A small pool of drool forms by your open lips, your face being pushed further into the pillow each time his hips snap against yours. Each drag of his cock against your sensitive walls has you fighting to catch your breath.

“S’so good ronnie.” You moan, arms reaching back behind you in a silent beg. He takes the hint, grabbing hold of your arms and pulling your back flush against his chest. He grunts in your ear, speeding up the movements of his hips as he feels you clench around him, chasing his orgasim as it built up right behind yours.

“Please let me cum.” You cry, your head falling back onto his shoulder.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he groans, moving one of his hands to palm at your tits while the other plays with your swollen clit, “cum for me Hermione.” He’s so in the moment, he doesn’t even notice his slip up. But you do. And it breaks something inside you. The coil in your stomach dissipates and now the feeling of him inside you is more uncomfortable than pleasurable. Your mind goes completely blank, a heavy fog settling over your brain. You don’t even realize he’s finished until you feel his body weight leave yours.

You can hear him redressing himself, but you don’t make any moves to do the same just yet. He laughs, a sound that usually makes butterflies burst in your stomach, but now it just makes you sick.

“Sorry about that little slip up y/n, but you’ve gotta admit it was kind of funny.” He cackles, placing a hand on your thigh, a normally welcome touch, but this time it almost feels like his skin is burning yours, so you flinch away. A look of confusion crosses Ron’s face, not just because you flinched, but because you still haven’t gotten up to get your clothes back on.

“Y/n, you okay?” He asks. You use all the strength you have to avoid letting the tears in your eyes fall, causing a strong burning sensation in the back of your throat. You lift yourself up, avoiding any eye contact as you walk around the room and collect your scattered clothes. Ron watches your every move, the same look of confusion still painted on his face.

“Y/n?” In hearing your name once again, you slowly lift your head, shrinking into yourself as your eyes meet his, “I asked if you were okay.”

You mindlessly nod your head, putting your clothes back on as your brain leads your body’s actions like a robot, no emotion, just focus on the task at hand.

“M’fine. I’ve got a potions assignment to get to, I’ll see you later.” That's all you say, all he can get you to say before you rush out of his dorm. Ron stands more confused than ever, because you both have the same potions class, and there was nothing assigned for this weekend.

Ron had gone the whole weekend without seeing you, and that was very unusual considering you two were almost always together on weekends. It was easier to sneak around, not many people walking around the halls at that time. On his way to the great hall for dinner, Ron stops by your table, disappointed when he doesn’t see you sitting in your usual spot. He spots Hermione, and knowing that she’s one of your roommates, he decides she’s the best person to ask for your whereabouts.

“Mione, have you seen y/n anywhere?” Without lifting her eyes from the book in front of her, Hermione shakes her head.

“Nope, she didn’t say a word to anyone when she came home on friday, and I haven’t seen her since.” Ron huffs in frustration, mumbling a quick “thanks anyway” before walking to find you. He thinks hard, racking his brain for any hint of where you could be. Then it hits him. Your favorite alone space, the astronomy tower.

Without thinking twice about the consequences, he pulls out his wand and apperates to the tower, not surprised at all when he sees you huddled in a corner, your knees hugged to your chest. He watches you from afar, taking in the lost look in your eyes, the way you toy with the hem of your sweater, the slight shaking of your body. He knows what’s wrong, he’s seen it before. You were in subdrop. Slowly, he begins to approach your small figure.

“Y/n?” A choked gasp passes your lips as your head shoots up at the sound of his voice. There’s a small, permanent pout across your face, and your eyes are bloodshot and swollen from hours of crying.

“Hi love.” He whispers. Wrong move. The pet name causes another choked sob to pass your lips. Your body starts violently shaking, your hands move up to your head, grabbing harshly at your hair.

Ron springs into action, running to your side and moving to grab your hands away from your head. But as soon as he tries to touch you, you flinch away. The same way you did that night at his dorm. A barely audible whimper of “no” leaves your lips, your body quivering away from his. The sight shatters his heart, he’s never seen you broken.

He’d seen you in pain, in a subdrop, but never like this. He always makes you feel better, he’s always there to bring you back. So what does he do, when you won’t let him?

special thanks to @ameliora-j for helping me write ideas for this fic :)

and as always thank you to my lovely moots: @thatsalexa4you @squishytomatoes @ronweasleysslut @myfictionaldreams @pretty-pillow-princess @pixiehollands @sunshinexhotchner @getawayfrommewerewolf @daphgreen444 @elysian-i @dr4cking @saintlike78 @sarahisslytherin @scarletslxt @dracodear @weaselbrownie @fairydxll @jamespottersbltch @malfoysstilinski @bellatrixscurls @mellifluousart @guinevererosa @fictionalcomforts @fqlkrore @chissmalfoy @peppers-analytics @nsuncatcher @letterstotheflre @draconisxcaput @carnationbasement @ronweasleysgf @gotkindabored @ameliora-j @ameliasbitvh (if we’re moots and you don’t see yourself on here plz lmk so i can add you to the list, it’s not on purpose i’m just dumb lol)

[mighteeone-manager-lee]

NO SPIN @ THE BVRN ALIVE EVENT

LIVE ON STAGE AT A CAMPFIRE NEAR YOU, STARTING NOW!

As of TONIGHT, the NO SPIN event is officially live! Summoned by forces uncertain to the survivors, the four (formerly) deceased members of k-pop sensation NO SPIN have arrived in the Fog. As they were headed to an interview anyways, they're ready to answer your questions and interact with fans while Yun-jin figures out what the hell is going on. She is, however, still available to take questions + roleplay in interactions related to and not related to the event!

The inbox is open for (from left to right on the final page) Sea [Park Seung-hyun), Kim Moon-soo, U-EON [Han Min-ho], and Ryu Yi-eun. And, for the love of everything, do not tell them about Ji-woon. Or do. Yun-jin would rather you didn’t.

|| OOC under the cut!

Beyond my eternal gratitude for everyone's support, love, and continued stream of interaction despite my needing a hiatus (you all are truly so wonderful), there are a few special thanks I have to give out. You know, like it's an award show. I was just so excited to start this event that I'm so overwhelmed with joy ;; Consider it my 2022 shoutouts as well to people who made my 2021 dear!

Beyond my eternal gratitude for everyone's support, love, and continued stream of interaction despite my needing a hiatus (you all are truly so wonderful), there are a few special thanks I have to give out. You know, like it's an award show. I was just so excited to start this event that I'm so overwhelmed with joy ;; Consider it my 2022 shoutouts as well to people who made my 2021 dear!

To V over at @idol-trickster: my dear affection and thanks for the friendship and crazy incredible all-kill conversations. Your direct and indirect motivation to work on this comic and keep my passion for the chapter and k-pop burning absolutely helped ensure that I finally posted this. V is such a behind-the-scenes staple of this blog and wonderful person that I cannot emphasize their contribution as an inspiration and companion enough. I hope you know how much I appreciate you, your muse, and having somebody as bonkers about these characters as I am to talk to ♡ thank you so much, hyungnim. love you loads!

To Quen at @adept-yui: THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME STEAL YOUR YUI FOR THIS! and in general thank you for being literally the funniest person and most efficient meme-maker I have EVER met. You are crazy talented and HILARIOUS and EVIL and you love torturing my little men GIRL HELP!! this event really does go out to you perhaps more than anyone else because you have kept me focused on it like only a wonderful friend and force for villainy could. it is in fact about drive it's about power we stay h

but for real, I love you, amami. that stupid no spin lightstick edit and I knew was in this crazy ask blog friendship for (no spin's) life. thank you for everything, there are no words for how happy you make me.

And to Kasu and Birb from @peacock-trickster and @susiezfuckdestjamz: your continued, insanely positive support and humor... has actually made me melt. On twitter for Kasu and tumblr for Birb, you both have genuinely almost brought me to tears for consistently interacting and being so damn sweet. You all were part of that vc and are 100% part of MY no spin of people mentioned here, my group of beloveds, I would not be posting this without the pure euphoria your support and pure delightfulness has offered me when I was unsure. You have pieces of my heart and all of my thanks. ♡ Nothing has gone unnoticed or unappreciated. Stay talented and stay gold.

Here's to a wonderful 2022 from mun Grey and muse Yun-jin at the MOMLee blog! Stay gold and one last deep thank you for sticking around. This year, I promise I'll pay it all back to you.

[lemony-snickers]

hi lemony. Hoping u could take my request.

Are you in a mood for angst? it doesn't matter what the plot is. im just really looking for some angsty fics of Kakashi x fem reader.

hello, my dear.  thank you for stopping by & i hope you are doing well!  now, you sent this right after 🏳️‍🌈 anon sent this song to my inbox.  i know now they didn’t intend for this to be a request, but at the time, i thought they did.

i hope neither of you mind that i’ve combined these two into one little ditty with a gender-neutral MC.  <3

here is a link to the song in case anyone would like to listen to it.

Title:  Cursed  (AO3 Link Here) Summary:  Kakashi Hatake knows he is cursed even if not everyone can see it. Word Count:  3,344 (that includes the lyrics and i’m too lazy to see what it is without them as;ldfjd forgive me) Warnings:  gn!MC, mentions of suicide, references to depression and death, some suggestive language .

There's a fire in my brain and I'm burning up Oh my, oh my Keep running for the sink but the well is dry Oh my, oh my

Kakashi changes after his team falls apart.  His posture is too straight—his jaw too tight.  Even with the mask on, it’s obvious he’s always grinding his teeth.

Though he tries his best to let the cruel and cutting words roll off him—Friend-Killer, Cold-Blooded, Murderer—they settle over his skin like a painful exoskeleton of preconceived notions.  It is a comfort in some ways because he knows no one will ever bother to look beyond it.

Someone does, though, even if he doesn’t notice right away.

They don’t see him crying in the night, don’t watch him rush to the kitchen sink to scrub the persistent, imagined blood from his fingers, but they know Kakashi suffers in the wake of Rin’s death.  They visit her grave, make small offerings.  They hope seeing the evidence of someone else mourning will remind Kakashi he is not alone.

He sees the flowers over Rin’s name and feels alone anyway.

Every word I say is kindling But the smoke clears when you're around Won't you stay with me, my darling When my walls start burning down, down, down?

Kakashi is too good at what he does—too precise and neat and dedicated to his craft.  It might be a more admirable trait if his trade were not plied in violence.  He buries himself in it, dives elbow-deep into the viscera of his enemies just so he doesn’t have to remember what is waiting for him at home.

Or rather, what isn’t.

Slowly, he realizes there is a comrade who sticks a little closer, that they linger after all the reports have been filed, sit next to him in the locker room.  Their efforts pay off when his gaze begins to slide over to them increasingly often.

It’s a silent sort of companionship; the distant warmth of another shoulder or the soft clearing of a throat across the room.

Still, it anchors Kakashi a little on the worst of days.  He lashes out at them sometimes, cutting words flung like kunai across a hallway when they stand a little close.

But they only smile in response and hope the fog in his brain lifts a little at the edges.

This house says my name like an elegy Oh my, oh my Echoing where my ghosts all used to be Oh my, oh my

Kakashi knows he can’t stay here.  He sleeps in the barracks more often than his own bed already, which leaves plenty of fodder for gossip.  But there are ghosts in the Hatake Estate and he is tired of trying to outrun them.  No matter where he sleeps, they creep in between the crevices, the cracks in the wood.

Always find him.

So he shutters his childhood home, as if he is winterizing a vacation house.  He has no plans to return to it, no reason to ever go back.

He finds a bare-bones apartment, a single room with space enough for a large bed.  He needs it so the dogs will have a place to sleep when he summons them in the night, when the terror seizes his chest and he wakes clutching at a pounding heart, afraid he is about to die.

He knows he won’t, though; dying would be far too great a mercy for a man like Kakashi.

And he’s always received plenty of attention.  Men and women offering to keep his bed warm by his side, to provide some much-needed relief on extended missions.

He turns most of them down.  But the one he doesn’t is a mistake because this person knows him too well, knows when he is hiding.  They’ve been standing too close for years and they keep looking at him.

Now they draw maps across his body with their teeth like they are marking him.

Like he is theirs even if they know he will never allow them such a claim.

It is a dangerous thing, Kakashi knows, to think you belong to another person.

Other people die.  They break.

But they promise him they won’t—that they are strong enough to withstand whatever agony he might thrust upon them.  It doesn’t stop him from trying, though.  His words are cruel, his actions sometimes more so.  But every time he returns from a mission, they crawl into bed beside him and allow him to take his fill without complaint.

They hold him afterward, kiss his temple, even though they know come morning, he will shove them away.

Kakashi doesn’t dream so much when he’s with them.  It’s almost as if they know a secret for keeping the ghosts at bay.

There's still cobwebs in the corners And the backyard's full of bones Won't you stay with me, my darling When this house don't feel like home? When this house don't feel like home?

Despite his best efforts, the apartment never feels like home.  In desperation, Kakashi returns to the Hatake Clan’s farmhouse searching for that feeling of belonging somewhere he has missed for so long.

The floors are dusty, the closest ruled by spiders, each room achingly empty.

He stands in the place where he found his father’s body, curls his toes against the tatami mats, so fresh and new compared to those around them.  He knows if he lifts them up, there will be a dark stain in the wood beneath that he could never quite scrub out.

And he wonders if one day his fate might be the same.  If he remains so untethered to his life, will he return here to find peace and purpose in a blade?

After he leaves the house, he takes an unfamiliar path through Konoha.

It is the first time he visits another person’s bed.  Though their body is second nature to him, now, the surroundings are strange.  It’s exhilarating and beautiful—like a vacation from his existence, even if it is only a single evening.

They are surprised when he climbs through the window.  This person who has followed him for so long, waited patiently for him, given of themselves to him without receiving anything in kind—they jump when he steps onto their floor.

But in an instant, their shock fades to elation and then concern.

“Is everything okay?”

It isn’t, but he nods.  “Fine,” he says, closing the distance slowly; like a predator.  His gaze is intense, both pupils tracing the lines of their face as he approaches.

“How did you know where I live?”

He wants to laugh.  Admit he’s known for years where to find them at any given moment; they are like a beacon—a landmark he cannot escape even when he wants to.

Kakashi isn’t sure he wants to anymore.

He never answers their question, knows that doing so would reveal too much of his own feelings.  Instead, he squeezes the last centimeters of air from between their bodies and claims the feeling of belonging he has so desperately been searching for without remorse.

They are more than happy to oblige.

Oh ashes, ashes, dust to dust The devil's after both of us Oh, lay my curses out to rest Make a mercy out of me

Kakashi should have known his penance would come in the form of flesh.  The children assigned to him—the delicate lives balanced on his palms—reflect so acutely back at him.

Obito, Itachi, Minato-sensei, even Rin.

The ghosts are back, he realizes.  He never should have expected to outrun them forever.

He throws himself forcibly into the role of teacher.  He’s not very good at first, but he thinks he finds his footing eventually.

And after a long, cold while, there is warmth in his bed again—that same familiar person drawing maps.  He tells them in a post-coital haze one night that he is cursed.  That the eyes of Sasuke and Naruto, Sakura’s misplaced optimism, are his penitence for failing those who came before.

“That isn’t true,” they whisper, “you don’t owe anyone your contrition, not even the dead.”

He shrugs them off, then, even as they try to drag him back under the haze, under the blankets.  But he showers instead, tells them gruffly they should be gone before he’s done.

They have never denied Kakashi anything he’s asked of them, and this time is no different.

When Kakashi walks back into the bedroom to find it empty—their clothes gone from the floor, shoes no longer by the door—he is disappointed.

As their scent fades in the cool night air, drifting lazily out his open window, Kakashi realizes he should have asked them to stay.  Knows they would have if he had.

Maybe he is not cursed after all, he thinks, maybe he is the curse.

This tired old machine is a-rumbling Oh my, oh my Singing songs to the secrets behind my eye Oh my, oh my

He pushes them away.  How could he not?

Kakashi has failed in every role he’s ever taken—student, commander, son, friend, sensei.  How could he risk also falling short of lover?

It’s unfair, and so he stops playing coy with his distance.  Instead of feigning disinterest, he shoves it at them.  They arrive at his door and he slams it closed so quickly it hits their nose.  He avoids their gaze when he sees their black eyes the next day, but they still wave at him.  Still smile in his direction.

Subtle, heartfelt promises that everything is okay.

Kakashi does not understand why.

He wants to apologize, to hold their face between his hands and tell them it was an accident.  Yes, he meant to close the door, but he was too distracted to realize they’d taken a step forward.

It’s just another example of his curses; everyone who gets close to him is lying unawares in the path of a tsunami.  His disastrous lack will drown them one day.

They don’t mind treading water while they wait for him to be ready.

Kakashi watches Naruto disappear off with Jiraiya, pushes Sakura to train with Tsunade, and allows Gai to lose himself in his students.  All while he himself retreats from the bonds he’s forged.  He is cruel to his comrades so they will no longer invite him out for drinks after a mission.  He keeps his window closed so no one will appear in it uninvited, asking if they can climb into bed next to him as they have countless times before.

And they recognize the distance for what it is—the grieving of a broken man—but they do not push.  They watch him carefully from a distance, as they once did, content to keep a watchful eye out for any changes; to return to his side the moment he requires it.

Kakashi summons his ninken when he sleeps and they crowd around him, lie over his chest.  It’s suffocating, but familiar.  A comfort against the ceaseless darkness of his dreams.

The sharingan remembers everything it has ever seen, and it replays his failures in cruel clarity.  Even those events for which he did not yet possess the eye seem to rewind themselves behind his lids as he sleeps, a blistering montage of the worst moments of his life.

There are someone else’s flowers on Rin’s grave.  He sweeps them off and crushes the blooms underfoot.

Still, they bring more flowers and lay them over the stone.  Say a prayer for the living as well as the dead.

All my aching bones are trembling And I may yet fall apart Won't you stay with me, my darling When the war starts in my heart? When the war starts in my heart?

Kakashi is prepared to die in the war.  Part of him, he thinks, might welcome such a thing.  The hope that he will not have to endure any more losses, that perhaps he can sacrifice himself to save the students he has failed so miserably, pushes him forward.  Soothes his anxiety.

And so does the familiar whisper of a voice against his ear one evening as they prepare their battle plans.

The invitation he offers in return which is accepted.

They have waited so long for him to be ready and even if it’s only a brief moment, they leap at the opportunity.

Their body is warm and familiar, their teeth just as demanding and sharp as they have ever been.  And Kakashi gives himself over to them, seeks his pleasure only distantly.  What he really needs, tonight of all nights, is someone to hold him afterward; guard him against the approaching dawn.

He doesn’t say this, of course.  Instead, his hands are rough and his voice level when he says, “Just this once.  Just in case this is the end.”

“Of course,” they say, “this can’t happen again.”

He groans, pushing forward, forcing them down onto the mattress beneath him.  They welcome his weight with a chorus of sighs, pulling him close.

Kakashi knows they are right—they both are.  There are so many reasons this is a mistake.  He does not need another person relying on him, cannot stand the idea of letting yet another precious person down.  But their voice makes him shiver, and the way their hands smooth over his body so lovingly stirs something primal in him; some need to be cared for.  To love.

They try to carve their affection into his skin—like the bruises and lines left by their nails might be enough to make Kakashi finally accept that he is worthy of them.  They tell him how good it feels to be with him again and every word is a sacred truth.

Kakashi smothers the instinct to be soft and buries himself in lies as well as their body, takes what he can while giving so little it is a miracle they can take from him at all.

They find plenty to take for themselves, even if Kakashi does not realize it.  He is more open here than anywhere else, more readable.  Every word he’s never uttered with his mouth is said with his body, read clearly in his eyes.  But they know he is not ready for the things he can’t say, so they keep those secrets closely guarded, even from their originator.

And after, they kiss his temple and run their fingers through his hair.  He tells them he is a curse and they laugh, the sound vibrating against Kakashi’s ear from somewhere deep in their chest.

“If that’s true, Kakashi, then I’m happy to be cursed.”

They shouldn’t be, but he’s glad.

Oh ashes, ashes, dust to dust The devil's after both of us Oh, lay my curses out to rest Make a mercy out of me

Kakashi reels in the weeks and months following the war.  The revelation of Obito, the return of Sasuke, the near-death of Gai.

It’s all too much.  He buries himself in rebuilding alliances, strengthening them.  He does not want to be made Hokage, but he knows the other options are limited and some of them are offensive.  Regardless, duty dictates he accept the position and so he does.

Besides, he thinks, it will give him purpose.  And it is clear he cannot live without something like that.  He knows without being a commander and a sensei over the preceding years, he likely would have returned to the room where his father died long ago to join him.

There is a familiar presence as he prepares for his inauguration.  Almost imperceptible to anyone but him.

Always close, but never intruding.  Ever supportive and available, but hardly seen or heard unless specifically requested.

The entire process of taking office is horrific—the false smiles and lavish dinners.  It’s everything Kakashi has never wanted.

Once he’s officially Hokage, he buries himself in paperwork to avoid meeting dignitaries as often as possible.  He works himself ragged just trying to keep his head above water.  He can’t stop thinking it should be Obito, not him, wearing the robes.

He receives a visitor one evening, someone who knows that arriving unannounced on the wrong night will invite derision.  But they do it anyway because it’s obvious how exhausted he is, how much he has denied himself the rest he needs.

The same person who watched Kakashi grind his teeth after Rin died watches him do the same beneath the heavy brim of the Rokudaime’s hat and they know they must intervene on his behalf.

“Hokage-sama?”

Their voice is like honey dripping into tea—smooth and sweet.  When he looks up from the budget reports he’s been glaring at for half the day, Kakashi finds a familiar figure standing before his desk with takeout in hand.

“Did I request a meeting?” he asks, genuinely baffled and assuming he did but forgot about it.

They only let the apparent rebuff glance off one shoulder before they recover fully.  “No, Sir, but I thought maybe you could use some company.”

It starts like that—begins again, really.  They share late-night meals and swap conversation.

Slowly, Kakashi starts expecting their visits without feeling guilty for doing so.

And they, in turn, start looking forward to them without feeling selfish.

One night, they go home together.  And then every night after, they do the same.

Kakashi watches his students forge their paths, find happiness in their families and fulfillment in their careers.  He watches Sasuke make as many amends as he is able, and hopes that will be enough.

Gai recovers as well as he can and even a crippled leg cannot stop him from seeing only the best in the world around him; even the loss of Neji does not dull his enthusiasm for long.  Because he has always known there are always other students to support, other friends in need of his boundless love.

Kakashi thinks for the first time maybe home does not have to be a place without ghosts.  Maybe with enough help, he can learn to live amongst them.

Oh ashes, ashes, dust to dust Tell me I am good enough Oh, lay my curses out to rest Make a mercy out of…

Us.

It’s a strange word, still; heavy and awkward on Kakashi’s tongue when he says it.  But slowly growing more familiar as he uses it in his daily life.

“I’ll pick up groceries for us on the way home.”

“Gai invited us to dinner.”

“Naruto has asked us to watch Himawari.”

Every time he says something mundane about the life they have managed to build together, his partner beams.  They know it has been a difficult road; that life handed Kakashi a harsh path to follow.

That he has done so and chosen them to remain at his side as he continues to brush the cobwebs of his past away from his periphery, is a feat worthy of every accolade.  Never something to be taken for granted.

The house Kakashi grew up in slowly fills with new memories.  And though the ghosts never truly leave, they quiet themselves a little.  Perhaps that is because Gai’s voice is loud enough to drown them out, or maybe because there seems to always be a shoulder next to Kakashi’s radiating warmth instead of a deathly chill.

Either way, the house changes and he is glad he’s given it another chance.

As they lie next to Kakashi, they turn to look at him in the deepening dark.

“Do you still feel like you’re cursed?” they ask.

Kakashi isn’t sure how to answer.  Doesn’t know for certain whether the curse of him could ever really be lifted.

But they are here, beside him, so even if it’s still there, it feels a little lighter.

He kisses their temple the way they do for him when he wakes from a nightmare.  He never answers aloud, but they understand what he wants them to.  And they are happy to spend the rest of their days proving to Kakashi Hatake that he is not a cursed man.

[reyski]

Can I get some domestic headcannons for link and his s/o?

 hi hi, thanks for being my first link request!

just a general note: ive got a lot of requests in my inbox but i promise i will get to each one of them!

link with a domestic s/o

pairing: link x reader (gender neutral) 

media: breath of the wild

content warnings: slight angst

➵ you and link had been in contact through most of the calamity, though he wouldn’t let you get anywhere close to the actual beast, let alone the castle, you were always writing. 

➵ of course you didn’t want to take up too much of his time as he was defeating the calamity, you knew that his dedication lay with retaking hyrule. however, you yearned for the day that you would be able to spend all your time with link, but you would have to be patient. 

➵ of course after the trials and tribulations of the last months before link was to fight the calamity you were a bundle of worry and nerves, however, link never seemed to falter. he went along with his training, taking down even the most vicious of beasts

➵ upon hearing of his success against the beast you felt like the fog over you had lifted and you rushed to find your knight. 

➵ you both decide together to leave link’s small house in hateno and find a place that was entirely free of any memories of the long battle. of course you would return to pay visits to everyone that you had become close with, but having your home be free of those memories was important. 

➵ link immediately takes up baking, he just loves a warm kitchen with the smell of pastries in the air. not only that, but the words of love that you grace him with after enjoying some of his treats is a huge bonus. 

➵ you had never really stopped to consider the privilege of being able to wake up next to someone you love, as you had never really had the time to do so with link. but even from the first morning of doing so you were absolutely hooked and promised yourself that you would never go back to sleeping alone. 

➵ every once in a while you and link travel to a nearby village or lodge to find a new stack of books to bring home for reading at night. link promises that one day he’ll go find some of the books from inside hyrule castle, claiming them to be the best reads.

➵ the simplicity of a shared bath is never beyond either of you, and you often find yourselves sharing one, washing eachothers hair and bodies. 

➵  just sharing a space with you is more than link could have ever asked for, he loves just existing in your presence as much as possible. 

ACk i forgot to post this last weekend, but here it is now! i hope you enjoyed and thanks for the request!

if you would like to request please take a look at my guidelines which outline the genres i write for each character. also, you can find all other works in my masterlists – both guidelines and masterlists can be found on my directory!

have a good day/night loves <3 make sure to eat some food and drink some water ily

[gyuphorias]

hey moon, have any thoughts on soft dom taehyun? <3

this has been in my inbox for so long i'm so sorry 😭

i feel like he definitely leans more into hard dom territory usually because there's just a special kind of appeal to it. he does dip into a soft dom space every so often, usually when you've had a hard day for whatever reason and you want him to fuck your bad feelings out of you without being to hard. his priority, no matter the role he's playing, is to make you feel good, so when he's in soft dom mode, he lays the praise on thick. calls you pretty, perfect, precious and tells you that you're so good for him and to him. pairs it all with light touches and even gentler kisses because he loves worshipping your body. he'll make you come as many times as you ask him to, watching completely mesmerized as you come over and over again, tears in your eyes and mouth open in silent moans because you've lost your voice and the energy to even try to make sounds for him.

and don't forget about the aftercare ☹️ especially after a really long, emotional session, he spends 10 minutes minimum holding you in his arms, cradling you against his chest. he smooths his hand down your back or through your hair, all the while whispering more praises to you. in a hard dom situation, he makes you thank him for his attention, but when he's served as a soft dom, he thanks you for trusting him to take care of you, of your emotions. it makes him so happy to be able to provide help like that for you. and when you've finally worked your way out of the fog, he carries you effortlessly to the bathroom and helps clean you up, not allowing you to lift a finger for any of it. he treats you like his little baby (because you are) and he goes above and beyond to pamper you.