#I hope this is alright my love!! <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[treloninjaki]

What if...

[kitamars]

i have nothing for halloween so take some yokai ginhiji doodles so you know im not dead ndnjvjd

[kr-yoongi]

Colin Morgan in season 1 of Humans I want you.

(Timelapse below)

[tervaneula]

two druids and a rogue walk into a bar by katterv

The next night, Duenn can't take it anymore. He has to know. First, he'll need to ask Astarion how he feels about sharing when he's right there and for some reason, the thought is bringing him more anxiety than that of facing Orin – and most likely Bhaal himself – in the near future. They've only just rekindled their physical relationship beyond kisses and nightly cuddles and Duenn feels so unworthy. What does it tell about him as a partner when he's already got everything, yet he has the gall to yearn for more? Nothing great, he laments, and the sigh he lets out doesn't go unnoticed. “Darling,” Astarion murmurs right next to his ear, “talk to me. You seem… pent up.”

I'm enjoying my Dark Urge run immensely...... so it resulted in this silly (and pretty horny, be warned. it's E rated for a reason) thing about the situationship between Astarion, my Durge and Halsin (￣▽￣)

[xumoonhao]

it's the one and only you // and memories of us

[noxious-fennec]

Trying out some new designs (aka playing dress up)

[jhuzen]

could u write kaveh diluc or kaeya with an obsessive m reader? like yandere type (or just obsessive whatever u want) I love the way u write them ur my fav blog

following elysium [m.reader]

maaaaan i haven’t written anything yandere in a good while now. but i can’t say i don’t miss it. this takes me back to my obsession with yandere character arc (*coughs in yan asogi that i still obsess over in my drafts*) so this request will let me know if i’ve lost my touch. also, why pick between three when you can have all lolololll

𖦹 dark themes, yandere male reader (ranging from manipulative, to overprotective, to soft), manipulation everywhere (like a lot, i swear i’m not good at it irl or am i jkjk), obsessive themes, some mentions and allusions of death, some isolation, scare tactics, love bombing

𐂂 obsession is a lethal poison, and yet you’ve survived a gallon of doses.

Kaveh

Your sweet naïve little Kaveh was quite the adorable one, always so considerate, so willing to please and so eager to do what he can in order to satisfy you, a mere admiring client of his. A man that he knew that personally sought him out to the ends of Sumeru just to meet him and commission him. Just because for some reason, you had heard of him from the outskirts of this vast nation.

Oh truly what an honor it is.

If only he knew it took one smile from him and a small greeting from exactly just a year ago when he officially met you, that sent you spiraling into a mad obsession that longed to pursue him; if only he insisted to look inside the office you’ve kept him off of, he would have seen the altar that could rival any other archons out there; if only he had a lick of awareness in him, he would’ve seen that your devilishly charming smiles were indeed the work of something far more sinister.

Alas, he was your sweet little architect, unaware of your leering stares, gazes so predatory it could leave any prey scampering off, ready to pounce at him and just break him.

But you are a man of class, you knew your way around people’s hearts, and Kaveh’s weakness was the positive feedback he gets from his clients. He’s helping out of the goodness of his heart, after all, mora is not so much of an issue (to the point of him even incurring a debt), and he was even just as generous with you, refusing the pounds of mora that you were willing to lay at his feet (though you send him away with heaps still).

And as your gaze flitted from the blueprints of your master’s bedroom renovation to the man currently in charge of it, a small smile wormed its way to your face. Truly your esteemed genius architect is a lovely one, how lucky were you that you met him on that particular day.

“Hm… I don’t think with the way we’ve recently renovated your hallways, your bedroom pans out at all,” his bottom lip stuck out into an adorable pout, and it took every cell in your body to control the maddening urge to kiss them, to bite them until you even get a taste of him.

“Is that so?” You casually leaned over, drawing yourself nearer than normal. And heaven swallowed you whole when you got a whiff of that familiar honey scented shampoo that Kaveh often used (you’ve made a note of buying more in stock once you’ve enacted the final steps in your little plan).

However, even that lovely scent wasn’t enough to keep your attention away from the way Kaveh stiffened, from the way his grip around the parchment of your blueprint significantly tightened to the point of ripping it apart, from the way his breath hitched.

“I— A-Ah! Um! Yes—!”

From the way his voice cracked — those red eyes peered up at you — to the way those gazes of his became increasingly fonder and more frenzied, much like yours, but less subtle. Kaveh was always bad at hiding how he truly feels, and it made it easier for you to trap him in your little cage, to snip away his wings until he’s fully tied down to you.

You tilted your head, cocking an eyebrow as you put him in his place, rendering him almost speechless when he briskly turned back to the blueprint, wide-eyed and flustered. How adorable.

“Well, I trust that you know how our transactions are, my dear,” your tone was suave and smooth, practiced to perfection, and the same way with your movements that were calculated for precision, ensnaring your poor unsuspecting Kaveh. You took a lock of his hair in your hand, twirling it around as you attempted to find his averted gaze. “Go all out. Mora is not an issue.”

Kaveh’s head stuttered as he nodded, his trembling hands barely able to release the poor blueprint from his vice grip. He somehow didn’t know why, but there were recent changes about you in the few and far between times that he sees you for your personal consultation. Kaveh thought it sweet really, that you would go out of your way to contact a grand and comfortable enough transportation to take him to your home instead of making him walk a hundred miles just to do so (despite his initial insistence to do it instead).

You were the first client that has been so generous with praises and mora when it comes to your payment, and while the architect can afford to be modest about accepting your financial payment, even he couldn’t hide the metaphorical wagging of his tail should you even grace him one compliment for his efforts. Don’t get him wrong though, he knows he’s good, how else could he have graduated with honors if not?

Nevertheless, your approval was something Kaveh continuously sought, until every letter of commission you sent him suddenly had him mistaking it for a letter of something more… intimate, something that held a rather romantic connotation.

He took your kindness for something more, unknowing of your ulterior motives, blissfully unaware about the obsession that gets you high, and absolutely clueless about the fact that ten of your men — the ones that greeted him so jovially as they gave him a ride to your grand home — had their eyes on his every move on the days he would be off back home, acting as your eyes, all perfectly ready to execute someone should they harm a hair on his head.

Thoughts of you became even more intrusive the more he met with you, Kaveh found you addicting, and he even felt ashamed of the fact that he did so. You’re his client! He shouldn’t be so emotionally involved in the first place. He was there to do his job that you commissioned him for.

But a moment of clarity soon encompassed him when he realized that he has previous engagements to this. That he shouldn’t be staying the night at your home once more to work on renovating your bedroom.

“Ah… I just remembered…” Kaveh’s frown was unmistakable, and suddenly the feeling of eagerness of him meeting up with his friends at the usual tavern was replaced with blatant hesitance at the thought of leaving you. But he quickly shook it off, turning back to you, “Hey… I hope you don’t mind if I can postpone our work for now…”

Where did you get that wine?

Your gaze lifted from the swirling burgundy in your glass, “Oh? How come? Need some inspiration?”

“I just remembered I promised to meet with my friends tonight. It’s only once a month.”

Your lips almost turned down into a disdainful scowl but opted for a small, reserved disappointed frown, “Ah. I see. How disappointing that is,” you murmured, but it was enough for Kaveh to hear. Deceitfully disheartened, like practiced and the way Kaveh’s eyebrows furrowed in concern was enough of a reaction.

“It wouldn’t be for too long though! I’ll be back tomorrow!” The hesitation crept up on him and it showed in the tone of his voice. Desperation soon followed when his body turned to face yours, a sign of vulnerability and submission in this situation. “It’s not… it’s not as if I’m leaving or anything.”

You heaved a sigh, “But that would be too much on you, making you come all the way back and even after spending some time with your friends too.” You can only thank the lucky stars that you were a son of a theatre actor from Fontaine, it sure came in handy.

“No, I can definitely make it! You’re my best client, I can’t afford to—”

Kaveh’s frantic saving was quickly interrupted when you decided to go in for the kill, “Like I said, I don’t wish to run you ragged… and my family will come and visit soon.” You snapped your fingers, looking at Kaveh with feigned curiosity, “Ah, yes. Might you know any other capable architects? Surely I can’t expect the same work like yours, but someone who would not disappoint would be enough.”

His red eyes immediately went wide, completely baffled at your suggestion. You were willing to replace him? Just like that?

“I…” Kaveh looked down, suddenly meek. “I don’t know anyone who can do that much,” he muttered despite knowing otherwise. He was kind to his fellow architects, but surely he can afford to be selfish about you just this once?

He failed to see the way your eyes shone with satisfaction, contrasting you disheartened tone, “Hm… pity that is…”

Well. Missing one night wouldn’t hurt, right?

Kaveh looked back up at you, “I… I suppose I can afford to just show up next time. We do these hangouts all the time anyway,” his words completely contrasted his claim of scarce meets earlier, but it was more than enough for you to know how quickly he gave in. “Ah, whatever. I’m sure those guys can handle themselves.”

“Are you certain?” You asked, tilting his head up with a hand on his chin, almost getting lost into those ruby reds of his. “I’d hate for you to miss such an important engagement.”

And before he knew it, he willingly embraced the shadows, engulfing every part of him, leaving none untouched. It swallowed him whole, like a limitless void, with no one left to even save him, forgetting anyone else but you and only you.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind staying with you.”

You tapped the rim of your glass on his lip, pouring that familiar wine in the small gap of his lips that you’ve graced him on the many nights he would stay to work on your home renovations. You watched with pure delight as Kaveh’s eyes grew hazy and unfocused — left with nothing but with the manipulated admiration for you.

“Good. Let’s enjoy the night, shall we?”

𐂂

Kaeya

The infamous Cavalry Captain has no one to blame but himself, really. Even as your superior, he knew no bounds when it comes to reserving himself. He always flaunted himself at you, like a fashionable bird that that preened its wings on the daily just to show off. He was flashy, mouthy, and unbearably attractive.

Being placed under him was hell for all the different reasons. You were constantly in his presence — and you had to shoulder the patience of the kindest archon in existence to resist anything remotely impulsive. You had to be near him in proximity, always around him, accompanying him from the most mundane errands to the most hectic missions.

And while Captain Kaeya was he shining beacon between you and him, you were the dark shadow that walked behind him. It wasn’t your fault, he asked you so himself.

“This guy’s going to shadow me, hope you have no objections to that, Acting Grandmaster,” was what you heard on that one fateful day, before finding your pristine uniform getting remotely crinkled as he dragged you away without breaking a sweat.

Since that day, no person in Monstadt can claim that they’ve seen Kaeya without you, or you without him. It was almost like fate, except it was a fate that forged a bond from the depths of abyss — a bond that embodied nothing but a push and pull relationship, the distance and proximity, the obsession and submission.

You had to watch him put himself out there, when you can just as easily drag that information from someone if you asked with a blade on their throat; that usually gets people talking. But he dismissed you easily, and let you stew in the cesspool of madness that his actions slowly created.

And you were none the wiser, you cleaned up the messes he made, you made sure to silence the people once they came into their senses that they’ve been bested by yet again the sniveling calvary captain of the order.

All of his commands, you obeyed without complaint.

And oddly enough, it brought you a sense of comfort. That he trusts you this much, that he’s willing to let you go rampant in exchange for his safety — one that you never failed on doing. All of it, to keep him safe.

Until recently, you found it inconvenient to let him off without a leash. Seeing him come home from an excursion with scratches that decorated his poor body — adding further into those battle scars that you’ve once had the displeasure of seeing when he asked you to aid him into wrapping himself with a handful of bandages — and it wasn’t the greatest sight. You fussed over him like a mother hen, never once letting him out of your sight.

You were rewarded with a grateful side-hug from the captain, and it was enough to fuel your mission in protecting him.

“Ah! Captain! Should I accompany you today?” You asked as you approached him with a blinding grin �� in fact so blinding, he had to squint his one good eye. For a shadow, you sure are bright. Perhaps Kaeya was mistaken when he said you were going to be his behind-the-scenes guy.

Kaeya found you adorable, in all honesty. You had an exuberant energy within you that went unparalleled, and on days that he personally needed someone to pick him up when everything weighed down on him, it seemed like you almost had a sixth sense for it and was almost always by his side. Not that he minded — he was grateful above all else. And on days when the drunkard bard or Rosaria weren’t around to keep him company, he trusts that you have some reserved liquor in your home so he can drink away his problems and still be fine in his sleep.

If only he knew how hard you stared at him, obsessively looking him over while you slowly drowned in your fantasies — one of which him finally being chained to you, devoted and stuck waiting at home while you defend his honor without him having to harm himself in the process.

“There you are, missed me already?” He asked with a cheeky grin.

You did. You couldn’t sleep a wink, knowing that you weren’t around to protect him.

You scratched your head and laughed, “Aw, don’t be so mean captain. I only care about your wellbeing!”

“Hm~? How sweet… sure wouldn’t hurt to have you around every now and then.”

You have been. You prowled around his remote home, kicking stones and staring longingly in the window, ready to pounce at anyone who seemed vaguely threatening.

Kaeya thought how endearing you might be if you were to be his, but with the mission he carries on his back, he wonders if it’s even worth it having you, only to betray you in the end. He wonders if you can betray your own homeland for him.

You would, without question. You will lay a hundred corpses of the Order’s knights at his feet should he ask.

“Don’t tease me so much, captain,” your pout was enough to lift his spirits from that asinine thought. “Now, where are you going? I’ll go prepare my things.”

“Just heading up to Dragonspine to meet with the chief investigator. It shouldn’t be too hard, so you can just stay here and enjoy a bit of downtime, yeah? Go bother my brother if you want, you have my full permission.”

You frowned and Kaeya suddenly felt a chill crawl through his spine. You never did expressed such a disappointment even on the most difficult situations, and it suddenly feels like he made a mistake in refusing you. Perhaps it was because you towered over him so easily, perhaps it was because you could catch him without even trying that Kaeya suddenly felt so small in comparison to you.

The tension lasted for a good minute, silence engulfed the both of you and Kaeya has never felt so uncomfortable in his own skin. Should he have taken his answer back? But really, there was no need for you to escort him in the first place.

You then broke the silence with a quiet, dispirited sigh.

“Okay, but please keep safe, alright?” You patted the captain’s cheeks, sending him a small smile before heading off.

Kaeya didn’t like the way the guilt gnawed in his chest.

And while you also didn’t like an act of betrayal, you found it necessary at times — times when lessons had to be taught. The Acting Grandmaster said so herself, that experience is the best teacher.

Kaeya trudged through the coldness of Dragonspine, completely hating the fact that he had no company now. Maybe he should’ve just agreed to your proposition, and you looked so sad too! Like a kicked puppy that was told to sleep outside in the cold night. He couldn’t bear the thought of you looking so sad — you were his partner, of course you should’ve come!

Alas, the feelings of being attached to someone burdened him so, and while he sought your brightest and warmest of smiles, he couldn’t muster the courage to see it fall on the day that he fulfills what he knows would be his inevitable fate in the long run.

However all his rumination came into a halt the moment he heard a roar that thundered quite literally just beside him.

Kaeya had little time to think the moment the beast emerged from the towering trees of the mountains, his head blanking as he watched it lunge towards him with great speed. His hand that went up to the hilt of his sword suddenly froze the very moment he realized he was a little too late.

Closing his eye shut, he braced for the impact until suddenly, the beast roared and he could hear the familiar sickening sound of a blade piercing through the flesh.

Mere seconds were all it took for him to regain his breathing, his ears ringing as the adrenaline pumped through his veins. He now wonders if he really should’ve taken you up on your offer on escorting him in the first place, sure would’ve eased the guilt he felt inside and maybe he wouldn’t have to space out in the middle of his trail.

“Captain! Are you okay?!”

His eye flew open, seeing your angelic face that held nothing but pure concern for him. He glanced back at the slain beast and back to you, pupils dilated — you were here. Here. And you protected him.

He stayed still, watching in bated breath as you dropped your bloodied greatsword that stained the thick coat of snow. You smiled a little, brushing away a few strands of hair from his face, “There’s my captain. Are you alright? Did it hurt you?”

“Y…You’re here…?”

You blinked before laughing, bashful and what Kaeya can consider as remotely adorable in any other day, “Ah… yeah. I know you said I can’t come… but I can’t help it! What if you were in trouble and I wasn’t there to protect you? So I came and good thing I did!”

Kaeya’s lips trembled, before lunging in to hug you tight, almost sending you tumbling into the snow. You quickly returned the gesture, wrapping your arms around him tight. You patted his back, rubbing circles to soothe your poor little captain.

“There, there. From now on, let’s stick together, okay?”

The captain nodded into your shoulder, looking up to look at the unmoving beast that laid in the snow.

He does wonder though… since when were wild beasts in this mountain leashed?

𐂂

Diluc

To the citizens of Mondstadt, their uncrowned king remains as cold and as untouchable as he can be. He rarely interacted with anyone, and was almost always either cooped up in his manor, or out in other nations to further propagate his empirical business in the wine industry. He was always on the move, and people admired him for that.

And you were willing to bet your entire life that their admiration would grow tenfold when they realized that Diluc was the unsung Darknight Hero that terrorized every monsters that hoped to wreak havoc in the lives of the citizens.

Alas, the situation remains as it were, with him completely aloof to the people, leaving either a terrifying impression, or one that could leave someone seething at his unwelcoming tendencies.

But you would be remiss to blindly agree to that. In fact, you vehemently denied those claims as you remained by his side, like a loyal watchdog for him to command as he so pleases.

He was your savior first before your now superior. Diluc was your beacon of hope on the very day he rescued you from the cold rain, ostracized from your nation that you once loved and now left with a gaping void on your chest. You could still remember the feeling of that cold rain while you trudged within the Dawn Winery’s vicinity, when suddenly the rain stopped pelting harshly on you as a pair of shoes entered your field of vision.

You could still remember his words echo within your ears.

“You’re going to get sick. Come inside and let the rain pass at least.”

The rest was history after that, and now you sat as the elusive and capable butler of the famed prolific young man of the Ragnvindr clan. Though in fairness, you weren’t particularly elusive, and Adelinde can attest to that.

She has never seen someone handle their Master Diluc so delicately. She could sing her praises to you endlessly, with your attentive nature, and you willingness to serve Diluc without even an ounce of hesitation. You’ve certainly earned your keep in their eyes, and even the pyro vision wielder can see your dedication towards him.

There was always something with the way you carried yourself the moment you started working under the Ragnvindr house, you first started off as a mere novice in caring for the house, until you rapidly climbed up the ranks as Diluc’s personal attendant, aiding him in his home as well as his monthly international trips to ensure his safety.

Really, it wasn’t much to be praised for. You were only doing your job, and it’s a job that you found yourself intensely passionate for. To be with Diluc was an honor, to serve the man that saved you from your untimely demise, returning his actions with so much more than what was on offer.

Your service was something that toed between your gratefulness and a borderline obsession.

You gave what you can and Diluc was nothing but completely enamored with you, from your lofty smiles that felt like heaven, to your assisting hands that traced against his shoulders on mornings where you helped him get dressed for the day. All of it was slowly drawing him in. You were perfect, too perfect in fact, and it haunted poor Diluc that knew nothing but pain and betrayal.

“Master Diluc, I believe there is merit to getting some sleep after working so hard,” your smile was light and airy, and it was already a breath of fresh air from the contrasting suffocating environment that was filled to the brim with mindless drunks.

Diluc made a quiet noise of agreement (his mouth barely had the strength to move after talking to so many patrons of his), yet his feet begged to differ as it led him up to his office without skipping a beat.

You folded his coat in your arms and trailed after him, “So then why am I seeing you opening the door to what I believe is not your bedroom door?” You inquire with a croon, lovingly watching the way his hand hesitated to find the doorknob. It was a sign that he heeded your little advice and your little heart that was filled to the brim with love for your master couldn’t help but swell with pride and increase in rate, almost spilling over.

“I have… some reports to attend to. If I can finish it tonight, it would be less burden on me tomorrow,” Diluc reasoned, but it was clear that he was slowly caving into your whims, just the way you like it.

He was inexplicably weak towards you for some reason — something not a lot of people could achieve despite working for him or with him for a good while.

“Would it be wise to tend to them while completely exhausted?”

Once again, you’ve put him in a difficult place. You’re a cunning man, unfortunately for him, able to wriggle in some moments of logic into his brain that prioritized his duties over his own wellbeing. And for some reason, concerning as it is, his brain feels intoxicated as it sways to your will, completely subservient and willing to abide despite the fact that you were his servant and he was the commanding authority in your relationship.

Diluc feels it sometimes — the unsettling feeling of being squeezed tight, like a python coiling around his body as it suffocated him with love and care. His movements are restricted and he was unable to break free from that tightening grasp.

It was almost hard to breathe, but at the same time there was sick sense of comfort that was lodged into the back of his mind. He liked it. It was the affection that he was deprived of, leaving him writhing in the loneliness that he was forced to soldier through. And when you came to him on that one night, you gave him what he needed but not asked for.

You made him feel like he’s worth something, and it made him want to vie for a life worth something as well. It was a feeling that he could get high off of, and you were willing donor to whatever it was that he lacked.

And before he knew it, he sat at his tub comfortably, completely bare and vulnerable while you continued to wash his hair with such gentle hands. Never has he known a touch so kind like yours and he was ready to get lost within it.

“Feeling better?” Your voice coos at his ear, sickeningly sweet and yet he submits himself into it with reckless abandon. Your hands moved from his hair, leaving the most addicting touches as you traced your fingertips from the nape of his neck right to his shoulders that were filled with tension.

“Much,” Diluc muttered, head turning up as his half-lidded eyes met yours, still filled with that irresistible fondness that he grew to be addictive of. “Thank you, [Name].”

You smiled, succinct yet saccharine while your hands worked away the kinks and knots away from your master’s incredibly tensed muscles.

For him, you would give your all, even if it meant to face death. You would throw away anything else because a world without your endearing master is a world not worth living for. You will serve him until the world falls to your feet, and if given the chance, you will do what you can to protect him even beyond your useless life that long passed.

He was your savior and now you were a devout believer — one that worships his master with little to no hesitation. You can beat any other nun or the beloved deacon of that measly church with how much love and devotion you were willing to show him. Hell, even if you can’t, if it’s what Diluc wants, you would do well with dying as you try and make the impossible completely possible just for him.

Your love through subservience was quick to snuff out the wings your master once embodied to soar freely. He slowly caved into you, in need and constantly hungry for more, unaware of his growing dependence on your presence.

“It’s no problem, my lord. I will serve and tail you until the ends of this world. And even in my death, I am yours to command and to have.”

Diluc mirrored your smile, albeit much more tired than your sweet one.

He was the willing prey and you were the loving predator.

The unmistakably perfect match.

[tls123]

me and the bestie <3

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

okay, this is a halfway to 7k unedited fantasy au snippet! Out Of Context as usual!

some warnings for this one: blood, gore, major character injury, graphic description of injury <3 i had fun w/ it not sorry <3

~

The front door slams open, stalling all conversation inside. A flash of lightning illuminates the two forms huddled in the doorway, one considerably larger than the other.

Barnaby staggers a half-step inside, dripping water all over the floor. That alone has Howdy putting down the glass and moving across the bar to better assess the situation. Eddie is struggling to support Barnaby’s listing weight, and both of them are clutching at Barnaby’s belly. They’re both soaked through.

Someone gasps, and the folks seated nearest to the door stand and back away, muttering in alarm. Howdy’s stomach plummets. Some of the water puddling on the floor is too dark to be just that. Barnaby’s front, under where his massive paw is clutched, is drenched dark as well. 

Eddie catches his eye - he looks wild with fear. 

“Out!” Howdy thunders. “Everyone out! I don’t care about your tabs or if you’re not done - if you have a room, go there, if you don’t, scram!”

Some people cast him and Eddie dirty looks, but they start to get up, grumbling all the while. Howdy couldn’t care less. Not when Barnaby is leaning so heavily on Eddie, his breathing so labored that Howdy can hear it amidst the shuffle and scrape of patrons leaving.

“What happened?” Julie yells, running across the room from the neighborhood booth. 

“Make sure everyone gets out,” Howdy says, redirecting her. Julie doesn’t look happy about it, but she complies. The patrons start to clear out faster with her aggressive ‘assistance’. Howdy throws his drying towel off to the side and nearly vaults over the bar to help support Barnaby. He reaches to sling Barnaby’s other arm over his shoulders-

“Don’t!” Eddie cries. He doesn’t let go from the wound, and Barnaby cringes away from Howdy with a breathy echo - “Don’t.”

“Why not?” Howdy says, panic rising in his throat. He looks closer at the wound Barnaby and Eddie are holding - this time he has to swallow down bile. Glistening, blood-slicked pink pulses under their hands. Barnaby whines softly. He’s terribly pale under his fur.

“Everyone’s gone!” Julie announces. 

Howdy snaps out of his horrified trance. He points at the bar. “Clear a spot on the floor for him on the floor, make sure we have room to work.”

Julie makes a frustrated noise but complies once again. Howdy slips around to Eddie’s side and trades places with him, but Eddie doesn’t let go of the wound. The sudden weight makes Howdy stumble, but he quickly widens his stance and starts shuffling them to the area Julie is clearing. They help Barnaby lower to the ground, and every pained whine and gasp is like an arrow to the heart. Eddie whispers apologies all the way down. Barnaby’s free paw leaves scratches in the bar’s cherry wood.

“Ed, I need you to get my supplies from my room,” Howdy says, rolling up his sleeves with quick, expert flicks.

Eddie looks at him like he’s crazy. “I can’t let go!” 

“I’m here to take your place - four arms are better than two, now get!” 

Eddie still hesitates, but slips away once Howdy puts all four of his hands where Eddie’s measly two were. It’s hot, and wet, and - and -

It becomes immediately clear that this is a wound they can’t fix, not without an extraordinarily talented healer. 

“Julie,” Howdy chokes out, “get Poppy.”

“Okay,” Julie says faintly, right behind him. She slowly backs away, and all at once sprints for the front door. A burst of fresh, rain-filled air blows inside before the door closes again. The cold shock makes Barnaby flinch and gasp. 

“Hold on, Barn.” Howdy forces himself to look at Barnaby’s face instead of the pulsing guts bulging from the gash someone sliced across his belly. The soaked fur under and around it looks purple. “Help will be here in a jiff, so don’t you go falling asleep on me.”

“Tryin’,” Barnaby wheezes, and his voice has never sounded so much like music, “tryin’ not to. It’s - stars, it hurts, Howdy-”

“I know, but you gotta hang in there, pal. Poppy will fix you right up.”

“I…” Barnaby makes a wretched noise that sounds like a sob, “I don’t wanna die.” He whines, a leg weakly kicking out as his guts twitch. “M’ not ready, Howds, m’ not…”

“You’re not going to die,” Howdy insists even as Barnaby’s blood soaks his hands and sleeves. 

He doesn’t want Barnaby to die, either, but who knows where Poppy is - there’s no guarantee that she’s home, and even if she is, her abode is clear across town. Julie is a fast runner, but in this weather… with such a distance…

Barnaby is going to die. 

Howdy will do his damned best to keep that from happening. 

Clattering precedes Eddie sprinting around the corner. He checks the bar hard, but doesn’t fall or flinch. He takes the hit and slides to his knees by Barnaby’s side and opens the pack. Howdy almost reaches out to rummage through it himself, but Barnaby’s paw starts to slip from the wound. 

“No no, none of that.” Howdy nudges it back into place with his knee and tries to jostle Barnaby with the same motion. “Eyes open and paw up, Barn.”

“Tryin’,” Barnaby whispers. His eyelids flutter in a vain attempt to stay open. His breathing rattles.

Howdy doesn’t need to tell Eddie what to look for, and thank the heavens for that, because Howdy doesn’t think he can look away from Barnaby’s pained features, much less form words that aren’t incoherent prayers to any god that will listen. Barnaby’s paw slips, and Howdy has to lunge to keep his insides from becoming his outsides. Just his hands aren’t enough - he needs to use his forearms. There’s so much of it. 

Eddie scoots forward and holds up a potion, and Howdy nearly howls in anguish. “Not that one! The healing potions - the red ones!”

“I know that!” Eddie snaps just as viciously, which is enough of a shock that Barnaby gains a moment of startled clarity. Eddie uses it to coax him to drink the golden energy potion. “I have some healin’ powers of my own - I can buy him more time than your bruise busters, and you’re fresh out of those, anyway!”

Out?

Howdy stares at his pack in horror. That’s right. He hasn’t restocked - oh, he’s a fool! He allowed himself to grow complacent and reliant on Eddie and Poppy’s healing. He has no time to thoroughly curse his inaction, as Barnaby’s paw comes back up to the wound, and his back arches as he wails his agony. The potion kicked in. Eddie quickly shoves his paw away again and holds his hands to the corner of the gash, his palms glowing orange.

“Oh, oh no,” Barnaby sobs, his boots and claws scraping wood, “Ed, stop-!”

“I’m sorry,” is all Eddie says. He shoves Barnaby’s paw aside when he tries to pry Eddie away. Barnaby grabs for the nearest thing with his other paw, which happens to be Howdy’s thigh. Howdy bites back a pained hiss at the feeling of claws digging sharp through his pants. The cold water saturating Barnaby’s paw soaks the fabric in seconds, creating a contrast to the pinpricks of hot welling up under the claws.

Howdy eyes the healing glow and the strain on Eddie’s face. It won’t be enough - Howdy doubts it will give Barnaby any time at all. The thin corner of the gash slowly knits together, but the rest of it is too wide, too deep. The only reason Eddie can heal any of it at all is due to how clean the slice is. The blade that created this wound must have been freshly sharpened, or enchanted. Howdy can tell at a glance that it cut through Barnaby like a knife through marmalade. 

Eddie heals the other tapered end. He and Howdy exchange a glance - Howdy sees it in his eyes that the healing is just a platitude. Blood continues to soak Barnaby’s pants, Howdy’s, their hands, Howdy’s clothes, the floor. 

Abruptly, Howdy is keenly aware of how quiet the tavern is. Rain drums on the roof and thunder rolls outside. The fireplace crackles. How long will it take to scrub the blood out of the wood flooring? How long will Howdy spend staring at the scratches etched into the bar?  

“How- Howdy,” Barnaby says. He isn’t gripping Howdy’s leg as hard anymore, but he gives it a weak squeeze. “Gotta tell ya - hng - somethin’. Shoulda… told ya sooner, but-”

“Save it for later,” Howdy says quickly. “You can gab all you want when you’re better.”

There likely won’t be a later, or better, and that’s half the problem. Call Howdy selfish, but he won’t let Barnaby make this hurt more than it already does. More than it will. He would rather live with a might’a than a could’a.

Barnaby knows it, because his eyes mist up and he nods weakly. “Yeah. When I’m… when I’m better. Can I ask a fa-favor?”

“Anythin’,” Eddie murmurs. Howdy had forgotten he’s there.

“Find Wally for me?”

Eddie lays a bloody hand on Barnaby’s arm, steely determination flashing in his eyes. “We will. I swear it on my patron’s light.”

“That’s a…” Barnaby pauses to grimace and swallow thickly, “a big promise, Ed.”

“I’ll make sure he keeps it,” Howdy says.

“M’ sure you will. But, but… if Wally really is gone… hey, I’ll say hi to ‘em for ya.” Barnaby manages a shaky half-smile. “At least that’d be one - one good thing ta’ come outta this, huh?”

Howdy’s composure cracks. He chokes down sobs as he slumps over Barnaby, uncaring of the awkward position or the insides sandwiched against his front, drenching his apron and shirt with blood. He hides his tears in Barnaby’s cold, waterlogged ear. Barnaby uses what little strength he has left to turn his head, weakly nuzzling the side of Howdy’s face. His breath is warm. Weak, but warm.

Distantly, Howdy hears Eddie curse and ask “Where are they?” The clink of his armor fades, and the door opens just enough to let in the scent of rain. Howdy hears more than feels Barnaby breathe it in. As close as they are, Howdy can hear the wet rattle in Barnaby’s chest.

Should Howdy do something to make him more comfortable? Would Barnaby’s herbs ease his pain? Even if it would, if anything would, Howdy can’t let go. That would hurt him more, and Howdy refuses to give up that tiny sliver of hope that something can be done. 

The door slams open to let in a thunder of footsteps. Howdy snaps upright, and he’s certain that if he didn’t have a job to do, he’d collapse. 

“Oh dear, oh-” Poppy squawks loud enough to make everyone cringe, her feathers fluffing up. “My feathers, that’s! Oh! That is much worse than what you told me!”

“One can hardly fault her,” Sally says before Julie can respond. She kneels by Howdy with Poppy right behind her. “Are you with us, Barnaby?”

No response. 

Howdy goes cold. “Barn?”

Sally briskly taps Barnaby’s cheek until he twitches, his eyelids barely lifting before falling shut once more. “Still with us!”

If Howdy wasn’t already crying, he’d start now.

“Can you fix it?” Eddie asks from off to the side.

Julie paces anxiously. “Of course she can! Poppy’s the best healer for miles, there’s nothing she can’t do. Right, Poppy? He’ll be up and joking in no time!”

“I.” Poppy’s feathers shake as she dances them over the open wound. “I will most certainly try, but I can’t do it on my own. It’s too severe for my magic to do much of anything. Sally, dear-”

“No,” Sally says immediately, her glow dimming. “You cannot be serious, I won’t - I simply will not-”

“You must. We all need to work together - Howdy and Eddie need to hold the wound shut. It won’t just be you.”

“We need to what now?” Eddie says, even as he settles on Howdy’s other side. “What’s going on?”

Howdy feels sick. “You and I have to make sure his insides stay inside, while Sally will-”

“Sally won’t,” Sally says. “As much of a nuisance as he likes to make himself, Barnaby is my friend! I could never-”

“Then you’re alright with losing him!”” Howdy snarls. “Perhaps you’d like to trade places with me and feel him die under your hands instead!”

Sally gapes at him, stricken. Her mouth flaps for a moment before she shuts it firmly and turns to the wound, lifting her hands. 

“What does she have to do?” Julie asks.

Everyone ignores her - not out of unkindness. Poppy nods to Eddie and Howdy. Eddie places his hands in the spaces where Howdy can’t completely reach. They exchange a glance and push.

There was a time when Howdy received an overpacked shipment of linked sausages. He had no room to store it yet, but the sack it arrived in tore. Shoving them back in - even with all four of his hands - was nigh impossible. It was impressive how the sausages had managed to fit at all, because the sack was certainly too small. 

Shoving Barnaby’s guts back into his stomach is a lot like that.

Barnaby cringes and moans in his nearly-unconscious state, feebly trying to get away from what is certainly agonizing pain. His brow bunches up, and he whines high in his throat. 

Howdy can’t spare a thought to it. Blood and organs squelch as Howdy and Eddie rush to cram it all inside - there’s no time for caution. As soon as the last slip of pink is inside - it’s so, so dark and red past the blue - they squeeze the wound shut to the best of their abilities. Barnaby sobs quietly.

“Now,” Poppy says, and Sally’s palms burn hot enough to make Howdy’s skin itch.

She holds her hands to the sealed gash, and Barnaby starts wailing. Too weak to thrash, he just writhes softly and keens, tears freely spilling down his face and carving dark tracks in his drying fur. His paw twitches around Howdy’s leg, claws digging in again like he wants to grab or yank or something.

“Almost there, Barn,” Howdy lies. Part of him wishes Barnaby would fall fully into unconsciousness. It would be dangerous, but at least he wouldn’t feel this. 

The acrid stench of burning fur and flesh fills Howdy’s nose. Sally and Eddie both gag. Heels rapidly click across the tavern as Julie sprints to the nearest waste bin, and she retches loudly into it. Howdy barely registers it - he’s barely breathing, himself. 

“Well done, all of you,” Poppy murmurs as Sally cauterizes. She holds her wingtips to the cooked flesh of the wound as Sally continues, and they glow coal red. The wound glows with it, the angry blistered flesh smooths and pales, and blue fur starts to grow back before their eyes. 

Barnaby’s paw falls from Howdy’s leg as he starts to slump, cries petering off into agonized whines. Poppy doesn’t seem alarmed, and Howdy just wants his pain to stop, so no one moves to keep him awake.

Soon, Sally has to shuffle in front of Howdy and Eddie to continue. They’re loath to move, so she awkwardly lies across their laps and reaches. As soon as she burns her way to the end that Eddie healed, Poppy gives them the all-clear. 

Eddie lets go first, slumping back on his heels. Sally is still draped across Howdy’s lap with her head pillowed on Eddie’s. The three of them catch their breath as they watch Poppy brush her healing feathers across Barnaby’s stomach. Julie staggers over to them and kneels next to Eddie. She leans against him, sniffling. Howdy doesn’t have it in him to protest when Eddie not only loops an arm around her shoulders, but around Howdy’s waist as well.

Barnaby is finally unconscious, his features slack  - Howdy places a hand on his chest to make sure, and the shallow rise and fall of it is more priceless than all the coin in the world. Howdy slowly sits. His hand trails down as Poppy pulls her wings back, and his fingertips dance on the silvery smooth line of a fresh scar. 

“I’ve done all I can,” Poppy says with a gusty sigh. “So have the rest of you - again, well done. You all did splendidly.”

“I don’t feel splendid,” Sally croaks.  

“Well… you are. Quite splendid. Let’s get him up and to a bed.” Poppy’s first attempt at standing fails. Sally all but leaps up to help support her, and she laughs nervously. “I’m afraid that took quite a bit out of me. There was more to heal than I expected, dear me.”

“Will he be okay?” Julie asks. 

Poppy looks at Barnaby with a soft, sad look in her eyes. “I can’t say for certain. It’s up to Barnaby, now… all we can do is make sure he’s comfortable. A-and keep a close eye on him! There could be, ah… complications. Infections, and the like. Mh, I’m sure it won’t come to that, though. Sally’s fire should have burned out anything nasty.”

Howdy belatedly realizes that he needs to help carry Barnaby. He kneels on shaky legs and gently maneuvers Barnaby’s dead wei- unconscious weight to the side. Howdy slips his upper arms under Barnaby’s, using his lower set to help support his back. Eddie takes one side, Sally and Julie take the other. Poppy does her best to help, but she can only lift Barnaby’s unbloodied leg with her beak. 

They shuffle their way to a ground floor room. There’s plenty, but Howdy once again chooses to be selfish and brings them to one near to his own. Near is subjective - Howdy lives on the second floor, but the staircase to his private suite is as close to Barnaby’s temporary room as it can get. Barnaby will be sleeping right below Howdy. If anything happens, he’ll hear.

They get Barnaby onto the bed, and all of them breathe sighs of relief - and mild pain, in Eddie’s case as he stretches his back. Poppy asks for Julie to stay and assist her with getting Barnaby adjusted. 

Howdy doesn’t wait for a dismissal. He stumbles his way out of the room with Sally and Eddie in tow, his heart jackrabbiting. It feels like he grabbed hot coals, or swallowed a bolt of lightning. He’s shaky and ill and he just held Barnaby’s intestines in his hands.

Howdy leans over the bar and blindly grabs a bottle from underneath it. He uncorks it with his mouth, spits the cork to the side, and starts chugging. The alcohol burns as it goes down. It’s cheap, bitter, and easy to focus on. He comes up for breath with a small gasp and coughs, wincing at the aftertaste.

Cleaning supplies clatter as Eddie brings them out of the supply closet - Howdy wasn’t aware he knew where that was. It’s just a bucket of water and a scrubber. Not that he’ll do much good. He’s still caked in blood and mud. Dishes clink as Sally cleans up the ample messes that the patrons left behind. Howdy takes another swig and stares blankly at the shelf behind the bar.

The blank eyes of the Wally-puppet stare back at him. At least the real Wally wasn’t here to see that. Howdy doesn’t know what he would have done, or how he would have reacted… best not to imagine. In any case, Howdy hopes that by the time they find Wally, this whole experience will be nothing but another story. 

Howdy goes to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand - oh. Right. It’s still covered in blood. All four of them are. The blood glistens when Howdy holds out his hands. It’s warm and tacky, clinging to his fingers like sap as he spreads them. 

It’s Barnaby’s blood. 

These hands were inside of Barnaby’s gutted stomach, and Howdy can still feel the sickening heat and the way it all pulsed and twitched and-

Howdy copies Julie’s example and vomits into the nearest acceptable receptacle. The alcohol tastes better going the other way, even if it burns worse. 

Once the dry heaving stops, Howdy sinks to the ground, shaking with silent sobs. His legs curl up and he presses the heels of his upper hands to his forehead, hugging himself with his lower arms. The crimson-soaked fabric of his shirt squishes and sticks to his skin.

Everything Sally carries rattles, and every few minutes something falls. Chipped cups, shattered plates, clattering platters. After each breakage, she picks up the shards and keeps clearing the tables. The constant swish, swish, swish of scrubber bristles on wood fill the silence between rattling dishware and rolls of thunder. Eddie scrubs at the one spot on the floor, where Barnaby sat. The water he pours and scrubs quickly turns pink, then red. 

The door opens, letting in yet another gust of air. It slowly closes, and Frank’s shrill voice cries out, “What in the heavens happened in here?”

Anger rises sharply in Howdy’s gut - and vanishes as soon as it came. There’s no use in being mad at Frank - they didn’t explicitly go with Eddie and Barnaby on their day trip. He was gathering information. There was no way he could have known what would happen. 

Frank belatedly notices the thick trail of blood on the floor, and sidesteps it before rushing to Eddie. “Is everyone okay? Who’s hurt? That’s not your blood, is it-”

“It’s not mine,” Eddie says, not looking away from his task. Swish, swish, swish. When Frank reaches for him, he waves them off. “Stay back, it’s a mess. I’ll take care of it - I’m taking care of it.”

He isn’t taking care of it.

Frank takes a step back, his eyes wide enough that Howdy can see the whites of them clear across the tavern. Frank looks over the trail of blood, the puddle, bootprints, the smeared handprints, and the sheer amount coating not only Eddie, but Howdy too. Sally doesn’t make a move to acknowledge Frank as she stacks wood platters and ceramic plates. More blood stains her from where she kneeled in it, and laid across Howdy and Eddie. 

A scraaaaape precedes Julie backing into the tavern proper with a large tub of steaming water. Howdy makes a desperate sound and scrambles over to it. He thrusts his arms into the water and scrubs furiously at his skin and sleeves, ignoring the burn of the slightly too-hot temperature. Julie’s stare sears into him for only a moment before she takes a shuddering breath and steps out of the splash zone. 

“Frank!” she says a touch too loudly, oozing false cheer. “You’re back! Did you find anything?”

“Did I - what does that matter! Julie, what’s going on?”

“Oh, Barnaby got a little hurt, but he’s resting now.”

Frank incredulously gestures to the tavern’s general state. “A little hurt?”

“Barnaby’s fine now,” Julie reiterates. “Poppy is taking care of him.”

“How did - why did - what -”

Howdy slowly stops scrubbing. His skin feels raw under his fuzz as he stands, water sluicing from his arms. He unties his apron as he returns to the bar and tosses it over a stool. He sits on the one next to it and snatches the open bottle of - whatever it is. It’s alcohol. That’s what matters. He rests his head in his hands between acrid swigs. 

“Everything is okay! Poppy is the best healer around, it’s nothing she can’t handle,” Julie chirps. No one calls her out on the proven lie. She starts collecting straggling dishes alongside Sally. “We’re just helping Howdy clean up.”

In his periphery, Howdy catches Frank side-eyeing him. He chugs from the bottle for a moment and slams it back down, if only to make a point. Frank is the only one to jolt at the sharp bang.

Frank slowly crouches by Eddie, frowning deeper than normal. He mutters something too quiet for Howdy to hear from the other end of the bar. Eddie says something back - Frank lays a hand on his shoulder, and Howdy scowls miserably into his drink. His thigh itches.

Swish, swish- the scrubber finally stills. Eddie shoots to his feet, his armor clattering loudly, and he steadies himself against the counter as his other hand flies to his forehead. “Oh no. Oh, no…”

Everyone stills, and the tension in the room thickens palpably. 

“What is it?” Frank asks.

Eddie looks at Howdy with horror in his eyes. “We lost Wormie. Barn dropped his hat when we were ambushed - there was no time to stop. We couldn’t…”

“Show me,” Howdy says, leaping off of his stool and charging for the door. Eddie follows hot on his heels.

The rain is freezing. It soaks Howdy through to the bone as soon as he steps out from under the tavern awning.

Howdy doesn’t dare go back to get a coat, even if all he has on are his thin work clothes. The cold nearly knocks the breath out of him, but he focuses on the alcohol warm in his stomach and plunges into the storm. He slows just enough to let Eddie - and, apparently, Sally - pass him. She carves a way through the pitch black night.

Mud saturates Howdy’s boots and the cuffs of his pants. It sticks unpleasantly to his skin and only worsens the chill as they run past dark buildings. Few windows glow orange, proving how late it’s gotten. There’s no way of knowing how long it’s been since Barnaby was injured. Even with Sally,’s light, it’s going to be impossible to find Wormie in this weather.

Howdy’s eyes burn as they leave the town’s muddy streets and plunge into the terribly dark forest. What if they don’t find her? The thought is almost too much to bear. Howdy doesn’t think he could face Barnaby when - if - he wakes up. They’ve already lost Wally, and that alone has had Barnaby in shambles. But if they lost his beloved little worm, too? 

It feels like they run through the woods for hours. Eddie keeps slipping and tripping, but manages to keep his legs under him. Howdy’s mind whirls with what-ifs and maybes and hows and whys. Eddie and Barnaby were ambushed so far away - why did they come to Howdy’s tavern instead of going right to Poppy’s? How horrible was it to go all the way into town in that state, in this weather? What if Wormie drowned, or was trampled, frozen, taken -

“I think it was here,” Eddie shouts over the thunder and rain. A flash of lightning illuminates the ground through the waving treetops. 

“You think?” Sally says. Howdy wishes he had said it first - now is not the time for Eddie’s navigational dysfunction! 

“I don’t know, Sally! I wasn’t really paying attention on account of keepin’ Barn’s insides from spillin’ everywhere!” Eddie doesn’t say it to be cruel, Howdy knows.

It doesn’t stop him from feeling unsteady all over again, or stop Sally’s glow from dimming. He glances around like he expects to see more blood, though even if this is the correct area, the rain has washed any evidence away. Howdy turns in a circle, tangling his upper hands in his hair. 

There’s no way of knowing. There’s no way of finding such a tiny, sweet little creature- lightning flashes, catching on leather outside of Sally’s glow.

Howdy lunges for the hat, uncaring of how his knees sink deep into frigid mud as he snatches it up. The hat is grimy, but undamaged. Even Ms. Beagle’s feather is intact. But when Howdy turns it over, his heart sinks.

Nothing inside.

Nothing on the ground around it either, even when he digs through the mud to make sure. Eddie hesitantly touches Howdy’s shoulder, and Sally’s warm glow envelops his back. 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says. He sniffles. “I should’ve grabbed her. I should’ve-”

“You prioritized our bard,” Sally says. “We can’t fault you for that.”

They can’t. Howdy… Howdy wants to, but he can’t find it in himself. He’s cold, he’s tired, he wants to go make sure Barnaby is being taken care of. He looks around a final time, blinking against the rainwater pouring over his eyes.

Nothing but muddy soil, bushes, trees, darkness. 

Howdy clutches the hat to his chest and stands, stumbling slightly. His friends steady him, and his face pinches. He shouldn’t have drank so much at once. It’s finally getting to him, and soon he’ll be of no use at all. He can already feel the faint buzz in his head.

“We’ll come back in the morning,” Sally promises, tugging gently on his lower arm.

Howdy makes a pained noise. She won’t make it to morning. It’s too cold, she’s too small. All they’ll find is her little frozen body. 

“Hold on.” Eddie holds out an arm to stop them. “Can you hear that?”

“It’s impossible to hear anything over this storm,” Sally says. 

“No, no… I’m sure I heard something. It was a - a little, it was a little…”

Peep.

Howdy’s waterlogged antennae snap upright, and he whips around to stare at a nearby tree. A past storm must have nearly blown it over, as half of the base seems uprooted. Gnarled roots arc and tangle out of the ground. Howdy falls to his knees in front of the dark hole under the trunk. 

Another peep comes from inside.

“Sal, I need your light,” Howdy says, fumbling for her. Her golden glow fills the space, and he nearly sobs. 

Wormie squints up at them, curled into a tiny ball and shaking like the wet leaves she lies on. Mud covers her colors - if her eyes weren’t open, one could mistake her for a twig. Her harness blends into the rest of her. She peeps again. 

“Hey, gal,” Howdy murmurs, reaching into the shelter. Her antennae make a feeble attempt at raising, and she stretches her neck out towards his fingers. He slips them underneath her and lifts her out, making sure to shield her from the rain with his body. 

“Thank the stars,” Eddie says wetly. “For a moment there I thought we lost her.”

Howdy curls his fingers around Wormie, his heart breaking at how violently she shakes. 

“Should I take her? She must be freezing, the poor thing” Sally says, holding out a hand. Howdy holds her out, and Wormie lifts her head as Sally’s warm glow washes over her. She blinks at the offered trade, then drops her head and nestles into Howdy’s palm. Sally retracts her hand. “Apparently not.”

Howdy hooks the hat over that hand, and Wormie lets out a mournful peep. He lets Sally and Eddie pull him through the forest, staying hunched over the hat and murmuring reassurances. He starts quietly crying again at some point. The rain washes away his tears and sounds. By the time they return to the tavern, he’s exhausted himself. They all stumble through the doorway as a soaked, grimy trio.

Julie and Frank flurry over to fuss over them, but Howdy staggers past their worries. All he knows through the cotton in his head is that he needs a hot bath. He leaves their chatter behind and makes his way down the hallway, only pausing to listen at Barnaby’s door. 

Poppy is humming to herself. Howdy sags against the wall for a moment, taking solace in how calm she sounds. For a moment, he imagines going inside and resting at Barnaby’s bedside, but… later, he promises himself. When he’s in clean clothes and feels less like collapsing. 

Climbing the stairs to his room is a feat in itself, but Howdy manages it without tripping over the steps. He closes his door behind him and sighs, tempted to just fall asleep on the floor and deal with everything later. But Wormie is still shivering in his hand, and he might as well kill two birds with one stone. 

The hat is placed on the table for cleaning. Howdy hates to let go of Wormie, but he places her on the crown while he runs a bath. Not for the first time he thanks his past self for investing in this revolutionary tech called plumbing. All he needs to do is turn a valve, and hot water pours right into a fixed tub in the corner of his large, open room. 

For a long moment he yanks at the valve, not understanding why it’s not working- ah. He’s turning it the wrong way. He blinks forcibly and twists the right way, and water pours out. He watches it drain until it registers that he should plug the tub. 

Oh, the headache he’s going to have when he wakes up…

Howdy strips as he makes his way back over to Wormie, leaving unsalvageable clothing items strewn about. It’s a blessing in disguise that he was drenched by the rain - it kept all of the blood from drying, so his shirt and pants come off easily instead of sticking to his skin. He’s still stained red underneath them. Howdy undoes his ponytail and picks up Wormie. He carefully loosens her harness and slides it off, revealing a patch of spring blue and green bands underneath. 

He holds her to his chest as he steps into the filling tub. Steam rises off of it, and it clears his stuffed sinuses. He inhales it grateful and sinks into the water, clenching his teeth when it laps over the punctures in his thigh. He closes the valve and settles with a groan.

Wormie peeps at him and looks over the side of his hand at the water with longing in her big eyes. Howdy carefully lowers her until the warm water pools over his palm. Wormie finally stretches out as he rubs his thumb over her. Mud flakes and sloughs off of her, and she wriggles happily. She dunks her face and thrashes a little to properly soak herself. He gently runs a soap bar over her until she’s nearly white from the suds, and lowers her into the water so only her head floats on the surface.

Once she’s clean, Howdy grabs a small hand towel off of a nearby shelf, soaks it, and piles it on the side of the tub. He places Wormie on it and she happily starts burrowing. It occurs to him that he could look for some sort of floatation device for her, so that she could splash around to her tiny heart’s content, but just the thought is exhausting. So, a waterlogged towel it is. 

Before Howdy completely ruins the water by scrubbing more blood and mud into it, he washes his hair. The rain had already undone the ‘do, so at least he doesn’t have to scrub out the styling paste. He squeezes the water out as best as he can and slicks it back.

Watching the red caking his skin dissipate into the water is nothing short of a relief. He stops when he gets to the minor injury Barnaby left him - he can’t tell if he bled or not. If he did, it was overshadowed by Barnaby’s blood. He sits on the edge of the tub to better inspect it.

The wounds are shallow and nothing to write home about. They don’t need bandaging, though even if they did, the time for that has long since passed. Barnaby must not be dulling his claws like he usually does. Thankfully they weren’t entirely sharp, or Howdy suspects he’d have much larger holes in his thigh. Three punctures on the outside, one on the inside. Howdy opens the water valve a smidge just to wet a fresh towelette and properly clean the wounds. It would help no one to get them infected - Poppy needs to save her energy for Barnaby.

By the time he’s satisfied with his cleanliness - if he weren’t so tired, he’d have gone for a fourth round of soap - Wormie is dozing in her damp towel. He opens the drain before grabbing a fresh hand towel, this one dry. He carefully lifts Wormie out of it and wraps her in the soft fabric. Her eyes open for only a moment before she settles again, purring. 

For a long few minutes, Howdy just sits and holds her, watching her antennae twitch as she falls asleep. He absentmindedly rubs the towel, and Wormie’s purring increases as she’s dried. 

The sound of the last of the water draining pulls Howdy’s attention away from the tiny animal. He carefully gets out of the tub and puts Wormie back on the table, still wrapped up. Once again, he looks longingly at his bed. 

Howdy dries off and dresses in loose sleep pants and leaves it at that, not wanting to bother with a shirt. He rarely sleeps with one on, anyway. Too much of a hassle. He slips Wormie out of her towel and brings her downstairs, once again having to move slowly with much paid attention as to not fall with his leaden legs.

Poppy emerges from the room as Howdy reaches the ground floor. She turns and startles. “Oh! Howdy, you startled me. You look much better… though your hair is still wet - you’ll catch a cold if you leave it like that.”

Is it? Howdy brushes his fingertips over cold strands plastered to his neck. Oops. 

“Are you alright? You look quite unsteady…” Poppy comes over to him and squawks softly, her neck pulling back. “Is that alcohol? Howdy, are you drunk?”

Howdy shrugs one shoulder. Talking takes focus and time, but he manages, “I may be a little tipsy. No worries.”

“Many worries, dear.” 

“How is he?” Howdy deflects as he walks past her, partially leaning against the wall. He nudges open the door and rests against the doorframe. The blankets cast over the small room’s bed rise and fall in stark contrast to how shallow Barnaby was breathing earlier. 

“On the mend,” Poppy murmurs, following him inside. He slumps into the armchair already pulled up to the bed. “He might sleep for some time… he’s been through quite an ordeal. Anyone would be tired after so much healing, let alone after… well.”

Howdy carefully places Wormie on Barnaby’s neck. She stirs, and starts forcibly purring as soon as she registers the shade of blue underneath her. She doesn’t perform her usual party-seizure like she usually does when seeing Barnaby - she just burrows into his fur. Howdy has to wonder if she’s simply exhausted, or if she can tell that something is wrong. 

“I don’t believe we’ll encounter any complications with his health, thank goodness” Poppy says. “By my estimates, he should be up and moving within the week. I’d like him to remain on bedrest for a few days more than strictly necessary, but I doubt he’ll want to stay put.”

If Howdy weren’t so worn out, he’d tear up yet again. 

Of course he won’t stay. Barnaby will charge out the door as soon as he’s able, hellbent as he is on finding Wally. No one can blame him. The others will likely continue the search tomorrow, if not the next day. All Howdy can hope is they find something promising for Barnaby to wake up to.

He crosses his upper arms on the bed and pillows his head on them. He fights to keep his eyelids open, watching Barnaby’s peaceful face. He looks calm, his features holding no hint of pain. A warm weight drapes over Howdy. 

He starts to lift his head, but Poppy says, “It’s just a blanket. Rest, Howdy, you need it. Barnaby will be here when you wake up.”

Howdy means to thank her, but the word comes out as a weary sigh. He lets his eyes slide shut, and slips into deep sleep a second later.

[wickmitz]

what do you think mitzi’s type in men is?

hmm, this is a fun little ask! especially since her love interests, on a surface level, couldn’t be more different. we have :

zib : former long term boyfriend but not quite … they were very loose with labels, as we know from outside information and the way zib lives life in general. but despite this, whatever feelings fostered between them were intense ; enough so for him to stick around years later, resigned to a chained down lifestyle simply because he doesn’t want to leave mitzi. he’s very loyal in that sense! even if it’s not a conventional type of loyalty. we know that before bitterness seeped inbetween their bond that zib took good care of her, while also being a complete mess of a person ; someone perpetually scared whenever physical conflict is concerned and being a musically inclined man who very much treats himself as a free spirit, with a morbid philosophy and feel towards life. he’s got a major tortured artist aesthetic!! is a little gripped by melancholy and nostalgia … zib is a lot of things, and ambitious is surprisingly one of the many puzzle pieces that make up dorian zibowski.

atlas : ruthless gangster, has an eerie presence that frightens even the people closest to him. he is prone to a more quiet disposition ; never speaking and always a blot of unremarkable grey. but he is an opportunist! someone who can manage a business and take advantage of shortcuts and loopholes to become even more successful … basically he is wealthy and uses his assets well. but all of this is done with a manner of distance, leaving even those closest to him never having the full picture of who he was. it’s also worth noting that mitzi and him had eventual problems, which caused her to seperate. also perhaps has a heart of some kind, but whatever love he possesses is hidden under layers of blood and mystery.

wick : well-to-do bore, and i say this with all the love in the world for wick! but compared to previous paramours he’s rather clean and talkative … there is a constant earnestness to him that bleeds out, an honesty and a more conventional sort of kindness. he doesn’t hide behind smoke and mirrors and there’s never really a front he puts up around mitzi -- or his investors for that matter, hence why he’s treated as an ‘outsider’ so to speak. he is an alcoholic who loathes the details of his job but is more than passionate about the job itself and makes this everyone’s problem … he is a little helpless, in the sense he’d die without someone there to make sure he functions … and is, like zib, perpetually afraid of conflict. can be a little wishywashy and can come across as uncaring due to his cheeky tone … but he’s loyal and caring, with a hobby for the unusual ( bugs and rocks lol ) as well as being able to look past the gossip mill and see the actual mitzi may as he knows her, someone who’s going through a rough time and is either too kind or classy to be a brutal killer. he is hypocritical, a little snobby, and rather forward with mitzi too. kind of a flirt when he wants to be!

something that immediately stands out to me when looking at this lineup is that mitzi doesn’t enjoy a violent man. i don’t think she loathes someone who can so brutally or clinically remove others from this earth, but if she were to go for someone they’d usually be sweeter in a sense. it meshes well with her old personality and kinder heart, perhaps brings it out in her, and that sort of levity and breeziness is more enjoyable than, say, being fully aware of the dangers that lurk around every corner because the man you’re beside is prone to bringing it. she also enjoys more talkative types, someone who’s less quiet and demure and serious, and is keen on her men having a hobby they care deeply for ; some sort of long term goal to work towards doesn’t hurt either. and because of some scenes in the comic, i’m a firm believer that mitzi wants someone who can make her smile or laugh with ease, whether because they’re ridiculous by nature or genuinely funny! she has a sort of funny bone herself, enamored with gallow’s humor and darker jokes, so having someone who either a.) reacts hilariously in the face of her jokes or b.) who can return that energy with teasing or their own brand of silly is desirable. everyone could use a good laugh or two, a sense of joy injected into the bustling life they all live, and this all ties back to mitzi being more drawn towards the less stuffy types of men.

so atlas seems to be an outlier when it comes to her type in many ways, hence the later problems they apparently had in their relationship even if she did love him dearly. but, of course, atlas did have something very appealing to her that zib had failed to give, which she rather fondly recalls in the comic page vestige. whether zib likes acknowledging it or not, mitzi wasn’t as gungho about their normad life as he was … or, at the very least, when she lived another life besides that one, she realized she had a preference! and atlas gave her that path, that knowledge that she wanted something else, and seemingly for the very first time in her life … she felt like a proper lady, a feeling that clearly meant a lot to her. it wasn’t just the dresses or the wealth, it was the constant eye of atlas who could have any dame he wanted, but fancied her his wife regardless. it was having someone so respectable looking, dressed well and groomed well, being able to see her as something other than a sweating, exposed girl in a bawdy dress. atlas’s seemingly polite treatment towards mitzi was enough to garner her affections in spite of everything else, so i think she enjoys that now in others, ; folks who treat her as though she’s a woman in high society, men who don’t gawk at her or make lewd remarks immediately … she probably prefers the courting process now and the quaint dates ( that she doesn’t pay for, mind you ) that come along with it. she just -- likes mutual respect, i think. and who doesn’t? she’s been through a lot to get to where she is now, even if it’s a bad predicament, and she’d like for that to amount to something. some sort of acknowledgment, some kind of recognition.

however, it’s worth mentioning that her views on romance and all that it entails have been warped since the death of her husband. such a loss would change how anyone approaches their dating life, if they were to even have one afterwards … after all, mitzi’s whole problem is that she doesn’t want to move on from atlas and has thus completely romanticized him in her head, to the point that she earnestly believes she’ll be miserable forever without his presence. any problems she had with atlas have long since been erased by her tortured mind, leaving her with a profound misery she’s wallowing in. i think she believes herself as incapble of romantic or sexual inclinations nowdays, leading her to view the advances made towards wick as a necessary ‘evil’ for the sake of atlas may and little else -- when she genuinely does like sedgewick to a degree, and wouldn’t go on dates or kiss a man unless some part of her honestly wanted to do so. ( i also think she was attracted to wick somewhat even while married to atlas, but that’s besides the point ) so this is all a rather complicated affair! she is vulnerable and weak, is too aware of herself and the criminal underbelly squeezing in closer … add this on top of her still heavily grieving and having no one she feels she can talk to, you have someone who is rather changed. mitzi is so far removed from herself and who she truly is, or was, that there’s no doubt it’s affected her type ; now she’ll settle for anyone if they’ll just help her, and even then she’d be dispassionate if romantic entanglement of any kind was involved in that relationship. it’s not something she wants right now, and honestly, it all seems scary and daunting … besides atlas, zib was the only other man she’s ever loved enough to stay around for, so she’s never faced a loss like this before. has kept zib throughout all the turmoil and changes -- so this is, as far as we know, her first major loss where it concerns matters of the heart. it’s not shocking she’s so messed up after it, especially given how fresh it all still is. all of this rambling is to say that mitzi’s a little more stingy and cagey then she used to be about love or sex, and she has a lot of inner battles to face before she can fall for someone and be sure about it. needs to thaw, i think, and she would require patience and understanding from anyone who actually wanted to be with her. mitzi could move on with time ( i do not think she’s the type of widow who’d never date again! ) but it would take quite some time to do so. well, in a world where she’s allowed / is able to heal anyway!

while her type would probably remain the same, i could see her wanting a serious relationship more than she did prior to the death of her husband. has no energy for the loopholes, or the rationalizations, or the fickle nature that can grip someone’s heart. she has matured in a lot of ways since her band days and would take comfort in frivolous things like labels and promises of a future, together, as lovers. while what she had with zib was nice and is cherished alongside the freedom to do as she pleased while on the road with the band, i don’t think she misses it. having the stability and assurance of an actual relationship, with all the hardships that come with it, would be better suited for her. as long as she’s treated like an equal of course! i don’t think she’d be keen on her partner hiding anything from her, even if it’s meant to protect her, due to where that put mitzi when atlas was killed. she’d rather know and be disgusted, or worried, or scared than to not know about something at all until it’s too late … again. naturally patience and compassion would also be of importance, as would the usual things she loves like loyalty and a passion for something in life. and while never required, she’d be happy if the person possessed even a singular musical bone in their body! she still thinks artists, particularly musicans, are sexy after all … likes the angst and brooding that comes with it, the slight flare towards the dramatics … as long as they can handle mitzi in her pitiful entirety and do, to some degree, care deeply for her and will compromise … i think she could find some happiness wherever. bonus points if she can live comfortably for the rest of her days too, lord knows she’s tired of the constant battle of hucking and bargaining.

but yeah! mitzi’s love life is vast and complex and i definitely see her as someone who is more flexible in type than other people are. though there are similarities between her suitors if you really look! anyway, i hope i was able to briefly touch upon this subject because my shipping brain loved your question and kinda went into overdrive, alas. tldr ; her ideal type is wick sable. sorry. once wick learns an instrument the wedding is back on!! … i’m kidding lol. well, mostly <3

[mitamicah]

Better late than never: here's my version of Jere's linnan juhlat look 😁✨️

[stuffedwithlove]

In the latest gamechanger episode, i'm not sure if anybody else noticed but when everybody was being introduced again- the players in the 2nd round earliest- but yeah when they were introduced again for a very short second their title cards displayed a pun on their name relating to the loop !! in case you guys need it i decided to grab pics and stuff !!

[Photo ID: 7 images of contestants and guests of the episode's intro cards. Mike Trapp, Ify Nwadiwe, Siobhan Thompson, Sam Reich, Brian David Gilbert, Josh Ruben and Grant O'Brien. Except the names have been altered so that they reference the episode's 'time loop' theme and instead of their actual names they say 'Mike Trapped', 'Infinity Nwadiwe', 'Siobhan Thompsagain', 'Same Reich', 'Brian Déjà Gilbert', 'Josh Rewindben' and 'Grant O'Rerun'. Ify, Sam and Josh's cards are affected by visual effects like a glitched tv. End ID.]

[osamusriceballs]

The Accident - Part XVIII

Atsumu x fem reader

Warnings: NSFW!!

Words: ~ 4,9 k

About: Finally! Pure smut, barely plot. Can be skipped if you're uncomfortable with that. The longest part so far xD

Part I II -> Final Part

Your relationship with Atsumu has been thriving.

You came to appreciate that he is actually a very reliable and vivid texter and how you both regularly went on dates- something that he insisted on, and you definitely couldn't complain about that. You know that he has a tight schedule, but that apparently doesn't stop him from inviting you over every single weekend, without exceptions, always making sure that Saturday night belongs to the two of you. Often, you would go to Onigiri Miya's to eat, much to Osamu's delight. He always insists that you don't have to pay, yet you still often place a crumpled 10 bucks note in the tip jar to keep the guilt at bay.

You both have developed a routine of eating out together and then watching a movie at Atsumu's place. He's told you a lot about his work, sometimes complaining about other players, but he seems really confident in his skills, with the start of the Olympics getting closer and closer every single day, which he is anticipating quite a lot.

You'd tell him about your work too, tell him about the things that you like, that you enjoy to read, confessing with reddened cheeks that you sometimes read rather unconventional stories, to which his smug grin had intensified, and he seemed very interested in getting details of that, which you denied at first, but then promised him to send him recommendations. You had also told him how Yachi and you met and how you got to know Hinata and Kageyama. You came to enjoy this caring side of Atsumu, and it feels rather domestic to spend time with him like this, just the two of you talking and having fun.

And more often you'd find yourself in Atsumu's lap after talking for hours, heavily making out with him until you both gasp for air- just like today.

You barely pay any attention to the movie, the sounds only faintly in the background, some action movie that Atsumu found with a good rating and insisted you both watch—and instead, it didn't even take him ten minutes to scoot a bit closer and to gently turn your face towards him to kiss you, deepening the kiss quickly and then pressing your back against the couch. He's now hovering over you, your legs wrapped around his middle and your hands deeply entangled in his hair. You came to notice that he loves when you play with his hair, sometimes even resting his head in your lap just to have you give him a head massage, so you don't hesitate to feel the soft strands in your fingers and scratch his scalp softly.

He groans against your lips when you slightly pull on the strands, and a breathy moan escapes your lips when he grinds his hips against yours. He's hard already. Very much so. You feel his cock pressing against you, just the fabric of his sweats and your panties separating your bodies from each other. Your skirt rode up when Atsumu had forced your legs open to settle in between them, but you don't mind laying under him like this. The tension between you is thick, and you're glad that you're wearing a nice matching set of underwear tonight, even though you're convinced that he couldn't care less about your choice of clothes.

"Gosh, yer driving me crazy." He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, and you swear you could combust at the sight of pure unrestricted lust in his eyes. This is usually what you'd do: make out until you both couldn't take anymore and then fall asleep together while cuddling, without going further. He made it pretty clear that he wants to take this slow and earn your forgiveness for the situation, and while you appreciate his efforts, you'd also appreciate him doing just a bit more with you. "Tsumu—can we... you know... go a bit further?" You ask with bright cheeks, hoping that he's also willing to take that step with you, and he raises a brow in a teasing way, and you almost push him back when you see his sexy smug grin. "Oh? Wifey wants more, huh?" He dips his head, and his lips find your neck, kissing down to your pulse, causing you to release a soft breath while you arch against him, his cock now hardly pressing between your legs. "I would be a bad husband if I deny your wishes."

His kisses get just a bit rougher, his teeth grazing against your skin, and you arch into him when he bites down slightly. "Atsumu—" you try to even out your breath, but you can't seem to calm down when he nibbles on your skin, the feeling almost painfully intimate when he cages you underneath him like this. "We can go a bit further, if ya want to. I could go right here." He shifts his weight and angles his face a bit deeper to press a kiss against your collarbones, leaving a tingling sensation on your skin when he pulls back. "Or right here." His fingers pull down the side of your shirt until you expose even more cleavage to press a sensual kiss at the swell of your breasts. You feel heat rushing through your body, and you softly moan at the action- he's driving you insane.

"How far do you want me to go?" He looks up at you, his eyebrow raised in a silent question while he looks at you. His face is close, so close, you can see his flushed cheeks and widened pupils, and you're certain that you could explode any second when he looks at you like this. "All the way. If you're okay with that?"

You barely manage to finish the sentence before he already starts moving to press your back harder into the couch until you lay flat. A soft gasp leaves your lips, and your eyes widen when he thrusts his hips against yours in the process, the friction so good and welcoming against your sensitive spots. His fingers find the hem of your shirt, and he gently pulls it up until your bra is exposed to his eyes. An almost dangerous glint is in his eyes when his thumbs hook in the cups of your bra and simply pull them down until they rest under your tits and force them to stand up. Your chest heaves heavily, your nipples perky, not only because of the chilly air but definitely because of his undivided attention.

He suddenly brings his thumbs to his lips, one after the other, quickly licking the digits, before his hands cup your tits, his wet thumbs rubbing over your perked nipples, a sensation that has you release a small whimper. His hands start to softly massage your breasts, and you thank all deities for his setter hands, so big and warm and skilled, feeling so good against your bare skin. Your own fingers grab into the cushion below you while you try not to squirm too much—not that you could escape from him now when he's basically straddling you and keeps on playing with your tits.

It feels good—really good, the tingling sensation between your legs growing stronger with each passing second, and you start to wiggle underneath him, your body aching for more of his touch. Atsumu notices the shift in your demeanor and softly pinches your nipples one last time before he moves a bit down, his hands caressing your bare sides while he does so. The way he's treating you makes you almost whine out loud, so soft and tenderly, it's making your head spin. "I love how your skin feels. So soft and warm." He mumbles, his eyes scanning your whole body before he suddenly gets up, just enough to not sit on you anymore. Instead, he kneels between your legs, grabbing your thighs and pushing them apart a bit further to have a good look at your panties. "A matching set?" he asks when his eyes wander back to the bra that still pushes your tits up. "Yes," you nod a bit breathless and flustered, and the way he's taking things so slow makes you feel even more needy for him, while he seems so calm and cool. Probably his year-long experience of keeping his cool every single day when he's playing.

"I like it. But I think these need to go." He nods towards your panties, the sheer material not hiding much actually, but the clear wet stain on them makes the situation even more scandalous. You nod with reddened cheeks, and he places two fingers against the wet stain, caressing and softly rubbing against the spot, while keeping his eyes on your face. "Though, I'm really glad to see that yer enjoyin' this as much as I do." His finger softly presses inside of you, just a little bit with your panties still between you, a shock of electricity rushing though your body when the fabric stretches against your clit, and his finger enters just the tiniest bit inside of you. He stills for a second, watching your reaction for a second, before he brings his other hand to the fabric, hesitating, before he clears his throat before he meets your gaze. "Can I rip 'em?"

You stare at him with wide eyes, unable to form words, understanding that this is something that he wants to do even though he seems slightly embarrassed by it. You're so turned on by the question though that you simply nod, and he brings both of his hands to the fabric and pulls. It takes him two more attempts before the fabric softly rips, his attempt to be gentle and careful to you very clear, and the simple display of his suppressed strength has your pussy clenching around nothing. He scoots slightly back, his eyes focused on your cunt, drinking in the sight of you, while you tremble in anticipation. This is even better than all the fantasies you've had about him so far, all the dirty thoughts about his arms and thighs that made you stick your hands into your panties when you're in need of release. All of that can't compare to what you're feeling right now.

"I'll eat ya out first 'kay? Get ya nice and ready for me." You open your mouth, ready to protest that you're already wet for him and you don't need further prep, and that you just want him to fuck you, but your protest gets stuck in your throat when he settles on his stomach, his arms grabbing your legs and hoisting the above his shoulders. He is on eye-level with your pussy and you suddenly feel so exposed, yet still so safe with him.

"So pretty," he mumbles, and you're not sure if that was even meant for you to hear, and you let out a gasp and a soft choke of his name when he softly licks against your folds. Softly, just testing the waters- and judging by your reaction, his is convinced that he can do more to you. His tongue licks against your folds again, harder this time, putting more pressure on you and you mewl contently. "Just like that, pretty girl. Let me do my thing and enjoy yourself. Part of my husband duties, to keep my wife satisfied."

He kisses against your entrance, resting his lips on yours and letting his tongue peak out just the tiniest to get you a feeling of it, and you clench involuntarily at the feeling of his warm tongue. He licks against your folds again, this time pausing when he reaches your clit, softly closing his lips around it and sucking. "Atsumu-" you gasp with wide eyes, your legs almost caging his head when he sucks a bit rougher. "Shhhhhsh," he hushes you and sucks just a tad bit softer, one of his hands letting go of your leg and moving between your legs too. Your breathing pattern is irregular and you moan when you feel a wave of need rush through your body.

One of his fingers prods against your entrance while he keeps his lips enclosed on your clit and you feel like you're going to explode. It's hot- so, so hot when he softly pushes a digit inside you, his tongue messily licking your clit until your eyes roll back and your back arches off the bed- you can imagine how lewd you look right now. Flushed cheeks, crossed eyes, your tits exposed while you arch your back like you're in heat with Atsumu's head between your legs, licking your cunt while he fingers you open.

It's hot, oh, so hot. The way he's pumping his finger inside of you, slowly adding another one when he feels you easing up for him. The way he's licking up all of your arousal, groaning against you and humping the bed for a bit of friction for himself while he gives you pleasure. The way he's watching you heavy lidded, probably unable to see much of your face, but the occasional glances of your expression are enough for him. He's addicted to your taste, addicted to the way you moan his name, softly at the beginning, but now with more urgency and need, getting louder for him when he increases the pace of his fingers. You didn't know what to do with your hands at first, but now you're gripping his hair and pushing him ever so softly against your pussy, unable to resist the need to get more friction, and he so willingly gives you more. The wet sounds of his fingers pushing into you and the way he's messily eating you out makes you feel like you're in heaven. He could do this for hours, worship your taste and listen to your sweet sounds, but he can feel you clenching repeatedly around his fingers, indicating just how close you are.

"Tsumu- I can't- gonna-" you barely manage to form words, moans and deep breaths hindering you from saying what you want to say, but he simply keeps going at the same pace and you suddenly feel your high overwhelming you.

It's too much. The heat, his face between your legs, the way he's fingering you, the way his tongue is teasing your clit and giving you just the right amount of attention- it takes you like a wave and you feel your muscles tensing and arching against his face while you come. Your mouth is wide open a lewd sounds leave your lips while you feel the delicious sensation rushing through your body. Atsumu doesn't change his position, nor his pace, he simple keeps his ministrations up and licks up your juices until you only whimper softly and your hand falls weakly onto the couch. He kisses your cunt, gentle and caring while he pulls his fingers out, his lips ever so soft while he whispers a praise against your folds, and you feel how you blush at the sudden unexpected sweetness.

Your body finally relaxes and you fall back into the cushions. He slows down his ministrations and looks at his hand with a grin, your slick on them evident. You focus your eyes on him and follow all of his movements when he shortly licks his fingers with a groan before he grabs his shirt, his fingers leaving a mess on the dark fabric before he pulls it over his head and throws it away. You silently ogle him, taking in the sight of him, broad chest heaving heavily, strongly defined shoulders and arms, and the slightest bit of dark hair trailing down to the band of sweatpants. "Ya alright? Wanna go further?" His voice is a bit raspy and his cheeks slightly reddened and it makes your heart beat faster. His hands find your sides and softly caress the skin while he waits for your answer. He's still hard, you can see it through the fabric of his pants, but you're convinced that he would not push you to go further, no matter how painful it is for him. You look at him softly and nod, a small smile on your face when you reach out to him. "Kiss me, please?"

He nods with an approving hum and leans down to kiss you, his weight now settling on your body in a comforting way. Your hands reach for his hair when he kisses you, your body arching up against his when his lips meet yours in a gentle but firm kiss. You allow your hands to wander and to explore his naked body while you return the kiss, your tongue moving against his while you rake your nails softly against his bare back. You can feel a shudder running down his spine and you repeat the motion, only to be rewarded with a little groan against your lips. You let one of your hands roam to his stomach, feeling the muscles clench under your fingers, and hesitantly move further down to the trail of soft hair, waiting for him to either stop you or to encourage you.

Atsumu is quick to raise his hips to allow you to have your way, his hips raising just enough to allow your to move your hand between your bodies. The soft hair on his abdomen tickles the palm of your hand and you let your fingers roam to the hem of his pants, until you feel the bulge. He inhales sharply when you palm him through his pants, his muscles clenching hardly when he finally gets some friction. You softly move your hand, feeling his length, the hardness of him, his balls, heavy and full. He takes a shaky breath, his eyes closing for a second, before he opens them abruptly and leans down to kiss you. His lips are glued to yours, deepening the kiss while he angles his face to push his tongue just a bit rougher against yours. You finally move your hand inside his pants, fingers hesitating for a second at the hem, but then you slide them under the fabric and reach for his cock.

He is big. Big and warm, wet with precum already, and you trace the shape with one of your fingers while your other hand holds his shoulders for support.

You explore his cock, getting a feel of him, how long he is, how he feels against your skin- and you love every single second of it. You softly close your hand around his shaft and start stroking, being rewarded with an airy gasp against your lips. You start jerking him of, moving your hand in a steady rhythm, while making sure that you don't push him too far. "So good," he rasps against your lips and you moan in response, feeling a wave of adrenaline rushing through your body. Your free hand moves to his ass, boldly pulling the fabric down, and clumsily you release his cock after you managed to pull his pants down just enough to have his cock spring free and to poke between your legs.

You only now realize that he is indeed bigger than you thought- just having him pressing himself against your body makes your eyes open widely. He looks at you through half-lidded eyes, observing al of your reactions while he waits for you to make a move, effectively showing you that you're in charge. He just hovers above you and looks at you expectantly.

As if you could stop now. Your body is screaming for him, aching for him and you simply spread your legs further and gently grab his cock, lining him up at your entrance without any more words.

His eyes widen, clearly surprised by you taking the initiative this fast, but he nods and seems to brace himself for what you're about to do. You collect some of your slick with the mushroom head of his cock, making sure he is well-lubricated before you line him up once again. Atsumu suddenly takes in a sharp breath and pushes his hips back, just out of reach for you now- much to your confusion. Did you read the signs wrong? What if he doesn't want to-

"Do ya want me to use a condom? I don't mind, ya just hafta tell me and-" he starts and vaguely gestures towards the bedroom, and you look at him wide eyed.

"Tsumu-" you whisper, your heart swelling with affection, tears almost dwelling in your eyes at his honest expression. "I uhm... I'm assuming that you're clean? i don't mind if you... if you don't use a condom. I use contraceptives." You know that your cheeks are bright red while you keep talking, but the moment just feels so painfully intimate, when you're basically asking him to fuck you raw- it almost feels like love. It makes you vulnerable and you have a hard time looking into his eyes, but he is quick to turn your face towards him, his hand gently cupping your chin, while more of his weight suddenly lasts on you.

He looks at you for a moment, not saying anything, simply studying your face before he presses his lips against yours in a longing and gentle kiss. You return the kiss your hands quickly wrapping around his broad shoulders while you move your lips against his. He pulls back, his eyes so soft while he watches you. "Your trust means a lot to me. I'll make sure to keep it forever."

You're too flustered to say anything, your heart heavily pounding in your chest, so you take that as a cue and line his cock up at your entrance, this time angling your hips a bit, until the head of his cock disappears between your folds and stretches you out. "Please-" you gasp for air when you feel him pushing inside. You see how his gaze turns hazy, your own eyes also unable to focus on the sight of him while he pushes deeper and deeper inside of you, until he's finally bottoming out. His breath is shaky, his facial expression looks like a mixture of shock and pure bliss. "Yer- squeezin' me- so good, fuck," his eyes roll back, his muscles clenching hard while he tries to keep his weight as steady as he can.

You're not any better under him. His cock feels so big inside of you, a stretch that you haven't felt for so long, feeling better like anything you've ever had before. You feel tears dwelling in your eyes- from pleasure and from feeling so close to him, so connected like you're meant to be with each other, and he is quick to notice the change in your expression. "What's wrong?" He seems more focused when he leans down to press kisses to your cheeks, your nose, your lips, gentle while he holds you. "N-nothing. It's just- I'm feeling a lot of things right now- please, Tsumu, I- I just like you so much-" your voice is low and soft, and he lifts his face to look at you, his expression so gentle and kind, you're sure that you'll never forget this moment. "I like ya too. Don't wanna live without ya, y/n. Yer precious to me- in a way I don't think anyone has been precious to me." His confesses, and you feel like your heart is skipping a beat.

He's not confessing his love to you- you've only known each other for a few months, with a rather long pause during the incident, it's too early to talk about love. Yet, you're convinced that he feels the same. That you're both made for each other and will love each other. Unconditionally.

You both don't need more words, and he presses his forehead against yours and looks deeply into your eyes while he starts to move his hips. Your jaw drops and your lips part slightly when he pulls away, his cock almost leaving you completely before he thrusts back in, slowly and controlled, so much that it drives you crazy. You can't even talk and beg him to do it again, yet he still understands what you need, and repeats the motion, thrusting into you nice and slow just how he is convinced that you like it. You moan softly, your breath meeting his lips while he starts setting a pace, sensual and slow, angling his hips slightly different until your hands grab into his shoulders just a bit harder when he hits the spot that makes you see stars. He curses when you clench around him, but he doesn't stop but keeps thrusting just a bit harder.

You don't know how long he keeps on fucking you like this, the pace nice and slow, just like lovers would, both of you enjoying the pleasure of being so, so close to each other, until you can't help but to feel your high approaching. Your legs wrap tighter around his waist, your heels digging into his back while you clench around him, knowing that you're almost there. His facial expression shifts at that sensation and his eyes shoot wide open.

"Fuck- y/n-" he groans and suddenly grabs your hips tighter when he pulls out- completely this time. Your jaw drops at the loss of friction, your hips trying to fight against his grip to bring him to push back into you- fruitlessly.

"Why are you-" you whine, feeling robbed and empty, your body needing him to be closer, needing him to give you something. "Shhh, I got ya." He moves your hips and you understand what he's trying to do, helping him to move your body until you're kneeling in front of him. The new position makes you tremble uncontrollably, and you know that his gaze is focused on your pussy while you nervously shift in his grip. "So, so pretty," he groans and leans down to press a kiss against your ass cheek, and you whimper at the praise.

"My pretty princess, I'll make ya feel so good, 'kay? Just a bit more, can ya wait for me, huh? I'll fill ya up nice and good if ya do." You could come from his dirty talk and his voice alone, your pussy helplessly clenching at the thought of what there is to come, and you loudly moan when he finally pushes inside, the angle so much deeper than before, it makes you see starts and until you tighten around him like a vice. He curses, his hands gripping your ass cheeks hard and spreading them to watch his cock disappear into your wet folds. You meet his thrust, desperate for more friction, and he slams back into you harder, making you slowly lose your mind. Your arms give up and your face lands on the pillow, but you barely notice that, all of your nerves only consisting of the pleasure that Atsumu is giving you.

"Fuck, y/n- can ya cum for me? Can ya do that, pretty princess?" He groans, one of his hands releasing your ass to rub circles on your clit- a little sloppy and uncoordinated at first, but when he finally hits the spot you drool on the bed sheets. "Tsumu- gonna cum- gonna cum for you-" you whine out loudly, and it only spurs him on to move faster until you cry out his name, only able to form this one word while you clench around him and reach your high. You realize that he's cumming to, but he doesn't slow down, his groans turning into an overstimulated whimper while he keeps on fucking you while cumming. He's coming so much inside of you, it's already dripping down your leg before he's even finished, but you enjoy the feeling of the hot sticky liquid on your skin.

You don't know how much time has passed until you finally calm down and simply lose all tension. He softly pulls out and places your hips on the couch before he collapses and flatly lays down on his back next to you. His arms reach out for you, and you allow him to pull you against his sweaty chest. You're sweaty too- something that you only notice now, but he doesn't seem to mind. He's probably used to sweat anyway. His hand starts caressing your hair, and your fingers roam along his chest, feeling the soft flushed skin under your fingers.

"How was it?" His hand still caresses your hair while you lay on his chest, listening contently to the sound of his heartbeat with a smile forming on your lips. "That was... really good," you airily laugh and cuddle closer against his chest, and he wraps his free arm tightly around you, instantly making you feel warmer when your barely clad chest presses against his naked one.

"Just really good? I'll need to work on my stamina, can't have ya sayin' really good only. Wasn't that mind blowing or something like that? Felt mind-blowing to me at least."

You softly snort at his words and look up to him, only to find him looking at you fondly. "Wanna stay over? I'll order some take out and we can finish that movie?" His eyes flicker to the screen, only to see that the movie is basically over. "Or we can start another movie. I think there is a sequel to that."

"Shouldn't we finish the first one before we start the sequel?" You look at him with raised brows, and he laughs softly at your reaction. "You're perfect. Just stay right here." His arm wraps around you, and you feel warmth in your heart,

while you lie in the arms of your husband.

[good-beans]

Prisoner @justzosiahere, back again for trial 2!

Status: Named unforgiven in the first trial, admitting to her own guilt during her vote. As a later prisoner in the lineup, she was able to encourage attacks both on and by the guilty prisoners (flamethrowers were mentioned more than once...) This timing also allowed her to temporarily avoid getting attacked herself.

Additional Crimes Revealed: Plotting and extending her angsty Milgram the Conspiracy au -- character development details, art, and peeks at the physical/emotional pain they going through teased in the chat. Is the crime the angst? Or the suspense? Maybe it's both!

[cheridraws]

my version of the dtiys made by @edgy-senju !

[noxious-fennec]

It's pomegranate season :)

A redraw of this piece from around a year ago