#I’m wondering if it’s going to be more like a ‘Pearl inside Pearl’s pearl’ kinda deal or like san/ders/ides

[astronomical-bagel]

”trying to navigate Mikey’s brain is going to be like trying to watch every TV channel at once” okay so Donnie is fully aware that Mikey has ADHD

[sohnric]

sweet like candy – e. sohn

pairing: eric sohn x fem! reader

genre: summer au, strangers to something more ?? fluff, suggestive. very much stargazing by the neighbourgood and fantasize by the boyz capsuled into a fic. eric is a simp and a hopeless romantic because i said so. a girl romanticizes sharing a lollipop (its me im girl)

warnings: alcohol, maybe some minimal swearing, a heated make out session that hints onto a hookup (no smut mentioned!). the use of a cheesy nickname babydoll (dont @ me or i will deactivate), reader has hair long enough for a claw clip

word count: 6.9k

a/n: almost cried while trying to name this fic somebody send help. Also this doesn't feel like my best work its kinda rushed imo but 🤠 yolo

part of the @deoboyznet summer on you event! cant believe i made it on time

a summer tradition of renting out a cabin every year invented by a couple of friends takes a turn for eric when a new addition to the circle brings him to his knees - in other words, he never knew tequila could taste so sweet.

If anyone ever asked Eric Sohn if he believed in love at first sight, he would, without a doubt, say yes. 

What was the proof he had? Well, absolutely nothing. All he ever knew about love at first sight was from romance movies he watched during lonely nights with his roommate Juyeon, never having the experience of the whole world stopping and zooming in on one particular person, taking his breath away– but to put it simply, Eric Sohn is a true romantic. Call him cheesy if you want– he wouldn’t like it, but he also wouldn’t disagree. 

On one summer afternoon, though, his world tilts in its axis– the moment comes, and he is finally able to test out his theory.

You walk out of the passenger’s side of a red 2008 Toyota Auris, hair put up into a claw clip, jean shorts showing off your long legs and a pearl white button-up opened and lazily thrown over your outfit, and suddenly, Eric Sohn finds his knees buckling and his palms sweating with affection. He was aware that Juyeon’s girlfriend was bringing her best friend to tag along to their little summer retreat (more like a trip to a cabin in the middle of the woods), but he sure as hell didn’t expect the stranger to make him feel this type of way. 

Sure, it might just be him being incredibly attracted to you. But with how fast his heart was beating when you smiled at everyone after introducing yourself to the group, he was sure he was slowly, but surely falling for you. And he was falling hard.

He feels like the world is moving in slow motion as he watches the group go and unload the car– you and your best friend Yeri were the last ones to arrive– and what wakes him up from the haze is when he watches you struggle to carry a cooler out of the trunk into the cabin, his legs dragging him closer to the vehicle and near to your body.

Now is his time to shine. “Let me help!” he hurries out, sneakers crunching on the gravel. His hands firmly grab onto the handle of the blue cooler, muscles flexing under the weight (making him wonder why you would willingly want to carry the thing and not ask him or any of the guys for help in the first place), and when your eyes look up at come in contact with his, he presses a smile to his lips. “I’m Eric, by the way.”

“Ah,” you gasp, a grateful expression breezing over your features, “thanks. I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Eric hums, watching your every move. Your figure walks over to the front of the car, your head popping in close to the window to look inside, and when a satisfied look overtakes your features, Eric finds himself asking. “Is that everything?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “we can head inside, I think.”

The boy tries hard to keep his cool, he really does. But with how he’s trailing behind you like a lost puppy, attempting to find a topic that would engage him in a conversation with you, he feels like a boy that is just experiencing a crush for the first time in his life. Everything about you is enchanting– and sure, you could say he was just painfully attracted to you and this had nothing to do with love– but he was also convinced that if you asked him to jump off the Empire State Building, he would do it without giving it a second thought (which is kind of worrying, but again– it says a lot). 

You open the door to the cabin for him, and he finds himself speechless at the action. Once your eyes meet again and you offer him another subtle smile, he finds himself gasping at the sentence that comes out of your mouth.

“Hey! We’re matching, kinda,” you note, pointing towards his outfit.

And you’re right– Eric didn’t even notice at first, too enchanted with your sheer existence– but you two were indeed wearing the same thing. Jean shorts, and a white button-up– in your case, thrown over a white tank top, in Eric’s, closed (although he did leave it a bit open at the top, revealing his tanned skin). Suddenly, the boy is glad he’s wearing a red cap to cover up his hair, since he foolishly thinks the hat provides him enough shade in the face to not reveal his burning cheeks as he utters out a weak response.

“It looks so much better on you, though.”

With that, he walks into the cabin– escaping the situation, not really paying a single thought to chivalry and letting you go through the door first– and as he reaches the crowd of people in the kitchen, he prays for all high sources to find him, get to him and wipe his brain clean of all thoughts, because

even though you are basically matching (and he does think you look so much better in the outfit than he does), all he can think about is just how much more he’d like your outfit if the white button-up enveloping your body was the one he’s wearing right now instead.

The next time Eric finds courage to talk to you is when it seems like you’re not finding it to talk to anyone else yourself– the big group is currently sitting around a fire, marshmallows and sausages slowly burning in the blazing flames– and while everyone around was either talking to each other or singing along to the songs Jacob was playing on the guitar, you were sitting alone in the middle of two commotions: Chanhee and Changmin arguing about something seemingly important, and Yeri and Juyeon making out right in front of everyone’s eyes. 

And Eric was supposed to listen to Sunwoo talk about his latest heartbreak– how the man still gets no girls despite having such an objectively handsome face, Eric truly doesn’t know– but the topic of the conversation was too boring for him to engage with it. That, and he was also painfully aware of your every move– you didn’t even move much– and word– you weren’t talking to anybody– and that was slowly driving him insane.

You looked a little out of place. Eric supposes it was because you didn’t really know anyone here– except from your best friend and her awfully sappy boyfriend– but even though it was logical and a little expected for you to be a bit excluded in such a foreign circle, the man took it as his mission to make you feel as welcome and as included as he physically could.

Completely ignoring Sunwoo’s blabbering (like he was doing for the last few minutes anyway), Eric confidently (and a bit shakily– hands sweating and breath hitching in his throat) walks to the other side of the bonfire, from where he’s been watching your stone expression through the flames, and sits down in the small place between you and Changmin. Changmin wasn’t even facing you, too engrossed in the debate he was having with Chanhee, and so it was Eric’s job to wobble his bottom into the place, efficiently making the older boy move away with a light elbow jab sent into his lower back.

“Hi,” he clears his throat, “are you having fun?” he asks, but mentally curses at himself right as the question escapes his mouth– does she look like she's having fun? Of course she doesn't, you stupid idiot.

You smile at the question, though, nodding. “Yeah,” you hum, “having lots of fun listening to your friends argue and my friends making out next to my ear.”

“You seemed like it too, y’know,” Eric laughs, “they’re always like this, by the way. They’ll forget about the fight in the morning.”

“Oh, that could never be me,” you sigh, shaking your head at the sentiment.

“No?”

“No,” you shrug, “I get too petty. If we have a fight, I’m not speaking to you for at least two weeks.”

Eric finds himself laughing at your comment. “I’ll remember that for future reference.”

Straightening your back and looking at your companion– as if you were going to call him out on his subtle hint of there being any future meeting between the two of you– you suddenly gasp and swiftly turn towards the bonfire, an honest mourn escaping your lips.

“Oh fuck!” you curse under your breath as your hand reaches towards a stick that’s had its end in the flame, the device efficiently resting against a rock in a position where you didn’t have to pay any attention to the snack you were cooking– more like burning– for yourself. With a quick move for the stick, you pull the tip of it out of the scorching red of the bonfire and look at it in an examining way, as if the result would be different and the marshmallow would unburn itself if you stared at it long enough. “I completely forgot about this!”

Eric takes a glance at the burnt piece of fluff, letting out a laugh at the black marshmallow in front of your face. “That’s not how you make a good s’more,” he notes, poking fun at your annoyed face.

“Oh, no shit, Sherlock…” you mutter under your breath, but your face looks a bit sad to see the piece go to waste. “I don’t know why I even tried, I’m bad at this stuff.”

There comes his moment, Eric thinks. “Well, you’re lucky, ‘cause you just met an expert at making s’mores.”

“Does a thing like that even exist?” you chuckle, rolling your eyes at the male in disbelief. 

“Of course it does! You’re looking at one now,” he grins, leaning over you to take a brand new marshmallow out of the bag to your right– sandwiched between your thigh and the couple in love– before he reaches over to your hand and takes the roasting stick out of your hand, slides the white fluffy cloud through the sharp tip and hovers it above the flame.

“The key is to hold it above the flame, and not in the flame,” Eric chuckles as he looks at you from the corner of his eye, watching your expression change.

“Oh, but I thought the key is to burn the thing,” you ironically gasp, shaking your head at his teasing. “Where did you even learn all of this?”

“I grew up in the States,” Eric hums, “they would deport me if I didn’t know how to make s’mores.”

The comment gets a giggle out of you– a sound Eric almost folds at and falls into the open fire (thankfully, he held his composure– he doesn’t think 3rd degree burns would suit his look) – and it takes everything in him to not scream like a teenage girl at the thought of making you laugh. Yes, that’s how down bad you managed to get the male.

“Do you have a special recipe?”

“Just the basic one,” he shrugs, turning the skewer in his hand to make the marshmallow equally glazed on each side, “I will make it extra good for you, though.”

“I thought a master always does their best?” you tease, watching as the boy crumbles under your gaze.

“Not always. I don’t like to put effort into things that aren’t worth it,” Eric hums as he takes the marshmallow out of the burning fire, examining it, and after deeming it worthy, taking the skewer and holding it up in between his knees. The male takes a graham cracker and tears it in half, before adding chocolate to one of the sides. After he’s done, he carefully places the golden fluff ball onto the cracker and closes it, offering the sweet sandwich to you with a subtle smile.

“For you,” he winks as he turns back towards the fire, putting another marshmallow onto the stick to make himself a s’more as well (and also mentally kicking himself at the sudden burst of courage). He hears you take a bite out of the snack, his knee bouncing up and down nervously as he awaits the verdict.

“Man,” you hum, “this is so good.”

“Told you,” he says, “if there’s something I’m confident in, it’s making s’mores.”

“That’s a very unuseful skill to have,” you note, but continue to eat. The comment has him chuckle and shrug.

“Well, I used it now, so I’d argue it’s actually very useful.”

A hum cuts out of your throat at this, finishing the s’more he made for you with a satisfied sigh. “Is this how you got girls back in the States?” you ask, making the male choke on his spit.

Eric was too young to get girls when he learned how to make the greatest s’mores. He went camping with his dad and his older sister and he burned a couple before he got it right. He was in middle school and before what the kids call a glow-up these days (back in the days, you just called it overcoming puberty), but still– he decides to test the waters with another lazy, half-assed flirty comment. “Only the pretty ones.”

He hears a chuckle out of you– a reaction he decides to not pay much attention to or overthink, for he doesn’t really remember what a good reaction to flirting is anymore– but then, you sigh and nod. “Well, I give your s’more a 5 star review, so I’d find that believable.”

The comment has Eric press his tongue into the inside of his cheek, battling a victorious smile that wants to oh so desperately appear on his lips. Turning his attention fully to you, he looks at you with confidence coating his insides– it only grows when he notices you staring at the side of his face, the flame of the fire twinkling in your eye and making your features sharper and twice as attractive to the poor boy. 

His eyes scan you over for a few seconds before he notices a glimmer of something on the side of your lip– a chocolate stain that has him cautiously lean in and swipe a thumb over the sweetness, not even thinking twice before smoothing his finger over your skin. 

“You had a little… something there,” he hums as he licks the chocolate off his thumb. Your eyes still trained on him force him to avert his gaze back to the fire– for it was unbearable, as if sparks were flying and burning his skin, everything about the interaction making goosebumps appear over his body; even though he felt hot in his cheeks and not at all cold– when the sight of his marshmallow in flames suddenly comes to him, startling him awake.

Hurriedly dragging out the burnt snack out of the fire, he hears you chuckle at him from the side– so much for not ruining the moment. (It’s okay, though. As long as you’re entertained.)

“I thought you were a master at s’mores,” you poke fun at him, “got distracted?”

Meeting eyes with you, Eric shrugs, a lazy grin settling to his lips. “I guess you could say that.”

The night progresses quickly– with Sunwoo getting so drunk he borrows Jacob’s guitar and clumsily strums the strings, freestyle rapping about the most random topics with flushed cheeks and eyes dramatically glued to the fire; Hyunjae wanting to have a competition of who can jump over the flames and Sangyeon having to stop his drunk friend with the force of his own body– and Eric finds his eyes lacking the candy he’s been occupying himself with the whole evening. You disappeared somewhere into the house a few minutes ago, and although he didn’t want to be clingy, he walked up to the cabin with a nervous pep in his step– that’s it, he just wanted to make sure you were okay.

Eric walks through the doorway, having his body immediately be met with the joined common room slash kitchen area. The cabin is kind of small (too small for the amount of people currently occupying it) and kind of old, but it’s a tradition to rent it every year during the summer, so no one ever questioned the decision or made the move to rent out a bigger one, no matter the growing friend group.

Your figure finally appears in the dimly lit kitchen area, your back turned to the doorway. Standing at the kitchen sink, it seems like you were doing the dishes– tons of plates used to carry grilled meat and sausages dumped carelessly into the sink, forgotten in a minute and leaving the last remains of food dry up on them and get hard to scrape off, a couple of glasses and mugs with their ears broken off from their age waiting with coffee stains at the bottom– and Eric immediately feels his heart fall down to his stomach, because why would one do the dishes in the middle of the night? Those usually get left there until the morning, when the least hungover person will take mercy on the rest and take care of them. Were you feeling excluded from the conversation? Did you feel bored? 

“What are you doing here so alone?” he asks, making you turn your head over your shoulder and smile at him– a stone falling off his heart at the action– before you shrug at him.

“Washing the dishes,” you say, as if it wasn’t clear already.

“I see that,” Eric chuckles, “what I meant to say was, why are you washing the dishes in the first place?”

“Well, somebody’s gotta do it.” 

Eric huffs– and he doesn’t even know why he’s so defensive about it. “That someone didn’t have to be you, y’know.”

He’s standing next to you now– your eyes meeting as you stare at the boy for a heartbeat– a smile spreading on your face at his furrowed brows. The action has him visibly relax, watching as you shrug and get back to the dish washing. “I just wanted some alone time for a bit,” you muse, “outside was getting too loud for a second, I’m not used to crowds.”

“Ah… once Sunwoo drinks, he can’t shut up, so I kinda get that it was starting to feel insufferable,” Eric notes, nodding at you in acknowledgement before the realization hits him. “Wait– you said you wanted to be alone, so I should probably-”

You halt him with a soft laugh– the one Eric finds his heart liking a little too much, with how it jumps up and down and makes all of him feel warm inside– a soapy hand reaching out in his direction. “It’s okay, you can stay,” you muse, “I enjoy your company.”

“O-okay,” Eric stutters– so much for the smooth lines he had prepared in his head before coming in here, all of them flying out of his head straight out of the window– and to not seem so silly, he gets his hands occupied and reaches for the clean dishes you started stacking on the counter next to the sink, deciding to dry them and put them away. The kitchen falls into a comfortable silence that only gets broken by an occasional scream landing through the walls from outside, and Eric can’t help but indulge himself in the domesticity of the act.

He can almost imagine you two washing the dishes like this in your shared apartment after you two cook dinner together and eat it in your cozy living room. That scenario sounds almost too good for the boy, having warmth slowly ooze into his cheeks, and that, he finds to be the hint that he should probably stop thinking about you in that way now or else he’ll get too distracted and break the glasses he is currently putting away. (God forbid– there were not enough of them for the entire friend group in the first place.)

“Are you having a good time, though?” Eric finds himself asking through his weird delirium.

You smile– oh god you smile, you should stop doing that if you want him to survive the night– and nod at the boy, calmness overtaking your aura and slipping into his cracks as well. “I am. It’s nice meeting new people and everyone’s very nice,” you say.

“That’s good to hear. How long have you and Yeri been friends?”

“A couple of years,” you note, “we met during high school. We always dreamt of moving away to college and living together at dorms or something, so it’s… it’s nice that it worked out for us,” you say, having Eric nod at your words with a sweet smile.

“That’s great to hear,” he muses, “I met Juyeon and Sunwoo in my freshman year of college, and the rest just… came along after a while.”

“Your friend group is pretty big,” you point out, having the boy shrug.

“I guess so,” Eric mumbles, never really thinking of it this way– in his eyes, this was normal. This was how he operated, how he lived. A lot of people around him, always close– one would think such a large friend group wouldn’t be as close with each other, but it’s quite the opposite in his case, he thinks. Maybe he was just blessed.

“How do you do that?” you sigh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I dunno,” he snickers, “guess you could say I’m quite the social butterfly.”

“I can see that,” you laugh. Eric watches you, his hands now empty of any dish– he’s been drying them quicker than you manage to clean (and rightfully so, the food is stuck on there) – he starts noticing the details of your sheer presence. How you have a slight smile playing with your lips even when your eyes are glued to the sink, how your hair slightly slips out of the claw clip and frames your face, how close you’re standing– his eyes slip towards your hands, noticing the water running down your forearms and dangerously close to the sleeves of your shirt.

Acting on reflex, mostly, the boy reaches towards your sleeves and gently tugs them up, the contact of your skin that he initiates and should realistically be prepared for making the tips of his fingers tingle, the action having you stop in your movements and glance up at him through your eyelashes– a sight he wishes he could engrave into the back of his eyelids so he could stare at it forever and always.

“Thank you,” you hum, voice barely louder than a whisper when he retracts away from you, taking his previous stance against the kitchen counter.

Eric hangs his head low for a second, clearing his throat to ease his own tension. Now is your turn to start up the conversation, a casual question falling off your lips as you get back to washing the last remains of dishes. “Yeri said you come here often?” 

The boy nods enthusiastically to your sentence. “We do. We started in freshman year, because Juyeon was going to this exchange program to Paris for a couple of months, so we threw him a goodbye party. Then he came back, so we threw a welcome back party here. And then we celebrated Younghoon hyung’s birthday here, and it kind of stuck, I guess? We go here at least once a year during summer.”

“That’s a nice tradition to have,” you sigh, turning the faucet off as you finish rinsing off the last dish– a big bowl that Sangyeon used to marinate the meat a few hours ago.

“It is,” Eric nods, smiling fondly at the sentiment. He reaches for the bowl and dries it with the now damp rag (there were a lot of dishes to dry, after all), and moves to put it back to its place under the sink. With your figure still in its previous spot, the boy puts away the towel onto the kitchen counter and gently grabs your waist with his free hand, moving you away a few inches to the left. He crouches and opens the cabinet under the sink and puts the bowl into the pyramid of other ones, straightening his back when he goes back into a standing position, catching you staring at him from above, watching his every move. Your body is leaning against the counter, having Eric mirror your stance only a few inches away from you before speaking up again. 

“You’re welcome to join us when we come back next time.”

The time reads 3AM– or at least that’s what his circadian rhythm tells him, because he doesn't bother to check as he twists and turns in the bed, too hot and too alert to fall asleep– when Eric decides to walk down the steep stairs and try to get some fresh air. The cabin is hot inside, but he still takes his lost button-up that he had thrown over one of the kitchen chairs and puts it on before he makes his way outside, knowing that the forest will make his bones get cold with the crisp breeze. 

He opens the door and moves to sit on the little patio– the silence of outside is overwhelming even after the cabin has quieted down and everyone has gone to sleep (each one on a different level of tipsy ranging from completely chill Sangyeon to doesn’t know where he is Sunwoo– with Eric somewhere in the middle of the spectrum). His legs drag a little tiredly as he scans his surroundings– god forbid there’s a bear out waiting for him– when the sight of a figure sitting on the floor takes him by surprise, their head already turned to him after hearing the sound of the door opening. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks as he walks over to you, noticing your frame dressed in a tank top and sweatpants, hinting that you at least tried to get some sleep before coming out here, just like he has.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you shrug, confirming his suspicions.

“Same here,” the man sighs, “mind if I sit with you?”

“You’re welcome to join me,” you smile at him, patting the floor next to you and watching as Eric crouches down before taking a seat on the wood, ignoring the sunbeds and old rattan chairs situated all over the patio. (If you’re on the floor, he’s on the floor– it’s as simple as that.)

You’re holding a lollipop in between your fingers, your other hand occupied with a half-empty bottle of tequila that was previously passed around the circle at the bonfire. Eric raises his brows at the sight, having you shamefully avert your gaze from him.

“I thought it would be a waste to not finish this,” you say, snickering, “and I also… kind of hoped that it would put me to sleep…”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures?” 

“I guess you could say that,” you laugh. Taking a sip from the bottle, you gulp the alcohol down before putting the lollipop inside of your mouth, sucking on it and licking your lips after. This is not the way you’re supposed to drink tequila, but Eric figures that gathering salt and a lime would be too much work anyways.

“Are you really using that lollipop as a chaser?” he giggles, making you hum.

“Yeah,” you stare at him, a grin overtaking your features, “this girl taught me to do that at a party last year. It’s not as good as literally anything else, but it gets the job done. Wanna try?” you ask, offering him the sweetness on the stick and the bottle.

The truth is, you were only a bit tipsy when the group slowly started to scatter into their beds. Eric didn’t drink as much either– only enough to make him laugh at everything that was said and make his staring at you twice as obvious as it was before– so he thinks he can take some more. As you said, it would be a shame if the bottle went to waste– and also, something about the idea of drinking with you alone on the patio was making his hopeless heart hammer against his chest in dangerous measures.

“Sure,” he agrees, taking the bottle first. The boy takes a sip, feeling the alcohol burn down his throat, and when he moves the dark brown glass away from his lips, he is met with the image of you leaning closer to him, offering him the lollipop. His hand instinctively grabs the plastic stick, thinking you’re letting go of it, when he’s met with the feeling of your flesh under his fingertips. You put the lollipop against his lips, making him open up on instinct and suck on the strawberry flavored candy, a million different sensations (all unrelated to the alcohol) swimming through his brain– you’re so close, you smell so good, he’s holding your hand, he’s sucking on the lollipop you previously had in between your lips and it’s driving him crazy– before you take the candy out from between his lips and put it back into your mouth, tongue swirling around the sweet ball. 

The lollipop had an aftertaste of tequila on it, but it was enough to chase down the faint bitterness– Eric finds himself wanting to taste more of the sweet strawberry, but foolishly desiring to get the sensation off your lips instead. His eyes stay locked with yours throughout the whole exchange, sparks flying in between the two of you even though the bonfire has long gone out, his fingers lazily dropping from the candy.

“How was it?” you ask, voice barely louder than a whisper– goosebumps appearing all over Eric’s skin when he swears your eyes flicker to his lips for a split second. 

“Good,” he admits. It’s silly how he feels so breathless at the action.

The sound of the wind playing with the leaves of the forest is the only thing accompanying you two. It’s as if you two were thinking of the same thing when you pull out the lollipop out of your mouth and offer it back to Eric, watching with utmost interest as the boy leans closer to capture it in between his lips, never breaking eye contact. The action feels a little too electrifying to him, a little too intimate, but he can't stop– can't even imagine wanting to.

Taking a sip of the tequila, but not chasing it down with the candy, you speak up again, lazy eyes practically glued to him. “This would be a perfect moment for a kiss…” you mumble, licking your bottom lip for a split second before biting down on it.

“Are you flirting with me?” Eric foolishly asks, tone of voice a bit weak, a little unsure, the candy still in his mouth, making his words come out a little jambled.

“Mhm,” you nod, grinning to yourself– Eric wonders how much of your behavior and how much of his raging heartbeat is due to the effect of alcohol in both of your veins.

His fingers pull at yours as he takes the candy out of his mouth, voice dropping as he answers you. “Then we probably shouldn’t waste the moment.”

Even though the intentions are clear, the boy can’t bring himself to make the first move– he’s completely enchanted with your presence, staring at you with tension in his shoulders and eyes trained onto your face, watching and examining it for any shift or change. Focused on the way you move, he thinks you must have realized you were going to have to be the one to take the first step– your lazily smile before you lean closer, impossibly close– making Eric’s eyes flutter shut with anticipation, your breath fanning his face making goosebumps appear all over his body.

When your lips finally touch his, he feels like he’s being kissed for the first time again, with the amount of fuzziness in his stomach and buzzing in his ears. He regains his composure quite quickly, though, as he positions his head in a way that makes you two even closer to each other, lips pressing firmer against yours now. His hand instinctively reaches out to hold your jaw, fingertips glazing the soft skin under them, your lips retracting only to go in for more. 

Blindly placing the bottle onto the floor next to your bodies, you peck his lips and sigh into the kiss. “Damn, you’re good at this…”

“We’re only getting started,” he muses, making you chuckle. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm,” he nods, watching as you once again lean in and suck on his upper lip, making his eyes flutter close again. A weight appears over him as you shift in your place and move to straddle his lap, your hand moving to cup his cheek and tilt him upwards, everything about the kisses getting more hurried– less gentle, less hesitant– when you tug on his bottom lip with your teeth and grant your tongue entry into his mouth.

Sweetness mixes in between you, your hands moving around his neck, heavy breaths shared across the patio. Eric feels like he’s levitating, his body having an out of body experience, yet being awfully present– every little shift pushing him to overdrive, the slightest touch making his skin burn and heart drum against his ribcage.

You shift in his lap, making him huff under the pressure, his lips trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck. Teeth glazing the jointure of your shoulder, kitten licking the place and sucking in a bruise that will eventually be visible to everyone when you two wake up in the morning, Eric feels your hands tugging down the sleeves of his shirt, fingers feeling up his biceps. The action makes him chuckle into your neck, but the smile fades quickly as he feels your nails scratching gently at his flaming skin.

“Take this off,” you mutter, and Eric finds it endearing– helping you take him out of the button-up, sitting under you in just a white tank top and black basketball shorts. 

“Why?” 

“Your arms looked good in this,” you hiss before you hide your face into his neck, leaning down to give him your fair share of kisses and love bites, having the male teasingly joke as his hands run up under your tank top, painfully aware of the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra anymore.

He moves his head to the side to give you more access before speaking out, tone of voice husky and coated in lust. “What if I get cold now?” 

“Then I’m more than happy to move this to your room,” you purr into his ear.

Eric sighs, fingers playing with the hem of your top before he lets his palms drift towards your exposed stomach, roaming across naked skin. Goosebumps appear all over your body at the action, making the boy victoriously grin. “It looks like you’re the one that's cold, though, babydoll.”

Rolling your eyes at the male, you shut him up by latching yourself onto his lips before you speak against his mouth. “I’ll take that as an invitation, then?”

“Wake up Eric! The girls are leaving, you should at least go say goodbye!” Sangyeon roars into the boy's room, making the male turn over in the bed and huff out in frustration. He drags his arm up to shield his eyes from the sunlight hitting his face, the intention of just rolling over and sleeping more written very clearly in his face.

“Come on man, we’re leaving in an hour too, so you should go send them off and then pack your shit so we can load the cars,” Sangyeon says when he gets no reaction from the youngest. It’s to no use, apparently, and so as the oldest and most observant out of the group, Sangyeon decides to use physical force– he knows Eric would hate to have you go without saying goodbye. He’s not stupid. Or blind. 

A strong hold on his calves drags Eric out of the bed and makes his half-naked body fall to the floor, a yelp coming out of his throat finally making Eric’s body fully alert and awake. 

“Yo! What the fuck–”

“Put a shirt on and go say goodbye to Y/N before she goes, would you, sleeping beauty?” Sangyeon huffs before rolling his eyes at his younger friend, escaping the room and shutting the door close after himself with a loud thud (to add more effect to the scolding, Eric thinks).

The mention of your name has Eric quickly scrambling out of the bed. His heart hammers at the adrenaline rush, pulling a clean shirt out of his bag and dragging it over his head, the basketball shorts from yesterday’s night found on the floor being pulled over his lower frame in approximately 0.5 seconds. Eric takes the stairs 3 at a time– with how steep they are, he questions how exactly does he not trip and break his spine on his way down– and puts on a pair of slippers he finds at the door (that are not his, or his size, for the matter, making his heels comically stick out from the back). 

Without checking his appearance in the mirror anywhere, he swings the door open and walks out of the cabin, watching as the group settles in a half-circle around your car, Yeri loading the trunk with her duffle bag before she closes it shut and smiles at her boyfriend Juyeon on the side. Eric joins the crowd, clearing his throat when his eyes fall onto your figure, the sight in front of him freezing him in his spot.

You’re standing there, in your jean shorts from the day before, an oversized white button-up enveloping your frame. A clueless stranger might not tell the difference, but he does– you put the shirt onto your bare skin and buttoned it just enough to reveal a bit of your cleavage– and it’s so similar to the outfit you had on yesterday, just with one difference. 

You’re wearing Eric’s shirt. You’re wearing his shirt and your neck is scattered with red and purple-ish bruises, and no, Eric wasn’t that drunk and he remembers everything, but the events of last night suddenly play out right in front of his eyes like a movie, still nailing him to his spot and wiping out all of his vocabulary.

The boy feels hot in his cheeks as he watches you and your best friend pay your goodbyes to the rest of the boys, the men pulling you into side-hugs and fist bumps, shared ‘It was nice meeting you’s and ‘You should come by next time too’s resonating through the place. Soon enough, you reach the end of the make-shift half circle and lock your eyes with Eric, a playful smile softly appearing on your face.

“It was nice meeting you, Eric,” you hum, “I had fun,” you note, shooting him a knowing look.

“Me too,” he nods, nervously chewing on his bottom lip. He doesn’t know where the confidence of last night went, but he suddenly feels unarmed and lost. What does one do now?

The sight of you in his shirt makes him feel like his biggest (wet) dream has come true– call him cheesy, but it also wakes up a sense of déja vu in him from the day before– you with sunlight in your eyes, hair messed up in a claw clip. He feels like he just fell in love at first sight again. Is that even possible?

It’s good you have a sense in you that makes you take the initiative and be in charge when you see him faltering. A giggle cuts out of your throat as you lean in and hug the boy around his neck, your lips dangerously close to his ear as you speak in a hushed whisper, not wanting to be heard by the men around you.

“I stole your shirt from you, by the way. You should text me if you want it back, so we can meet up, or something,” you mouth, lips gently glazing the sensitive skin of Eric’s ear, and god does he feel like he's going to suffocate from the lack of oxygen this causes in his lungs.

“You look amazing in my clothes, so I won’t ask for it back,” Eric hums, “but I’ll text you just in case you ever wanna bless my eyes with the sight again.”

“Deal. I’ll make Juyeon text me your number,” you say before you pull away from him, shooting him a wink that almost has his knees buckling like a school boy in love for the first time.

You walk backwards and wave at the group, sending Eric one last look before you join the passenger’s side and close the car door behind you, the sound of Yeri starting the engine resonating through the quiet forest. The men wave at you until the Toyota disappears out of sight, only scattering inside when it does to gather their things and load up their cars as well.

Eric is woken up from his trance by a teasing whistle coming out of Sunwoo’s mouth and a father-like slap to his back from Sangyeon.

He wonders if he’s truly being so obvious. (He's unaware of the fact that you two had very visible matching love bites on your necks. It doesn’t take much effort to put two and two together– don't tell him that, though.)

Still, Eric shrugs and goes inside with a different kind of pep to his step. 

When he licks his lips, he swears he can still taste the strawberries.

[anemptypuddingcup]

First time with Vampire Mihawk.

Contains; Major blood warning. Graphic (or slightly graphic) description of virginity loss. Mihawk being a soft soft man. Aha, Mihawk’s a vampire. Reader’s a virgin. Soft sex. This one’s kinda long but it was my first time writing for Mihawk so I guess I was a bit too excited. (I kinda got obsessed with him calling reader “dear” and “sweetheart” too.) Y’all ion know how to write for Mihawk either, I tried my best though.

You looked so beautiful sitting there on his bed. The pretty lacy lingerie only covered your upper half with matching lacy thigh-highs while your cute little cunny was out and bare for Mihawk to see. He couldn’t help but to look and stare down at you like you were his pretty porcelain doll to play with. “You look so beautiful sweetheart, but are you sure you’re okay with this?” He asked, a bit reluctant to touch you. You nodded as a sweet smile appears across your face. “I-I’m sure, I trust you very much Mihawk.” You say reassuring him. Saying that you trusted him made him feel even more comfortable to be your first. Being someone’s first (especially yours) is something that he could cherish for his eternity. Slowly laying you back onto his plush fluffy pillows, Mihawk presses his hands against your thighs and slowly spreads your legs open.

He presses a kiss to your cunt which earns him a sudden moan from you. He circles his thumb around your clit while he’s slowly slides his tongue along your folds before pushing his tongue through your entrance. You whimper softly while you comb your fingers through his hair. “M-Mihawk~” You gasp out his name as your walls began to clench around his tongue. He groans happily from the sweet taste of your insides, your essence coating his tongue began to make him grow harder than he already was from your moans. You let out another moan as you feel his tongue push against your g-spot while the pleasure of his thumb against your clit only gave you more. He abruptly removes his tongue from inside of you slowly, making you whimper out of irritation. “Patience my dear, I’m still going to please you.” He says softly as he begins to trail his fangs along your thigh. You tremble underneath him as he rubs the softness of your thigh, his patience growing more and more thin as he yearned for some your ruby red blood.

Moving his thumb from your clit, he slowly trails his fingers to your entrance and pushes two digits into you slowly. You whimper at the slight stretch of his thicker digits sliding into you. “May I have a sip of your blood sweetheart?” He asks, looking up at you while he begins to scissor his fingers inside of you. You let out a shaky moan and nod and you grew entangled into the pleasure of his fingers massaging your g-spot. He feels around for a spot on your thigh before suddenly piercing into it making you whimper and wince at the sudden pain. He groans as the taste of your blood hits his tongue. He gulps down your blood like the thirsty man he was, yearning for more of your delicious taste inside of mouth. His eyes closed tightly as he groans at the sweet taste of your blood coating his tongue and throat. Removing his fangs, he lets out a shaky moan as he feel his cock grow harder against the quilt. “So good~ Taste so wonderful my dear~” He says shakily before sinking his fangs back into the same spot.

The feeling of his fangs sucking up your blood somehow enhanced the pleasure of his fingers deep inside of your cunt. You shivered as he slowly removes his fangs from your thigh once again, licking his lips so hungrily before he moves to suckle on your clit. He presses his tongue against your clit, making you gasp from the sudden warmth and feeling of his tongue on your sensitive little pearl regardless of your blood on it. You whimper and buck your hips against his fingers and tongue as you felt yourself yearning for your orgasm. “M-Mihawk~ I feel something coming~” You moan softly as your continued to grind your hips against his tongue and digits. He holds your hips to keep you still while he begins to thrust his fingers faster inside of you while his tongue lapped at your clit.

Your walls gripped Mihawk’s fingers as you feel yourself beginning to cum onto his warm tongue. “I’m cumming! I’m gonna cum!” You whined as your feel yourself beginning to squirt out into his tongue. Mihawk moans at your taste as you came even more on his tongue, his fingers were all coated in your cream as he slowly began to pull them out of you. You breathed a bit heavy as you slowly recovered from your orgasm. Looking up, you see the bloody mess that Mihawk made though it didn’t necessarily bother you. You give him a pleased smile, happy that you were able to squirt into his tongue.

Mihawk presses another kiss to your cunt before he finally begins to reveal his hardened cock to you. You were a bit stunned, he was quite girthy and lengthy. It made you worry that you weren’t going to be able to take him. “It’s going to be alright okay? I’m going to go slow for you love.” He says softly. Flipping your over, he urges you to get on all fours to which you obey. Though you grew nervous as you felt his large tip press up against the entrance of your cunt. “I’ll go in slowly alright?” He says as he presses a kiss against your back. You nod slowly and let out a shaky breath due to nervousness. He slowly begins to push inside of you, his cock beginning to stretch out your insides while you moan shakily from the painful stretch. Mihawk groans as he feel his cock head give your cervix a deep kiss while you tried your best to take the rest of him in. Your body shivered against his as he slowly pushes the rest of his length into you. You whimper as the stretch had grew more painful, a mix of your slick and blood slowly spilling from your cunt.

“Breathe my dear, I’m fully inside of you now~” He whispers into your ear before pressing a kiss to it. You nod slowly and let out an abrupt whimper as he begins to move, slowly thrusting his cock in and out of you. After allowing him to move around to stretch you out a bit, you let out moan as you began to feel the pleasure of his cock pushing against your g-spot. Hearing your moans and feeling your cunt squeeze around him began to make him pick up the speed of his thrusts. He groans as your walls had squeezed him all tight and snug. “Ahh my dear~ You feel so good around my cock. Do you feel good, you don’t feel the pain anymore?” He asked, as he presses his body up against your back. You moaned in response, a bit unable to respond to him due to the immeasurable pleasure you were feeling. “Y-Yes~ I-It feels really good~” You moaned as he pushes up farther against your g-spot.

You feel his fangs trail up against your neck while you buried your head deep within one of his pillows. “M-Mihawkk~” You whined as you gripped the pillow so tightly. “F-Fuck~ My love, I can’t contain myself much longer, may I please sip from you once again?” He begged as he presses kisses along your neck. “Yes! Yes you can!~” You moaned as your cunt fluttered around his cock. You let out a loud gasp as you feel his teeth suddenly dig deep within your neck. Mihawk indulged in the taste of your blood as he began to increase the speed of his thrusts. “F-Fuck! M-Mihawk!~” You moaned his name angelically as the pleasure clouded your mind heavily. He slowly pushes your body farther into the mattress before slamming his hips farther against your ass. You moan loudly as you feel his cock push deeper into your cunt while his fangs sucked up more of your blood.

Mihawk groans as he releases his fangs from your neck as he lets out a gasp full of ecstasy and pleasure. “My dear, I’m close~” He breathed as he wraps his arms around your torso. You whined as you also grew closer to your orgasm. “Feels so good~ M’close too~” You moaned as you gripped the pillow tighter. “Cum for me sweetheart~” Mihawk says softly as he presses a kiss to your still bleeding neck. You let out a loud moan as you felt your orgasm rushing up through your body. “Fuck fuck! I-I’m cumming!~” You cry out as you felt yourself beginning to cum. Mihawk lets out a deep groan as his cock twitches before cumming deep inside of your cunt. You squirt out onto the bed quilt underneath both your bodies and let out a long sigh of relief afterwards.

Your body shivered underneath Mihawk as you were so sensitive from your orgasm. Mihawk smiled and presses another kiss to your neck, the blood now dry against your neck. “Are you alright my dear?” He asked, concerned for how you were feeling afterward. You nod happily as you felt yourself grow full from Mihawk’s cum deep inside of you. You turn to him and press a loving kiss onto his lips, making his worries for you melt away so suddenly. “Yes, I’m fine sweetheart~” You say softly. Mihawk buries his face deep within your neck, inhaling your soft scent. “I’m glad you are, I hope I did good for you…” He says nervously as he slowly begins to pulls out of you. You moan abruptly as you felt his cock slowly pull out of your cunt, his cum beginning to slowly spill out of you. You flip your body over and hug him before pressing another kiss to his lips.

“You did wonderful love~” You smile, peppering more kisses onto his face. He chuckles before wrapping his arms around your body and laying back down onto the bed. He yawns as he grows tired after the sweet sex you both just had. You both peered at the curtains and realized that it was slowly beginning to turn dawn. The light had began to grow brighter through the curtains as it slowly began to turn morning. You also yawned as you grew sleepy from seeing the light through the curtains. Mihawk kept your body warm as you slowly began to fall asleep in his arms, the warmth of his body keeping your body snug for the night.

.

Y’all Mihawk is purple bc I have a lot of red fics, at least I think so.😭

[days-until-burnout]

etho forgetting double life anniversary (character obviously) and joel being kinda mad about it but they're more like an old married couple that makes up lol

im sorry anon. i forgot what old married couple dynamic was. and instead, i gave you couple about to break up but stopping just on the breaking point. which i could argue could be considered an old married couple. 10000k notes and i will release an essay about it /joke. enjoy either way o7

_____

📧 Day 16 -

Characters - Etho/Joel (plus other life series hermits) Words - 2,266 Time - 65 mins Content - Hermitcraft | hurt/comfort

Etho jerked when someone called his name, startling him from his plans. He looked up in time to see Cleo landing near him, elytra folding behind them as she put her rockets away. He stood from his seat too, walked around the tree to them, curious to see her. 

“Hi.”

“Hey,” Cleo greeted back but was too busy looking for something in her pocket to notice Etho’s nod, “ough, I’m kinda busy with the cafe restock. And honestly, I’m very surprised you are all cooped up in your base, but good for me, I guess. Could you please take this to the Post Office, since you work there and all that?”

Cleo finally produced an envelope, a pristine thing with sharp edges, an ombre of green to orange that expanded outwards, and a little drawn stitches on the seal flap that went from one end to the other, a hand with a bone sticking out of it as a seal. He took it from their hand, admiring the craft before looking up with a raised brow. Cleo was already grabbing her rockets when she noticed, and Etho realized how frazzled they were. 

“You know, I’m sure you could pay someone to help you restock.”

She rolled her eyes with a smirk, “Thank for the offer, I’ll keep it in mind if I ever want to burn some diamonds.”

“Lava is good option too.”

“Noted. Oh, thank you for the letter too. It’s to Martyn, ‘kay, gotta go now. I’ll see you later!”

Before Etho could question why she wanted to send Martyn a letter, Cleo was gone, leaving behind a cloud of colorful sparks that soon vanished too. He watched her become a speck in the distance, then looked down at the envelope one more time, shrugging as he put it in his pocket carefully. 

With a sudden change of plans, he put his things away, fishing his elytra and a handful of rockets from his inventory, setting off to the Post Office. It did cross his mind to hold the envelope to the sun, have a peek, not that anyone would know, but if Cleo found out, then he… Well, for his own sake, he shook that idea out of his mind. Instead, he let his mind fill with wonder, what could Cleo possibly want with Martyn? Regardless, he was even more curious to know if they could even send mail out of their current server. 

By the time he reached the Post Office, he heard voices inside, and quickened his leisurely walk to find his coworkers chatting as they scribbled whatever down. They looked up when he made his presence known, the room bursting in loud cheers and greetings. He made his way to them, eyeing the letters in front of them curiously. Was there something special about today that he was no aware of? 

Yet, his questions would only grow as Ren trudged in, beaming as he waved a letter in the air too. Unlike Cleo’s, his was a simple white envelope with a red stamp. 

“Hey guys! Got a reunion going!”

“Hi, Ren,” Pearl giggled, straightening as he got closer, she eyed the envelope then looked up at him with a grin, “what can we help with, today?”

“Oh, you already know!” Ren handed her the envelope, and Pearl took it with utmost care. “Please say I’m on time.”

“You are, you are,�� Tango reassured, waving his own letter, “though Pearl and I might not be!”

“Dude,” Ren laughed, shaking his head. “I spent all night thinking about what to write! And then I fell asleep and thought I was late!”

Pearl giggled, “Nope! You’re on time, sir. Plenty left, still.”

“Well, okay, I’m glad then, don’t have to worry about it now. I’ll get back to my business, continue with your meeting!”

They all exchanged waves, then the trio was alone again. Pearl placed the envelope to the side, sitting again as she grabbed her quill. Etho took the moment to get Cleo’s one out too, placing it on top of Ren’s. 

“Cleo’s too. She was busy so she told me to bring it in. To Martyn.”

“Oh, nice! I thought they weren’t going to send anything. Glad she is, though.” Pearl picked up Cleo’s envelope, admired it then put it down. She glanced over at Tango scribbling, then looked at Etho with a smile. “Sucks for us, huh?”

Etho tilted his head, but she waved him off. 

“Oh well, you had last season I suppose. Maybe any of them will join next season.” She and Tango giggled, and it took Etho a second to catch up. Their former soulmates? That was what this was? Then again, it made sense for Cleo, Ren and those two to be writing letters, since Martyn, BigB, Scott and Jimmy were not on Hermitcraft. And as Pearl said, he already had a season to go through without Joel on the same server. Impulse, Bdubs, Grian and Scar were lucky in that regard, he supposed. And he joined them with Joel now being a new member of Hermitcraft. 

“I guess,” he shrugged eventually, though neither seemed to notice. “You two are busy, so I’ll leave you to it. If you need any help, send me a message.”

“Will do,” Tango saluted with two fingers. “Hm, I wonder if Joel wants to send Jimmy something. Hey, Etho, can you ask him for me? We’ve got ‘til midday before we send them over.”

Etho gave him a thumbs ups, then made his way out of the Post Office. He had a weird feeling bubbling through him, and it all seemed to revolve to Double Life, when their souls had been tied to someone else. From his knowledge, they looked back at that season fondly and with laughs, but he never quite… remembered people talking about missing their former soulbounds. Then again, maybe he just had not heard since he had Joel now. Had was an exaggeration, but they were in the same season, he could only partially understand them. 

Did he miss Joel when they were not in the same server? 

It made sense to miss them. Not even in a ally level, but a soulbound level. 

He tried to not think about it. Even when he walked through the Magical Mountain, cherry petals raining down on him. 

“Etho!” 

He startled again, snapping up towards the voice, seeing Scar waving his arm at him. Beside him, sat Grian who also waved. 

Scar cupped his hands around his mouth, “Are you going to see Joel?”

“On behalf of Tango,” he replied, hearing his voice echo a little. Scar tilted his head, and he could see a funny expression on Grian’s face. He decided to wave it off to imagining things, seeing as they were quite far and his eyes must be tricking him. “Do you know where he is?”

Scar shook his head. Grian leaned back a little, propping himself up with an arm. 

“You don’t know where Joel is? Today?”

That was an odd question. Etho shook his head.

Grian scrunched up his face. Etho saw it. His eyes did not lie. 

“Well, good luck finding him, I guess.” Grian said, and there was a funny tone in his voice on his last two words. Like reluctant acceptance, but Etho spent no more time on it. He walked away, feeling their eyes on his back until he broke line of sight when he stepped into the line of trees. 

Etho walked through Joel’s ever growing base, a feeling of comforting claustrophobia washing over him when he looked up to the tall buildings blocking the sky. He thought about messaging Joel, and he made up his mind to message him, yet his hands remained in his pocket and he was already walking down the steps towards Impulse and Bdubs’ shared base. The torii gate stood tall and inviting, even if he was inside, and the little paradise at the base of the stairs was a welcomed break. 

Until he heard voices and muffled laughs, which he followed. 

Not Joel, though. 

“Oh, Etho!” Bdubs greeted with a familiar smile, Impulse giving him a wave behind him. “What are you doing here? Looking for Joel?”

“Uh, something like that,” he lied, which was not really a lie, but not the truth either. He was looking for Joel, though not in the way everyone else assumed he would be. Like some server wide joke he was not a part of. He wondered if they asked Joel the same thing, willingly ignoring the little voice in his head that knew they did not. “Have you seen him?”

“Yeah, he said something about his honey shop.” Impulse replied, then gave him a raised brow look. “You… didn’t see him at all today?”

“No… Was I supposed?”

Bdubs frowned, like Impulse but a step further. “Yeah! You should have, unless you two fought or something. I would’ve thought you two would be hanging off of each other all day, since you’re obsessed and all that.” Bdubs waved his hand, showing off a point that did not click in Etho’s mind. “It’s the Double Life anniversary!”

Well, that explained everything. 

“You two had a fight?” Impulse asked.

“Not that I know off, no.”

The pair gave each other a look, sharing something beyond expressions and knowing looks. Etho did not stay longer, whatever it was that they thought about saying, their actions conveyed. If Impulse was right, this should be his last trip. 

And his last trip it was. 

Joel was inside his honey shop, from barrel to enderchest to shulker, back and forth much like a bee. He was a tanuki, though, a big, fluffy tail behind him. He watched him from the entrance for a moment before entering and making his presence known. Joel looked up, then looked away like he was not even standing there. 

“Hi, Joel.”

“I’m busy.”

“Even for me?” he joked, which made him freeze for a moment, his back to him, then returned to working. Joel did not look at him, did not joke back, and Etho began to think that they will have a fight. “Aw, are you ignoring me now?”

“You’re the one who didn’t want to see me today.”

“I didn’t know it was the anniversary.”

“It’s whatever.”

Etho knew it was not whatever. He took a quiet step forward, but Joel knew him better, and took a step away. There was a knot in his throat, one he could not swallow, one that made his chest ache. And it was a lie, that he did not know it was the Double Life anniversary. He knew, knew for the longest time, yet… Earlier that day, when Joel had asked him to hang out, he had refused. Had said he was too busy, paid with a coin Joel was now returning. 

Joel walked around him, hitting the button that filled the shop with music, one that would prevent them from talking. Etho sucked a breath in, followed him with his eyes, trying to think of an apology or excuse or… something. Joel knew he was, which is why he put the music on, but he did not leave. 

He moved without thinking, snatching Joel’s wrist to keep him from moving, holding him in place. And without forcing him, Joel faced him with a glare. Anger and hurt, something he could not feel but could see clearly. Sometimes he wished the soulbound was still there, just so Joel would know how he was feeling rather than trying to unravel it all himself. He wished to know about Joel too, have something between them that just made them click, something that would get rid of their need to communicate. Just knowing was simpler, much easier. He could not even admit wanting it back. 

“I don’t need you to see me out of obligation,” Joel spat, a fire in his eyes that was the shade of bloodlust, of betrayal. “Why can’t you see me because you want to see me? Everyone else– Ough. Whatever. It’s whatever. I don’t care. You would, if it was someone else, I bet.”

Lie. 

Joel yanked his wrist free, and prepared to leave, only for Etho to trap him with his coat. He put his hands in his pocket, then hugged him tight. Joel fought, indignant at the action. Joel was stronger, apparently even more than Gem, so Etho really only had one chance. He had Joel’s arms pinned to his side, and he felt his tail flicking around in a frenzy, and he knew there was nothing more dangerous than a scared Joel. 

Etho lifted him off the ground, not saying anything but Joel screamed, demands and profanities and bodily threats. Etho held his ground, Joel continued to fight. His arms encased a body that became smaller, until he was practically holding his coat close, a tanuki circling rampantly. Scratched and bites and sobs. Until Joel tired himself, clinging onto his shirt and sobbing into it. Etho lowered himself to the ground, opening his coat as Joel went back to his human form. He dropped his forehead into his shoulder, shame running through him as Joel broke down in his arms. 

The soulbound would let him know he was sorry. The soulbound would let him know so much, everything. Everything he could not say, everything he could not put words to. If only they had it again, then things would be so much easier. 

He whispered his words, a sob catching in his throat too, Joel only clung harder to his shirt, “I’m sorry.”

_____

i totally did the ask right 🧍‍♂️ also, this was supposed to have a much happier ending, but i went over the 60mins limit already so i rushed it in 5mins... too much worldbuilding is not good kids 🧍‍♂️ joel was going to fight etho, literally make him black and blue but no time 🧍‍♂️ maybe in another universe

[sixpossumsinatrenchcoat]

Memories of Defeat (part 2 of 3)

Siffrin self-destructs. The party phones a friend. (You can start from ch 1 here.)

“Hmmm…" The star strokes their shattered-glass chin. "I’m not sure it’s my place to tell you. Haha, just kidding!! Siffrin’s business is my business! They’re my special little guy!’ Isabeau turns pale. “Y-You and Sif…” “Mm~hmmmm?” “Are you—um. Were you two—” “—lovers?” the star gasps, clutching their pearls. “Are you asking if my sweet little Stardust and I have been carrying on a secret affair, right under your noses? Holding hands and stealing glances and, and… braiding each other’s hair under the stars?” They take one look at Isabeau and burst out laughing. “Oh, don’t look like that. I'm only teasing. I don’t even have hair! And Siffrin isn’t fit to be anyone’s lover. They’re more like my… hamster? My helpless little guy! I want to put him in a tank and feed them sunflower seeds! But he’s much too messed-up to date. I do have some standards.” Isabeau bristles. “Sif’s not messed up.” “Aw!” the stranger coos. “Even after all that stuff they said, you’re still so quick to leap to his defense! I guess it’s true what they say… Love sure makes you pathetic!” (“No one says that.”)

[spoiler warning for the entire game. i'm kinda beating a dead horse here but i don't intend to stop till i've reduced that horse to a mangled heap of pulp & powdered bone, so let me just say for the thousandth time this week: please please PLEASE go play In Stars And Time.]

There’s something— Someone? Someone impossible waiting under the Favor Tree. They’re mostly humanoid (or at least human-ish), with two arms and two legs in all the usual places. But where their face should be, there's only light. A shatter of blinding white, like catching sunlight in a shard of glass.

When they notice Isa and the others coming up the path, the impossible stranger’s face lights up. Literally. It’s a break in the clouds, clearing the way for an eye-watering sear of daylight. Isabeau shades his eyes, but not before the afterimage of that shattered-mirror smile is burned into the inside of his eyelids. Ow. And also: what????

Still blinking the sunspots out of his eyes, Isa elbows Mirabelle. “That’s… That’s not the King, right?”

“Definitely not,” Madame Odile says firmly.

“She’s right,” Mira agrees. She looks worried, but, to be fair, she almost always does. “All firsthand accounts agree that the King is enormous. And he’s… human, still. Even after everything. I’m not sure what that, um, creature is, but it certainly doesn’t look human.”

“Gasp!!” the stranger shouts—like, they actually shout the word ‘gasp.’ “Excu~use me!! I’m right here, you know! With perfectly functional ears, probably!”

Isabeau sets his jaw. He doesn’t really have room for any more surprises. It’s barely 9 am and he’s already exhausted. Can you blame him? It’s finally time to fight the King, and Siffrin is gone.

Maybe they had a good reason. Maybe something came up that seemed more important than saving the entire country. Or maybe they used up all their fighting spirit going all scorched-earth on the whole party’s morale. Excavating Isabeau’s darkest fears and doubts and second-guesses and forging them into a sledgehammer to swing at him.

Of course Isabeau was hurt. He’s still hurt. Siffrin was being an asshole, apparently on purpose. But mostly he’s just… confused. Flattened and embarrassed and over-exposed. What’s that expression again? ‘The mortifying ordeal of being known’?

…Well. It was definitely crabbing mortifying.

The really messed-up thing was how different Sif felt. Like a stranger wearing someone else’s face. Siffrin said all that stuff and stormed off and left Isabeau wondering if he’d ever really known them at all. Did he even know anything about them? Where they came from; what they’d seen and done? No matter how hard he racked his brain, Siffrin’s story stayed a mystery. Like maybe the Sif that Isa knew had never existed at all.

Stop, Isabeau tells himself sternly. That’s obviously not helping. “So… what do we do?”

“You guys are being so lame!!!” Bonnie huffs impatiently. “I’m just gonna say hi!!!”

Before anyone can stop them, they’re already moving, so fast that they almost crash into the impossible stranger.

“Haha, hiii~!!” the stranger giggles, beaming down at them. “Hehe… This is a little awkward, isn’t it? It’s not exactly how I thought we’d meet. To be honest, I was sort of hoping to be introduced.”

“Oh,” Mira says delicately. “I’m. Um. Sorry to hear that?”

“What the crab are you?” Bonnie demands, less delicately.

For just a second, the stranger seems to flinch. But they recover so quickly that Isabeau can’t be sure that he saw it at all.

“Who, me?” The radiant stranger bats their half-moon eyes. “Ohh, no one, really! Just a… sort of a… friend of a friend, I suppose. Which is, haha, sort of what brings me here today! Because our mutual friend is… not doing very well.”

Isabeau’s stomach twists. “You’re talking about Sif.”

“Ahh, little Sif! Yes! Love the nickname; very cute, if a bit lacking in originality. But yes, you got it in one! He’s the one who’s, ah… well… you know. Sort of… blowing themself up. So to speak.”

“How do you know Sif?” Isabeau can tell that he’s talking too loud but, in his defense, it’s been a very stressful 24 hours. “If you’re his friend, why haven’t we heard of you?”

“You mean they never mentioned me?” the stranger gasps, clutching their pearls. They hold the pose for a beat before winking. “Teehee! I’m joking, of course. I know Siffrin doesn’t tell you anything.”

Isabeau is not an angry person. He's so not an angry person that it takes him a second to recognize the feeling. But it’s undeniable. Deep down in his guts, he wants to smash this thing to glitter.

He takes a breath, lets it out. “…What is Sif to you?”

“Oh.” The impossible stranger blinks. “Huh. You know, I have no idea how to answer that.”

“You could try the truth?”

“Ohh, but that would be far too easy, wouldn’t it? Why, that’d be no fun at all! Besides, I’m not sure it’s really any of your business, teehee!”

Isabeau doesn’t even notice his hand curling into a Rock sign until Odile grabs it and pries it open.

“Get ahold of yourself,” she snaps. “And stop—feeling so much. You're encouraging them. ”

“But they—”

“I’m very much aware of that, yes. And you,” rounding on the stranger. “What’s wrong with Siffrin? In ten words or less. Do not waste our time.”

“Well!” the glittering stranger giggles. “Ma’am yes ma’am, I’m sure! I suppose I'd better get straight to it!” They frown for a moment, considering, and then count the words off on their fingers. “‘Siffrin is looping in time.’ Ooh, that was only five! Only half of what you offered! Do I get a prize?”

“There’s no prize,” Odile says harshly.

Isabeau’s head is spinning. Looping in… “What do you mean, looping in time?”

“Ooh, I’d just love to explain! But alas,” flinging a wrist over their eyes, “I’m only permitted five more words! Unless… Do you know what? I think I can work with that. How about… ‘Years of the same two days.’ —Ohhh, nooo, that was six, wasn’t it? Stars, how embarrassing!! You’ll think I can’t even count!!!”

Isabeau’s eyes narrow. There’s that word again. Stars. The sparks of light in the black of night; the way they glitter and blink… The stranger’s shattered-glass face flickers in almost the exact same way.

“No more word limits,” Madame Odile says coldly. “Tell us what you know.”

###

“...‘Looping in time,’” Mirabelle says numbly. She’s said the same thing at least a dozen times already. Probably hoping that, if she says it enough, it’ll start to make sense. (Not that it seems very likely.)

“Mhm, yup! Just the same two days, over and over and over again till all the words have lost their meaning! One great big dissociative fugue!”

“You’re lying,” Isabeau growls. “Sif wouldn’t hide something like that.”

“Wouldn’t they?” the star asks slyly. “How well do you know them, really? Where are they from? Do they have any siblings? Pets? Pastimes? Past crimes? What sort of work did he do, before he started traveling?”

No one answers.

“Well?” Gesturing imperiously with one coal-black hand. “Go on, then! It’s not a rhetorical question—I'm really looking for an answer! Can you tell me anything about them that you didn’t see firsthand?”

There's a weighty silence.

“Ah,” the star says sympathetically. “I see. So you don’t really know anything about them at all. Almost as little as they know about themself, teehee!”

“Excuse me,” Madame Odile cuts in. “I’m sorry, but this is absurd. Are we really going to indulge this? One of the fundamental forces that govern our world, rewriting itself? No one’s ever proven that Time Craft is even possible. Any prospective wielder would be killed on the spot.”

“U-Um,” Mirabelle whispers. “Except for, um… well. The King, freezing Vaugaurde in time… Isn’t that arguably, sort-of Time Craft? And Siffrin has been sort of…”

“Callous?” the star suggests. “Ruthless? As conscientious as the average battering ram? So emotionally erratic as to appear utterly unrecognizable?”

Isabeau winces. Because… yeah. Yes. That pretty much sums it up.

The star frowns thoughtfully. “Hmm! I wonder what could have happened to make little Siffrin change so radically overnight! It’s almost as though they’d gone through a traumatic experience that no one else remembers! Like these past two days passed very, very differently for them than the rest of the world!”

…It is sort of like that, isn’t it.

Isabeau’s self-control snaps. “How???”

“Great question! I’d love to learn the answer someday!”

Ugh. Then… “How long?”

The star strokes their shattered-glass chin. “Hmmm… I’m not sure it’s my place to tell you. —Haha, just kidding!! Siffrin’s business is my business! They’re my special little guy!’

Isabeau turns pale. “Y-You and Sif…”

“Mm~hmmmm?”

“Are you—um. Were you two—”

“—lovers?” the stranger gasps, clutching their pearls. “Are you asking if my sweet little Stardust and I have been carrying on a secret affair, right under your noses? Holding hands and stealing glances and, and… braiding each other’s hair under the stars?” They take one look at Isabeau and burst out laughing. “Oh, don’t look like that. I'm only teasing. I don’t even have hair! And Siffrin isn’t fit to be anyone’s lover. They’re more like my… hamster? My helpless little guy! I want to put him in a tank and feed them sunflower seeds! But he’s much too messed-up to date. I do have some standards.”

Isabeau bristles. “Sif’s not messed up.”

“Aw!” the stranger coos. “Even after all that stuff they said, you’re still so quick to leap to his defense! I guess it’s true what they say… Love sure makes you pathetic!”

“No one says that,” Isa mutters.

“But sure, I’ll tell you! Who’s gonna stop me?” The star winks. “This is, hmm, maybe their… 123th loop? 133th? It’s hard to keep count, if I’m honest! Every time I take my eyes off him, he just keeps on dying! I mean, really! Even babies have some sense of self-preservation! At a certain point, it’s just sad!”

Isabeau feels his blood go cold. It’s just— If that were true, then Sif would have been lost in time for the better part of a year. That’s longer than Isa’s even known them.

He flinches when a hand lands on his shoulder. Madame Odile.

“Are you going to keep it together?” she demands. Her mouth is pressed flat, her eyes cold.

“U-Um!!!” Mirabelle squeaks, slipping between them. “I think what she means is, are you, um, okay?”

(“That is in no way what I meant.”)

“Yeah,” Isabeau tells them both. He’s going to keep it together. And he’ll probably even be okay. Just as soon as he wraps his mind around the fact that Siffrin may or may not have been locked in time prison for months.

A shout from around hip-height jolts him back into the present.

“You guys are being so dumb!!!!” Bonnie says hotly. “Who even cares how it works!! Who cares about stupid science?? Frin’s in there doing something stupid, again!! Trying to get himself hurt, again, for no reason!!! So can we just go and save them already???”

…Oh. Yeah. Bonnie’s right, aren’t they? Whatever this entity might be, it’s no coincidence that they finally deigned to show themself right after Siffrin pushed everyone away. Sif is in trouble. And this time, they’re all alone.

The glittering stranger quirks an eyebrow. “From the mouths of babes, am I right?”

“I’m not a baby!!!!” Bonnie huffs. “I’m almost twelve!!!!”

“From the mouths of preteens,” the star concedes. “Well, then! By all means, let’s cut to the chase! Your Wanderer needs help. Whether you care to provide that help is, of course, another matter altogether.”

“Shut up,” Isabeau snarls. “You think we don’t care?”

“Well. They did do their level best to burn all their bridges, this time around.”

Mirabelle draws herself up to her full, extremely un-intimidating height. “And you think we’d turn our backs on a friend for something like that? They’re not going anywhere until I get an apology, thank you very much!!! Now are you going to help us or aren’t you?”

For just a second, the impossible stranger’s radiant face goes slack. Then their eyes crease, and their mouth curves up.

“Aw,” they say fondly. “Heroes. You’re all sooooo~ stupid. And!!” they add hastily, when the whole party opens their mouths to argue. “It’s just such a pleasure to, haha, uh, ‘meet’ you!! You can call me Loop, if you like. I’m a sort of friend of Siffrin’s. And of course, I’m here to help.”

###

The House is full of Siffrin’s ghosts. Remnants. Echoes of every time he’s ever died bloodily.

Odile flips a hidden switch and for just a second, Siffrin is standing in the center of the hall, smiling, holding out a thumbs up. And then with a terrible rumble of stone on stone, he’s crushed by a boulder the size of a city block. The clatter of falling rock is deafening, but not quite loud enough to drown out the wet crr–rrnch of splintering bone.

Isabeau looks down. There’s one small gloved hand poking out from under the stone. The index and middle fingers twitch and flick, like an ant that still hasn’t realized that it’s already cut in half.

—And then it’s gone. There's no blood on the floor. The boulder is only a boulder.

Deeper in, the halls throng with huge, oblong beads of floating water. The oilslick iridescence playing over the surface might be pretty, if it wasn’t so unsettling.

“I’d steer clear of that stuff, if I were you,” Loop’s voice suggests. “It could— Oh, never mind, my Stardust will show you.”

Sure enough, another phantom Siffrin is sauntering up to the Tear. They look over their shoulder and wink—(it’s a wink, not a blink; Isabeau can always tell)—before thrusting their arm inside. Their skin stiffens. Their stance hardens. The light drains from their eye—

—and they’re gone.

“Sooo, yeah!” Loop chirps. “That’s why we don’t do that.”

Isabeau watches Sif fall in a hundred ways. Crushed, fileted, asphyxiated. Mutilated. Obliterated. Siffrin smiles and smiles and dies. He winks and laughs and dies.

It’s not real, Isa reminds himself—except that it is. Or… was? If Loop is telling the truth, then Siffrin did die here, run through by the scythelike arm of the biggest Sadness that Isa’s ever seen. And here, with their own dagger buried to the hilt in their chest. Black blood trickling between his teeth as he tries his best to smile.

“Aww,” Loop’s voice says sympathetically. Apparently they can interject anytime, even though everyone else has to use the secret hand-sign. “I guess this explains why the poor little guy was so secretive! They knew how you’d react, if you learned the truth. I guess they really were protecting you, after all! I’ll have to apologize when we find them. Assuming they’re still, you know. Alive.”

Isabeau’s blood boils.

“Teehee! Aw, don’t worry! Not all of their deaths were so yucky! Most of them were quick and painless!”

“What does ‘most’ mean.”

“Ohhh, I don’t know… 60 or 70?”

“Percent?”

“Nope!”

…Right.

“But it couldn’t have been more than 30 that really hurt. Oh, unless you count… Hm. Do you know what? To be safe, I think we’d better make it 40.”

Isabeau’s head feels light. “Wh. What are the extra ten.”

“Oh! Well! That’s when they used the broken glass!”

“To do what.”

“Isabeau,” Odile says warningly.

“Well, to stab themself, of course! I remembered the times they used the knife, and when they got too impatient to finish off the King, but I forgot about the glass! As our mutual friend might say, I—teehee—I guess I ‘saw straight through it.’ You know, because it’s see-through? Oooh, we had such~ a big fight after that,” they add, dreamily. “I wouldn’t talk to them for a whole loop!”

Isabeau feels sick. He feels sick. He wants to throw up, but he’s pretty sure it’s not going to make him feel better.

“Aww!” Loop simpers. “Don’t worry, big guy!! They love you!!! All of you! Siffrin’s only trying to protect you! They’re just really, really, really-really bad at it.”

Isa doesn’t answer. He’s barely listening. He can’t seem to finish a thought, much less a sentence. They— Sif, they—

A small hand grabs hold of his and squeezes, hard. Mirabelle. Who else? She was always so much braver than the rest of them.

“We’ll talk to them soon,” she says firmly. “About—everything. And they’ll explain everything. And then—then we can decide how to feel. But there’s no use doing it now. We haven’t even saved them yet.”

“Belle’s right!!!” Bonnie shouts. “Stupid Loop is just messing with you, the same as Frin does! Except meaner! But maybe not meaner than yesterday because yesterday he was ackshly pretty mean!! But it’s okay, ‘cause people fight all the time, and then they make up and it’s fine! So stop being sad, stupid! You don’t even know what you’re spose to be sad about yet!!”

In spite of everything, a little giggle slips out of him. “Yeah. Y-Yeah! Sorry I, um… yeah.”

“Don’t be sorry!” Bonnie huffs. “Just don’t be stupid!!”

“Thanks, Bonbon. I’ll do my best.” He ruffles their hair fondly. “Good thing you’re so smart, huh?”

“I know!!!”

Isabeau darts a glance at Odile, who’s been worryingly quiet since they entered the House. “Um. Madame…?”

“Don’t distract me,” she snaps. “I’m trying to think.”

So that’s alright, then. All they have to do is save Sif, and everything will be okay.

###

When the party finally catches up, Siffrin is barely recognizable. It’s not just that he’s frozen in time: skin withered hard as tanned leather; his single eye matte-black as a chunk of rough-cut onyx. They’re also… shrunken. Diminished. Barely a shadow of their former self. They look half their normal size, which was already pretty crabbing small.

Isabeau can feel the fish heads curdle in his stomach. What could Sif have seen, to make them look like that? How long have they been trying and dying and fighting and dying alone, without anyone even seeing? Without anyone slowing down for long enough to notice?

…It doesn’t matter. This will be the last time. He’s going to make sure of it.

###

They beat the King, of course. There was never any other choice. (And also, Sif seems to have done an unsettlingly thorough job of kicking the snot out of him all by themself. By the time the rest of the party rolled up, they were really only picking up the pieces.)

The worst part is how confused Sif looks, when Mira wakes them up. How utterly, unconditionally floored. Like they were fully certain that their friends were just going to leave them to die. Sif opens his eye and stares at the others like he’s not sure they’re even real. Like he thinks they shouldn't have come at all.

Sif was always so excruciatingly expressive. It’s something Isa loves about them, normally. Now it means that he can see every emotion splashed stark across their face. Denial, disbelief. Roiling, sickening self-disgust.

They’re also in crabbing shambles. Sweat-slicked and feverish and knock-kneed as a colt. They take one step before their legs crumple like wet cardboard. Normally Isabeau is very careful about respecting Sif’s space, but he can’t just let them split their skull open on the cobblestone. He can’t stand the thought of them having to go through it all again.

...Sif really must be exhausted. When Isa slips an arm around their back and hoists them back onto their feet, they don’t even have the strength to pull away. They just sag against him, boneless.

Isabeau lets out his breath. They did it, didn’t they? They actually did it. The King is frozen in time, hoist on his own stupid crabbing petard. Sif is—alive, if not well. No one else has so much as a scratch on them. Which means that everything is fine, right? Everything is going to be okay. It’s finally, actually over.

###

But of course it isn't over.

you may have noticed that i’m not spending much time on any of the story beats that we got to see in-game! that’s bc i think this game is a fucking astounding feat of storytelling, and i just really don't have anything to add (at least when it comes to siffrin's arc). no sources of lingering dissatisfaction! no incongruence stuck in my craw! we already lived that shit in the first person!!! so i'll likely be skipping to postgame in ch 3. hopefully that makes sense & doesn't feel too anticlimactic! if u wanna know when I next update, feel free to subscribe to the series on ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/52448152/chapters/

[sophiepatztone]

Week 4: September 26th

This week I focused on narrowing down my topic. I took my MoMA "poems" and made posters out of them:

I reflected on the Bianca Bosker book talk notes I took last week. Biggest takeaways:

I can feel art's barrier to entry, like walking into a gallery asking myself if i can be there

It’s easy to disregard the process that takes an artist from nothing to finished product. I think that’s where some of the gap exists in culture is that people only see a finished product and not the thoughts, ideas, and intentions behind it. 

I agree, artists are treated as “impractical dreamers.” If people look and them and see wasted time, I would urge them to consider their own interests. What kinds of things do narps spend time, money, and energy on that is comparable to art? 

She said “Artists create images that introduce incongruities, such as a plate of sushi made with eyes instead of fish. Artists defy our expectations, such as by sticking a pearl-clad woman in wrestling helmet inside a padded room.” That reminded me of a youtube video I watched a few weeks ago about understanding Contemporary art

I read through my notes and the comments on the video and it was really negative it just made me mad 💀 And I questioned if this was really my problem to solve. I still don't even understand some Contemporary art and I think some of it is stupid.

“Criticism is nothing more than having a template and putting it over the new art and seeing what matches up” -Diana Bush

I tried to form a point of view:

The gap in knowledge around Contemporary art is how to educate people who don’t understand it. My research focus is propaganda and aggressive forms of marketing, from the point of view of a marketer.

Why don’t we play into the narrative that contemporary art is unattainable, something that only highly educated people can understand? Make it an inside joke.

And I did a study based on this point of view:

I can't help but wonder if I'm am fighting a losing battle! Who cares if people don't understand art?

I think this is something I can explore through form. Anything I make is going to be considered Contemporary Art just due to the fact that I'm making it now. Do I really want to make Contemporary art about Contemporary Art?

One other thing I observed last week at the MoMA was people taking photos of the art. Not really news to anyone, but why are we spending more time taking pictures of art and us in front of the art instead of looking at it? To prove we've been there? Same vibe as taking a photo of the professor's notes on the board and then never going back to it. Or taking full videos of concerts or fireworks. Who is actually going back and looking at that?

Camera Tourists come in all shapes and sizes. Some of them don’t really care to see the art. They just want pictures to post on social media so they can say, “Look what I got to see today."

According to Psychologist Linda Henkel, there’s a psychological reason why you remember less when you take more pictures — she’s dubbed it the “photo-taking impairment effect”, and even tested it out in her own experiment.

I tried to rework my POV. I am stuck. Give me feedback please.

Appropriation artists. "Pop artists reveled in reproducing, juxtaposing, and repeating everyday images from popular culture in their wide-ranging work."

Our interactions with art in a gallery setting and how social media has changed our interactions with it.

License plate letters that flash when traffic cams try to take a photo of them

This is kinda coming full circle back to the subtopic of commodification. There’s something here that I’m not seeing.

How social media devalues artwork 

Does appropriation devalue or give new meaning? 

Help.

[dmwrites]

The first few days back after finishing the life series was always a bit jarring. Impulse had been through this three times now, but this last time had been especially… odd. He didn’t like feeling odd. So he went back to old habits, and threw himself into his work. Spent two full days digging at his diggy diggy hole, reinstalled the entire storage system three blocks to the left, polished the sea lanterns until they shined.

“Impulse…”

It took Gem literally waving a hand in front of his face for him to notice her presence.

“Oh! Hi Gem! What’s up bud?” Impulse smiled at her, moving and realizing just how sore he was- how long had he been leaning against his shovel and staring at the opposite wall?

“When is the last time you slept?” Gem crossed her arms.

Impulse frowned, trying to remember the number of times he’d seen the moon come up. “Dunno… a couple of days?”

“It’s been a week, Impulse.”

“Oh.” Impulse put a hand to his chest. “Well, you know how server travel goes.”

“yoU KnOw hOW serVEr TRaVeL gOeS.” Gem mimicked him, rolling her eyes. “I can excuse a couple days of confusion, I mean you just got back from dying in the Life series, and that’s what I told myself, but you and Pearl have both been handling it badly! Maybe if you two talked to each other you could, like, get over the fact that she killed you or whatever.”

Impulse’s fingers wandered absentmindedly across his chest, just kind of playing with the fabric of his shirt. “It wasn’t Pearl who killed me.”

“Well then go talk to whoever did.” Gem retorted. “Get your closure and then go to sleep. I miss soup group shenanigans.” Without another word she took off, maybe to avoid Impulse’s story of his death, which he had just been about to tell. Ah well.

Impulse went back to digging, hacking away at a gold ore, fully intending on ignoring Gem’s suggestion, but, just as annoying as she was, he kept thinking about the axe buried in his chest, the shock of who had put it there, and the darkness.

It was approaching another night, and Impulse put down his pickaxe and flew out of the hole. He flew past Pearl’s alien landscape, saw a huddled figure in blankets sitting under a mushroom. He’d talk to her too, after this perhaps. He held nothing against Pearl, never had and never would. So proud of the champion.

Impulse landed on the stairs of Bdubs’ diorite tower, which was alive with activity. He could hear someone, Etho he was sure, hitting something with a hammer in the basement. Far above was Ren’s doghouse castle thing- Impulse could see lights on.

“Impulse?”

Impulse turned to find the very man he’d been looking for standing on the staircase right inside, dressed in literal striped pajamas and a nightcap.

“Hey Bdubs.” Impulse felt for his chest on instinct.

“What on earth are you doing here so late?” Bdubs’ eyes flicked to Impulse’s hand and then up to his eyes. “I was about to go to sleep.”

“Can we talk?” Impulse asked.

“For a bit, but I really gotta get to sleep.” Bdubs gestured for Impulse to follow him up the stairs. Impulse climbed in silence, just kind of looking at the back of Bdubs’ head and that stupid nightcap. He’d been putting off seeing Bdubs ever since he got back, and it was almost odd to see him like this, all normal and whole again.

“So, whatcha wanna talk about?” Bdubs gestured to a chair in the corner of his bedroom.

Impulse sat. “Well, about double life, honestly. It’s kinda weird to be back, isn’t it?”

“Kind of.” Bdubs sat on top of his bed. “I just got so much to do here, it’s more been a matter of oh yeah that happened anyways. You probably feel the same way, you little dwarf guy.”

“So you’re adjusting well then?” Impulse asked, wondering why he was talking like this, like Bdubs was a simple causal acquaintance.

“Oh yeah, it’s been the easiest adjustment yet.” Bdubs said. “Just keep thinking I’m gonna get phantom damage every once in a while, which is weird to get un-used to. What about you?”

Impulse played with his shirt. “Oh yeah, well, it’s been-”

“Why do you keep doing that?” Bdubs interrupted, mimicking Impulse’s hand on his chest. “What’s that about?”

“I- I don’t know. I guess its kind of involuntary, in a way. It’s where the axe was buried into me.” Impulse let out a long breath.

Bdubs frowned, kind of looking up towards the ceiling in deep thought. “What do you mean? Pearl killed me, she never touched you.”

Impulse’s hand rubbed quicker against his chest. “It was a weird and confusing fight, but, uh, you accidentally hit me with your axe instead of Pearl. My death message said you killed me.” Impulse pointed at his chest.

“Oh.” Bdubs frowned. “Dang. Really?”

“Yeah.” Impulse leaned forward slightly.

“Well, sounds about on brand for me, jeez lewis.” Bdubs laughed. “Impulse, we really were a couple of dunces, weren’t we? I can’t believe I killed you! Whoops! Lol.”

Impulse smiled, and it felt like paper folding into unpleasant shapes. “Yeah. Whoops.”

“Well, I’m glad you told me.” Bdubs shifted, getting under his blankets. “That sure is something huh? Now, Impulse, love ya to death and all that, but a beauty needs his beauty sleep. Do you mind blowing out the candles as you’re leaving?”

“Oh. Oh! Yeah, sure.” Impulse stood up, kind of thrown by the abrupt end of the conversation. He moved to the door as he’d been asked, blew out the candle, then stopped dead, turning back around. His mouth worked out several different phrases, none of which ended up leaving his throat. “It’s nice to see you again, Bdubs.”

“You too Impulse. We’ll have to go out for a horse ride sometime soon.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Impulse closed the door behind him and started down the stairs. He felt heavier then when he’d came in, somehow. He grasped as his chest as if he could stop the gaping hole from swallowing him whole.

It didn’t register with Impulse until he was at the ground floor of the monolith, perhaps too distracted before, but the racket Etho had been making had ceased at some point. And there was the man himself, leaning against the door leading down to the basement.

“Hi Etho.” Impulse tried to smile at him.

“Hey there, lover boy. Still got double life on the mind?” Etho’s voice almost held a chuckle in it, and something else Impulse couldn’t put a finger on.

“You called me that name in the games, Etho. I’m back to regular old Impulse again. The games are over.” Impulse told him.

“You sure about that? They don’t seem to quite be over for you just yet, lover boy.” Etho walked forward and gently, more gentle then Impulse had ever seen him, pulled Impulse’s hand away from his chest. It hurt. It all hurt.

[theminecraftbee]

“Is it orange?”

“Yes, strangely enough.”

Impulse looks between Scar and Pearl. The two of them are leaned forward intently at each other, as Pearl counts on her fingers how many questions Scar has left. (He has six.) To Impulse’s side, Mumbo is fretting, but has also calmed down from fretting enough to be sort of paying attention to the game of twenty questions. So, for that matter, is Grian, who isn’t wearing his helmet.

Honestly, Impulse might take his off too? They are kinda uncomfortable.

“Oh, I know. Is it halite?”

“...how on earth did you get that,” Pearl says.

“I was a rock kid,” Scar says, very confidently. “Wait, hold on. If you didn’t think I would get it, how did you come up with it?”

“Oh, I memorized a book about minerals once for a build.”

“Okay, that makes sense.”

“You’re both insane,” Impulse says cheerfully. Next to him, he hears Grian snort incredulously, which is probably a bit rude. Honestly. He’s never memorized a book about rocks for a build! Now, he won’t pretend he hasn’t done a few other - questionably sane - things for a build before, but memorize a book about minerals? He hasn’t gone that far before!

“Right then, that’s another point for Scar. How’d you get so good at twenty questions, anyhow?” asks Pearl.

“Oh, I’m not, I’m just very lucky,” says Scar.

“...alright,” says Pearl, very slowly. “Oh, um, Mumbo, if you want to play -”

“I have one,” Grian says. His voice is hoarse.

“Yeah, but it’s Mumbo’s turn,” Pearl says.

Mumbo looks at Grian. “No, no, let him go,” he says, after a moment.

“...alright,” Pearl says.

“Alright, Mumbo, you know how to start,” says Grian, intently. “You ask animal, vegetable, or -”

“Is it my mustache?”

There is a long pause.

“...you didn’t ask if it was an animal, vegetable, or mineral first,” Grian says, as Impulse shrugs, gives in, and unlatches his helmet. For all Grian’s voice is hoarse, that’s not the void, it’s just that Grian had been yelling earlier, and there’s not much to soothe the throat after yelling around here. He takes an almost pavlonian gulp of air in as he takes the helmet off. It does nothing, but he doesn’t feel like he’s choking? It’s more like he inhaled ice, except not enough to make him get a brain freeze or something, more like it chilled the entire inside of his lungs. Even though there probably isn’t air? He doesn’t really feel like he’s got to breathe, honestly, but...

“Fine,” Mumbo says. “Is my mustache an animal, vegetable, or mineral?”

“...it’s an animal,” mumbles Grian.

“Hm. Okay, I guess I see it,” says Mumbo. “Makes more sense than the other two. Anyway, that’s a point for me. Can I still take my turn?”

“Yeah, go for it,” Pearl says.

“How are you remembering the scores?” Impulse finds himself asking.

“Well, I’m remembering it in the same place I memorized the rocks,” Pearl says.

“Oh, that makes sense,” Impulse says.

“Is it any wonder I snapped?” mutters Grian, who has clearly decided to go back to using humor to hide everything else like the rest of them. That’s probably for the best, Impulse thinks. Why, if he said exactly what he thought of everyone all the time, they’d probably have all killed each other by now, well before the cows can finish getting close enough to do it!

“Anyway. Impulse. I have one for you.”

“Okay! Animal, vegetable, or mineral?”

“Vegetable.”

“Oh, that’s the hard one. Alright...”

[whaleofatjme1920]

hiya!! i hope all is well with you 💞 i was wondering if we could possibly have a 1.5k words or less nsfw scenario where jeff pounces on his s/o desperate and whiny because he hasn’t touched them it what feels like so long? tysm 🥛🥛

The Anticipation

[Jeff the Killer X F!Reader]

[Warnings: NSFW, fingering - idk I just kinda teased you guys throughout this one ;}, if you are a minor, DNI]

He’s been giving you the puppy dog look for the better half of this week, which is extremely unusual for Jeff in his entirety. Little glances, soft sighs, just touches that are so much lighter than what he’s capable of? It confuses you.

You’ve been trying to pry it out from him, to see what it is for the time you are allowed, but time and time again you find yourself engrossed in your work. You haven’t really even been able to talk to him, let alone even see him recently. Work for the Slender Man seldom leaves you and Jeff time to see each other.

You finally get a night off with him and shoved your work onto Eyeless Jack, the tall man being more than willing to get a meal and for you to relax. You’re sitting on the sofa, just barely paying attention to the TV when you hear Jeff come downstairs to join you. His energy feels different, something sweeter and something different. You glance over your shoulder. “Hey, you feeling alright?” You ask.

He nods, slowly coming up to the back of the sofa and resting his hands on the back. “I’m fine, just focus on the TV,” he hums, voice saccharine and deep. He snakes his hands down to your shoulders, slowly rubbing, his fingers digging into your taught muscles. “How hard has he been working you?” He questions, blue eyes watching you with curiosity.

“Much too hard,” you sigh, falling deeper and deeper into your lover’s touch - and then he stops. You feel a pout cross onto your face before Jeff hops over the sofa’s back and next to you.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmurs, crawling over you on the sofa, blue eyes boring into you.

You raise a brow and almost giggle at how out of character this is for him before he cages you in further, strong arms acting as bars on either side of you.

“Please,” he murmurs, his knee gently placing itself between your legs. “Baby, let me take care of you and touch you.”

Your ears perk at how desperate he sounds. His face looks equally as needy, and it doesn’t go unnoticed that there’s a tent forming in his pants. When was the last time you and Jeff slept together? It couldn’t have been that long… You’re pulled from your thoughts when Jeff’s lips gently connect to yours, slightly chapped and they mold to you like nothing. You take in a sharp breath through your nose and kiss him back just as fervently, noticing how he has absolutely no patience this time.

Jeff situates himself between your legs, heart thumping in his chest before his hands begin to roam your body. He caresses your sides, thumbs rubbing into your soft, clothed flesh before nonverbally asking if he can take it off. He doesn’t want to let your lips go, but at the same time, he wants to feel you.

You giggle against him, pulling away and almost laughing at his hesitance as you pull your shirt over your head. “Do you want this off too?” You ask, eyes sparkling with something deeper and beginning to cloud over with lust.

Jeff nods, an almost pathetically needy expression painting onto his face before he opens his mouth. “Please, please,” he mumbles, hands once again palming your flesh. You’re so soft and smooth compared to his calloused fingers.

You grin and take off your bra, giggling as he takes off your pants and underwear leaving you naked beneath him. Your legs spread ever so slightly as Jeff’s index finger begins to trace your heat. The slick covers his fingers and a large grin pulls his lips upwards.

Blue eyes bore into you for but a moment before he takes his index and middle finger and slowly pushes them into your tight pussy. Inch by inch, he begins to thrust his fingers into you, making your breath hitch and a hand grip onto the cushions of the sofa. His thumb begins to work your clit, moving in small, soft circles. His other hand reaches up and begins to palm your chest, thumb rubbing over your sensitive nipples.

“Just a little more,” he hums, fingers thrusting and curling inside of you. His face looks so bright as he fingers fucks you, an expression of joy on his face as he does so. Jeff presses your pearl, listening as you mewl in response. “You like that?”

You peek one of your eyes open. “P-Please,” you huff out, hips bucking slightly to meet his hand as his fingers pick up pace. He’s building you so close to your edge, and it’s probably because you haven’t been touched like this in a while. It’s almost embarrassing, how fast you want to cum, but it feels so, so good. You take in sharper breaths as Jeff curls his fingers inside of you, hitting your g-spot and making you tense your thighs in response. “Jeff,” you breathe out, breath hitching when his hand leaves your chest to keep your legs spread apart for him.

Jeff chuckles deeply under his breath, your slick and arousal coating the sofa and pooling before he suddenly pulls out.

You pout. “Seriously?” You deadpan, attempting to entice him back into stuffing your pussy full of his fingers when he suddenly backs up, momentarily standing from the sofa to take off his pants. Your eyes look down at his erect cock, thick and veiny, practically pulsing and waiting to fill you. You bite your lip.

“Time to give you what you’re waiting for,” he hums, eyes lidded as he crawls back over you on the couch.

Your pussy is pulsing as he situates himself between you, the tip of his cock dragging against your slit and getting coated in your arousal.

Jeff hums deeply, his breath hot in your ear and his own cock throbbing with desire. “Take a deep breath, baby.” He thickly pushes in, setting your body on passionate fire.

[meosayo]

hiiii !! i was wondering if , when and if you have time , could you write some soft loving gentle kinda nsfw with childe/ajax ?

YES! Soft smut here you go, hope I did well on this one!💙

Constructive criticism and input welcome!

Pairing: Childe x afab reader, pronouns not mentioned.

NSFW Just vanilla! 💙

You laid up against Childe while flipping through a book you picked up from a stall in Liyue. You didn't know much about it and there was only one volume to take, so why not? It had a beautiful cover of the ocean, titled String of Pearls.

"What have you been looking at?"

Childe glanced down at the pages while twirling his finger in your hair.

"It's a play, they only had one part unfortunately but I got it anyway. A fisherman's daughter, Zixin, goes to a warf to sell her catches. Losing her pearl bracelet that I assume is very precious to her—"

You finished your explanation of what you've read and flipped the page again. Childe hummed.

"Do you want the rest?"

"Would be nice, this one is old so no telling if they are intact or not..."

"I see.'

He put his face in your hair and inhaled, wrapping his arms around your torso and pulling you against him as close as you could get.

"Can you put it down? I want to cuddle."

You huffed. You and him both know where your cuddle sessions lead up to. Every single time without fail, it's like there is no restraint when it comes to you too.

"Is it even really cuddling at this point?"

You ask with a smile, unable to really turn him down when he's like this. He nodded and moved his head down to rest in the crook of your neck leaving little kisses along the skin there.

"Let me love you, Love~"

He started placing kisses wherever he could reach— neck, shoulders, ears, cheeks, hair. Running his hands all up your thighs, sides, arms, and tummy. It had you feeling all warm and bubbly inside, laughing with the onslaught of affection. It definitely worked in his favor though since the thin book left your hands somewhere in the action.

"Ok ok, we can cuddle!"

And with that he stood up, lifting you off the couch with him and speed walking to your shared bedroom. Gently, he placed you on one side of the bed and crawled over you to get to the other side. It looked silly, and it got a little laugh out of you as he was going out of his way to not be apart for too long. He pulled you into his chest and luckily you were both already in comfortable clothing or you'd be laying here in your street clothes!

The innocent cuddling didn't really last long though. He was already slipping his hands under your shirt and up your back. His hands on your skin was comforting and you found yourself closing your eyes to just enjoy it! That also being short lived when one of his hands decided to run lower and give your ass a little squeeze.

"Ajax!"

You yelped in surprise and moved your face from his chest to look at him.

"What??? It's nice~"

He chuckled and rubbed at the curve of your lower back. You just looked at him, unimpressed.

"Aw I haven't seen you most of the day, let me touch you a little..."

His words moved into a whisper, lips coming down to trail up your neck and to your ear.

"I missed you, all I could think about was you today."

He kissed your cheek.

"I missed you too, you know? You always leave early in the day and I'm lucky if I see you again the same day."

You wrapped your arms around him and pressed your lips against his for a quick kiss.

"I know. So I'll make it up to you tonight..."

He kissed you again deeper this time and you easily allowed him to take over. He nudged you over on your back while he remained at your side, holding himself up on his elbow. Only pulling his lips away to take a breath and adjust his position before diving back in.

Your shirt was pushed up and bundled at your chest, exposing your beautiful breasts for his hand to explore on like many times before. Your skin was hot under his touch, rough hands playing around with your nipples. Rubbing, squeezing, tugging, anything to get a little reaction out of you. He found it so satisfying when your nipples hardened under his touch and made sure to give both of them equal attention.

His mouth finally left yours, leaving you both breathless while he worked his way to your neck. He didn't hesitate to start sucking, kissing, and biting the skin there and on your collar. Each tug and caress on your skin making you let out these soft, blissful breaths and moans, stirring him on more. He wanted to get your shoulders too but didn't want to undress you completely. There is something hot about having half naked sex!

When he finally pulled off of your neck, he went back to catch your lips in another heated kiss. Wouldn't be a surprise if your lips were swollen by the end of this, he just couldn't get enough of them. His hand left your chest, his warm fingers trailing down to rest on your tummy and rub slow soothing circles there.

As nice and sweet as the action was, it just made you anxious and wanting more of his touch. If he could just... just move a little further down.

As the thought came he pulled away from your lips.

"Can I touch you more?"

He asked softly and it left you speechless.

"You... You don't have to ask now, silly."

It made you laugh which had him smiling wide. He loves your laugh and your expressions.

"Haha! You can touch me all you like. You're supposed to be making it up to me, aren't you?"

"That is true~"

He chuckled at the reminder, his hand finally inching down and under the band of your loose shorts. It was so warm under that first layer, his fingers working slow circles over your clit. Your underwear kept him from touching you directly but it still coaxed a satisfied exhale and moan from you.

Not once did he look away from your face, taking in every expression and detail. The way your brows would crease, and the way lips would part to let out your lovely voice. The fluttering of your lashes. And even as you tried to not show it, the way you avoided looking at him out of embarrassment— it was obvious.

He didn't mind though, he thought you were so cute! He kissed your cheek and pulled his fingers away. They were damp from your juices soaking through the fabric of your underwear. You whined at the loss of stimulation which had him reassuring and kissing your face while he pulled your shorts down to your knees.

"Be patient, Love, I'm just taking these off."

And with that, he pushed down your underwear too. The shiny wet patch in the fabric was visible as he slid the items of clothes as far down as he could reach.

You kicked out of them the rest of the way and it wasn't long before his fingers slipped between your wet folds. Rubbing at your swelling clit directly felt way better than through clothes! Your lovely voice filled the room again and Childe soaked in every sound. Kissing your cheek, neck, and down to your breasts to take one of your hard nipples in his mouth.

You held the back of his head and your other hand gripped onto your shirt, keeping it bunched up at your chest. You could feel the all too familiar tingly sensations building up and spreading over your skin. With his pace and pressure on your clitoris, your orgasm was coming along fast. Your voice raising and words becoming just a little difficult to flow smoothly on your tongue. Your body tensing and trembeling. Much to his joy, Childe knew you were going to finish soon.

"Ahh, Ajax—!

"Go ahead, Love."

Childe lifted off your nipple for only a second, going back down to continue to stimulate your chest. His fingers never faltered their pace, letting you ride out your orgasm and slowing to a stop as you started coming down from that high.

He wanted to make you cum again— maybe on his fingers— but the hard-on in his pants was starting to make waiting unbearable. He wanted to feel you quiver and shake under him with his dick buried in your tight hole. And with his thoughts, he pushed himself up to situate himself between your legs, dragging a pillow with him to place it under your hips.

"Ready for more?"

He asked, smiling down at you with his charming smile and loving gaze. His hands ran up and down your thighs, laughing at your dazed expression. It snapped you back, and you rolled your eyes at his amusement with a huff.

"Uh-huh."

With that, he pulled his shirt up and over his head. Throwing it to the side to deal with later. He took another moment to just look at you from this view, admiring the way you looked completely on display like this. His dick was twitching to come out of his restricting clothes now and he complied, tugging down the stretchy bands of his bottoms. He would take them off completely but that would be wasting time. He just wanted to be inside of your dripping cunt, now.

He aimed the head of his cock at your entrance and glanced up to watch your expressions. You were just as eager as he was but waited patiently till he started pushing himself inside. He held onto your hips as he slowly stretched your walls, his eyes going from your face to where you both connected. He wasn't sure where exactly he wanted to look. While it was so satisfying to watch himself disappear in your tight hole, he also got satisfaction from watching your face twist in pleasure as he went deeper.

Your breathing picked up as he seated himself inside of you completely. He couldn't help himself, leaning over your frame to catch your lips in another breathtaking kiss. One hand remained on your hip, the other arm came up and propped by your head. And after a moment of stillness and passionate kisses, he started moving his hips. Grinding into you before pulling and pushing himself back in. He swallowed every sound that came out of your mouth, quickly setting a steady pace for his thrusts. They were slow and sensual, he knew all the right places to hit while he rolled his hips into yours.

Your moans and whimpers were muffled between your lips, as were his moans, groans, and other sounds you both made in the moment. You both opted to breathe out of your noses till it was starting to become too much. Pulling apart to breathe through your mouths and allow your voices to spill out through the room.

"Hah— So tight..."

Childe breathed hot air into your ear making you flinch. Everything sounded and felt so good with all of your senses being overloaded. He was so close you wrapped your arms around his neck, breathing in his scent. Feeling his breath, his skin, with his firm and gentle thrusts. Wet skin sounding against eachother with every movement. You could feel your orgasm building up again. The way your pussy would clench and quiver around his cock was an obvious indicator if you weren't so vocal and expressive. He knew you were close, and with you gripping around him like that he wasn't going to last much longer himself. His hips were starting to shake and lose their rhythm as the pleasure kept building but he was focused. Determined to have you cumming around him first.

He took his hand off of your hip and move it between you two to rub stripes on your clit with his thumb. You cried out and held onto him tighter. The added sensation sending you over the edge quickly. Childe wasn't far behind with your cunt spasming and contracting around his cock. He was cumming almost immediately after you. His hips stilling and body trembling as he painted your insides white with his release.

You were holding on for dear life with your sweet shaky breaths. Once you started to calm down your hold on him slacked and you let your arms down to rest on the bed.

He pulled out and let himself lay on top of you, and with it came his whole weight. You whined,

"You're heavy!"

and you struggled against him with little success. He laughed, shifting some of his weight off of you and wrapping his arms around you back.

"Just a minute, I'll get us cleaned up."

You huffed and just nodded, letting him do as he pleased till he was satisfied. He littered your skin with kisses once he started moving around and eventually you both got cleaned up.

Fresh pajamas were put on, and you two actually got to cuddle each other to sleep... this time.

[spiciespencie]

Spencer being the camera man with you so he can have a video to watch while he's on a case and so you star following his instructions and fuck yourself, he's so turn on that he leaves the camera on the tripod, sits and he starts touching himself

hehehe i like this one ;)

CW: penetrative sex (toy), kinda voyeurism, fingering, cum play, masturbation (male and female), kissing, dom!spencer, sub!reader, a comment is made abt switch!spencer, making a porno? idk what to call it. *please let me know if i’ve missed anything*

spencer had been gone so frequently in the past few months. today, you planned on doing something special for him. you weren’t exactly sure what you should do, but that’s when he brought the solution to you.

“spence,” you piped in, stepping out of the bathroom once you had showered to peek at your boyfriend reading in a chair. “i was wondering something.”

“what would that something be?” he piped up, placing the book down on the nightstand.

“when you’re away on cases… what’s the hardest part about being away on cases?” you cringed at the wording.

“being away from you,” he answered within a heartbeat. “especially when we’re on a case where the hours are ridiculous. sometimes by the time i get to the hotel, you’re deep in sleep.”

“right…” you tried to think of some sort of solution that could stem from this issue. “what’s one of the hardest parts of being away from me?”

“what’s this about?” he chuckled as he walked closer to you, holding onto your elbows as if to stabilize you.

“i don’t know… you’ve just been gone a lot and i feel bad. i wanna do something special for you so being away wouldn’t be so tough,” you shrugged before spencer cupped your cheek and neck, bringing your lips to meet with his softly and tentatively.

“never,” he began once he pulled away, “has anyone loved me so much as to be so thoughtful. i love you beyond measure. so much so that i feel as though ‘i love you’ is too mundane a phrase,” he whispered with such sincerity it brought tears to your eyes.

“stop, i’m supposed to be displaying my love for you right now,” you shoved his shoulder playfully before giving him a hug.

“the sex,” he randomly stated. you pulled back and gave him a quizzical look. “the hardest part of being away from you, that there may be a solution for, is sex. i’m always thinking about you, and you make me horny… a lot.”

“well, doctor,” you trailed your hands to his shoulders, knowing calling him ‘doctor’ always got to him, “what is the remedy to this problem?”

and now, you were sitting naked on the bed, legs spread so spencer, and the camera, could see all of you very clearly.

you’re making a video for him for while he’s away. at least that way, he’ll still have a piece of you.

“run your hand down your body like i would, kitten, play with your tits,” he ordered, zooming the camera in to focus on only you.

“yes, doctor,” you ran your hands from your hair down to your breasts, playing with them and tweaking your nipples and massaging the pillowy flesh before trailing them down to your torso.

“now i want you to see how wet you are for me,” he added, biting his lower lip as he began to look through the camera.

you let your fingers wander between your legs, cupping your center before using your middle and ring finger to gather the wetness that’s accumulated from the way spencer had been eyeing you.

“look,” you presented your fingers to him and the camera before pressing them to your tongue and sucking all of your juices off of them. “you sure you don’t want me to relieve some of that pressure?” you eyed his obvious bulge, not like he was trying to hide it.

“i’ve got it covered, my love,” he began palming himself over his pants, his breathing becoming a bit heavier but not doing anything more; this video was all about you. “pick up the toy, suck on it like you would my dick.”

you reached onto your nightstand and grabbed the dildo he has bought you, one relatively similar in size to him that was a lavender color. you opened your mouth and hit it against your tongue how spencer would often do before allowing you to take the reigns.

once you wrapped your lips around it, you would shift eye contact between spencer and the camera, not knowing which one you wanted to look at more. you opted for the camera, that way at least future spencer could look in your eyes as he would work himself to that high you would miss witnessing. you began exaggerating everything for the sake of the camera, shoving the silicone down your throat and gagging on it, allowing your saliva to drip down to your chest, your tears staining your cheeks. it was exactly as if spencer were doing this.

although he wasn’t, it would never be that good.

“fuck, y/n,” he whispered loud enough for you to hear, acting as if the microphone wouldn’t be able to pick up the sound. “are you ready for it? or do you need to get yourself ready first?”

“can’t you do it for me?” you pleaded. “you do it so much better, make me feel so good,” even whipping out the old puppy dog eyes didn’t work.

“answer the fucking question,” he reasoned with. “are you ready for it or not?”

“i-i’m ready now,” you bit your lower lip as you swallowed thickly.

“good girl,” he grinned. “now i want you to slowly push it in.”

you listened exactly. spreading your legs even wider and planting your feet on the bed, you put the fake dick at your entrance and slowly let the head enter you. your breathing picked up slightly the deeper the toy got inside of you. by the time it was all the way inside, you were nearly out of breath.

“fuck yourself with it,” he ordered, beginning to rub himself a bit more than before. “slowly, and play with your tits too, like i would.”

pushing the toy in and out of you slower than you would’ve liked, purposefully teasing yourself, you trailed your free hand up to cup your breast. you began to knead the mound, occasionally paying special attention to your nipples like spencer would. although, you wish he would’ve taken it in his mouth then and there. he did everything better. it’s like he knew your body better than you, which was decently plausible.

“spen-spencer,” you moaned out, silently pleading him to fake mercy on you.

“faster,” he pulled himself out of his slacks now, his breathing becoming subtle moans as yours were radiating in the room.

“fuck, please,” you didn’t know what you needed, but you needed something else, something more.

“shit,” he groaned, his head falling back for the briefest of seconds. “clit,” he breathed out, “rub your clit.”

“oh my god,” you used your fingers to find the sensitive pearl and began playing with it.

it had been so long since you had done this yourself, spencer always insisted on doing it for you and when you were away, he didn’t want you to touch yourself or cum without him. he was a rather possessive dom - although you were bound to prove he was a switch somehow, but that’s for another time.

“i’m so close,” you threw your own head back. “i need you spencer! please, god!” you let the tears that were welling in your eyes overflow, hoping the man would take pity on you.

“keep going. don’t fucking stop,” he commanded as he worked himself closer to the edge.

“please!” you cried out. “let me taste you, please! cum in my mouth!” you begged him, losing all dignity and self respect for the genius across the room. “spencer! fuck-please! i need you so fucking bad!”

“cum, my love,” he chuckled as he saw your legs trembling, your knees closing in on nothing and your hands ceasing their movements as you came down. the whole time he was working himself to his own high, his cum covering his stomach after watching your spectacular performance. “wanna clean up for me?”

you eagerly nodded and removed the toy from inside, wincing slightly from the stimulation before padding across the room with weak legs and kneeling below him. he grasped your hands and it them on his knees, giving you permission to touch him. you smiled before you extended your body, bringing your tongue to his stomach and licking up all of his cum. perhaps you sucked a few marks whilst doing so… but what could you say? you loved the man, and he’s yours.

“so good for me, my love, y’know that?” you shook your head ‘no’ so he would go on. “i think you do,” you smirked at his words. “cleaning up my own mess after starring in a video for me? you’re too good for me, love.”

“never,” you interrupted as he helped you to your feet. “you deserve the best, and i can only try and provide a fraction of that for you.”

[donutloverxo]

Would you rather go dancing with

40s!Steve

Or

Endgame!Steve

Girl.... why you do this to me😭😭😭😭

Endgame Steve has that existential crisis that is attractive in its own way... but then 40s!Steve looks so cute and gull of life😭😭

Let's pick 40s!Steve!

You're dresses up in nines. A red pinaform that flares at your waist with small white polka dots. Your hair done and all pinned nicely and you're wearing a bright red lip. You couldn't believe how big Stevie had gotten after the serum. Although you always had sort of a crush on him, now his big stature and muscles made you feel tingly and all blushy.

You never thought you had a thing for men in uniform, but seeing Steve in your door, wearing his uniform and looking damn good in it - you thought you'd marry him right then and there.

He gives your a bouquet of daisies, telling you how beautiful you look. You kiss him on his cheek to thank him. Even in your heels he was now much taller than you so you had to lean up on your toes to do so. It was worth it to see the slight blush on his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

He promised your father to have you back home by 10. You mentally cursed him for that, throwing him an annoyed look, you were hoping to ask him to pop your cherry tonight.

He kept you on your feet all night. With the serum he had better rhythm because this time he wasn't stepping on your toes. It was fun when he spun you around again and again, but it was much better when he just looked into your eyes as you both slow danced.

Your whole face heated up as he introduced you as 'his girl' to all his friends. He was proud to have you on his arm and so were you to be his now.

"So, here we are," you sighed, it wasn't even 9:30 and you were already parked right in front of your home!

He laced his fingers with yours, bringing your hand up to his mouth and kissing your knuckles, "I had a really nice time, doll."

"Mm-hm." He was out there calling you his girl while he hadn't so much as kissed you yet!

"Did I do something wrong?" he frowned, looking at you with his big doe eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm new to this."

"No Stevie, you didn't... well maybe in a way. I was... kinda hoping we'd go back to your place tonight," you confessed.

"Oh," he let out. "I... I can't do that without asking your father for your hand, doll. In fact, we won't be doing that before we're married. I plan on treating you like a lady."

To which you frowned, "So I don't get to have any say in it? You did treat me like a lady Steve. Now I..." Now you really really wanted to ride his dick and see what he has under that suit.

"What?"

"Nothing." You rolled your eyes and got out of the car.

Even your parents were surprised to see you back home so soon. You went straight up to your room, working on taking your dress off. You gasped when you heard something break. You were about to call for help when you saw...

A 6 foot something super soldier trying to climb in to your room through your window.

"Stevie... what are you doing here? You could've just used the door you know."

"Oh I..." he groaned struggling a little but then standing up right, your room now seemed a bit too small for him, old him would've never been able to climb up your window, "I want to stay in your parents good graces."

"And what is so important that it couldn't wait till the morning?" you asked folding your hands over your chest.

"Well, you see I... I just wanted to end on a good note... and I've always wanted to ask you something."

"What is it?"

"Can I..." he cleared his throat, "Can I eat your pu - pussy."

"What?!" You gasped, hands over your mouth, "Steven! Just a few minutes ago you were talking about treating me like a lady!"

"Please? It's something I've always wanted to do," He just never had enough courage to ask you before.

He looked up at you with those damn puppy eyes again. "I... fine. But you can't tell anyone about it."

"I promise I won't."

He kissed you deeply before asking you to lay down on your bed. It was everything you would want a first kiss to be. Gentle, firm and so passionate.

You propped yourself up on your elbows to look at what Steve was doing. He took your stockings off one by one, followed by your panties, pushing your thighs apart he stared at your most intimate and sacred place.

You had never so much as properly kissed a man. You wondered if Steve had done things with other women when he was away for the war. You were tempted to ask him, but you didn't have a right to. He wasn't bound to you, if he wanted to be with other women he could. But you still hoped that he hadn't.

"Oh," you gasped as his fingers touched your clit.

"Are you okay?" he looked up at you.

"Yes... fine just sensitive."

His hands were shaky, he was unsure, Bucky had given him some advice and what he lacked for in experience, he planned on making up for in determination.

He wrapped his mouth around your pearl, suckling it into his mouth, he pushed the muscle of his tongue in your opening, which judging by the restrained scream you let out, you probably liked. He kept at his movements, holding onto your hips to keep you from squirming too much, not letting up till you were gushing, and he made sure to lap everything up.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, "How was that, sweetheart?"

"Yes, um... oh gosh..."

You were speechless. You thought that you had had orgasms before, by yourself, with just your fingers or a pillow, but this, this was something else. Your head was still foggy and cloudy.

All you knew was that you wanted more.

You panicked a little when Steve kissed your lips, making you taste your essence, and said goodbye.

"No! Wait! Where are you going?" you scrambled to sit back up.

"I've got to get going or we'll get caught."

"Aren't you... gonna make love to me?" You didn't know what it felt like to have a cock in your cunt, but you knew you wanted his inside you right now. So much so that it almost hurt.

"No. Trust me, I want to but I intend to marry you, to give you my name, before I properly make you mine."

"But that'll take so long!"

"It won't. Just give me some time."

He felt terrible leaving you unsatisfied and wanting for more like that. But he needed time to find the perfect ring for you.

[steviespanties]

I have a whore knee thought but I’m afraid to write it myself so I thought I’d send it here, if it catches your fancy. Love your work!

Omega!Steve always had a hard time getting turned on when he was with other alphas. His body just wasn’t into it, but with Billy he’s always ridiculously wet and ready. Everything about his alpha—Billy’s scent, his command, his fervor—keeps Steve loose and pliant.

sdfGHJ I LOVEE it!!!!!!!😍💗💗💗😳 Thank you for sharing this with me, it’s *chefs kiss* amazing!! (1,5k words. omegaverse smut, obviously. vague descriptions of unsatisfying drunk - but consensual- sex. pants being ruined. something something fated pairs. sorry for the lack of editing!!)

So, Steve’s a horny guy, okay? Always has been and has never made a secret of it. His friends know. Most of the school knows. Sure, he’ll pretend for his parents that he’s a good ol’ Christian boy who goes to church every Sunday and totally doesn’t sneak out to parties to get dicked down by eager alphas any other day of the week. It’s just also always been frustrating. 

His selection in Hawkins leaves much to be desired, with smug alphas who think just having a knot makes them God’s gift to humanity and simply whipping their dicks out will get Steve gushing wet immediately. They’re lucky his libido overrules his endless disappointment. No time spent on working him up, alcohol dulling his senses to make the ache he feels less uncomfortable. It’s not bad. It’s not really good, either. 

There’s an itch underneath his skin, a formless desire for more that never takes shape no matter how often he tries. He’s a spring coiled tight and no matter who he lets between his legs, he can’t bring himself to unwind. He lets fucking Brody from the baseball team plow him into the guest bed at a post-game party and even the tiny sparks of pleasure brushing his insides can’t make his back muscles unclench or his hole more wet. There’s just pathetic grunts coming from above him. The sting of a hand slapping against his asscheek and a huffed “make some noise, will ya?”

Yeah, no. He gets up instead. Ignores Brody’s halfhearted protests as he tugs up his pants and throws him an icy glare that makes the guy sputter and shut up. Pathetic.

It takes time, he thinks. Time to get him loose and trusting. Effort, too, to make him want to bow his back and present himself. Steve hates to sound like his mom, but when he jerks off later that night with a hand around his dick and three fingers in his wet hole, imagining a formless someone to sweep in and fill him up, he thinks ‘there’s just no quality alphas in this town’.

And then Billy Hargrove rolls into Hawkins, stinking of cigarette smoke, fucking Aqua Net and perfume and underneath it all? Jesus fucking Christ. A cloud of pheromones so strong and fragrant, it makes Steve drool a little just from catching a whiff of it in the hallways. They haven’t even talked yet and he already feels a hook in him. Right next to that itch. Closer than ever before to scratching it. He wants, more than he has ever wanted before, to get this guy’s scent on his skin. Wants to drip with the guy’s come.  And, to his massive surprise, underneath that raging storm of pure instinctual lust, there’s simply interest. He feels like a dog with his ears perked up and his snout in the wind. He’s on the chase.

If Steve has learned one thing, though, is that if he really, desperately wants something, he has to pursue it carefully. And nothing is more of a siren-song to alphas than an interested, yet reserved omega. So he’s not among the welcoming committee of fawning followers at Billy’s heels. He counts on them to fill the guy in on all the gossip. Walks by close enough in the hallway to get a whiff of Steve walking by. Feels those ocean blue eyes burning holes into the back of his head by the end of the day, just like he anticipated. Of course, it blows in his face within hours.

He’s not even properly buzzed at Tina’s Halloween party, too busy to keep Nancy away from getting shitfaced while they wait for Jonathan to pick her up. He swallows his frustration. This was supposed to be his opportunity to leave a lasting impression and instead he’s stuck babysitting his ex because she can’t hold her liquor.

And then he sees him. He takes one look at Billy Hargrove and even from across the room, clearly stalking towards him through a crowd of dancing people Steve can tell: The guy is trouble. 

In his periphery, he registers Jonathan swooping in and dragging Nancy off. Registers the cheers of people around them. Hears through the pulsing music “Harrington, right?” and his mouth says “Steve, actually.”

Hargrove leans forward. Close. Closer. Right into his space, stinking of beer and smoke and that irresistible hook underneath that pulls Steve’s body over a precipice he knows he’s crossed when he watches Billy’s pupils blow up and his chest move in the most unsubtle scenting he’s ever seen.

A heavy arm wraps around Steve’s shoulder and with a decisive pull, he’s flush against the warm, firm side of- “Billy,” is purred into his ear. Breath on his sensitive skin that makes him shudder and warmth pool in his belly. His arm winds around Billy’s waist and he realizes in that moment that any resemblance of a plan has flown out of the window. He’s putty.

“I’ve already heard so much about you,” Billy grins. There’s a wild edge to his smile. A mischievous spark in his voice and eyes that sinks the hook even deeper. Steve can’t help but smile back.

“Of course you have.” As they talk, Billy steers him through a room filled with eyes glued to their every move. It’s a familiar feeling- being the center of attention, even when people desperately try to play it cool. Letting the curiosity and jealousy pearl off his skin like drops of water, an entire audience to Steve being felt up and led around and held close throughout the evening with no resistance from him.

He’s just hungry. Watches Billy drink beer from a can and lick his lips with a pink tongue. Feels Billy’s hands firmly grip his hips as they dance and his eyes on Steve’s as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind his ear. It’s impossible to escape Billy’s scent, growing stronger the more he sweats. Becoming overwhelming when he tucks that strand of hair behind Steve’s ear for him and brushes his scent gland in such a deliberately soft motion it makes that pool of warmth in Steve’s belly transform into molten heat and a shocking pulse of slick. Right in his pants.

Billy’s eyes are wide, expression stunned. This isn’t how it normally goes, Steve wants to tell him through his embarrassment. Breathes more of Billy in and hears “Let’s get out of here” instead of a leer or an insult.

Steve knows he’s easy, okay? He’s been searching for someone in this town to make it worth his while and it’s been a disappointing search so far. So even when Billy pushes him into the backseat of his car, tugs his pants down and peels Steve’s soaked briefs off his legs, he still wonders if this will be a fluke. Right up until Billy’s heavy body covers him and their lips and tongues meet in a slick, delicious glide and his hole pulses slick right onto the car seat.

Before he can even settle into pure mortification, there’s that purr again. “Holy shit,” Billy says. Wondering. Delighted. A gloved hand glides over Steve’s skin. Up the inside of his thigh, to his hole where he’s more sensitive and swollen and wet than he’s ever been before for an alpha. Steve gasps. “Open your legs,” he’s told. And he does. Gets an appreciative “Just like that” in return that makes his arms break out into goosebumps.

Maybe it doesn’t take time at all, he thinks dazedly as he watches Billy pull off his gloves and glide a finger into his pulsing hole with such confidence and ease, it makes Steve moan immediately. Maybe all it takes is an alpha with a California tan and a wicked laugh that makes Steve want to smile along. The kinda guy who drags him around a party and never lets him go, who can’t stop petting Steve’s side and his hair.

And maybe, he thinks deliriously as sweat rolls down his back and the slick glide of Billy’s cock has turned into loud squelching on every powerful thrust that makes Steve gush onto the seats, maybe it does take trust. Because Billy looks at him. He scents Steve like he can’t help it, leans down to steal breathless kisses between moans like he needs every bit of contact just as desperately as Steve does.

‘He has freckles,’ Steve thinks incoherently as his dick twitches in Billy’s grip. Once, twice. Another time, right as Billy’s knot catches, locks them together in perfect pressure and everything falls apart in white-hot pleasure that spills over Steve’s body and out of him in ropes of come over his belly.  Billy bends forward when he comes. Like he can’t get close enough even when they’re locked together, a twitching, moaning weight on top of Steve’s fucked out body.

They bask in the afterglow for a long time. Steve pets Billy’s head, curls turned soft from a night of constant movement and sweat. There’s no need to get off this ride. Not when that itch has finally been scratched and one look at Billy’s blissed out face tells him that the hook he’s felt under his own skin has worked itself under Billy’s as well.

[redwinterroses]

Had an idea for a fic I’m never going to write. So Empires SMP has a bad ending for the rulers, and Gem and Pearl decide to move on without their memories and end up in Hermitcraft. They’re at peace but weighed down by something they don’t know. And then Gem sees Fwip. Maximum angst potential of either her remembering everything right then or remembering nothing and Fwip trying to convince her they know each other. “Do I know you?”’s are always heartbreaking

You did this to me. XD

Disclaimers: I don't know how to write fWhip yet, so he's prolly at least a little OCC. Also, we're gonna pretend that timelines are ours to do as we please with, and say that Empires has ended several months prior to MCC17. Just. Because. Wibbly-wobbly.

Anyway here, have some Whizbang sibs content. :D

____________________

Sometimes it was little things. Sometimes the little things didn’t feel so… little.

Like when Gem held the Tegg in her hands, the void-dark shell rough and cold under her fingers, and was unsettled by how… lifeless it felt. It would hatch if put in the right circumstances, she knew, the egg wasn’t dead. But something in her heart quickened with undefined panic at the idea that it might not hatch, and something else… mourned? That she couldn’t feel the life inside?

She shook her head and set the egg down with hands that only trembled a little.

She knew why these phantom feelings were chasing her heart, she just didn’t know what lay underneath that foggy surface of hidden memories.

And she didn’t want to.

They’d agreed.

So she hid the Tegg, and she laughed when it was found, and the idea that there ought to be anything more to a dragon’s egg slowly faded into the back of her mind, gathering dust on the shelves of other forgotten things.

Sometimes it was the big things. Things that shouldn’t have seemed so inconsequential.

Like when she fell while mining and died with her items scattered across the bottom of a ravine, and she woke with a gasp in her own bed.

And when it happened again, on a day when she missed seeing a creeper until too late. And again, falling from the top of her build. And death just… didn’t matter much. Or enough. Or at all. It felt like it should matter, somehow — she knew it didn’t, she knew respawn was waiting, she knew there were no real consequences in this world for death.

And yet on some level each respawn felt like a failure. Her bones ached with the sense that she’d missed something, some detail that would have saved them all—

But they didn’t need saving. The hermits were fine. It was fine. This wasn’t a defeat, or a loss, or a reason for an ally to potentially lose something as well, or for an enemy to claim victory over you. There were no enemies here. No allies, either, really. They were all friends.

It was fine.

And with each respawn, it hurt a little less, and felt a little bit more like freedom.

~*~

The MCC lobby was brilliantly-colored and smelled of junk food, hot concrete, and salty wind from the sea that swirled somewhere miles below them. fWhip took in a deep breath and his face split into a grin — a grin that had been a little… lacking, recently. He’d done a lot to distance himself from the darkness they’d fled, but…

Well. A day playing insane games with friends and strangers alike would be just the thing. A much-needed break.

He paced back and forth just inside the main gates, watching the other competitors bounce around and shout back and forth — insults, greetings, questions, challenges — it was a cacophony of noise and color, and its sandpaper-rough edges of chaos smoothed away another layer of the angry burrs in his mind.

He caught a glimpse of something bright green through the crowd, and stood on tiptoe to see — yes! Another one of his teammates, finally heading over to their agreed meeting point. He lost them in the crowd for a moment, but then saw the ginger hair (so much like his own) and a smiling face beneath small, dainty antlers.

Gem.

He didn’t expect the dagger of pain that went through him at the sight of her face, nor that the way her eyes lit up when she spotted him would sooth away some of that same pain.

“Gem!” he shouted. “Hey — over here!”

She waved, and dodged a gaggle of cyan- and red-clad players shoving each other goodnaturedly across the courtyard.

“Hey, fWhip!” she called as she neared him. She looked… happy, he thought. He didn’t see the shadows under her eyes that he’d expected, and she was freckled and tanned instead of the pale, cloaked figure he remembered.

“Hermitcraft’s been good to you,” he said, grabbing her in a one-armed shoulder hug.

To his surprise, she tensed a little — as if surprised — before returning the hug.

“Yeah, yeah,” she agreed. “The hermits are great.” Then, stepping back, she tilted her head at him. “So — long time, no see. What’ve you been up to?”

He shrugged, leaning back against the bright-red concrete wall. “Oh. You know. Lots of building, some exploring… been thinkin’ about checking out one of those new snapshots people are talking about.” He examined her. “You, ah… heard from any of the others lately?”

Something like a shadow chased across her face, but Gem gave him a slightly confused smile. “The others?”

“Scott, or Sausage, or Katherine…” There was no comprehension in her expression, and fWhip’s heart constricted. “I mean, you haven’t even messaged me in months.”

“I… I didn’t realize I should have…?” Gem crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing at her upper arm as if she’d gotten a chill. “I mean, we haven’t chatted much since XLife — I was glad to see a familiar face for my first MCC, but it’s not like we’re… ya know. Besties or anything — no offense, of course.”

If she’d tossed him off the edge of the lobby island into the void, it might have shocked him less.

“Gem, I—” he shook his head. “You were my… I was your brother? I know that’s not the same as ‘besties’ but… that kinda hurts, I won’t lie.”

Now she did go pale. And still.

“I…” she stopped, her voice dying away amidst the chaos. “fWhip, I don’t… know what you’re talking about.”

fWhip froze. “You what?” He stepped forward and gripped her by the shoulders. “Gem, are you okay? Did they — did the hermits do something to you?”

“What? No — don’t be ridiculous.” She tugged out of his grasp but didn’t move away. “The hermits are amazing and would never do anything to hurt me. Not like—” Gem’s eyes snapped up to lock on his, and she frowned, distressed. “fWhip… what’s going on?”

She’d forgotten. He didn’t know how — repressing the trauma? Magic? Knowing Gem, it was probably the latter… because of the former.

“We — Empires,” he said, fumbling for words. “You and I were allies. Siblings, even. And there was a demon, and the dragon egg—”

Gem grabbed his arm. “The egg!” she exclaimed. “I knew there was something—”

He could see the moment she remembered. And then the moment she chose not to.

“There’s something sad there,” she said, her voice nearly lost in the noise of the crowd. Her gaze flicked back and forth between his eyes, pleading. “Something… lost. And I don’t want to be lost, fWhip.”

He started to argue with her, and then paused.

What good did remembering do any of them? What good had it done him? What was the point of the sleepless nights, wondering what he could have done differently? The nightmares where he relived every mistake and had to watch their failures and defeat over and over again? The fact that he still shied away from shadows, and that the MCC world was the safest he’d felt in months?

“No,” he said slowly, even though it felt like he was letting a piece of himself slip away. He’d missed having a sister. But what were brothers for, if not for things like this? “No, you don’t need to be lost, Gem. If you ever want to come back, I’ll be here but… it’s okay if it’s not today. Or—” he swallowed, but pushed the words out anyway. “Or ever.”

A glint of something that could have been gratitude or could have been a tear glittered in her gaze for just a moment — and then there were other voices, and the boisterous greeting of Jimmy and Quig, and they stepped apart, each plastering a grin on their faces to welcome their teammates.

fWhip couldn’t help but glance at Gem as she greeted Jimmy, but there was no recognition of the Codfather on her face, and Jimmy, he knew, was content to let the past lie. It didn’t take away the sting of loss — or the slight bitterness that tanged in the back of his throat, that Gem could forget and move on, and he… he couldn’t. Not yet.

But she seemed happy. Wasn’t that enough?

It could be. For now. For today.

A voice over the PA system urged them to head into the starting area, and fWhip followed his team up the path, merging with the other players. He almost didn’t notice Gem slipping her hand into his, until she squeezed it gently.

He looked down at her, and she offered him a smile.

“We’ll talk later, maybe?” she said.

It was a start.

“Sure,” he said. “But first, we gotta win this thing. Grab you a win for your first MCC, right?”

Gem laughed. “Sure, wFhip,” she said. “Sure.”

[sourholland]

hiii, can i request a blurb for a timothée x reader where music is kinda of something like special to their relationship so they’re just talking about music and how similar their music taste is and how beautiful music can be? lmao im a literal musician so i’ve been daydreaming abt that for a while

blurbs & drabbles night

First dates are always the most stressful.

This seemed especially true when they were with big time actors who you’d only met by chance in a coffee shop off a corner in Manhattan. You hadn’t recognized him through his hood and baseball cap, but as soon as he’d complimented your Nirvana t-shirt and offered to buy your coffee, how could you not?

The conversation lasted quite a while, and he was modest as well. He’d introduced himself as any other guy would, said his name was Timmy and that he really enjoyed Nirvana as well and liked your style. If you hadn’t been internally screaming before, his asking for your phone number only added to the carefully contained meltdown you were having on the inside.

You then went on to spend two hours that night rightfully stalking all of his socials. He texted a bit later while you were making pasta and jumping around the kitchen to Pearl Jam. It was a couple lines about how he wanted to wait a few more hours so he didn’t look desperate, but that he had some free time later the following week and wanted to ask if you’d like to go out with him.

With wide eyes, you willed yourself to wait at least five minutes before responding so you didn’t come off like you were waiting for his text. Once you responded with a quick ‘of course,’ he asked where you lived. Turns out, your dorm wasn’t too far from where he was taking you, which he’d explained was a small record store he’d been going to since he was in high school.

Now, you were both walking down the bustling sidewalk, hands brushing every few seconds. He explained how difficult it was for him to get out without being photographed, and that he was sorry if paps started following you guys. However, you both made it to the small, hole-in-the-wall little shop with ease.

The little bell jingled as soon as you stepped in, and an orange cat came out from behind the counter. It was one of those old looking cats with smooshed faced, it reminded you of the one from Harry Potter. The store owner seemed to smirk at Timothée, eyes darting from you to him.

“Bring all your dates here?” You teased, letting him pull you up the small, cluttered staircase.

“I’m hurt,” he joked, hand over his heart. “Actually, I’ve never brought anyone in here before.”

This may have inflated your ego a bit too much, face heating at his words. He brought you to a small little area, there was a couch that looked like it came straight out of the 1970’s and shelves lined with records. He thumbed a few of the vinyls, seemingly trying to choose the perfect one.

“You seem like a Billy Joel fan,” he observed.

“Who the hell isn’t?” You laughed, “when I was seven, my mom put me in piano lessons and all I would play was Billy Joel.”

“I play piano—I mean, I’m not amazing, but I can play. I did a movie a few years ago, I had to learn how to play for it,” he spoke.

He hadn’t talked much of his fame, or the fact that he was a big shot movie star with millions of people fawning over him. It seemed like he was trying to be humble, but you were curious about his career. Maybe he saves that for third dates, you thought to yourself sarcastically.

You leaned over him, looking through the section he was gazing at. He flustered easily, a visible redness spreading through his cheeks. You grinned a bit, watching him pull the record out of the sleeve and place it down. He moved the needle onto the vinyl with ease, sinking down to the floor and pulling his knees to his chest.

Vienna played lowly, a classic that you loved all too much. He noticed this, taking the opportunity to look at you a bit closer. The sweet silence made you wonder if he really hadn’t ever brought another person here.

“Music has always been a passion of mine, it’s like—I don’t know, it’s like everything in music just seems to come together and make sense. I just feel weirdly connected to it,” you rambled. “I probably make no sense, but hopefully you get a little bit of what I mean.”

“No—no, I completely agree. There’s just something about good music, I think I really got to broadening my taste later in high school. I totally see what you’re saying, it just sort of means something more than words can sometimes.”

[lunaekalenda]

Hello! I hope it's okay to send another request, I always feels insecure about sending too much 😭 Anyway this is kinda weird so feel free to change anything that you don't like!

So, you know that the ackermans have that special person that they form a bond and always follows and protects them, right?

So what if Levi discovers that before the reader join the corps she used to live with Kenny (not romantically) and she's his host until for some reason they had to split up?

Thank you!

ofc! i hope you like it! <3 sorry for all the waiting hun! i hope i didn’t mess up your idea :’)

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

❁ canon violence, non-canon events

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

“Stronger!” Levi commands you. You hit the practice mannequin harder, your knee finding its abdomen. Levi looks closely. He knows that way of fighting. He knows it too well. Analyzing every movement you do, every punch and every kick. 

“Where are you from?” he asks. You stop hitting the mannequin to look at your captain. Sweat pearls run down your neck and your chest raises up and down fast. He handles you a bottle with water. You drink.

“From the Underground, sir. Mitras’ Underground.” Levi nods. He supposed that. As well as he supposed who taught you to fight.

“You learned there?” He asks. You nod, drinking a little bit more. He looks how your lips part from the bottle. "Who taught you?"

"Kenny the Ripper." you say. That's how he was known on the Underground. Levi nods.

“Do you mind if we drink a cup of tea while you explain me how did you met Kenny?”

After you took a shower and reunited with Levi near his dorm, he invited you to enter to the living room, where two cups were waiting to be filled with hot tea. You whispered “thanks” when Levi served you. 

“Why do you know Kenny?” he asks. You take a sip of the tea before answering. 

“He found me on a street, about to die of hunger.”

Someone steps on the piece of bread you were about to eat, leaving it smashed and full of dirt. You’re only six years, and you have been living like this all your life. Trying to get some bread from yesterday, some burnt pieces of meat people doesn’t want to eat. A tall and slim man stands in front of you. His hands give you a little bun. You look up at him: he’s wearing a hat and has two guns on each side of the hips. He gets on his knees. 

“Are you okay? Where’s your mom?” he asks. You take a bite of the bun, so warm and soft. 

“Mom died.”

Levi nods while he plays with the cup, his index touching the handle. Levi’s brows get frowned. Why the hell would Kenny Ackerman help a child?

“Continue, please.”

“He gave me something to eat and then let me sleep on his house.”

The tall man walked in front of you. Even when he looks kinda old, he kept walking fast, your tiny little legs couldn’t follow his rhythm. He looked back and found you bitting the bun. 

“Come on, buddy.” he said, rushing you. You followed him as fast as you could, avoiding crashing with the people. He opened a door and let you inside. “This is your new room. It was my nephew’s...” You crawled into the bed, the softest thing you’ve ever touched. With the bun in your mouth, you tried to put your head on the pillow. “Uh- you’re going to choke! Put your head up while you eat, you little one!”

“I slept on his nephew’s room all the years I lived there, but never met him.” you say. Levi sighs before drinking a little. “He taught me how to fight, since a lot of guys wanted to get my food.”

The first day you went out to the market alone, you came back without food and without money. You were ten and some older guys kicked you and took all your things. Kenny asked why you were crying. 

“Tha-that guys stole my things. The purse mommy gave me .” Kenny took a tissue and helped you to get rid of tears. He went out and came back later, when you where more calm, lying on the bed. He gave you your purse, empty but safe. “You found the bad guys?” Kenny nodded and sighed, taking his hat out. “You’re like a hero! You know how to fight?” Kenny looked at you and smiled a bit, before getting closer and make your hair a mess. “I know, buddy. And I’m going to teach you.”

Levi takes another sip, remaining silent. Kenny wasn’t a fan of children. He took care of Levi because he was his nephew, but you were just a random kid on his way. Why would he help you. Maybe he missed Levi and needed another child to take care of?

“So, you learned from him.” you nod. “How many years you lived there?”

“Since six to sixteen.” you answer. “Ten years in total.”

You entered home. You heard about the Scouts Captain, the one that is humanity’s stronger soldier. You didn’t know how amazing he was until you saw him. You went to Mitras to have a couple pieces of fruit, and an attack suddenly exploded in the center of the city. A black-haired man appeared, swinging from one building to another. That was the moment you decided to join the corps. 

“Kenny!” you found him eating on the kitchen, his hat in the chair next to him.

“What’s up, bud?” he asks.

“Today I saw the strongest soldier! I want to be like him! I’m going to join the Survey Corps!”

Kenny’s gaze got lower. His nephew is considered humanity’s stronger soldier alive. He’s now your example to follow?

“Good decision, buddy. Go there and kick that old man in the ass.”

“Why did you join the Survey Corps?” he asks. You look to the ceiling, You didn’t want to tell Levi that you joined because of him. But, after all, it’s the truth.

“I saw you. On Mitras. I was amazed by you, I wanted to be like you. That’s why I joined.”

He looks surprised, but he clears his throat and moves to another thing.

“When you entered the military, you weren’t prepared.”

“That’s because Kenny always protected me like a father.”

Kenny kneeled in front of you, cleaning your wound with water. You frote your eyes with your hands, taking the tears away.

“You should kick them back.” He said. He clicked his tongue and kept healing you. 

“But you were there to help me.”

“I know, buddy. But, someday, I won’t be here. I won’t last forever, you know? And I’m not that young...”

“B-but, Kenny, if you leave, who is going to protect me?” you asked, feeling how tears came back to your eyes.

“You’ll have to protect yourself, y/n”

“Like a father, huh?” Levi says for himself. He takes what’s left on the cup and stands up. “Okay, thanks. I think that’s all I wanted to know.”

“Thanks to you, Captain Levi.”

Levi looks at you. He asks. 

“Do you know Kenny’s surname?” He asks.

“I’m Kenny Ackerman. And you?”

“I’m y/n” you said in quiet voice. He looked at you.

“What about your surname?” he asks. You raise your shoulders. You don’t know.

“Oh, shit. Should you use Ackerman as well?” he thought in high voice. You stayed there, looking at him, interested.

“Ackerman. It was also his nephew surname.” Levi smiles a bit and looks at you. His grey eyes seem hurt, but he’s smiling after all. “I always wondered if his nephew was as good as he was to me”

“I don’t know. Judge me by yourself” Levi smiled and left you there, thinking about his answer. 

Was Levi, the strongest soldier, Kenny’s nephew. Was Levi’s bed the one you used all the nights? Was Levi the boy you always wanted to know more about?

You wanted to ask him, but the Captain left with his cup, proceeding to fill it again. 

You’ve been always so close to his nephew.

Did Kenny know it when you told him you wanted to join?

Is Kenny proud of him?

Did Kenny give the same attention to him that to you?

You have a lot of questions on your head and, luckily, the Captain is talkative today.