#Their first night at the hotel and they normally share a bed anyway

[sikfox-arts]

I am so normal about them

[venomhound]

Hazbin Hotel - Sleeping Habits

NOT TALKING ABOUT DIRTY STUFF. We talking about actual sleep-sleeping. Vent post I guess. Been feeling lovesick and missing having another person in the bed. Which inspired this post. Post about what its like to share a bed with Alastor, Vox, and Lucifer and their overall sleeping habits.

Continuation post; 'Morning Routines' now available >>HERE<<

Contents/WARNINGS: Gender neutral reader; SFW except like one suggestive thing in Lucifer's section; I can't tell if writing Lucifer is making my own depression worse or better Actual brainrot below the cut ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

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Alastor ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

I know alot of people headcanon that Alastor doesn't sleep or sleeps very little. But Hot Take™ here: Alastor sleeps a completely normal amount. Like, 7-8ish hours. He just hides when he does.

I mean think about it. What emotion does Alastor hate expressing more then anything? Vulnerability. When are you (arguably) at your most vulnerable? When you are sleeping.

So I have it in my head that Alastor throws himself into special hiding places when he needs to rest. His room in the hotel with the bayou pocket dimension is a great example. Alastor probably has a hidden cabin in those woods. He actually considers the cabin his "room" and goes there to sleep. But good luck finding it.

Sleeping in front of someone/with someone is kinda a phobia of Alastor's. I wouldn't be surprised if this started developing after he killed someone in their sleep during his mortal life.

Anyway. When you and Alastor become a thing, there really is no defined point where he 'moves in'. It happens more like your boiling a frog. Gradually. Until you reach a point where you don't even know when things changed exactly.

Alastor slowly spends more and more time with you. More time with you inevitably results in him spending more time at your house. Which results in Alastor bringing, and leaving, more of his stuff at your place.

This cycle keeps going and going until one day the culmination hits you. It happens when your looking in your closet, the once messy and haphazard storage space is now tidy and perfectly split between your clothes and Alastor's. Thats when it hits you. The fact that Alastor is practically living with you now. Yet, not only have you two not talked about it, but Alastor doesn't spend the night. Ever.

Don't get me wrong, Alastor will spend all day with you. But when you tell him your getting tired or are about to go to bed, he bids you farewell, kisses your knuckles, and just kind of... leaves.

At first, you attributed his behavior simply to the time period he was from. But as time goes on you realize its something deeper then that. Although you are never fully sure if Alastor doesn't feel comfortable sharing a bed, or if the demon actually needs less sleep then you do.

There have been multiple times where you started falling asleep beside Alastor late at night. When Alastor got up to leave, you would grab the edge of his coat and plead with him to stay. Alastor would then settle beside you, gently caressing your forehead, and tell you that he would stay until your asleep.

During these times, Alastor will often gently hum if not outright sing to you in an attempt to lull you to sleep. One of Alastor's new favorite things to do is to settle in next to you with a nice book while you snuggle into his side and fall asleep.

Once your sleep, Alastor will gently put his book down and turn to look at you lovingly. Alastor is very much that type of weirdo who likes to watch you sleep. He finds everything about your sleeping self utterly adorable; and will happily gush about whatever you do just to embarrass/fluster you. When I say everything, I do mean everything. If you snore, drool, whatever it is, Alastor finds it endearing.

He will usually stay and bask in your sleeping glory for awhile before leaving. But Alastor always kisses your forehead goodbye. Its a little moment of vulnerability only he knows about.

Alastor is an enigma. While he has no problem staying with you until your sleeping soundly, he refuses to actually stay the night. The only time you can reliably get him to stay in bed with you is during his ruts. Otherwise, the stars just have to align right.

If you actually do manage to get him to sleep in the bed with you, Alastor is very much a big spoon. He likes to protectively wrap his arms around you and embrace you. Pulling your bodies flush together and assuring you both of the other's presence. Alastor will tangle his legs with yours as well; throwing one leg over your hip to pull you ever closer, and sliding the other one in between your legs for even more contact

Alastor won't complain too much if he is already laying there and you decide to wrap your arms around him, spooning him instead. But Alastor's preferred position is as the big spoon by far.

The big downside of sleeping with Alastor is that he will not let you go once he is asleep. I hope you don't have to pee in the middle of the night because this man's arms have you in a deathgrip you cannot escape from. It feels like his subconscious mind is afraid that if he let you go, he would lose you forever.

Alastor also nuzzles his face into the back of your neck and shoulders while he sleeps. Your not sure if this is actually an affectionate gesture or a deer scenting thing.

Alastor's ears always seem to be moving. They twist, turn, and flick around. Reacting to the smallest of sounds and listening for danger while he snoozes.

Overall Assessment: An acquired taste. Just like cannibalism.

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Vox ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Has the best internal clock out of the entire Hazbin cast (and thats not a pun). Vox is very consistent with his sleep schedule. He is in bed around 11pm-midnight, and naturally wakes up around 6ish. No alarm needed. Unless he has to wake up extra early for a meeting of course.

Honestly, this guy's internal clock is rock solid. The only times it gets fucked up are when Velvette and/or Valentino (mostly Valentino, lets be real here) drag him out to a party, bar, or club late at night. Vox never has a good time anyway, so he doesn't even know why he goes.

Vox always ends up trashed and staying up until like 3-4am. Not exactly a good idea when your body has been trained to wake up early. His body will wake him up only a couple hours after he went to sleep whether he likes it or not.

This usually ends up with Vox being super sick for a day. Because he is still kind of drunk, but also kind of hungover, living on two hours of sleep, and drinking coffee like its water just to remain standing. Vox is just a complete mess and no one knows why he came into work to be honest.

Vox goes to bed early that night (at 10pm; thats "early" for him), and wakes up the next day mostly recovered and reset. Mostly.

Once you and Vox get together, you help Vox's sleep immensely. Whether purposely or not, you start teaching Vox to prioritize his sleep more and how to get actual rest.

Vox can actually *gasp* take a nap if you do it together. He doesn't even remember the last time he was able to have one. But now he loves it and siestas become a regular thing the two of you share.

You also mess up Vox's internal clock. But in a good way. Yeah, Vox still wakes up like clockwork every morning. But if your snuggled into him and still sleeping, Vox can actually go back to sleep.

Vox's preferred sleeping position by far is the Nuzzle/Cradle. His widescreen forces him to sleep on his back so there isnt exactly many options... But Vox really wants to cuddle and touch you.

So youll inevitably end up draping yourself practically on top of him like a weighted blanket. Your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of Vox's pulse, with his fingers gently petting you… Also like a weighted blanket, you comfort Vox in a way he cannot begin to explain.

Vox will get pouty if you don't like sleeping on his chest or its too hot to do so. He will deny through and through that he does it though. Vox is one of those people who is like 'IM NOT POUTING' as their bottom lip is sticking fully out.

But once you two start sharing a bed, Vox actually has to be touching you in some way. He doesn't know what it is, but he just cant get comfortable and starts getting restless when you two arent touching. So other good sleep positions that work well with him are the Tetherball or the Leg Hug.

For the Tetherball; Vox will just simply rest his hand on your hip while you sleep. This works best if your a side sleeper, cause then Vox can gently hold the curve of your hip. Drawing mindless shapes into your skin with his claws as you both go to sleep. This simple contact is more then enough to assure Vox that your there and safe so he can rest peacefully.

As for the Leg Hug; Vox feels weird about it at first. Sticking his leg out to the side, hoping for some contact. God, he feels desperate. But he needs to feel you. When he does, all his anxiety immediately melts away. When you reach your leg back and tangle it with his, Vox feels butterflies rise into his chest. You really do love him.

Once Vox is asleep, he is... odd, to say the least. He is simultaneously a light sleeper and a heavy one. You figure it has something to do with the technological parts of him and what they deem 'safe' or not. Like, what triggers his internal alarms.

For example, you can easily just get up from the bed, shake the bed, bounce off it, and Vox wont budge. Won't even move. But then someone sneezes outside his hotel room and he is up instantly.

Because of how light of a sleeper he is, it takes Vox forever to go to sleep. He is one of those people who has to lay there for a solid hour. Even then he rarely goes into actual deep sleep. Vox tends to go into this weird rest mode where his screen will start doing that old dvd logo bounce thing. If his screen is completely black however, it means that he actually managed to fully power down for once.

For the love of god, if Vox actually fully powers down, do not jolt him awake. Vox going into deep sleep like that is rare enough as it is. But waking him up suddenly from it makes him incredibly groggy. It honestly completely ruins his entire day because he feels like he never fully wakes up.

You can always tell when Vox is awake (or semi-awake) because he will be gently petting you, tracing circles into your skin as a way to sooth himself. The moment Vox goes to sleep, he stops. You've also noticed that when this happens, his hands tighten slightly into a protective grip on you.

Overall Assessment: The best one to sleep with on the list if your looking for actual rest. Too protective for his own good even in his sleep.

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Lucifer ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

I hope you don't like actual rest too much. Because this guy has no idea what a sleep schedule is. I mean, he kinda did when Lilith was around. But since she has been gone everything has just been out the window.

As my fellow depressed people will know, it wreaks havoc on your sleep. One day you cant get out of bed and sleep twenty hours. Then you cant sleep at all and go days with only three hours of sleep total. This guy does that.

Not to mention this man is certainly, most definitely, somewhere on the spectrum. Thats also gonna fuck with his sleep massively. Lucifer will hyperfocus on a project and forget that 'oh yeah, food and sleep are things I need'.

Lucifer will hyperfocus on a new duck he is making and not leave his workshop for over 15 hours at a time. When he DOES leave, its only to make snack/food runs. Passes out on his workbench or tea-table constantly.

So uh. Yeah. Poor guy has no actual sleep schedule. When he starts staying at the hotel, Lucifer is commonly wide awake at 3am and highkey will scare the shit out of people like a ghost. Insomnia to the nines.

Once he is actually asleep, Lucifer sleeps like a dead man. Nothing can wake him up. This is a learned trait. In the height of his depression after Lilith left, Lucifer stopped seeing a point in getting up most days. He started sleeping through alarms, sirens, explosions... He just stopped bothering. What's the point? Its not like he has anything good to wake up to anyway.

Lucifer starts... trying to fix his sleep schedule once him and Charlie reconnect so he can spend more time with her. Well. Attempting would be a better word for it. Lucifer keeps doing that thing where he goes, 'oh yeah I should try going to bed early tonight', then proceeds to stay up past four in the morning. So no progress has actually been made.

Once YOU come around however, Lucifer actually starts sleeping normally again! Eh, kind of. Its a work in progress. But its progress! Which is MUCH further then he has gotten before!

The problem is, you have to trick Lucifer into sleeping. Otherwise he will keep trying to say he is busy, say 'just one more thing' to infinity, or start whining that he isn't tired.

So what do you do? Start kissing him and entice him to bed with the promise of cuddles. Or you can start kissing and nipping at Lucifer's neck with a different kind of sleeping in mind... (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ He is sure to stay in bed with you if you wear him out first, right?

Another tactic that works everytime is to pretend to fall asleep next to him in his workshop. Sometimes this plan fails right away because you actually do end up falling asleep; but thats not the point here. Lucifer gets the most loving smile on his face as he picks you up bridal style and takes you to bed, only for you to grab his arm and pull him into the bed with you.

You thought it was a pain getting him into bed? Well he is a pain once he is in the bed too.

Lucifer is an actual koala. He can't just be touching you, oh no. He has to be embracing you. He has to be having as much contact as physically possible in order to sleep. It seems like every night his goal is to see what new shape of human knot he can tie you two in.

I hope you run cold or can tolerate heat well. Because like I said this is the ONLY way Lucifer can sleep. Lucifer will do whatever he can to make it work though. If you tell him your uncomfortable, he will change how your limbs are intertwined. If you tell him your too hot, whelp. Time to start losing some layers. And blankets are overrated anyways!

If you tell Lucifer you legitimately cant sleep like a pretzel, it will actually break his little heart. Lucifer will 100% take it as a personal rejection. He will stop sleeping in the bed with you all together so he doesn't "bother" you.

On a much happier note; once you two are tangled up and somehow manage to fall asleep, Lucifer is the cutest thing once he is sleeping.

Lucifer does that thing where he will half wake up in the middle of the night and kiss you before going back to sleep. If you do the same thing (or just generally kiss Lucifer while he is asleep), he will make little happy sounds in his sleep when you do so. You swear they sound kind of like bird cheeps.

Also thanks to >>this combo post<< by @poisned and @heart-of-the-morningstar I now have it permanently in my head that Lucifer talks/mumbles in his sleep.

Before you two got together, it was mostly nonsense or things about his ducks. But now you often hear him muttering your name, how much he loves you, or just saying other lovey-dovey junk in his sleep.

Overall Assessment: Lucifer is extremely difficult to handle, but doing his best. That's what really counts right?

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AN: Just a disclaimer, the thing about tricking Lucifer into bed by pretending to fall asleep in his workshop so he carries you isnt my idea either. It was from a cute fic here on Tumblr but I cant find it at all. ๐·°(⋟﹏⋞)°·๐ Please lmk if you know what fic Im talking about! I literally spent hours looking for it.

FURTHER READING ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Check out this ADORABLE fic about Vox trying not to wake up his very sleepy s/o >>HERE<< by @timeslugarts

One of my favorite posts is this super cute bedtime and pajama headcanon post by @activesplooger that can be found >>HERE<<

[freeabortionslol]

Oscars night (Quinn Hughes x Reader)

hey gang how are we doing on this lovely Wednesday evening? anyways this is my first fic in like forever and it was kind of rushed so don't hate me I just wanted to write something.

summary: fluff, the reader is an actress going to the oscars for the first time with her childhood crush friend Quinn Hughes where there are several tension filled moments between the two until if finally cracks. the reader has a very strong friendship with the Hughes family with Luke looking at her as an older sister

warnings!! cursing, suggestive (???), marijuana, lil bit of angst (maybe), jealousy, mentions of alcohol, kissing, and lmk if I missed any but it's basically just fluffy as hell. I didn't fully proofread and it's lowk rushed but enjoy!!

wc: 4.2k

It was your first awards season with Quinn by your side. The two of you had been friends since you were kids, with you being the same age as Jack. You’ve always just been best friends, but the past couple of months things have shifted and the tension has been stronger than ever. You’re unsure if you're delusional or if he also noticed the way your hands lingered close when he handed you something. The two of you were staying in a hotel room near downtown Los Angeles for the Oscars. You were nominated for best supporting actress, and the film you appeared in was nominated for best picture. Your agent set up the hotel room and when she scheduled the room, she assumed you’d be sharing with your now ex boyfriend. While you and Quinn shared the room, there were two separate beds which disappointed you a bit, but you couldn’t voice it. You stayed in the bathroom getting ready for the night. Your agent wanted to have a hair and makeup team come to get you gussied up, but you insisted that the only person who could make you look the way you wanted, was you. You went for a more laid back look with less bold eye makeup, a blowout, and a floor length green gown with spaghetti straps. You put the final touches on your makeup look and slipped on your dress. The problem was, you couldn’t zip the dress up all the way unless you were trying to dislocate your shoulder. You thought about possibly asking one of your friends to do it when you got there, but the thought of showing up to the Oscars in an unzipped dress was mortifying. You decided to suck up your fears of intimacy with Quinn, and slowly opened the door. Quinn couldn’t hear the door open with the soft sounds of Mac Demarco playing from your bluetooth speaker. He was standing in the mirror fiddling with his tie trying to get it on the right way. You stood in the doorway for a moment just admiring how he looked in his prada suit. His hair hung messily parted in the middle just the way you liked it. You had to beg him to let you do it since he normally opted for the beanie + suit combo. You stared at him as he began to get frustrated. Huffing and puffing as he moved the tie around his neck trying to center it perfectly. You let out a silent laugh with a small smile and walked over towards him. 

“Here let me do it.” You grabbed his shoulders with both hands and moved his body to face you. Quinn was speechless as you untied his tie and began doing it your way. Your eyes were focused on the tie around his neck, but his were centered on you in your stunning gown looking beautiful as ever. He had seen you several times in various different articles of clothing including his own, but never like this. He had never seen you so glamorized before, at least never in person. You fit into it so naturally, and he had to remind himself that you were dressed for your world and not his. He had gotten so used to seeing you in the box wearing his jersey with a pair of leggings, and completely forgot what you looked like doing the things that you loved. The nerves of the night came over him like a wave. Worried that he wouldn’t do the right thing or that he might embarrass you, but nothing beat his thought of wanting to see that green gown on his bedroom floor.

“You look beautiful.” He said in his trance-like state which caused you to look up from where your hands were on his tie. Never in his life had Quinn looked at you like this, or even spoken to you like this.

“I-uh…thank you.” You gave him a small closed mouthed smile to which he returned back. You turned your attention back to his tie trying to cover up the red tint that had washed over your face. “You look very handsome.” You could feel his breath on your forehead as he smiled. His face was now painted with the same red tint as yours. “Lucky to have a guy like you as my date.” You finished with his tie and turned around signaling him to zip up your dress. He very gently moved your hair out of the way and began to zip up the dress. His knuckles subtly touching your bare back as he made his way up, which sent shivers down your spine. When the dress was fully secured he grabbed both of your arms and turned you to where you were both facing the mirror. He placed his head on your shoulder admiring the stunning sight in the mirror. He was taking mental pictures in his head and in this moment he declared that this was his favorite spot. Being so close to you knowing that his lips were close enough to leave soft and rough kisses trailed down your neck. The way he could hear your faint breathing against the top of his head and it made him wonder if your heart was racing just as much as his.

“The only lucky person in this room is me.” He planted a soft kiss on your jawline and walked to the other side of the room to retrieve his phone. You, on the other hand, were left standing in the mirror, but that red tint covering your face had become significantly more saturated. 

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When the two of you arrived at the red carpet before the show, cameras flashed at full speed as people were shouting incoherent things at you. Quinn had dealt with cameras at awards shows several times, but nothing as intense as this. He had to remind himself that you were also a star and being an actress came with more publicity issues than being a hockey player. He was nervous. Not visibly nervous enough for everyone to notice, but enough to where you noticed. You felt bad for bringing him to this crazy event, but you knew that things would calm down eventually. Absent-mindedly, Quinn placed his hand on your hip pulling you close. He felt the need to protect you from the flashing cameras, and he didn’t love the photographers yelling at you to pose in a different way. There was one photo that stood out prominently that you knew would be the talk of the internet. You were wearing a small closed-mouthed smile leaning your head towards Quinn, while he had a stare that could kill as his hand held and strong grip on your waist. This was abnormal for him, as he was always smiling during award show pictures. As you moved down the carpet, Quinn’s hand moved from your waist to the small of your back, making sure that his presence was known behind you. You grabbed his free hand with yours, pulling him to where he was next to you as you whispered in his ear.

“You okay?” You asked as he looked directly into your eyes

“Yeah. I’m fine, just not used to all this.” He let out a slight laugh along with a smile that brought your nerves down significantly. You decided to intertwine your fingers with his and you both moved down to an interviewer from entertainment tonight. When you stopped, Quinn took his place standing next to you, but stepped back a bit. His hand found his way back to your hip which was cut perfectly out of camera view. The interviewer asked you several questions about your movie while Quinn stayed back. His thumb was tracing circles on your waist which sent shivers down your spine, but you did your best to hold back those thoughts during the interview.

“So, Ms. Y/Ln, care to introduce us to your date?” You smiled and placed your hand on Quinn’s shoulder to move him up closer next to you 

“Yes. This is Quinn Hughes. He’s a defenceman for the Vancouver Canucks. We’ve known each other since we were kids, and I thought why not take him to the oscars.” You let out a small forced laugh and Quinn looked at you and smiled.

“So Quinn, how's your first experience at the Oscars going? Do you love it? Do you hate it? Do tell.” Quinn turned his attention away from you and over to something in the distance, not wanting to make direct eye contact with the interviewer or the camera. 

“It’s-uhh…it’s definitely not something I'm used to.” He rubbed his neck and laughed, looking back at the interviewer. “I don’t know how she does this all the time. Truly she’s a champ for being able to walk through this chaos. Put me on the ice in front of thousands of people and I'm fine, but put me in front of a bunch of cameras and I freeze.” You laugh at Quinn’s comment which causes him to crack a smile at you.

“Sooo what’s the scoop here? Are we dating? Boyfriend and girlfriend?” The interviewer asked and you and Quinn immediately froze. Both of your smiles dropped in an instant along with your hearts. Without hesitation, Quinn stepped up to the mic and said “No. We’re just friends. Have been for a long time.” You felt your heart shatter on the red carpet. You knew that the two of you were just friends, but hearing it said out loud? By him? So publicly? It was bound to crush you. You couldn’t stop thinking about how quickly and naturally it came out of his mouth like he didn’t even have to think about it. The both of you said your goodbyes to the interviewer and made your way down the carpet. He made sure to keep his fingers intertwined with yours not wanting you to get lost or taken. He didn’t know why he had that fear, but it definitely showed. 

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After the insane red carpet frenzy, you and Quinn finally made your way inside. His hand was still intertwined with yours as you made your way through the groups of people. You were stopped by several costars and famous actors you wanted to introduce Quinn to. While standing around with Quinn, you excused yourself to the powder room as he went to get drinks for the two of you. The infamous bathroom was filled with women you’ve only ever seen on a screen and you had to fight the urge to ask for a photo while you were washing your hands side by side. You looked up into the mirror, fixing your hair as your hands were shaking. The only thing you could think of was how Quinn answered that question. You were freaking out on the inside and just wanted to ball up on the floor and cry it out, but you couldn’t. Quinn wasn’t the only thing that influenced your nerves, it was also that you were nominated for your first oscar and the thought of losing was killing you. In all honesty, the thought of winning was actually worse. Having to go up in front of an entire room of some of the most hardworking people in the world and read a speech that you wrote in your notes app last night while giggling on the phone with Jack. You held back your tears as you stared in the mirror. You let out a couple deep breaths, each one shakier than the last. Suddenly, as if she was a gift from god, Billie Eilish moved in next to you, hitting her vape pen. The two of you had met on several occasions and have become “Award Buddies” being so close in age.

“Billie.” You let out, trying not to hyperventilate. She looked up from her phone at you.

“Yes?” She gave you a half smile as you stared at her blankly.

“That THC or nicotine?”

“THC.”

“Can I hit it please?”

“Go for it.” Billie handed you her pen and you took a long drag. The smoke already calming your nerves just from the feel of it in your throat. You weren’t a big smoker at all. You only really got high with Luke when he was staying at your house. It was kind of a sacred thing between the two of you, sometimes with Quinn joining along. It was safe to say that your tolerance was low, but you weren’t thinking about that when you took another long hit of Billie’s cart. After three long hits of the pen, you handed it back to Billie, thanked her, and made your way out of the bathroom. You expected to see Quinn at the door when you walked out, but instead you were met with a long line of women waiting for the bathroom. You made your way through the crowds of people standing around, your high still not hitting quite yet. You stopped yourself when you finally found yourself in the eyesight of the bar. Quinn was standing there, two drinks in hand, talking to a beautiful woman. She looked about his age, a bit shorter than you, and her healthy chestnut colored hair fell into flawless curl patterns. Her head flew back in laughter at something he said, his face gaining a smile with teeth which was something he only reserved if he was actually having a good time. You felt your blood boil and your heart sink as you watched this wholesome interaction between the two of them. You watched as her hand reached up to touch the tie that you had put on him just hours before, and you decided that was the final straw. Your territorial instincts kicked in as you pushed through the crowd trying to make your way to the two of them. You reached Quinn and you placed your hand on his back, rubbing it around.

“Hey baby.” You’ve never called him that, but it’s now or never. Quinn was startled by your presence but quickly put his arm around your waist, pulling you close. His touch made your high kick in immediately as you leaned into him. Your body felt like it was melting into his. You visualized laying in his arms at the lake house while Luke and Jack were laughing about something stupid. That’s where you wanted to be right now, not here.

“Hey pretty girl.” He kissed the side of your head and handed you your drink, subtly hinting to the girl that he was taken. The girl only smiled and walked away letting out a “Nice to meet you.” You moved your head into Quinn’s chest and began laughing uncontrollably.

“What? What’s so funny?” He cracked a smile. Your head burying further into his chest as you let out a muffled “Quinny I'm so stoned right now.” You laughed through your words. 

“What are you talking about?” He laughed along with you. You lifted your head up slightly so he could see your eyes. Your chin still rested in his chest while your arms were limp. 

“Holy shit. You were sober when you left me.” He placed his hand on your cheek and smiled. You leaned into his touch and kissed his hand before looking back up at him with a cheesy grin. He let out a soft laugh and rubbed his thumb against your cheek bone. Quinn knew how overly touchy you got when you were high. Every time the two of you smoked together, you insisted he held your hand, or you leaned your head on his shoulder. The night always ended in you lying on top of him because you liked the way the rise and fall of his chest made your brain feel. He moved his hand from your face down to your waist, to which you responded by holding onto his wrist for dear life. You stared at his facial features as a smile grew on his face.

“I love you so much Y/n, but you have to act sober, or the internet will go crazy.” His words made you immediately lock in, suddenly remembering where you were. You removed your chin from his chest but kept your grip on his wrist strong. You widen your eyes, trying to make yourself look less dopey, but Quinn immediately responded with a cringed face.

“Don’t do that. You look crazy.” He laughed. You stayed there with your widened eyes just staring at him, unsure of what to do. Absentmindedly your mouth parted slightly in response to the lazy state your body was in. Quinn quickly took his index finger to your chin and pushed it up to close your mouth.

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Making your way to your seats was a challenge in itself. If Quinn wasn’t there you were sure you wouldn’t have been able to make it. He held your hand the whole way there keeping you close as you attempted to make yourself look sober. Sure, you weren’t the only person there that was high, but you weren’t a big smoker, so you didn’t know how to handle it. Not to mention, you’d never been high in public. When you made it to your seats, you made sure Quinn’s hand never left yours. You were in public, but you were still the same girl that gets high at the lake house with his little brother. You looked over at him remembering that he was just as nervous as you were before. You wished he was in the bathroom with you to hit the pen. His leg was bouncing up and down as the lights dimmed, so you removed your hand from his and placed it on his leg, drawing circles with your thumb hoping to calm his nerves. He looked at you with a soft smile that said “Thank you”. As the ceremony went on, Quinn found his hand behind your back, fidgeting with the strap of your dress, twirling it with his fingers. His touch made your face red and you wondered if there were any cameras on the two of you at this moment. Your hand on his leg, and his playing with your dress. You looked over at him to see him only watching the stage as someone was accepting an award. You leaned in close to whisper in his ear.

“Do you realize you’re doing that?” He whipped his head to face you. Your faces now only inches away from each other.

“Doing what?” He asked. His voice low but not quite a whisper. The feeling of his breath on your nose made your heart ache, as you realized you’ve never been this close to him before.

“The strap of my dress. You’re playing with it.” You gave him a slight smile, your eyes never leaving his. He mumbled out a quick sorry and moved his hand away, but you stopped him before he could do so. “No no. It’s cute. Leave it there.” His face turned pink as he smiled at your comment, and turned to look back at the stage. You cheered to yourself in your head at this sweet, and public, intimate moment between you and Quinn. After an hour of people receiving awards and terrible jokes made by the host, your category was finally up next. The high helped your nerves, but you were still shaking. Quinn removed his hand from the strap of your dress and grabbed your shaking one. Your eyes never left the stage as you sat at the edge of your seat in anticipation. Quinn glanced at you with a side eye. He hated seeing you all amped up like this when he’s so used to your calming presence. He leaned in close to your ear. 

“I have a really funny idea to piss off Jack, and throw everyone else off.” You turned to him, your eyes filled with fear, but softening at the idea of Quinn plotting something. It was something the two of you always did together. He was clearly doing it to try and calm down your nerves, but good lord was it helping. 

“What?” you asked, leaning back in your seat, letting him whisper in your ear. 

“If you win, I get to kiss you before you walk up.” Your heart dropped to your stomach as you flipped your head to look at him. Your eyes were in shock and your mouth parted slightly. You knew Quinn would suggest something crazy, but never THIS crazy. The thought of your first kiss with Quinn being in front of the whole world made you sad. You always wanted it to be an intimate moment, maybe in your apartment or down by the lake, but you also couldn’t pass up the opportunity to finally kiss him. You smiled at him, your faces so close to touching.

“Okay. Deal.” You handed out your hand for him to shake. “Jack is gonna lose his shit.”

The moment eventually came. The presenters were announcing the nominees and you got to see yourself in the camera on the screen. Your posture was slumped, you were leaning into Quinn, and your eyes were slowly falling closed. You quickly fixed yourself at the sight, widening your eyes in the way Quinn said not to do. He laughed slightly next to you. You quickly grabbed his hand with your gaze still locked in on the screen.

“And the Oscar goes to…” The presenter left everyone on the edge of their seats as she opened the envelope. You squeezed Quinn’s hand harder than before and he sent back exactly three squeezes which you knew meant “I love you” You looked over for just a split second to give him a smile, before looking back to the stage.

“Y/n L/n!” Your eyes widened more, if that was even possible. Cheers roared from around the theater. Quinn stood up first, holding out his hand for you to take. You were so caught up in the adrenaline rush of winning that you had completely forgotten about the deal you made with him. You stood up slowly trying not to burst into tears of joy. Quinn’s hands were set on your waist, so you rested yours on his biceps. You let out a little scream and jumped up and down twice. Quinn laughed at your reaction before he grabbed your face and planted a closed mouthed kiss on your lips. It wasn’t how you imagined it would be at all. The kiss wasn’t tension-filled or long like how you wanted it to be. You pulled back, your face red, suddenly remembering the deal. Without thinking, still at the peak of your high, you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him in for a longer kiss. You made sure his bottom lip was tucked in between yours, wanting to get rid of his closed-mouthed idea. It was long awaited and hungry. You weren’t thinking about where you were as you moved your lips against his. You pulled him down slightly, letting him dip you. His grip on your waist tightened as you let your hand move to tug his hair. Quinn let out a slight groan as he pulled back and whispered in your ear.

“Not here, Movie Star. Go get your award.” He let out a slight chuckle and you quickly unwrapped yourself from his touch to jog up to the stairs. When you finally made your way up to the stage, all the nerves that had been building up had suddenly washed away. Not only had you just won your first Oscar, but your childhood crush just kissed you in front of everyone. The adrenaline of that was enough to quickly sober you up. Your speech was breathless and short. You made sure to exclaim your excitement through the microphone. You thanked everyone who worked on your movie, your family, and of course your “Sexy Date”. You quickly made your way off the stage, grinning wide with a slight pep in your step. You made it back to your seat looking at Quinn who had the cheesiest smile on his face. He quickly pulled you into a tight hug, burying his head in your hair.

“I love you so much. You’re amazing.” He muffled through your shoulder.

“I love you too. You have no idea how long I've wanted to kiss you like that.” Quinn pulled back from the hug and grabbed your hand to guide you to sit. Your heart began to race as you realized what you’d just said to him. Your mind started running through all the possibilities of what he would say. 

“Baby, I want you to kiss me like that everyday for the rest of my life.” He faced you, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. You bit your bottom lip and grinned harder than you ever have before. You shifted your focus back to the stage as you rested your head on his shoulder, his hand finding its way back to your waist. You basked in the glamorous vibe of the celebrity-filled room, realizing the prize wasn’t the golden statue you’d just won, but the man sitting beside you.

Hughes fam & weird neighbor girl

Ellen Hughes: *Picture of Y/n holding Luke when they were kids* Lukey loves his big sister <3 Good luck tonight!!!

lukey pookie: *Picture of Y/n and Quinn kissing at the Oscars* Yeah apparently so does Quinn

jack attack: WHAT DA FUCK

Ellen Hughes: Jack. Language.

captain quinny: What can I say? Couldn’t help myself.

jack attack: Y/n ur bringing me to the next one and I get to kiss you

You: no.

[keyotos]

➳ you're my achilles heel

summary ⎯ niche microtropes w/ the hsr men! emphasis on the micro (not rlly)

includes ⎯ dan heng, aventurine & jing yuan

tana talks ⎯ who's missed me? i've been gone for a HOT minute, and what other way to come back than kickstarting my 1k event: niche microtropes! more info about that will be here. thank you so so much for 1k!!!!

dan heng

when they both have to share a bed and one of them reveals it was the best night of sleep they've ever had

⎯ dan heng has made a lot of mistakes in his life, and letting march choose hotel rooms has to be one of them.

⎯ granted, he truly thought that march would do a good job at choosing the hotel, financial planning, and of course–choosing the rooms.

⎯ and everything was great. until you and dan heng had to share a bed.

you and dan heng shifted around the bed a few times before finally settling into designated spots. it was decided that dan heng would sleep on the outside, while you slept near the wall. his back faced you as he tucked himself into bed.

⎯ you and dan heng were friends. this awkwardness wasn't normal, and there should be no reason for the two of you to be avoiding each other like you are now. alas, here you are now, laying at least a foot apart.

⎯ the room is completely silent, and a bit cold as well. dan heng felt a breeze constantly grazing his shoulders. yeah. there was no way he could sleep like this

⎯ you, on the other hand, felt too hot. you had most of the blankets on your side and you felt SUFFOCATED. sometimes, it felt hard to breathe. but u weren't sure if that was just nerves or bc of how hot you felt.

⎯ ultimately, you are the one who has to make the first move.

"dan heng," you turned around and whispered, "are you cold?"

⎯ obviously, he was cold. but was he going to say anything about it?? no.

"i'm fine," he said, still facing his back towards you. "are you cold?" you gulped at the dry response. usually, you find yourself always wanting to talk to dan heng. he was never a boring converser, so why was he acting so strange tonight? but then again, you had no room to talk—you haven't said a word to dan heng until now.

⎯ at this point, you're a little frustrated at the lack of communication between the both of you. so—being the problem solver that you are—you decide to do something about it

slowly, you inch closer to dan heng—just to test the waters, of course. dan heng doesn't reach much, only a small head turn once he feels a dip in the mattress. you take some of the blanket and throw it over dan heng, awaiting his response.

⎯ meanwhile, dan heng over here is internally flipping out. when you inched towards him, dan heng could feel his heart skipping more than a few beats. and when you threw the blanket over him, dan heng wasn't sure if he felt warm due to the blanket or you.

⎯ when he finally turns over, you have to hide your wide eyes and slacked mouth underneath the blanket. you peer back up, and he's staring right at you.

"are... you okay?" you whisper underneath the blanket. "i'm cold," is all dan heng says. you hide your smile underneath the blanket, but you have a feeling dan heng knows you're smiling anyway. he's looking straight in your eyes after all.

⎯ and then you say it. you practically hit the pentagon.

you open up the blanket to where it reveals a dark silhouette of your body. "do you want to share?"

⎯ dan heng practically malfunctions. usually, there are always things dan heng says to fill the silence. he never runs out of words. not in a talkative way like march, but rather, he has an extensive vocabulary

⎯ this time though? haha. very funny. he's gone mute.

dan heng blinks at you while you hold the blanket open. you raise an eyebrow, taunting him. he squeezes his eyes shut, and then reopens them to find you still holding the blanket. was he halluncinating?

"i don't want to intrude." "oh please," you quietly laugh, "we're already sharing a bed. we crossed the line of intrusion a few hours ago."

⎯ and that sounds like a good deal to the both of you. except, one thing.

"are things going to change after this?" dan heng asks you. you're glad it's dark, so dan heng doesn't see you flush, "i don't see why things would change," you say, maintaining a calm face.

⎯ that's enough to get dan heng under the covers with you.

⎯ you two sleep wonderfully the rest of the night—you two even woke up early too. you were the one to wake up first. the sun shone on your face, yet you didn't even feel the glare at all. you felt energized, which was weird considering that you went to bed at questionable hour last night.

⎯ oh, and you also felt a pair of arms over your waist too. and something pressing into your neck. and something wrapping around your legs. and you also feel really hot. is that from the sun????

⎯ yeah. it's going to be harder to keep your word.

aventurine

those dancing scenes where it just so happens that the lighting focuses on the two of you

⎯ lavish parties and extravagant events weren’t new to aventurine, who just so happened to stumble on one of the biggest on penacony

⎯ sometimes, the families hold galas. it’s more of an exclusive thing, so aventurine had to do some awkward mingling in order to get in. that includes a very awkward conversation with a security guard, who kept raising eyebrows at his outfit.

⎯ beforehand, he had no interest in going to this event. however, once faced with the possibility that he could gather intel, his mind quickly changed.

⎯ now, he is standing right next to you, the heir to penacony's iris family. in his short time on the planet, he's seen your face countless times: on billboards, commercials, and next to various items. but seeing it in person?

⎯ way. different.

"you've never been dancing before?" you lead the ipc executive, aventurine, down the halls of the iris family's ballroom. aventurine shakes his head as he follows you, "not once. though, as the iris family's biggest celebrity, i take it you're used to dances?" your eyes widen when you hear him utter the compliment, "i'm... i'm not sure i'm the biggest celebrity," you rub your neck sheepishly. you tilt your head back, "and i don't think i can remember a time where i didn't dance."

⎯ aventurine has one goal tonight, and it's to get information about the families. if all goes according to plan, then he'd have the upper hand on penacony itself, thus being able to use his knowledge as a bargaining chip for the ipc.

⎯ and if there's one thing aventurine is good at, it's bargains.

⎯ so now, aventurine is trying his hardest to charm you into giving out any information. because people like you always talk.

"that must've been nice," aventurine eggs you on, "from what i can tell, parties on penacony are always fun." you let out a small laugh, "i'm glad you think that." the two of you walk side-by-side, and you aren't saying a single thing. aventurine flexes his hand by his side, preparing to make more idle chatter. he's about to open his mouth when a bright, shining light beams onto the both of you.

⎯ from the look on your face, aventurine can tell that you did not like that. he stands there passively, awaiting for your next move.

⎯ what he did not expect was for you to hold out your hand for him.

"um," you clear your throat. your eyes dart around the room and you gulp, holding out your hand, "may i have this dance?"

⎯ aventurine meets your nervous eyes with his wide ones. it looks like the two of you have no other choice. eyes are on the both of you when aventurine takes your hand, and you pull him into a quiet space in the ballroom.

⎯ let's get one thing straight: aventurine does not know how to dance.

⎯ so currently, he's trying to avoid stepping on your toes, while trying to remain in sync with you. on the inside, aventurine is annoyed. there are ears everywhere, meaning that there's a bigger risk. however, aventurine is all about risks, and the night is still young.

"i thought you liked dances," aventurine purposefully whispers into your ear, and he can feel the heat rise up. his voice is sultry and sweet, and he hopes to get you addicted to it soon. you look up at him with crinkled eyes. the light is glaring on you, and it seems like you're glinting instead of shining. "i never said that." aventurine takes notice of the rise and fall of your chest—much faster than when the two of you met. the corner of his lip raises a little bit, "oh, i'm sorry. but are you uncomfortable? i thought you've been doing this for years? let me know if i can do anything to help?" he offers.

⎯ you only smile, and aventurine gives you a polite smile back. he follows your lead, waiting for you to say something, but you only lead him around the ballroom.

⎯ the light is still trailing after you, except it's beaming more on aventurine than you at this point.

⎯ it's beaming more on aventurine. oh. he gets it now.

"do you wanna get out of here?" he whispers in your ear once again. he has to try his hardest to bite down the smirk that was about to appear on his face. this was going to be easier than he thought. you grab his hand in a tight hold, "no," you firmly state, "we're staying here."

⎯ wow. what a shift of tone.

"i need your help," you mutter under your breath. "help me, and i'll do anything," you look up into his eyes, pleading with him through your gaze.

⎯ aventurine nearly steps on your feet. what?

"uh–what?" aventurine questions you as you keep moving.

"sneak me out of here. we can't go through the doors—there's the bloodhound family everywhere. but i need you to get me out," you beseech. you grab his hand, bringing it up to your chest and slowly sliding it down to your waist.

⎯ aventurine has to remind himself to keep his cool multiple times. breathe in, breathe out. what were you getting at here? why did you want to escape?

"listen, what i said earlier. about the parties. i need to get out," you spin yourself around and back into the blond. "help me," you connect your palms as you circle him, "and i'll help you," you intertwine your fingers together.

⎯ the light still glistens over the both of you. and aventurine thinks two things: he's gotten into something he didn't need to get into, and that he finally has a way into the family.

jing yuan

second chance romance, except the two of you have been keeping tabs on one another the entire time.

⎯ jing yuan's childhood is filled of fond memories: his old master, the bright and sunny days when he would train, and you.

⎯ you, who jing yuan would willingly miss trainings for. you, the brilliant and clever reporter who broadcasted for the people. you, who jing yuan had to let go.

⎯ he'd spend days rereading what you've wrote; whether it be small stories or big news on the luofu. everything you had written intoxicated him. however, all good things have to end eventually.

⎯ the break-up wasn't even technically a break up, because you two weren't even together. the harsh reality was that you two were just friends, so jing yuan has no actual reason to be moping around. people lose friends all the time, and with jing yuan's lifestyle, it was bound to be imminent.

⎯ as the general, jing yuan had new priorities, and it seems like you weren't one of them anymore.

⎯ so, you move on with your career. you founded the xianzhou's very own broadcasting channel, which aired to the millions of citizens across all ships. you're a superstar who hasn't left their core values. rather than the big stories, you focus on local ones. you focus on the people.

⎯ and general jing yuan... focuses on his job. sort of. not really.

⎯ can you really say that a general is focused on his job when he goes missing?

"jing yuan," your side aches once you utter his name, and you suppress an agonized moan, "why are you here?"

⎯ you know what they say, old habits die hard.

⎯ the founder of the xianzhou's broadcasting channel was found in critical condition a few days ago. you had been reporting on the a civil case that had struck on one of the ships, and—next thing you know—blood ran from your fingertips and you rushed into a critical care unit.

"how did you even get here?" you ask as you lift yourself up higher on the bed. jing yuan steps forward, but you move back. "i haven't spoken to you in years. you cut me off, and then you show up now? can i atleast get an explanation on how you found me?"

⎯ jing yuan's silence tells you all that you need to know. you keep up with the dozing general, even if you are off the luofu. because still, even after all these years, your heart trails after him.

"i wanted to see you," jing yuan blurts. his voice is much more deeper than you remember it to be. "so i contacted the hospital and told them that my old friend was in critical condition, and i needed to see you." you scoff, "an old friend is a stretch." you pause and look down at your hands. and then, a thought furrows in your mind. "wait, if you knew where i was hospitalized—you read my articles?" "i've never stopped."

⎯ oh. oh? oh????

⎯ safe to say that you were rendered speechless. the next five minutes were spent by you staring at jing yuan, jaw-dropped and all.

"how long?" you asked. "too long," jing yuan dryly chuckles. "since i left."

⎯ the air is thick, and things are obviously tense. and there are so many things to talk about. so many things to tell him. such as how you've surfed before (it was a big dream of yours). or how you finally adopted the cat you always wanted (you hope he brings up his lion).

⎯ and while you sit there, you realize that you've missed this. how could you even live without this for hundreds of years? without him? was it surreal to feel so strongly about a person that left so long ago?

⎯ so many milestones missed. so many to make up for. so many things to talk about. so many things to clear up. and you still want to do it all with jing yuan.

⎯ does he still want to do it with you?

you clear your throat, attempting to sit up straighter. you're struggling, and you've never felt so embarrassed in your life. while trying to adjust yourself once more, you see a shadow appear above you, and it's the one and only jing yuan. "do you need help?" he asks, holding his arm out for you as support. you take it gladly, pulling yourself up by grabbing onto his (big) forearm. "thank you," you dust yourself off, checking your side for any rips in your stitches. "now," you begin, letting out a shaky breath, "i think... i think we're overdue for a chat."

⎯ you knew jing yuan. you'd like to know him now. jing yuan knew you too, and now—judging by the look on his face—he'd like to know you too.

god i've missed the hc's so much. like i'm truly going back to my roots here. be honest did y'all miss the hc's too or was that just me????

[scekrex]

Hey absolutely love your stuff (obviously since I keep requesting lol) anyways could I request Adam who somehow survived after getting beaten up by Lucifer and stabbed who even knows how many times by Niffty gets found by the reader who while an overlord isn't that powerful is super rich (I also picture them being like a mix of Alastor and Vox where like Alastor still holds a lot of more old timey views but also tries to adapt with the changing views like Vox) and decides to take him back to his mansion to try and help him survive (wants to make a few bucks later using him) after a bit the two share an oh fuck moment when they realized they have caught feelings. I hope you have a wonderful day/night!

Overlord reader?? Uh fuck yeah!! I fucking love this ask so much xoxo/p

Bird of Hell's Paradise

Chains on my lips just add flames to the fire

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language & sexual tension

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

The battlefield was a mess through and through and while the devil and his daughter had built up the hotel again, a new, more inviting looking building was now located on the lonely hill in the pride ring, you still felt Adam's presence. The residents of the hazbin hotel must've already forgotten about him and therefore didn't notice you at all, too caught up in their doing.

The first man was badly injured and while you normally wouldn't care for such things, especially because it was an exorcist angel, this case was special. Because not only was the brunette laying in front of your feet the first man god had ever created, no, he was also the leader of said exorcists. You could only imagine how many sinners and Hellborn people would pay a good amount of money to harm him, even if it was just the slightest injury possible. So you bowed down and scooped the passed out man in your arms. If these sinners and even Lucifer didn't care for him, you would put him to good use. For your own benefit that was, but no one had to know about that yet. So you carried the first man across the entire pride ring of hell until you reached your home. The brunette man in your arms was still unconscious and given the blood he had lost and the hits he had taken that was pretty normal.

Once inside your mansion, you headed to the hospital wing, walking through the building with slow, heavy steps that echoed through the empty hallways. The hospital wing was close to the entrance, a decision you had made after stumbling through the doors with a fatal wound that had been exposing your guts. It was quicker to reach in an emergency and while those rarely occurred, you didn't like the risk. You put the first man down onto one of the beds, your claw sliced smoothly through the fabric of his once holy robe to get it out of the way. You needed to take care of the stab wounds the nifty little demon girl had caused. The stabs were deep but nothing you couldn't fix. You gave Adam one last glance before you stepped over to the medicine cabinet and for a quick moment you asked yourself why Lilith and Eve had left Adam, he wasn't bad looking at all, quite the opposite. And Lucifer had mentioned that Adam had ‘kinda let himself go’ which meant back when the two women were married to him, he must have looked even better. You quickly shook your head, what in the devil's name were you even thinking?

With wound cleaning supplies and a healing potion you stepped back to Adam's bed, the first human ever seemed to be slowly waking up. He braced his palms against the mattress, tried to lift himself up but you were quick to push him back down, the more he moved while his wounds were still ripped open the more blood he lost. And while Adam would be able to recover either way, the more blood stayed inside of his body, the better. At least that's what you thought. “Stay,” you hummed as you cleaned the blood from his skin. It was unusual to clean off golden blood instead of the red mess you were so used to. But you didn't mind, didn't care even.

Adam flinched away from your touch, tried to lift himself up yet again. Your hand took a hold of his throat and held him down by it, “I said stay, stupid angel.” Adam's eyes seemed to clear up a little, the fog that had covered his golden eyes, had made them seem yellow, lifted and the brunette stared at you, clearly not knowing what to feel. You saw anger in his eyes, rage and hatred but at the same time there was fear. Fear and pain.

Once the blood was no longer staining his perfect skin, you took the potion you had grabbed, popped the cork and held the smooth, cold glass against his bottom lip, “Open up,” you demanded, yet your voice stayed gentle. Adam hesitated and you really couldn't blame him. “It will cause your wounds to heal,” you explained to the former leader of the exorcists and he seemed to consider his opinions for a moment. Then he actually parted his lips and let you spill the disgusting liquid onto his tongue. His face scrunched up at the bitter taste and he kept the liquid in his mouth. “Swallow it, Adam.” Adam looked up at you, once again seemingly considering alternatives he had. Given the fact that he did as you told him, there hadn't been many.

Adam checked his chest as the wounds that had caused enough pain to make him pass out healed quickly. The only hint left that they ever even existed were golden scars that seemed to be permanent from now on, but the first man couldn't complain, could he? He was still alive and on top of that there was no more pain. The first man frowned at you, mistrust was lingering heavy in his eyes as golden orbs followed your every move. Yet he remained silent, not a single word was falling from his lips.

Your hand that had been holding him down by his throat let go of him and Adam was sitting up right in his bed in an instant. His hands traced over the new found scars, you watched him in silence. There was something about him, about his vibe that was different. It wasn't the fact that he was an angel, no, even though that made his vibe different too, but it was something soft, something afraid to break. You cleared your throat loudly and Adam's eyes were on you within a heartbeat, while mistrust still lingered heavy in them, curiosity was close behind and you couldn't help but catch yourself that you were curious about him too.

-

Adam always bragged about being the first man, like that was his biggest accomplishment and if you looked at it from a different viewpoint it wasn't even his accomplishment but God’s, Adam didn't create himself after all. Yet it was the only thing worth mentioning whenever he didn't want to do something, “I’m the fucking man, not your fucking housewife, I'm not gonna fucking clean that.” You sighed as you took a step towards Adam and he flinched, trying to back up but his back hit the kitchen counter sooner than expected. Your hands grabbed a hold of his waist and you effortlessly lifted him up to sit on said counter, Adam was taken aback by that.

It had been a couple of weeks since you had found and saved him and the mistrust that had been filling his eyes from the first second on had never truly left them. He would always leash out on you only to back down as soon as you reacted in some way that seemed too unpredictable for him. “When will you learn to think before you speak?” Your voice held a certain amount of softness, it always did when you were speaking to Adam. The guy wasn't a threat to you, not in his current situation. And you were trying to use that to your advantage. Because he was scared, basically a deer in the headlights, why not put that fear to use? You nudged his knees apart to stand between his legs, still taller than him you hovered over the first man with a mix between a sly grin and a soft smile. “When you start to suck my fucking dick,” you chuckled as his choice of words, very aware that he simply wanted you to fuck off and leave him be, you acted oblivious to that. One hand was placed on the counter to steady yourself, right next to his thigh, the other grabbed his chin to tilt his head upwards, forcing the brunette to look you in the eyes.

“Right now? Right here?” your voice sounded so delicious, Adam wanted to eat it up, in fact, he wanted to devour you entirely, feast on every piece you had to offer and only stop once he swallowed it all. In Christ's holy name, what was he thinking? Your lips were so close to his, so so close, all he would need to do was - he leaned into your touch, why he wasn't sure, it was as if his body was following a call sent to him by nature itself. And then his lips met yours and a low groan spilled from his throat as his hands grabbed your shoulder firmly, he was afraid you'd pull back, that you'd leave him like Lilith and Eve had and he didn't even know why. Why was he afraid of losing you, a sinner, a man he barely knew? He couldn't wrap his mind around it. And yet he kissed you like his life was depending on it.

The hand that had been braced against the counter was now on his thigh, squeezing the soft flesh playfully and drawing a delicious sound from Adam's lips. Oh you could drown in the noises the first man made, the little huffs and puffs, his groans that he tried to keep as quiet as possible, the whimpers he would later deny. Adam was the most beautiful creature that had ever set a foot into hell and you mentally punched yourself in the face for wanting to use him to make money. There was no way you'd use such a divine, holy and glorious man for that, no. Adam was yours, your little secret and you'd keep it, keep him.

When you two partened a sting of saliva connected your lips and both of your eyes were hazy, he looked blissed out and it was then that you decided you wanted to see him like that more often - as often as possible. You were to lean in yet again, wanting more, needing more. But your phone rang. “Pick it up, bet it's something fucking important, they don't fucking call overlords for shits and giggles, do they?” You knew Adam was right and you hated it. You pushed your body away from the first man's and you saw how he wanted to reach out, wanted to keep you close but didn't say a thing about it. You grabbed your phone off the dining table and answered the call, “The fuck do you want, Vox?” It was the first time Adam had heard you speaking so vulgarly, you usually seemed to be collected, considering your words wisely, but that? In the name of God, that was truly something else. And it was ridiculously hot. “No I fucking can't, ask someone else,” and with that you hung up, tossed your phone carelessly back onto the table and found your place between his legs yet again. “Where were we?” you hummed through hooded eyes. And it was only then that the two of you seemed to realize what exactly you had just done, what you were about to do again.

Both of your eyes widened and the next thing you felt were Adam's hands on your body, not just your shoulder this time but also your waist, your chest, your thighs, your back. It seemed as if he was claiming you with his hands and the worst part of it? You truly didn't mind, you even enjoyed his touch on you, leaned into it and closed your eyes to fully focus on his hands roaming over your body.

Fuck, you had fallen deep for this man, way deeper than you ever thought you'd fall. But Adam had followed you, had fallen with you.

“You were about to suck me off,” Adam mumbled, his voice already sounded fucked out and you hadn't even started yet.

[dyinglikenarcissus]

Kitten

7k words

Warnings: 18+ only! This is pure smut. A little dubcon. Your brother’s alpha besties want you but they’ve been so good for so long. What happens when a group trip turns into a one bed situation? Also reader is Sam’s long lost sister or something. Suspend your belief 😂 (I had to include some kind of Sam for our shared birthday)

Enjoy 😊

Please do not copy or repost my work

This really wasn’t supposed to happen.

They’re your brother’s friends. How did you end up like this?

They were supposed to be going on a boys fishing trip to celebrate your brother’s new job but he suddenly came down with something and wasn’t feeling up to it and, as his roommate and baby sister, they insisted you take his place. You didn’t know the first thing about fishing! But when it came to his two alpha buddies you got all tongue tied and your omega came spilling out like an over boiling pot. They were just so handsome and big and imposing and charismatic. They have great jobs and fancy cars and penthouse apartments. The ideal alphas.

It also didn’t help that you were a couple weeks away from your heat. It just makes their sway over you more powerful. They didn’t mean any harm. They were just used to being surrounded by other alphas. They didn’t know how to reign it in. Normally your brother was around as a buffer. You were rarely ever alone with them…

The two hour car ride was the longest you’d ever spent with just the two of them. They went on and on about baseball and beer and guns and other things you had absolutely no knowledge about so you just sat quietly in the back seat with your phone and your switch and prayed you were almost there.

But it would be fine! It was supposed to be a huge family suite with a bunch of rooms and a full kitchen and everything. You’d have your own space to retreat to if they became…too much for you.

But being there gave you absolutely no relief.

“I’m sorry!” The hotel front desk manager started after looking up your stay. “We accidentally overbooked and had to give away your room. We can rectify it tomorrow but tonight all we have is a single king.”

They readily agreed, not paying any attention to your protest. They said it would be fun. Like camping.

You never liked camping.

So now you stand between the rock that is Steve Rogers and the hard place that is Bucky Barnes.

“We’ll just take the floor, kitten,” Bucky smiles using the nickname they’ve called you since you were children. “I prefer it anyway. Better for my back.”

“Yeah. You get comfortable. Don’t worry about us,” Steve assures you. You just nod while the boys call down for extra pillows and blankets and food while you clean up from the long drive. It wasn’t super late but it was late enough that you weren’t going to do anything else tonight. The boys wanted to get up early. Apparently that’s when the fish are most active? The most you knew about fishing was from Animal Crossing and if any of that was true, they should be waiting for it to rain. Which reminds you that you that you need to water your flowers in your little digital town. You’ll do it as soon as you’re out of the shower…

Well, ain’t this some shit.

You didn’t exactly pack to share close quarters.

The only PJs you brought were mini shorts and cropped tank tops that were pretty much transparent in the right light. You should have brought a comfy sweater or something to cover up in but you wanted to pack light. You didn’t want to look like ‘that girl’ with a suitcase for every night. But at least you’d have a sleeping sweater…

You roll your eyes at your idiotic lack of foresight and choose the least see through ones and hope they don’t look too closely.

So much for that.

The second you walk back into the main room, two sets of blue eyes are on you. They suddenly forget all about their baseball, their beer, and their guns at the vision in front of them. Your soft curves are clearly visible through your lack of clothes: a sight they’ve only seen when the group goes swimming. They can barely keep it together with you prancing around in tiny fabric triangles that barely cover your wet and obviously cold body. But normally your brother was there to keep them at bay.

No older brother in sight. Just you left alone for the two of them. All. Weekend. Long.

Steve is the first one clear his throat and avert his gaze. “We ordered some pizzas. Is that okay with you?”

“Y-yeah! Pizza’s great,” you smile nervously. “I’m done in the bathroom if either of you want a turn.”

Bucky doesn’t even spare Steve a glance as he makes his way to the bathroom. “Age before beauty,” he snarks at the blond leaving the two of you alone.

You just smile at the tall blond sitting on the edge of the bed before rifling through your luggage for your Switch unknowingly giving Steve the perfect view of your peach ass through your tiny shorts.

“Shit,” Steve breathes, tilting his head slightly to see what else you’re hiding under there.

“What was that?” You ask pulling yourself out from your duffle.

“Oh, nothing,” the blond says quickly snapping his head back to the TV. “Just the game. Crazy play…” he trails.

“Oh?” You smile and nod already knowing you won’t understand what’s going on so you don’t bother asking. You snuggle up against the pillows to play your game and ignore whatever sports ball game is on.

“What are you playing?” His voice doesn’t initially reach you as you shake your head and focus on the alpha watching you. When did Steve’s eyes get so pretty? They’re like kaleidoscopes of green and blue. Hmmmm…

Wait. He said something, didn’t he?

“I’m sorry?”

“What are you playing?” He asks again leaning back to see the screen of your handheld console.

“Animal Crossing,” you whisper. He’s so close you can feel the body heat radiating off of him. He’s never been this close…

“That game’s super popular lately, huh? Never tried it. I used to just play Halo and GTA when I was as your age.”

“GTA is pretty fun,” you smile.

“What’s an innocent little thing like you know about GTA?”

“I get on my brother’s PlayStation every once in a while,” you admit. “I’m not that innocent,” you giggle singing the song.

“I feel like we’ll be learning all kinds of things about you this weekend,” Steve laughs as his hand finds your ankle, stroking the smooth skin gently. You practically leap from your skin. He can’t do that! Can he? He can’t do it again…

And then he does, his rough fingers tracing the inside of your ankle, and a wave arousal spills from you like clockwork. His fresh rain and smoke scent washes over you heavily and a soft whimper escapes your lips.

You can’t do this! Not for a whole weekend!

A knock at the door has you leaping away from him, tugging your feet away quickly.

“Someone’s jumpy,” Steve laughs before getting the door. Saved by the bell. A hotel employee brings a stack of pillows, blankets, and towels before rolling in a cart with two pizza boxes and two pitchers of beer.”

“We figured you wouldn’t eat much,” Steve laughs grabbing a chilled glass and plate before leaning next to you on the bed.

“Food’s here?” Bucky grins stepping out of the bathroom in a pair of low hanging grey sweats. Just a pair of low hanging grey sweats…

So many muscles…so much outline…

You’re going to die here.

His hair was still wet and messy as he mimicked Steve; grabbing food and finding a spot on the other side of you on the bed.

“What’s up, kitten? You gonna eat?” He asks before taking a bite.

“Uh, yeah,” you whisper and slide out from between the two giant men. When did it get so hot? You’re suddenly glad for your lack of clothing.

There’s no chairs or a table in this room. It really is the barebones. It’s hard to believe that this is the same hotel with three bedroom suites.

You sit on the edge of the bed, taking Steve’s spot and nibbling on your food quietly.

“Kitten, you know we love you but you’re blocking the TV,” Bucky groans. “Come back up here.” No. No no no no. Not back there between those two big imposing men.

“Your spots still nice and warm for you,” Steve sighs patting the spot in between them. You didn’t need warmth. Warmth was the last thing you needed. But you slide your plate across the bed and scoot back between them.

“Ain’t this nice?” Bucky asks.

“You don’t want a drink, kitten?” Steve wonders.

“Oh no,” you smile. “Beer isn’t really my thing.”

“Shit! We should’ve ordered something for you. We should know you better by now,” Steve sighs.

“Rosé, huh, kitten?” Bucky asks guiltily.

“Yeah, a rosé would be nice but I’m fine,” you insist and shake your bottle of water before taking a sip.

“That’s no fun kitten. We want you to drink with us. I’ll call down and get a bottle.” A whole bottle? Oh no! You attempt to stop the brunet alpha but he’s already on the phone ordering their best bottle.

“Don’t worry about it, kitten. We’ll pay for it,” Steve laughs. That’s not the problem! You almost shout at him but then he uses that alpha influence on you. “Sit back and relax. Please.”

“O-okay,” you whisper and settle back into the pillows.

“Who knew you could be so obedient?” Bucky laughs hanging up the phone. “You never listen to your brother like that?”

These two are not your brother.

“Did you see that play?” Steve shouts.

“He’s going! He going! He’s going!”

“Come on, Evans! Fuck yeah! You’re going to owe me a fortune at the end of the season,” Steve laughs.

“My bracket’s going to turn around. Just you wait, punk.”

“Whatever, jerk.” You smile at their antics. You’ve heard it your entire life but it never stopped being adorable.

“You two are cute.” The words slip from your mouth before you get a chance to stop yourself. Their blue gazes are back on you in an instant.

“Cute, huh?” Bucky smirks, biting his bottom lip slightly. Oh no.

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” Steve grins leaning slightly closer to you. No no no no! You almost claw your way out from between them when there’s another knock at the door. Thank God!

You move to get up but Bucky presses your thigh back down. “Sit. I got it.” He returns only to hand you a glass of wine. “Drink up. You have a whole bottle to get through.”

“There’s no way I’ll finish that, Bucky,” you laugh taking the glass with both hands.

“You won’t know until you try, kitten,” Steve smirks poking your nose with his index finger.

These two are going to kill you.

You’re soon giggling at Bucky’s jokes and leaning into Steve’s touch after your third glass of wine.

“You should’ve seen him. He was puking over the railing. Those poor fish!” Bucky laughs at the man behind you’s expense. Steve attempts to fight off his own laughter, gripping your waist and pulling you closer against him as you laugh at Bucky’s story.

“Whatever. You keep talking shit. I’m going to take a shower,” Steve chuckles and pulls away from you.

“So, kitten, tell me about your first date?”

“What?” You laugh, taking a sip of your wine.

“We told you about ours. I wanna hear about yours,” Bucky smiles running his hand up your thigh.

“Oh, it really isn’t all that interesting. It was just this guy in high school. We went to the movies. I think we saw Superbad or one of those Michael Cera movies. He tried to kiss me before my mom could come get me up but I wasn’t feeling it.”

“You wouldn’t kiss a guy after one of Michael Cera’s attempts at acting?”

“No,” you giggle. “He’s a fine actor. I just wasn’t feeling it,” you shrug.

“Alright, tell me about your first kiss then.”

“My first…?” You ask scrunching your brows up at the alpha. “Umm, well…”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never been kissed,” Bucky laughs leaning a little closer. His hand hitches a little higher on your hip, gripping what’s exposed of your ass. Any other time you would have been running as far away from him as possible but right now his sandalwood and lavender scent is going to send you straight into an early heat.

“Promise not to laugh?” You ask looking up at him through your lashes.

“I won’t. Scouts honor.”

“Like you were ever a scout,” you smile in disbelief. “Well, I didn’t have it until college.”

“Late bloomer, huh?”

You nod. “I went to my first ever college party and got really wasted and I was dancing with this guy.”

“Recipe for disaster,” Bucky grins, pulling you a little closer. You happily curl into him, slotting your leg between his. Your hand comes to rest on his lower stomach. You’ve never felt such strong abs before. You can’t help but feel a little bit. You hope he doesn’t mind.

“I told you not to laugh!” You smile.

“You’re telling the story so dramatically I can’t help it.”

You groan softly and continue your story. “So I was dancing with this guy and my friends were ready to leave so we left and he came with us. Walked with us all the way across campus, it had to have been a couple of miles and he lived close to where the party was.”

“He was trying to get some,” Bucky laughs spanking you softly.

“He was! And he wasn’t subtle about it at all! We were plotting how to ditch him the entire walk. So my friend, Milly, said just make out with him and we’ll have the automatic doors at the dorm lock him out. She didn’t know I’d never kissed a guy so I was just dreading it. Like, why do I care how this guy thinks I kiss but we made it to the dorm. They’re looking at me expectantly, waiting to slam the auto doors on this poor kids face. I just copied what I’d seen on TV, lured him right into the doorway and I just went for it. I literally puffed out my cheeks and pressed my lips against his and he tried to stick his tongue in my mouth and it was horrible! It scared me so much, I stepped back before the girls said go but Milly was on the wrestling team so she has lightning fast reflexes and she slammed the door right on his tongue.” You can’t help the laughter that spills from you and Bucky’s soon follows. “You said you wouldn’t laugh!” You cry pressing your hand against his chest.

“How could you expect me not to laugh at that?” He chuckles. “Poor fucker. Didn’t know what he was getting into with a feisty little omega like you.”

“Feisty? Me?” You laugh.

“Yes, you,” Steve laughs from behind you, sliding back into the bed freshly washed and in only a thin pair of boxers and a tank top. “What’d you do, kitten?” His strong arms wrap around your waist pulling you slightly from Bucky’s grip. One hand splays across you stomach and the other rest a little too high on your ribs to be friendly.

“She was telling me about her first kiss. She’s an evil little thing.”

“Oh, not our kitten. She’s an angel,” Steve admits nuzzling his face in your neck. It feels so good. To be wrapped in two pairs of strong arms. Both their scents settle over you so comfortably. You wish you could drown in it. You practically purr at their touch. In fact…

“Kitten,” Bucky laughs. “Are you purring?”

“No!” You deny quickly pressing away from them. “We should really get ready for bed-”

“Aw, come on, kitten,” Bucky sighs pulling you back down into his embrace. “Hang out with us.” Hang out? The last thing these two were doing was hanging out but you fall back into his arms anyway. “Was your second kiss any better?” Bucky asks distracting you from Steve’s touch.

“W-well, yeah. They were all much better after that.”

“So, you’re a pretty good kisser, huh?” Steve asks pressing his lips against your neck then licking at the sensitive skin there just above your scent gland. “Do you kiss as good as you taste?”

“Wha-! No! Steve!” You whine squirming under his touch.

“Kitten, really. I wish you’d relax for us,” Bucky sighs. “You haven’t slammed anymore tongues into doors?”

You shake your head no while Bucky’s hand grips your ass, pulling you into him and right into something more stiff than his abs but they don’t even give you a chance to react to that.

“Can you show me, kitten? How you kiss?” Steve asks softly, his hand snaking under your tiny shirt and pressing you down onto your back.

“Stevie, Bucky, w-we really shouldn’t be doing this,” you whine looking up into Steve’s ocean eyes. He really does have beautiful eyes.

“Why shouldn’t we?” Bucky asks pressing kisses to your bare shoulder. “You trust us, don’t you?”

“We’d never hurt you, kitten. You have no idea how long we’ve waited to get you away from your brother.”

“Practically since you presented.”

“That long?” You whisper, attempting to look at Bucky.

“You developed all these tantalizing curves, kitten. How could we resist?” There are hands all over your body. You can’t tell which ones belong to who. All you know is that you don’t want them to stop.

“We know you want us,” Steve sighs pressing your tiny shirt up over your breasts. “Your scent is fucking intoxicating.”

“And it spikes like crazy when we’re around. Just let us make you feel good, kitten. If you hate it, we’ll leave you alone,” Bucky promises.

“But we know you’ll love it.” Steve presses down your body and nips at your breast. You whine, spreading your legs to accommodate his large body.

“See? You already love it,” Bucky chuckles. He finally presses his lips to yours and it practically takes your breath away.

“Bucky,” you whimper against his lips as his scents spikes for you.

“Fuck,” Steve groans against your nipples. “Open up for us. Good girl, kitten.” You whine as your core clenches around nothing. You need them. You’ve never needed anyone more in your life. A set of fingers find your clothed core and you arch off the bed dramatically. “Warm her up for me, Buck?”

“You got it, pal,” Bucky chuckles around your lips. So many of your senses were firing at once. You didn’t know what to focus on. Steve’s tongue on your nipples and Bucky’s fingers at your clit. Fuck. It was all too much.

“Please,” you whisper not knowing what you wanted but you needed it.

“Please?” Steve chuckles. “Whatever you want, kitten. We’ll give it to you.”

“But you gotta tell us,” Bucky mutters. His fingers clear your tiny shorts and make contact with your naked pussy. You gasp at the feeling making them both chuckle softly.

“What can we do for you?” Steve asks.

“I-I wanna-I wanna-“

“You wanna what, kitten?” Steve’s mouth sucks at your sensitive nipples and Bucky’s fingers press against your quivering clit.

“Wanna cum!” You whine sharply.

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky chuckles and pulls away from you along with Steve.

“Wai-! Where are you going?” You pant as they sit back to watch you.

“We need to get rid of all these clothes first,” Steve explains and presses your legs together to pull off your shorts while Bucky tugs your tiny top over your head. Then they work on themselves. Your eyes widen as you watch them peel off their bottoms, revealing their hard red leaking cocks.

“What’s wrong, kitten? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Bucky smirks as he tosses away his sweats and grips his heavy erection, a steady stream leaking from it’s tip and making his scent so much more heady.

“You’re alright. Just relax,” Steve’s scent permeates beyond Bucky’s settling over you like a weighted blanket as he strips revealing his own giant cock. Precum bubbles out of his tip in thick globs making you gulp.

“Y-you’re both so big,” you whisper.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Steve laughs. “We’ll get you nice and warmed up. You’ll barely feel us.” Barely!? You want to run away but you’re paralyzed under their gaze. “Now, let me get a real taste of you.” Steve tugs your legs up over his shoulders until you’re dangling with the top of your head on his lap and staring blankly at a now upside down Bucky. You don’t even have time to think about it before his tongue licks a strip up your core and you’re left screaming for him.

“Told you we’d make you feel good,” Bucky chuckles. “Now look at you. In the perfect position to fill up that cute little hole.”

“Wh-“ But you’re cut off by Bucky tapping his tip against your bottom lips. “That’s not gonna fit!” You protest but it’s on deaf ears as he presses past your lips into your hot, wet mouth.

“See? We know what we’re doing, kitten. Trust us,” Bucky sighs as he strokes himself against your lips. A hand wraps around one of yours and guides it around his thick member, showing you how hard to squeeze. “There you go, kitten. Good girl. Just like that. Fuck. How long do you think she can stay like this, Stevie?”

Steve pulls away long enough to mutter, “Until she cums,” before diving back into your hot pussy.

You whine around your oral burden feeling the blood simultaneously rush to your head and your core until you feel like you’ll pass out from the pressure. Your whimpers get more frantic and your attention on Bucky’s cocks gets more spotty until you’re legs are clamped around Steve’s head for dear life. You get so close as everything gets so dark and fuzzy around the edges. You can’t hold on anymore. Your eyes flutter shut just as sparkles burst behind your lids and you cum flooding into Steve’s awaiting mouth.

Fuck…

Fuck!

Your eyes wretch open at the impossible stretch inside your core. “Ah! Ahhh! Stevie! Bucky!” You cry out softly as the walls of flesh around you start to console you.

“Hey! Hey, kitten. You’re okay. Calm down,” Steve instructs, his scent starting to lull you into a sense of security as his fingers stroke your cheek gently.

“We told you you’d barely feel it,” Bucky laughs from behind you.

You feel it now! He feels impossibly large and how is he fucking you twice?

You glance down to see between your and Steve’s bodies.

No. No no no no! You let out a strangled scream as the pain of having two monster cocks inside of you starts register.

“Hey! Relax!” Bucky barks. “It feels good, doesn’t it? Being this full of us?”

“Just imagine being full of our babies,” Steve grunts.

“Fuck, you’d look so beautiful. All round with huge, leaking tits,” Bucky chuckles as his fingers dance across your hard nipples.

“You aren’t on birth control, are you?”

“N-no,” you whisper, smothering your face is Steve’s shoulder.

“Good,” they both reply at once. Not good. You weren’t ready for babies. You didn’t even have a mate…

“Stop,” Bucky calls to his partner sensing your distress first. “What wrong, kitten?”

“Tell us. Let us fix it,” Steve seconds as they both still inside of you.

You can barely think straight with them stretching you like this let alone reply.

“Can’t-can’t have a baby,” you strain.

“Why not?” Steve asks, stroking your braids from your face before cupping your face.

“I-we-we’re not-“

“Out with it, kitten,” Bucky groans smacking the side of your ass.

“Bucky,” Steve reprimands. “Talk to us, kitten.”

“We’re not mated!” You finally moan into Steve’s shoulder.

“Oh?” Steve laughs.

“Is that all?” Bucky chuckles. “Don’t worry about that.”

“You’ll have marks all over you by Sunday. No one will ever question who you belong to,” Steve smirks before gripping your hips and beginning to thrust into you anew. Bucky follows suit and you wonder just how much the human body can take before it splits in half. It’s too much. Far too much. They’re too big! They take up too much space in your little body. Just when you think you’ll pass out again Steve grumbles that he’s going to cum and Bucky mimics his notion shortly afterwards.

“Please, please, please,” you chant, slurring your speech with how close your own release is.

Then one of them hits that spot just right and you’re screaming for them, clinching around them enough that they cum spilling inside of you. And then you’re left screaming again as their knots pop into place keeping all that essence bottle up inside you as they continue to spew their seed.

You gasp as you feel your belly bloat with all of it, bowing outward against Steve’s strong abs.

“Too much!” You whine at the feeling. Too full. Too tight. Too heavy. Far too much.

“Hey! I know. I know. It’s a lot. Hang in there for us,” Bucky attempts to soothe but you immediately feel another round of hot cum paint your insides and ballooning your stomach even more.

“Can’t!” You cry but both men rub your arms and your face, attempting to calm you just enough to get you on your side. Bucky’s hand finds your bloated stomach and rubs soft circles into it while Steve whispers sweet praises in your ear.

“You were so good for us, kitten. The best girl we could ask for. You gonna hold on to all that hot cum and make us a bunch of babies?” You can only nod slightly as you attempt to get comfortable. Your quickened breaths eventually get heavier as you start to doze off. “There you go, kitten. Get some rest. You deserve it.”

“She’s tight as a drum, Stevie,” Bucky sighs as his fingers find your navel. It’s straining against the need to pop to give the cum inside you a little extra room.

“We might have over done it,” Steve chuckles until he feels his partner starting to strain against his knot. “The fuck are you doing?

“She’s just so hot like this. I can’t help it,” Bucky groans as he humps into their little partner.

“Fuck, Buck!” Steve hisses trying to ignore the friction against his own cock. “You’re gonna make me cum!” But Bucky just ignores him thrusting shallowly into you while you sleep.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fu-“ Bucky sighs cumming into you once more and pulling Steve closely behind with him. You whimper softly in your sleep as your tummy bows out even more.

“Fuck, Buck! No more. She can’t handle it,” Steve says with an air of authority as he holds you against him protectively.

“I’m exhausted anyway,” the brunet yawns and cups your breast and your stomach as he follows you into sleep.

You wake up far more bloated than you remember when you fell asleep but at least both your alphas knots had gone down.

Your alphas…

It was interesting to think of them like that after so long of them being your brother’s friends. Your alphas sounds…nice.

You scramble from between the two sleeping giants and rush to the bathroom to release the load they deposited in you. You watch your bloated stomach deflate and wonder what pregnancy would be like.

You quickly shake your head of the thought. No babies without mating! You don’t care how much your omega instincts want to take over, that was never going to happen!

You return to the main room and find Bucky and Steve had turned into more comfortable positions without being knotted inside of you. You still crawl in between them and curl over Bucky’s chest in exhaustion.

“Hey? You alright?” He yawns feeling your weight as you nuzzle into him. You just nod and attempt to snuggle further into his chest. “Hang on. I want my pick of spots. Sit up for a second.” You sleepily obey, sitting on your heels before him while he scrutinizes you. He tilts your head to the left and bares his fangs into your shoulder right above your scent gland. Your eyes widen at how simple it is. No posturing. No rituals. Just a mark and you already feel more drawn to him. “There. All mine,” Bucky smiles proudly. “Punk! Wake up and claim her!” You can’t help but giggle at the two before you slide into Steve’s arms. You hold up your head on the opposite side of Bucky’s for him and that’s it. He’s marked you for life. You feel his pull start to tug you in as well as you press a kiss to his lips. You crawl from his arms and attempt to curl back in between them.

“You are far too active for a pregnant woman,” Steve mutters turning over to face you. “It obviously didn’t take and we need to try again.”

“I agree,” Bucky laughs only for you to protest and use the sheets as a shield against them.

“We have all weekend, right? You two can destroy me again tomorrow?”

Bucky smirks at you knowingly before averting his gaze to Steve. “Only if that’s a promise, ‘mega.” Your eyes widen at your brunet alpha.

“Goodnight, kitten,” Steve wishes and presses a kiss to your temple. “Get some rest. You’re gonna need it.”

You were suddenly very awake.

“Kitten? Rise and shine, my beautiful little omega.” You curl further into the sheets after hearing your name.

“Too early,” you mumble.

“What happened to you being ours today? You promised.” You whine softly and peek from the pillows to see Bucky watching you expectantly. He’s already dressed for the day and so is Steve as he rubs your back from behind you. So sore. You wiggle your hips hoping to alleviate the pain but it doesn’t help.

“We should let her sleep in,” Steve sighs pulling you closer to him.

“She’s fine,” Bucky insists. “Get up and get dressed.” You stretch against Steve’s body, the sheets falling away from you and instantly reminding you that you’re completely naked. You let out a soft gasp and cover your chest out of instinct completely forgetting about last night’s activities.

“Shy all of the sudden?” Steve laughs and kisses your cheek. “You don’t have to hide from us. Come on. Get up.” You roll from the bed and stumble into the bathroom as the events from the previous evening start to flood your mind. You’re mated now. To your brother’s best friends...

He’s going to kill them.

Your eyes widen at the thought before you catch yourself in your reflection. Your braids are a tangled mess but under them you see two sets of semi circular marks on either side of your neck. You really are theirs now.

A shutter runs through your body and ends right at your core.

Theirs.

Your alphas.

This is kind of a lot to spring on someone after one night. You laugh at the situation. You never in a million years thought you’d be mated to Steve and Bucky. Sure you fantasized about it but it was never something you thought would become your reality.

You emerge from the bathroom freshly dressed in a short sun dress. “There she is,” Bucky smiles and pulls you into his arms. “You look so cute all dolled up for us.” You stand on your toes and press a kiss to his lips. He hums positively and pulls you back for more.

Steve chuckles from behind you. “Let her go so we can get some food. Gotta keep our little omega fed.”

You giggle and grab Steve’s hand as he leads you down to the hotel restaurant.

Your first time in public as a mated omega is interesting. All the attention you’re used to getting is gone? Well, not really gone. Alphas still look but they notice the marks you proudly bare on your neck and quickly glance away. It also didn’t help that your alphas were constantly all over you: making your plate, feeding you, making sure you got exactly what you wanted.

“Grab a jacket and something to keep you entertained,” Bucky instructs when you head back to the room.

“Am I going fishing with you guys?” You ask, stretching and yawning. You just wanted to go back to sleep. Steve gives you a positive hum while he gathers his things. “I can just hang out here. Get a massage or something,” you suggest. “Maybe a bigger room will be ready and I can move our stuff…”

“Nah, you can’t do that by yourself,” Bucky denies. “And we want you with us, kitten. It’ll be fun. Better than this stuffy hotel.”

“If you insist,” you sigh and follow them out to the truck. It’s a short drive to their fishing spot, maybe a little over half an hour. They’re quiet as the set up their gear so you set up a folding chair out of their way and work on your town.

“Kitten, you didn’t think you’d sit over there with your game all day, did you?” Bucky laughs calling you over. He grips your thigh under your dress and places a kiss on your hand.

“Is this fishing? Sitting around in the sun by the water?” You ask seeing their set up: a case of beers and a baseball game streaming on one of their iPads. How were they even getting a signal out here?

“Basically,” Steve smirks up at you, those beautiful eyes squinting in the sun. “I’m glad you wore a dress today. Less to work around.”

“Huh?” You question dumbly.

“Kitten, you remember how you promised to make us a baby this weekend?” Bucky asks pulling you closer by your leg.

“Right now?” You blanch looking around the forested landscape.

“Yes, right now. We have plenty of time.”

“What if someone sees?” You ask quietly.

“They’d get a beautiful show,” Steve sighs as Bucky’s hand snakes further up your leg to find your panties. He repositions you between his thighs before tugging the little piece of fabric down your legs. Bucky presses a kiss to your stomach just before his fingers find your slit.“Bucky,” you whisper, your face heating in embarrassment.

“Open up for me, kitten.” He kicks your feet apart and you fall into him, gripping his shoulders to keep your balance. His fingers tuck into your core, making a beaconing motion and immediately finding that spot he abused the night before. You let out a soft shriek as you grip his strong shoulders. Bucky lets out a satisfied hum and kisses your cleavage. “You’re so perfect for us. So glad we have you.”

“My alphas,” you breathe.

“Our perfect little omega,” Steve sighs stepping behind you hiking up your skirt over your ass. “With the best ass on the planet,” you hear the smile in his voice right before he smacks your ass roughly. “Open her up a little more for me, Buck.”

Bucky grips your ass and pulls your knees over his thighs on his folding chair. “Shit. Hold on,” Bucky grunts and stands with your legs around his waist. “Jacket, Stevie?”

Steve lays his jacket down for you to rest your knees on.

“Thank you, Stevie,” you smile.

“Anything for you, kitten.” Steve kisses you but you chase after his lips wanting more, both of their scents calming your nerves a little.

“Is this the same omega who was worried about being caught?” Bucky laughs gripping your bare ass.

“Bucky,” you giggle squirming in his grip.

“Calm down. We’re going to fuck you no matter what,” Steve jokes and kisses you once more. Bucky sits back down with your legs spread open for Steve, you can already feel your juices slipping from your core for them.

“There’s still some cum in you, kitten,” Steve sighs, swiping his fingers through your folds.

“I-it’s your fault,” you whimper.

Steve hums back, the sound of it runs straight down to your core. “My fault? It seems like I have a little kitten who needs to learn to clean up her messes.”

You drop your face into the bend of Bucky’s neck and inhale his scent. It’s so potent and heady you can barely think straight.

“Someone’s getting a little hazy,” Bucky sighs. “Your heat starting, kitten?”

“N-no!” You quickly deny and pull away from him.

“It’s okay. Come back.” He pulls you back into his embrace. “It’s okay if you can’t control it. That’s why we’re here.”

“Let us take care of that pesky heat,” Steve sighs. “You just be our sweet little omega.”

“Speaking of being our sweet little omega, do you wanna mark us, kitten?” Bucky asks pressing his lips to the mark Steve left on your shoulder.

“Y-you want me to…?” You question, your lids starting to feel heavy from the hormones suddenly overtaking your system.

Bucky gives you an affirmative hum, his lips never leaving your skin.

The thought never crossed your mind. You always assumed you’d belong to your alpha. Not the other way around.

It didn’t seem normal. Or, at least, no one ever talked about it.

“You’re sure you want me?” You whisper, trying to fight back the heat for a moment. It was coming no matter what at this point. It’s just a matter of letting it come.

“Kitten, we told you last night. We’ve wanted you for years,” Steve sighs, tilting your head back so you can see him.

“But you’re like a skittish little cat. You run at the first sign of danger. So we had to corner you,” Bucky adds trailing his fingers along your exposed cleavage.

“Get you alone, away from that protective brother of yours,” Steve smirks and kisses your forehead before releasing you.

“We want you, kitten. We have rooms made for you at our homes. Our kitchens are stocked with your favorite foods on the off chance you might come by. We just need you to submit.”

“B-both of you?” You breathe, glancing between the two of them.

“We’re a package deal, sweetheart,” Steve chuckles.

You watch Bucky’s chest for a moment, your fingers gripping his Henley lightly. You glance up at his blue eyes before shifting your gaze to his scent gland.

You nod slightly before leaning down to meet his skin. You kiss the area, trailing kisses until you find the perfect spot for your mark. Then you bite down hard and Bucky’s scent explodes for you. A fresh wave a slick coats your core and you almost feel faint.

“…so good,” you sigh out, mostly to yourself.

“If you like that, just wait for my rut,” Bucky grunts in your ear making your face heat. Everything suddenly feels so hot and your skin is so sensitive.

“My turn?” Steve asks, picking you up to cradle you against his chest. You nod and wrap your arms around his shoulders. You nuzzle against his neck, finding the perfect spot on him as well. Your lips explore his skin before you finally bite down. A whine escapes you as Steve’s scent overwhelms your senses. You grip his shoulders as a cramp runs through your body.

“Fuck, kitten, I felt that,” Steve groans.

“You need someone to scratch that itch?” Bucky asks.

“It’s more than an itch, Buck. She needs to get fucked,” Steve laughs and places you back in his lap.

“Is that right, kitten? You need to get fucked?” A soft whine escapes your lips as you squirm in Bucky’s lap.

You nod weakly. There’s no use in hiding it now. They know you carnally. They feel everything you feel and they definitely feel the slick dripping down your thighs.

“Good girl,” Steve sighs. Steve spreads your lips with his fingers and thrusts in so slowly you feel every ridge and vein adorning his cock. The moan that escapes your lips is feral. You need this. You need them.

Steve completely buries himself in you and your jaw falls open dumbly.

“Fuck,” Steve groans. “You feels amazing, kitten.”

You feel your core clinch around him so tightly it’s almost painful.

Bucky lifts you up while you’re still impaled on Steve’s cock. He unzips his own pants and spreads your cheeks. His fingers wipe up the slick seeping out of your core before fingering your puckered hole.

“Deep breath kitten,” he sighs as he massages your insides, spreading the slick until you’re nice and slippery. “Keep breathing for me.”

Then you feel him. His thick head starting to breech that hole where it definitely shouldn’t.

“Too big,” you whine and struggle between them but before you know it, Bucky is fully sheathed within you.

Part of starts to panic as your heart and breaths race.

“Calm down, little omega. We’re gonna take care of you,” Steve coos.

“Very good care of you,” Bucky agrees.

You return to the hotel and the woman at the front desks apologizes again and hands Steve the keycards to the room he initially booked. The three of you look at each other before Steve speaks. “Actually, do you have any king suites available?”

You let your alphas carry your luggage to your new room. There were much more amenities than the last one. A kitchenette, a jacuzzi, a separate living room and bedroom.

“This a little better kitten?” Bucky asks wrapping his arms around your waist.

You nod and accept a kiss. Your phone vibrates on the table and a picture of your brother pops up on the screen. You pull away from Bucky’s grip and press a kiss to his lips before answering your phone.

“Hey, Sammy! How you feeling?”

“Way better! So I drove out to meet you guys. I knew you didn’t want to be left alone with those jokers for too long.” Your eyes widen and meet Bucky’s gaze like a deer in a set of headlights.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks throwing himself on the bed after he finishes unpacking again.

“Um, S-Sam…Sam is-Sam is…”

Bucky plucks the phone from your fingers. “Hello?” Bucky asks all concern but his face quickly lights up. “Hey! Yeah! Come on up. Room 532.” He hangs up your phone and places it back in your hands. “Sammy’s here,” he tells Steve as if it’s completely normal.

“Cool! I’m glad he’s feeling better.”

“The couch pulls out. I’m not moving rooms again,” Bucky sighs and pulls you to the bed.

“Wait!” You cry. “He-he’s gonna know. He’s gonna kill us!”

“I’d like to see him try,” Bucky laughs rubbing your stomach comfortably. “What are we doing for dinner?”

“I was just looking…there’s a steak house in town, twenty minutes away.”

“Steak sounds good. Anything for our kitten there?”

“They have salmon, shrimp risotto, oh! Lobster ravioli! You love lobster ravioli.” You do love lobster ravioli but your brother is about to see that his two best friends obviously fucked his little sister and you were all about to be on his shit list.

How can they be so calm about this?

There’s a knock at the door all too soon before you could even start to process a defense for the situation.

Steve gets up to answer the door and you hear the two best friends greet each other. Sam sounds so happy.

Too happy!

You start to panic when Bucky’s hand finds yours.

“Hey, relax. We’ll handle this. That’s what alphas are for.”

“Where my baby sister?” You hear Sam call and you pull away from Bucky and stumble from the bedroom. Steve brushes your lower back as you step up to Sam. You look up into his brown eyes and he instantly knows something is off.

He inhales your scent and sets a glare on Steve. “You fucked my little sister.” It wasn’t a question.

“Can you blame us, Sam? We’ve wanted her for far too long. We weren’t going to pass this up.”

“We? Both of you?” His gaze falls back on you. “Are you okay?”

You cock your head to the side. Are you okay? You let out a laugh and fall into a fit of giggles. “Surprisingly, I survived,” you breathe out through your laughter.

“Are you okay with this?” Sam asks once you sober.

You glance between the two men on either side of you. “I’m really happy, actually. They’re perfect,” you smile and grip Steve’s hand.

Sam glances between the three of you. “As long as you’re happy.”

“Anyway, we were thinking steak for dinner. You hungry?” Bucky asks and grabs Sam’s bag off of his shoulder.

“Starving,” Sam sighs. “Traffic was horrible.”

“Right? Poor kitten’s switch died and she was stuck just listening to us. She’s a fucking saint for that.” You giggle falling into Bucky’s chest.

“I think I fell asleep at some point,” you smile.

“And the room situation has been a nightmare. You don’t mind sleeping on the pull out?” Steve asks leading your brother into the room.

“Let me guess, they were out of three bedrooms and it was the one bed situation and now I have to watch my sister and my two best friends act like mates?”

“Yeah! That’s exactly it, actually,” Steve laughs.

“And we did mate her. You’re pretty good at this, Samuel,” Bucky smirks.

Sam looks between the three of you absolutely dumbfounded. “Alright,” he lets out a shaky exhale. “Give me a few days to adjust to this. Please.”

Bucky grins cheekily. “Should we start calling you brother, yet?”

“What about ‘a few of days’ aren’t you getting, Buck?”

“Your sister’s anything but quiet so you’re gonna hear about it all night,” Steve smirks.

“You know what, I’m just going to get my own room. I don’t wanna hear it.” You giggle softly at your brother’s comment. “Just don’t hurt my sister and you three can do whatever you want.”

“You know we could never, Sammy,” Steve grins.

“At least not in a way she wouldn’t beg for,” Bucky smirks.

“Stop! I told you I don’t wanna hear it. I’m not listening,” Sam calls before grabbing his bag and heading back downstairs.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if the only room left was the one next door?” Steve hums, pulling you closer and resting his chin on your head.

“Or the one we just left,” Bucky muses.

“Fine! I’ll get a different hotel!” Sam groans making you laugh again.

“Be nice, boys. We’ll behave.”

“You have to behave first, kitten,” Steve mutters before pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Definitely staying in a different hotel,” Sam sighs.

“Yeah, whatever,” Bucky smirks. “Like you’ll leave her alone with us for another night. Let’s go get some food.”

Master List

[moonstrider9904]

Pretty Thoughts

Part 3 of the Urban Flora mini series

Part 1 | Part 2 | Cross-posted to AO3 | Series Masterlist

Summary: You awaken to two truths - you are unmistakably in love with Crosshair, and you are both the main story on a popular gossip blog. Although this screams destruction for your reputation, what if it's a blessing in disguise?

Tags: Smut (18+ only), alcohol consumption, gossip, confrontation, female masturbation, vaginal sex, oral sex, creampie

Word count: 5.7k

Playlist: Pretty Thoughts by Alina Baraz

A/N: I've had the most fun writing and posting this series! Thank you to everyone who's read, commented, and shared! You are all the best. I hope you like the ending to this mini-series!

The nearly incessant beeping from your holopad woke you up after a night of heavy sleep. You were in that stage between your dreams and consciousness where you were just starting to make sense of things, and you reached to your nightstand for your holopad as you let out a groggy groan. When you unlocked it, your eyes widened at the screen, disregarding its glow on your pupils.

You had over 200 notifications among your messages and socials, and you quickly decided that couldn't be good.

You sat up on your bed and turned on your lamp - the sun was just beginning to rise outside, and the blinds in your bedroom blocked most of whatever light could come in anyways. You crossed your legs and held your holopad in front, and you opted to check your direct messages from any friends. First, you checked the messages from your closest friend, Pen, whom you rarely saw, but you could always confide in, and your heart nearly leapt from your chest when you saw the picture of Crosshair wearing the outfit he had on the day before, looking at the camera with a hint of confusion, but still composed and handsome as he normally was, and you recognized the area he was standing in as the street just outside the motel you had visited the day before.

Below the image, Pen's text read: Daaayum! Are all clones this fine? Why didn't you tell me you were seeing someone?

You closed out of her conversation and went onto your ongoing conversation with a different friend, Eloise, the daughter of the Senator from Corellia: Heads up, you and your mystery man made it to Scandal Gal.

Below, she had attached the full screenshot of the blog post, and below Crosshair’s picture, you read the caption:

Wakey wakey, high society: Sweetie's mystery man appears to be a silver fox dream. My sources say he was spotted entering a hotel with Sweetie and then leaving it, with our damsel of the moment seen leaving earlier than him, apparently glowing. While we may be left to fantasize about the happenings within the motel's walls, what I'm more interested to know is if this handsome young soldier is willing to introduce any of his brothers to us poor, starving gals. Consider me first in line.

With your heart pounding in your chest, you did what you knew you shouldn't have done and went over to Scandal Gal's blog and read the comments, though to your surprise, none of the comments were dragging you. You'd half expected to be called a slut by every commenter, but most of the thirsty girls in the blog were fawning at how handsome Crosshair was. You didn't particularly like a horde of girls digitally cat-calling your man, but you preferred that over a ruined reputation.

Overnight, you had become a phenomenon. What started as a picture with a few comments speculating about your encounter at the opera was now a full-fledged story that easily hundreds of people around the east side of Coruscant were following. You read multiple comments talking wonders about Crosshair, others talking wonders about you, very many admiring your relationship and how attractive you both looked together—and a few comments here and there dragging you and/or Crosshair, as expected, but overall, you and Crosshair had taken over the holonet for all the right reasons.

You wanted to laugh, but a part of it freaked you out as well. You’d never made a high profile of yourself. You’d always enjoyed your spoils in life in as private a way as possible, and the few times you’d actually made it to Scandal Gal had been because a dress you wore somewhere was beautiful, not because of your love life.

And only then, it hit you—did Crosshair know about this? And if he did, how would he take it?

Catastrophizing wouldn’t get you anywhere. You got up from your bed and put on your bathrobe, which rested on the armrest of the cozy chair next to your bed. You opened the blinds of your bedroom and took a moment to admire the Coruscant skyline with the sun making its way up the sky, dancing with a few clouds against the light blue hue. You exited your bedroom and headed past your living room with your holopad in hand, towards the kitchen to brew your coffee. As the coffee brewed, you opened the blinds to the rest of your apartment and basked in the morning peace far away from any whispers of scandal that lived in your holopad. You figured that was the bright side of it all—whether it was good talk or bad talk, it only lived in your holopad, and it wasn’t going to make its way into your calm morning.

The calm was interrupted when the door to your apartment flew open, and your mother seemed to glide inside, letting the door close behind her. Her eyes scanned the apartment until they found you, and you couldn’t decide if she was angry at you or not. At the sight of you, your mother sighed—even in her apparent disappointment, which you wouldn’t pretend not to know the cause of, your mother had a regal stance worthy of the senator of Coruscant, with her dark beige suit and her expertly done hair; even her floral scent that commanded respect.

You tried to be as nonchalant as possible, gesturing at the coffee brewer with your hand and raising your eyebrows. Your mother sighed again and shook her head, and instead, she gestured with her chin at the holopad that rested on your counter.

“Have you opened that thing this morning?” She asked you.

“Yes,” you uttered.

“Darling, what were you thinking?” Your mother now seemed more worried than angry at you. “Do you at least know this man well enough?”

“Well enough to know I’m head over heels for him,” you admitted.

“And then there’s that ridiculous gossip site,” your mom continued. “I tell myself it’s no big deal, just a little source of entertainment for spoiled rich teens with nothing better to do, but I can’t fathom the fact that now they’re picking on you. I’m too nervous to read any of the posts or the comments thinking about all the horribly unkind things everyone’s sharing about you… people can be so cruel.”

You sighed. “I know, but, Mom… as far as I’ve checked, the things Scandal Gal and the readers are saying aren’t that bad…”

“Meaning?” She inquired.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “They love him. They’re saying he’s devastatingly handsome and fawning over him, some of them even want to go stand outside the clone bar to see if they can get boyfriends.”

“But what are they saying about you?” She asked.

“I’m a hero. They like my dress, the scarf I wore, and the man I’m with. I think there’s an ongoing wager as to whether or not I’ll marry him,” you delivered blankly.

Your mother’s eyes widened, and you held in your laughter at her reaction.

“Mom, relax,” you said. “I’m not saying I will. But I do really like him. And all things considered, I expected mayhem, and even if there are a few mean things here and there, they don’t compare to how good most of the responses are.”

“That’s rare,” your mother admitted. “And I suppose you’re right, you can’t control what everyone says.”

“And I won’t try to,” you agreed. “I’m just saying it could be a lot worse and if it’s not as bad as I thought it could be, I’m gonna embrace it.”

For a split second, your mother looked at you in plain disbelief. Regardless, she sighed, straightened her back, and gathered herself, and she met your gaze again with understanding.

“Alright, now tell me, who is this man?” She asked.

“He’s the sniper who took out the assassin who tried to kill the Chancellor,” you said as you poured your cup of coffee.

Your mom raised her eyebrows. “Oh.”

“Oh?” You raised your eyebrows too, pouring another cup for your mother.

“I met him at the start of the opera,” she explained. “I even invited him to our box, but he said he already had one, he didn’t want to refuse it and seem rude.”

“Yeah, he was invited because of his efforts,” you said. “In fact, I… I met him during the final intermission at the opera. We got to talking and he’s just… fascinating.”

Those were all the details you’d give to your mother about that night.

Your mother’s demeanor seemed to soften as she drank from the coffee you’d given her. With a soft exhale, she set the cup down on the counter and pressed her hands together in front of her chest, avoiding your gaze for a few moments.

“Sweetie, I don’t want you to think I’m exploiting your relationship with this man,” she began.

You tilted your head. That was one of the last things you’d expected her to say.

She then met your gaze. “But this is actually a very good look.”

“What, for you?” You asked.

Your mother chuckled. “I have spent months collaborating with Senator Chuchi to pass a clone rights bill. When your… boyfriend…”

You chuckled. “Crosshair.”

She nodded slowly. “Right. When Crosshair saved the Chancellor’s life, we got a lot more support, but we’re not quite there yet. Too many people view the clones as vessels bred for combat, not as actual human beings with human emotions and human needs. And, as triumphant as Crosshair was in saving the Chancellor, his effort was still that of a soldier, hence why we’re, as I said…”

“Not quite there yet,” you continued. “And… you think that if I’m public with him, so public that people are talking about relationships and gossiping like they do with anyone else in our society, he’ll look more human.”

“And by extension, the rest of the clones,” your mother added. “It just might shift the tide in favor of finally giving them some more rights.”

You smiled softly and took another ship of your coffee. “I love the sound of that. I just don’t know how I feel about scheming regarding Crosshair.”

“Be honest with him, then,” your mother suggested. “If you’re not on board, be as private as you possibly can, I won’t hold it against you. It was just an idea. And now that I think about it…”

You looked up at her again, waiting for what else she had to say.

“We do have that art gala coming up tonight,” she suggested. “Why don’t you invite him?”

You nodded slowly. “I’ll ask him. I wouldn’t mind getting all fancy and seeing him, but for starters, he needs to want to go.”

“He went to the opera, didn’t he?”

“Well, yes, but that was an invitation of honor,” you answered. “And he didn’t seem like a fish out of water, but I can’t help thinking this just isn’t what he’s used to.”

Your mother gazed at you sincerely. “Don’t you cage him into the label of a soldier, too. If you like this man and you want to be with him, you’re going to have to realize he’s more than that.”

You raised both of your brows. You knew she was right, and to have heard that coming from your mother, it meant volumes. You barely ever approached what she did inside the senate, but you pondered on how much her words made sense based on what little she’d shared with you about her efforts with the Pantoran senator. And even if she wasn’t trying to pass a clone rights bill, she was still right—Crosshair was a living, breathing man, and even though you knew he was a soldier, you hadn’t met him as such. You’d seen him at a high society gathering over drinks. You’d shared coffee and bantered with him, kissed him under the rain, made love to him time and time again until you couldn’t get him out of your thoughts.

As soon as your mother left, you reached for your holopad and ignored the multiple notifications you had, heading straight for Crosshair’s frequency number and typing out your message at least three times before sending it, trying to find the most chill way to invite him to the art gala. You sent the message and waited for the reply, frantically scurrying to your holopad anytime it vibrated. For a while, he didn’t answer, and before you lost hope, you finally saw the notifications coming in from Crosshair.

Can’t resist another little encounter with me, can’t you, Sweetie?

You chuckled, but you felt nervous at the same time. That obviously meant he’d been, in some way, exposed to Scandal Gal too.

How fancy do I have to dress? His next message came in shortly after.

You chuckled at your phone and typed back: Fancy enough to knock everyone dead.

Instantly, Crosshair replied: ’Kay. I’ll be there.

After you texted him all the details of the event, you went about your day with a twinge of excitement sprinkled over your every move. The sun made its way around the sky until it was time for you to get ready for the event, and for this occasion, you chose a dark purple dress paired with long black gloves and no necklace, since you’d be wearing your hair down your shoulders. The dress’s top had a black ribbon outlined in the shape of a triangle, with the base at your waist, and it was filled with discreet black sequins. On the right shoulder, where the dress’s top met your sleeve, you placed a dark gray brooch that your mother had given you on your eighteenth birthday, and looking at yourself in the mirror, you were almost ready to go. You did your makeup and grabbed your purse, and then you went out the door to the nightlife of Coruscant, where your mother was already waiting at the bottom of the building with a vehicle.

Your pulse was racing for the whole ride, knowing you would meet Crosshair there. You clutched your purse with both hands over your pressed thighs, and you could feel beads of sweat forming in your palms, having to take deep breaths from time to time to keep yourself steady. The vehicle finally arrived at the gala and parked just in front of the red carpet you were meant to walk on, and only then it dawned on you that multiple pairs of eyes thirsting for scandal would be on you. But you wouldn’t back out, not now, not when you were the very image of elegance in society about to meet with your Silver Fox Dream, as Scandal Gal had put it.

You resolved to knock them all dead too.

The door on your side of the vehicle was opened by an usher, and you stepped out, straightening your posture and taking in the scenery of flashing cameras and excited partygoers, and confident as you looked, your heartbeat hadn’t calmed down in the slightest. You looked around, scanning for the only person you were interested in seeing.

And soon enough, your eyes landed on him. His attire was possibly better than the one he wore the night of the opera, with a slim fit pitch-black suit and shirt, adorned with a burgundy vest under the coat, and rich red rose in his breast pocket. Crosshair’s watchful eyes gazed back at you, and as you remained still in front of your vehicle while your mother got out, Crosshair made his way to you, letting you behold every detail on him as he got closer to you, and when he was finally right in front of you, you took in all of him.

Crosshair was strikingly debonair, undeniably gorgeous, charming in his pride and confidence. He even smelled incredible. His tall figure seemed to loom protectively over you, complimenting your lack of height when you stood next to him, and you both made such a perfect pair you almost hoped that gossiping teenage girls were in proximity to behold your beauty, perhaps even eat their hearts out as a treat for you.

“Miss,” Crosshair greeted as he took your hand and brought it up to his lips, placing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

His gentle kiss ignited every inch of your skin as you briefly remembered the moments of passion you’d already shared with that man. You gave him a demure smile, taking one step closer to him, wishing with every fiber of your body to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a kiss not unlike the one you’d had under the rain the day before, but perhaps it wasn’t the time or place for such a public display. Moreover, as Crosshair was lowering your hand down from his gesture, your mother exited the vehicle and appeared at your side, smiling at Crosshair.

He acknowledged her and gave her the hint of a smile, taking a slight bow. “Ma’am.”

He held out his hand, offering her the chance to be greeted in a similar way as you, and to your surprise, your mother obliged.

“It’s wonderful to see you again,” your mother said to him. “I didn’t know you’d met my daughter until this morning.”

“She’s a wonderful lady, ma’am,” Crosshair responded without a hint of hesitation or insecurity.

You were in awe at how easily he was getting along with your mother as the two continued to make small conversation, and soon enough, your mom went ahead and entered the building, with you and Crosshair following behind, your arm linked in his. Camera flashes on you weren’t scarce, and in the distance, you could hear high-pitched cries of “There they are!” and “They’re so hot together!”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at yourself.

“Basking in your triumph?” Crosshair broke the silence between you.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“That was a bold move, inviting me here, introducing me to your mother,” he continued, his features holding the sternness they usually did, but you picked up on no disgust on his behalf.

“Yeah, well…” You said. “Overnight, we kind of became public figures, you and me. There’s this gossip site that’s been following me around for a while, nothing major, but when you and I started talking at the opera, we got popular.”

“Ah, Scandal Gal,” Crosshair mused. “Yes, I was approached and stalked by a teen.”

You nearly snorted trying to hold in your laughter. “What?”

“The picture of me that’s on that site was taken by a sixteen-year-old girl,” Crosshair said, smirking. “Somehow, I’m more afraid of gossip-hungry teens than I am of tactical droids.”

You chuckled. “They’re formidable, alright.”

“So… you’re feeding them what they want by bringing me here?” He continued the conversation.

“No, not exactly,” you replied. “That’s a side effect. Because of Scandal Gal, my mom rushed over to my place this morning panicking a little, but I explained to her that… well…”

You and Crosshair had just reached the bar of the opulent salon where the gala was being held, and you both took a seat on your respective stools. Crosshair eyed you with intrigue as you trailed off, prompting you to speak up, and you realized why you’d stopped yourself from saying what you wanted to say.

But this was Crosshair. He was a dream incarnate, and you were already there with him, a striking and attractive couple that commanded everyone’s attention, and you found yourself smiling at him as your pulse rose once more.

“That I… I feel a lot for you,” you said. “That I really like you, Crosshair, and this isn’t a meaningless fling for the sake of shock value to me.”

Crosshair maintained eye contact with you, and his features softened ever so slightly, so discreetly that an untrained eye wouldn’t have been able to notice. He broke eye contact with you to gesture at the bartender and order drinks for both of you, and then he turned back to you, with his lips curving to a smirk.

“Well, well,” he hummed. “How touching.”

It was good that he didn’t appear repulsive at your sentiments, but your poor, racing heart would need a more precise answer. Then, Crosshair’s smirk widened, and he looked down at his knees, letting his inner softness glow through if only for a moment.

“It’s not meaningless for me either,” he replied.

You smiled brightly and exhaled the tension from your chest. “Really?”

“Really,” he answered.

“Then��� there’s something else you should know,” you said.

And you then explained how your mother wouldn’t use you both, but that you were supporting her cause in the senate, how him being exposed to something other than the front lines would put clones in a more human light, at least to the members of the senate who were still on the fence. You even gave Crosshair the opportunity to back out immediately if he felt like his strings were being pulled, but all the while, Crosshair remained with that serene smile at you, and when you were done talking, Crosshair reached for your hands and held them in his.

“Does this bill mean I’ll get paid more?” He asked.

You laughed openly, and he chuckled in return just as the drinks he’d ordered were placed beside you by the bartender.

“Sweetie,” he said to you. “I don’t care much about the other things. Not Scandal Gal, not the Senate, although that bill sounds decent. I came here to be with you because I can’t get you out of my brain. You’re not what I pictured a high-society woman to be, and… well…”

You smiled softly at him, and now it was your turn to prompt him to speak.

“Now that you’ve introduced me to your mother,” he said, “I hope I get the chance to introduce you to my brothers too.”

Your smile widened. “You’d do that?”

He nodded, smiling softly at you. “You’re a smart girl, you can handle it.”

You laughed and reached for your drink, an Urban Flora cocktail that could have been an exact replica of the one you drank when you first met Crosshair at the opera. You took a sip of it without breaking eye contact with Crosshair, and when you lowered your drink, you raised a brow at him.

“But can you handle the Coruscant high societal scene?” You asked.

Crosshair took a sip of his own drink, the smoky, rich Corellian whisky he loved so much, and he leaned in closer to you, close enough for you to smell the smooth, luscious drink on his breath.

“Try me, Sweetie,” he purred.

You giggled, and you both gently bumped your glasses together, and you went on to continue talking about whatever sparked your interest as you finished your drinks. Crosshair told you about his missions, his brothers, even a couple of anecdotes of when he was a young cadet. In turn, you told him about your days as a schoolgirl, your plans for the future, what you liked to do in your spare time, the planets you longed to visit all over the galaxy. And then, when the glasses were empty and the conversation was fulfilled, you and Crosshair stood up from the bar and went around the room, and you greeted most of your friends and acquaintances as well as introduced Crosshair to all of them. Crosshair was a flying success with everyone, and you couldn’t help but gawk at him just a little. The night wore on as smoothly as velvet, until it was getting late, and you were bound to return home.

You directed a look at Crosshair, a look that was filled with allure, and he reciprocated. Quick goodbyes were said, and soon, you were sitting with Crosshair at the back of your vehicle as the chauffeur flew you home. As you sat together, you were in silence, and though Crosshair was great with words, you’d learned he was far better with his actions, and he reached for the rose on his breast pocket and handed it to you. You smiled at him, slightly flustered, and for the remainder of the ride, you scooched closer to him and leaned your weight on him, eager to arrive at the privacy of your apartment.

You had no intention of waiting. After you and Crosshair had left the vehicle, the moment the elevator doors closed behind you, you were both on each other. Your hands ran all over his back as you both locked lips, hungrily devouring each other in that small space, and you then let your palms rest on his chest. Crosshair took each of your hands and tugged gently at your middle fingertips, enough to hold onto the gloves you wore as you slid your hands down and the delicate fabric came off, exposing your skin. You heard Crosshair shudder softly before he took you into his arms again, kissing you as passionately as before, and you both felt the elevator pulling to a stop.

You gathered yourselves—there was no need to surprise someone waiting for the elevator with a steamy scene—but when you found there was no one there to see you, you and Crosshair held hands as you made your way over to your penthouse, and the moment the door closed behind you both, you were on each other’s lips once more. Your wandering hands removed his coat and his vest, and he found the zipper at the back of your dress. He lowered the zipper, causing the dress’s blouse to fall limply around your silhouette, and you took a step back, wanting him to watch as you wiggled out of the dress and let the fabric fall gracefully on the floor, leaving you to step out of it.

Crosshair eyed you hungrily as you approached him. Your breasts hung freely at your front, and he didn’t miss the hickey he’d left on your ribs the day before. On your hips, there was a pair of lace black panties, but the top prize was easily taken by the stockings that covered you from the middle of your thighs to your toes, which he couldn’t make himself tear his gaze from. You chuckled and took his hands, leading him slowly into your bedroom, and he followed you blissfully until you were at the foot of your bed.

You let go of him and sat back all the way to your headboard. You pressed your legs together and slowly slid your panties away from you, tossing them aside, and you spread your legs to show him, never once breaking eye contact with him. Your gaze was alluring, slightly teasing, and Crosshair watched. He watched as you spread your legs and took your hand to your inner thigh, teasing your skin, until your fingers finally brushed fully over your folds and your clit. You let out a playful gasp, smirking at him and taunting him, and as he watched, Crosshair began to undress. Your smirk widened, and you continued to touch yourself in the way you most liked, delighted by the sight of him losing the clothes that covered him. Your cunt was wet and swollen, pulsating and sensitive, all you needed to do was increase your pace ever so slightly and you’d tip yourself over the edge—as Crosshair crawled onto the mattress, you decided to give him the full show. Making sure his eyes were still on you, you applied more pressure onto your clit and used your three middle fingers to rub, and looking into his eyes, you finally got to enjoy the waves of your orgasm.

You reveled in how hungry Crosshair looked, pleased and aroused by the little show you put on for him. Crosshair couldn’t help but take his hand over to his cock, pumping slowly as he watched you pleasing yourself, until your orgasm faded, and your moans quieted when you removed your hand. You found Crosshair’s gaze and pouted at him, holding your hand in front of you and curling your finger, beckoning him to come to you. With a smirk, Crosshair obliged, and he positioned himself between your legs, planting soft kisses around your inner thighs before brushing his tongue lusciously over your folds. He moaned into your skin, and you whimpered in return, dazed and sensitive after your antics.

As Crosshair continued to please you with his skilled tongue and lips, you suddenly felt his fingers finding yours. You spread your hand before interlacing your fingers with his, holding him as he brought you closer to another release. Your body squirmed harder than it had the first time around, the white-hot ecstasy seeming to explode within every fiber of your body. You didn’t hold back with your moaning, letting his name escape you many a time, enticed by the velvety texture of his tongue contrasting with the raspiness surrounding his jawline.

When Crosshair emerged from between your legs, you tugged on him, prompting him to rest at your eye level. You wanted to feel him close to you, and Crosshair knew what it was you desired. With your legs still spread, you rested back and let him take the lead, feeling as he slowly inserted himself within your tight, warm walls. You both moaned in unison and stared deeply into each other’s eyes as he began his thrusts slowly, luxuriously letting you feel everything. Your lips begged for his, and you perked your face up to kiss him as you felt your body gently bouncing on the mattress in his rhythm. Crosshair’s kisses made you float higher and higher, and drenched in pleasure and ecstasy, you felt like you were in paradise. Crosshair was truly capable of taking you there.

Crosshair paused his kisses on your lips and lifted himself to look at you, his gaze stern and seductive as he increased the snapping of his hips. He grunted as he hammered into you, shuddering and twitching inside you in anticipation, soon unable to contain soft groans and whimpers. Crosshair looked straight into your eyes, flooded by adoration of you, until the pleasure was too much for him to keep his eyes open even as much as he wanted to gaze into you. His eyes shut and the rhythm of his hips became unfathomably fast, and so too, you descended into bliss for the third time that night. You smiled amidst your orgasm, chiming his name in a delicious moan, your hand still securely holding his as he released inside you and fell limp on the mattress beside you afterwards.

You both panted, each your own dazed and flustered mess as you made futile attempts to recover, but as much as you were both unable to do much else, you remained holding each other’s hands. As time passed, you soon felt Crosshair’s thumb brushing delicately up and down your finger, and you watched him with a tender gaze. You felt you’d fall asleep right there, and if you did, you knew you would want for nothing. You knew you’d have nothing to worry about for as long as you were together, and the pain of temporary separations would be worth it if it was Crosshair you would wait for.

And there on your mattress, filled with love, resolve, and exhaustion, you drifted off into sleep.

A gentle sunlight and the song of birds woke you up. You noticed the space beside your bed was empty, and you didn’t waste time getting up and placing your robe over you as you sought out your lover. You walked over to the living room and your attention was drawn to the balcony, where he stood with his back turned on you, shirtless and wearing his pants from the night before, gazing out at the scenery.

You took a moment to admire him and the way his skin appeared golden under the morning sun, contrasting almost artistically with the green plants on your balcony, the blue sky, and the skyline ahead. With soft steps, you approached him and stepped out onto the balcony, and you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, pressing a soft kiss on his shoulder blade. Crosshair delicately shuffled and brought your figure next to him, draping his arm around you, and you both stood in silence for a few peaceful moments, watching the scenery.

“What are you watching?” You asked him, knowing it was in his nature to observe.

His amber eyes scanned the scenery, and he almost looked humbled. He had the face of an innocent life being beholding the universe ahead of them, realizing how small they truly were in comparison to the greatness of creation itself.

“Out there, as soldiers,” Crosshair began, “it often feels like we fight because it’s all we know. We were made for it. Myself, my brothers, more obviously bred for different purposes, all to serve one war. But aside from why we were created, we never really stop to think what we’re fighting for.”

You looked up at him, watching his features soften in realization as he spoke. Crosshair then angled his body more towards you, and he held you tighter, pressing you to the warmth of his skin, watching you with the most tender gaze you had ever felt on you.

“I won’t forget this next time I’m on the battlefield,” he continued.

“You mean, Coruscant?” You asked. “The Republic, these people, this skyline… peace?”

He smiled. “I mean you.”

You smiled at him, devoted.

Crosshair chuckled. “All of that, too, but, mostly you.”

“Oh, Crosshair,” you wrapped your arms around him and perked on your toes, requesting a kiss.

Crosshair obliged and kissed you gently, almost carefully, feeling as the sunshine draped over his skin. He wished he could remain there longer, but he had a duty, a duty that had brought him to you, and a duty that he had to fulfill in order to one day be with you more properly. He knew that, with you on Coruscant waiting for him, he’d always have a reason to return, and a reason to keep fighting. He’d never thought of a life besides being a soldier, but if you were in it, it couldn’t be so bad.

And out there, on that balcony, Crosshair held you close to him until the very last moment he could spare with you, until he had to leave again to be a soldier, always with the promise of returning to you.

*

This just in: Sweetie and Sniper Man are still together and far more public now that I and my loyal sources have done our job ;) I do think we have a power couple in our midst, and the next time these two show up at a fancy event dressed to impress, you’ll hear about it from none other than yours truly. I certainly wish the happy couple all the best, and my challenge towards Sniper Man to bring forth more eligible men from the fine and respectable GAR still stands. Help us gals out, Sniper Man, we all love you so much, and we can’t let Sweetie keep all the spoils!

Yours truly!

Thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging to support me!

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[vanillanaps]

Second Place | Dean Winchester

Request - Can I request an angsty spn imagine where Sam is in love with deans gf but she definitely only sees him as a friend/brother because she is head over heels for dean?

A/n - I normally don’t write about love triangles because I don't like them so this was definitely out of my area of expertise. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless and it's angsty enough for you!

Category - Dean Winchester x Reader, Angst

Warnings - Pinning on sams end, fluff for reader and dean, kind of told through sam's pov, my first dean\spn fic so be nice, not proof read as always, thamk :p

Word Count - 1.3k

♡♡♡♡

There was never a time in Sam’s life when he didn’t come second place to his brother. That just came with the territory of being the little brother to Dean Winchester. The man who could get anything, everything and whoever he wanted with just a single look. After a while, he didn’t mind it though. He accepted his fate and made peace with it, but the one thing he could never let go of was coming in second place to Dean when it came to You.

The three of you had been as thick as thieves growing up. Your father and John Winchester had been best friends and hunting buddies, so naturally the three of you were always together. Your father would leave you with Sam and Dean as he and John went off hunting for the night. You being older than Sam, yet younger than Dean, naturally you clicked with Sam a little more during the young stages. Preferring to hang with him as Dean had grown more off putting and to himself, that's when Sam’s crush started on you. He loved that you were the one person who put him above Dean.

It was movie night? You’d choose to sit next to Sam and share your snacks with him. Long car rides in the back of the impala? Naturally, your head would fall over onto Sam’s shoulder as you slept. Starting new schools together? You’d cling more to Sam’s side as you were shy and nervous. Feeling as if he’d be the one to shun you from all those wondering eyes. Never once did Sam have the courage to speak up about his feelings towards you. Assuming that if he did and you didn’t feel the same, your bond would be ruined and you wouldn’t be his best friend anymore. Maybe he could live with just knowing that you’d put him first–until you didn’t.

It was your 17th birthday when everything changed. It had just been the three of you, sitting at the small hotel table with a cake and candles Dean had stolen from a nearby grocery store. You had hoped that your dad and John had made it back in time to celebrate, but they didn’t. So Sam and Dean took it into their own hands to cheer you up. They sat and sang happy birthday to you, loudly and obnoxiously to get you to smile.

“Thanks guys.” You smiled softly. You gave Sam your usual best friend hug. Your arms wrapped around his waist and his arms went around your shoulders. Only lasting for a moment, he always wished they lasted longer. But then you went to hug Dean. Sam’s heart dropped at the small difference in the hug. It was your arms around his neck, and Dean’s arms around your waist. A small rock was added as Dean’s arms loosened and lowered a bit more than Sam preferred. He watched as Dean whispered something in your ear, causing you to smile and hide your face into his neck.

It was then that Sam knew he was once again placed second to Dean, in the one way he wished, he hoped, would never happen.

YEARS LATER

The hotel room was thrown open as the three of you walked into the door. Defeat written all over your faces. Tonight, a hunt went terribly wrong. The person you had been trying to save had ended up losing their life anyways. Of course you knew that you couldn't save everyone, but nonetheless did it bother you when the creatures of the night won.

“I’ll get the kit.” You mumbled, after making sure Dean had gotten to the bed. He had been hurt the worst tonight, throwing himself in the line of fire.

Sam sat on his bed, watching you move about the room gathering the supplies you needed to tend to Dean’s wounds. Sam was hurt too and he’d known you’d get to him eventually, but even all these years laters, he was wishing that he was first on your patch up list. He sat with envy in his eyes, as you worked on Dean’s wounds. Hating the hushed whispers between the two of you that he couldn’t hear. It should've been him making you laugh in your saddest moments. Truthfully, he held resentment towards Dean for taking his best friend, his life long crush from him without a second thought.

“Sam?” You called to him, pulling him from his thoughts, “You okay?”

Clearing his throat, he sat up and nodded, “Yeah, yeah, I'm okay.”

You gave him a soft smile, sitting down in front of him, “ ‘Kay, let's clean that wound, yeah? I think you only need a butterfly band-aid.”

He nodded, letting you get to work on his small forehead wound that he could've cleaned himself, but he loved when you did it. He tried his hardest not to stare you in your face, but he couldn’t help but notice your beauty. Even with all the dirt and sweat on it from the previous couple hours. To Sam, you never have a bad day. To Sam, you were the most beautiful woman in the world and he was pissed that he missed his chance with you. Maybe, just maybe had he not let his thoughts get the best of him when he was younger, you’d be his and not his brothers.

“What’s on your mind, Sammy?” You asked him with concern laced in your voice.

Sam’s green eyes glanced around the room, Dean not in sight, before they met yours. Was this his chance? Would he be able to redeem himself and spill his true feelings to you? How would you feel? Did you feel the same? Would you leave Dean and be with him like he truly felt like should've been since day one?

“Y/n..” Sam started, his heart beating out of his chest as he was getting ready to spill his feelings out to you, “I’ve been wanting to tell you this for years.”

Your eyebrows jumped in curiosity, wondering what the hell Sam could have been keeping from you for years. Yet, as soon as Sam went to spill his guts, the hotel room door had opened again and Dean reentered the room.

“Got some more towels, we’ll need them.” He stopped in his tracks, looking over at the two of you, eyebrows furrowed, “Am I interruptin’?”

You looked back over at Sam, who now had an unreadable expression on his face, “Sam?”

His eyes shot back and forth between you and Dean before he swallowed his words, clearing his throat with the shake of his head, “No, no, I–uh, I was just gonna say thank you. For everything you do for me—and Dean.”

You smiled widely, “Oh, of course, Sammy. You’re like a little brother to me.”

At that moment, Sam could swear that he actually felt his heart shatter into pieces. Y/n’s words had crushed any hopes he had of her feeling the same about him. A brother, a little brother is what he’d always be to her.

He watched as she got up, making her way over to Dean, taking the towels from him, but not before she leaned up on her tippy-toes to give Dean a kiss. In Dean fashion, he wrapped his arm around her waist and leaned into it, deepening the kiss as if it was the last time he’d kiss her. Pulling away the couple whispered a plethora of ‘i love you’ and ‘i love you more’ before Y/n wandered to the bathroom so she could be the first to wash tonight off of her.

“Yo,” Dean called, cracking open two beers and passing one to Sam, “You good?”

Forcing a thin smile on his face, he accepted the beer, taking a long swig of it, cringing at the stale taste of it, “I’m great.”

Sam Winchester, always coming in second place.

[cementcornfield]

I’d love to hear your joe’marr night of natty thoughts if you ever wanted to share! 🥰

augh this is so old i'm sorry!!! but god yes i have MANY thoughts on that night.

below the cut for some rambling nonsensical (very shippy!!) thoughts about it!

so ok. it's long been my headcanon that the night of the natty would be when they first hook up, after a longgggg season of tension and hidden glances and awkward not quite flirting. like basically it would have been building for a long time whether either of them are really aware of it or not (and i doubt they'd be all that aware of it! focus on the football ya know? not on these funny feelings that i'm sure are very normal! that constant elation and adrenaline they feel around each other is just all the winning and record-breaking plays! in fact! winning and their feelings for each other are kind of completely intertwined so how can they even /start/ unpacking all that??)

so anyway! as we all know, joe gives ja'marr the game ball that night. we still don't know the EXACT circumstances (did he plan to, was it a spur of the moment thing, did ja'marr ask for it?? etc etc). we do know ja'marr joked later about not giving it back to joe lol, but i do think that WAS a joke actually. so like, obviously the whole team went out and partied/celebrated and didn't get back to the hotel until probably early in the morning, all drunk on booze and victory and each other! joe and ja'marr would have gone back to their separate rooms and ja'marr would see the game ball just sitting there where he left it on his bed before they all went out. and he can't stop thinking about the soft look on joe's face as he gave it to him. how amazing they were together that night. how it (for all he knows!) is the last time they would ever play together. and suddenly he decides that he needs to go see joe right then and there (to give the game ball back, of course, no other reason 🙂)

so he'd go knock on joe's door (who is still too pumped up on the events of the night to have fallen asleep, but he'd definitely still answer to door shirtless 🙂) and they'd just stare at each other for a moment, then joe would invite ja'marr in (because he's a gentleman) and ja'marr would try to give the ball back (because as much as he was bragging and being goofy about it before, he can't believe that joe would really be serious about ja'marr wanting to keep it. i mean. it's the GAME BALL. joe earned it, joe wanted it!)

and joe would get this serious look on his face and refuse and say that he gave it to ja'marr, that ja'marr deserves it for that game and for everything that season. everything he did for and meant to joe. (and of course what he would REALLY mean is that the ball is 10000% a symbol of his heart and his love and it all belongs to ja'marr, and it has for some time now! but obviously he can't say that because he is a Strong Stoic Football guy and probably still doesn't even realize what he means as he says it)

but i think ja'marr would understand anyway (because he has slightly higher EQ) he would get what joe meant. what everything has been building up to all season long, what joe means to him, what it's going to be like to be without him next year. and they're just looking at each other and they're drunk and vulnerable and neither one knows who makes the first move but they're suddenly making out and ja'marr drops the game ball and they don't even think about finding it until the next morning (because they are otherwise occupied 🙂)

but then the next morning! angst! because they're two dumb college kids who grew up in toxic masculine sports culture and they can NOT deal with what happened (no matter how much they 100% both enjoyed it). ja'marr would rush out of the room the next morning (NOT taking the game ball) and joe would see him trying to sneak out. they'd lock eyes for a moment and not say a word, ja'marr would leave and that would be that. but later that day, ja'marr would find the game ball back in his room. (i dont know HOW but listen joe was a god to the city of nola that day, he could probably convince the hotel staff or something. don't worry about it.) and ja'marr would see it sitting on his bed again and he'd be hungover and tired and freaking out and he would absolutely cry about it a little bit. because he's a huge cry baby and going through a lot 💔

but yeah, things would be awkward for joe and ja'marr during all the celebratory ceremonies, and then joe would graduate and go on to the draft, and ja'marr would stay in nola. and they wouldn't keep in touch at all besides a few texts in various group chats. maybe check in with each other once or twice to see how each other is dealing with like, the pandemic (hey 2020!), ja'marr might text joe congrats on being drafted number 1....and that's it!

UNTIL joe gets hurt his first season, ja'marr's sitting out his season at home in nola, and he reaches out to check on him. it's been long enough that they can both pretend they forgot about it, and they catch up a little bit. they're both lonely as joe recovers and ja'marr isn't playing, so they'd get to talking more and more. ESPECIALLY when it becomes obvious how well positioned cincy is going to be in the draft, and how high ja'marr is going to be drafted. which is when they start making plans that sound like fantasy at first but become more and more realistic, of actually playing together again! (which is how we get to joe texting ja'marr the morning of the draft telling him to have his bags packed 🥲)

of course it's awkward when they first see each other in person again. they barely think of that natty night anymore (except that they do all the time, but they're good at repressing and compartmentalizing! they're athletes!) but when they see each other in person it's hard not to remember everything that happened that night. but hey! they push past it, assume the other one isn't thinking the same things, and try to get that chemistry back (which does actually take awhile, as we all know! probably because of all the emotional baggage!) and then fast forward to their first game together in the pros (against the vikings!! with justin there!! fate fate fate!!!) and it goes so well and ja'marr gets that amazing TD that's just like all the ones they got together at LSU....and uhhh yeah. let's just say they celebrate that night too 🥲

[switchypanic]

Non-Tickly 'Hazbin Hotel' Headcanons

Just thought I would share a collection of my non-tickle related headcanons for the Hazbin crew! I hope you enjoy them! There will be some spoilers for the first season below, so read with caution!

→ Charlie is a vegetarian. The thought of harming an innocent creature for food makes her feel bad, but if the others want to eat a hamburger, she isn't going to throw a fit over it. → Since the death of Dazzle, Razzle has turned up in the hotel patrons' beds on more than one occasion, unable to sleep without someone to cuddle up next to (Charlie and Angel Dust are his most popular pick). → Vaggie has to relearn how to walk with her wings after they grow back because they throw off her balance; Lucifer offers to give her lessons, secretly hoping to bond with his future daughter-in-law (he's convinced Charlie is going to propose any day now). → Husk has excellent night vision because of his cat-like features, which proves to be quite a handy tool when Angel insists upon playing "Hide And Seek In The Dark" as a bonding exercise. → Both Lucifer and Sir Pentious are autistic. During their brief interactions with each other, they ended up infodumping about their respective special interests (ducks for Lucifer, weapons manufacturing for Pentious). → Sinners are sterile, unable to reproduce with each other OR hellborns. The only exception is when they mate with a succubus or incubus, in which case there is a VERY SMALL chance of a child being born. → Alastor is able to outdrink Husk and holds his alcohol fairly well, but if you try to give him something overly fruit or sweet, he can't keep it down. → Nifty made friendship bracelets for every member of the hotel crew from some of the roaches she has killed; Charlie and Alastor are the only ones who can get over the disgust enough to wear their. → Charlie put on a karaoke night once in hopes of drawing more patrons in. While nobody showed up, the gang just ended up getting plastered and singing their hearts out anyways, so it's safe to say the night wasn't a complete loss (there's a video of Husk singing Frank Sinatra saved to Angel's phone now). → Adam, Lilith and Eve don't have belly buttons because they were created from scratch, not born by normal means.

[apparitionism]

Asleep

Happy @b-and-w-holiday-gift-exchange to @kla1991 , our fearless leader, who of course knew I was their gifter, and who requested “a bed-sharing scenario that doesn't immediately turn sexy,” one that might involve tensions and/or physical discomfort. I’ve tried to approach that assignment in the appropriate spirit, with a bit of spin, although I suppose it all really depends on what any given person considers “sexy”... anyway, I’m pretty sure there are two sides to every story. Two sides to every bed, too. Here’s the first side. (This takes place in a post-season-five world, because why not raise the difficulty level?)

Asleep

My arm is asleep.

Normally, a person would, upon realizing this, shift position so as to restore blood flow.

Normally.

But very little is normal about the situation in which Myka’s arm is asleep.

She is in a hotel-room bed, in the dark of night, lying on her left side, with her left arm, her now-asleep arm, pinned beneath her. So ends the extremely limited “normal” portion of the situation.

Here begins the rest: she absolutely must not move. This is because she can hear, and can as a molecular disturbance feel, the steady push-pull of Helena’s breathing, near her neck, so near. She feels also the unfamiliar proximity of Helena’s body, offering heat across what must be only nanometers separating her from Myka’s back. And then there is Helena’s hand, what must be her right hand, resting in sleep, what must be unconscious sleep, on Myka’s hip.

They have never been in a bed together before tonight—but also, sadly also, they are not in a bed together now. They are simply two people in a bed in a hotel room, one of them obviously sleeping, obviously fulfilling her role in the “two agents are sharing a hotel room and getting some rest” play they are performing.

Myka, however, is not asleep. No: instead she is on fire because of Helena’s breath and heat and hand but unable to do anything about any of that, and thus desperate to escape and suffer her mortification in private but unable to do anything about any of that either—a terrible combination.

And now her arm, as if in intentional mockery, is asleep.

She has arrived at this pretty pass due to a series of events that had seemed, in their unfolding, to be at the very least manageable...

... starting with Helena’s return to the Warehouse.

That return had at first struck Myka as a beautiful dream—and, equally, a reward for awakening from a nightmare.

The particular nightmare from which Myka had awakened was the fugue in which she’d imagined she might have romantic feelings for Pete. How perfect it had seemed, then, for Helena to present herself to resume agent duties at the Warehouse, so soon after that enormous error had been rectified. “A reboot, I believe it’s called,” Helena had said of her change of heart, and Claudia had laughed uproariously at that, shouted “Turn it off and turn it on again!”, and hugged the obviously befuddled, but just as obviously pleased, rebooted agent.

Myka had not hugged Helena, not then. She’d thought to save such an action, such an aggressively bodily action, for an even more meaningful time, progress toward which would, at long last, begin.

But progress had not begun. In the reboot, Helena was a collegial colleague to Myka.... and that was all.

Helena did not, as she had in old times (old shows?), make comments that even usually-oblivious Myka could read as flirtatious. She did not step close, too close, as she had in old times, waking Myka’s body to possibility and want. She did not, in fact, mention old times at all. No words about “Wells and Bering”—as Myka had hoped to one day again correct, however incorrect Helena found the correction, to “Bering and Wells”—having ever done anything together.

And Myka of course could not assault such a collegial colleague with an anguished Why? She could do nothing but wish for a reboot of her own, or at least a do-over, one in which the minute Helena stepped from Claudia’s embrace, Myka herself initiated one that made her hopes clear.

But no such reboot was forthcoming.

That disappointment was, Myka found, manageable. Crushing, but manageable. It was made more so by the fact that Artie sent Helena on retrievals with Steve, sometimes with Claudia as adjunct; thus her collegial interactions with Myka did not have particularly meaningful stakes. At least, none that were Warehouse-specific, and that was what counted. That had to be what counted.

Until one morning at breakfast, when Artie tossed a folder at Myka and said, “Tomorrow you’re going to San Antonio to bag a camera.”

Then he pointed at Helena. “And you’re going with her.”

“Am I?” Helena asked, even as Myka voiced, “She is?

“She’s the one who stole it from Warehouse 12,” Artie told Myka. To Helena, he said, “So I assume you’ll know it when you see it.”

Well, that tone in Artie’s voice was like old times—old shows. But Helena did not respond with her back-then defiant chirp. She said a simple “oh,” a chastened wince that seemed pulled from a different show entirely.

Artie should not be inflicting this on her, Myka thought. After a moment, she revised that to, Artie should not be inflicting this on her or on me. Her first counter: “Maybe Helena could just tell me what it looks like.”

“If that would be easier,” Helena said, with a quickness suggesting she agreed that something was indeed being inflicted on somebody, “I certainly—”

“Did I stutter?” Artie demanded.

He didn’t. But after a bit of time, Myka thought she could, just maybe, manage the situation, both because of Helena’s apparent trepidations and as a way of sidestepping her own feelings. “I’m not sure this mission with Helena is a good idea,” she tried saying to Pete later that morning.

“How many times do I have to tell you the vibes aren’t bad anymore?” he asked, annoyed, as if she’d been making a habit of hitting him with this concern whenever he was trying to get comfortable with a comic book.

In fact, he’d told her that once since Helena came back. Once. It had happened when Myka had said, in a moment of exhaustion that had allowed her management to slip, “I miss how Helena used to be,” and he’d rolled his eyes and told her, “That’s dumb. The vibes aren’t bad anymore.”

Now Myka said—because why fight about it?—“Obviously more than once. But I just don’t think it’s a good idea. For her, I mean. Artie said that thing about the stealing and she... I don’t know. Wilted.”

“Okay, so tell that to Artie.”

Was that vaguely reasonable advice? “I guess I could give that a—”

“Like that’d work! Ha!”

“You’re very unhelpful,” Myka informed him.

“Keeping it on brand.” He flexed his biceps. “Just like these big boys.”

To which Myka could say only, “I am so devoutly grateful we aren’t together.”

“Me too. Different reasons though.”

“I’m devoutly grateful for that too,” she said.

She was grateful also, when it came down to it, for his total lack of interest in parsing the differences between their reasons.

Pete’s unhelpfulness aside, she still had the greater part of a day before her scheduled departure on this Helena-accompanied retrieval, and she hoped it might still be possible to extricate herself, Helena, or both of them from it.

Who would be more helpful in such an endeavor: Claudia or Steve? Claudia, who might be more sympathetic to the overall difficulty... or Steve, who would probably be more persuasive in helping to take a plan to Artie...  

She went with Steve.

She opened with, “I need to talk to you. No, wait, before you wince: I need to talk to someone, and I think you’re my best bet.”

“I’m not overly flattered, but my prefrontal cortex appreciates the revision. Also my sinuses.”

“I have a problem.”

“My prefrontal appreciates that too: direct, no nuance. And I know we haven’t talked about this out loud, but if your problem’s with me? Totally justified. I got the you-and-Pete thing wrong.”

“No, my problem’s with Helena.” That was probably too revealing. “But the other thing, he and I got it wrong. You were just a witness. Regrettably.”

“But I... pushed?”

“Probably it was a thing he and I had to test to know for sure. And we did, so now we do. I like to think I don’t make the same mistake twice.”

That got her a twist of a smile. “You like to think, but this H.G. thing. I know you two have history, so is this that?”

Myka would have preferred to say “no,” but she figured she should continue giving his sinuses a break. So instead she said, “See, you’re discerning. This is why you’re my best bet.”

“What’s the problem then? You both seemed less than thrilled at breakfast, but—”

Now Myka could tell a truth. “Exactly. She clearly doesn’t feel okay about this artifact, and she shouldn’t have to deal with anything that would make her regret having come back. Right?” Before he could agree or disagree, she presented her plan: “You should do the retrieval with me instead. And I’ll need help selling this to Artie, so if you could gently ask her about the camera and then tell him you’re just as likely to recognize it when you—”

“Wanting to spare her discomfort is admirable. Really. But that wasn’t your issue, not at first. The very instant Artie said H.G. was going too, you tensed up.”

He is your best bet, Myka reminded herself. She sighed and said, “Fine. I’m not sure I can go on a mission with her.”

He winced and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Okay, yes,” she acknowledged. “I’m sure I can. I’m just not sure I want to.”

He didn’t release the pinch. “Unfortunately for both of us, that’s also a lie.”

That one, she resented. “Maybe you’re too discerning.”

“And yet I’ve heard I’m your best bet.”

“Right. Maybe I do want to. But the problem is, everything’s different now.”

“Also, I’m sorry, a lie. That last part. Everything isn’t different. What’s the same?”

Far, far too discerning. “I don’t want to say.”

He smiled. “Aaaaah. Very truthful.”

“Here’s something I do want to say: would you take my place instead?”

“Either way,” he said, his smile morphing into an apologetic grimace, “I don’t think that’s how this works.”

“We just have to make a case to Artie, which I know is a heavy lift, but something like how much easier it would be for Helena to go with you since you’re her wrangler now, so—”

“No, I mean logistically. I’m not her wrangler at all, by the way, but also the plane tickets are already in your names, right?”

Well, that was annoyingly true. “Fine. I hate it, but fine. And even if I could find an artifact that would change names on plane reservations, I couldn’t use it because that would really be personal gain.”

“Would it though?” Steve asked, lightly, but with an undercurrent.

Myka did not want to answer that question.

So she and Helena went.

On the plane, Helena said to Myka, “I’m sure you’re wondering about Artie’s statement.”

Accurate, but: “Not if you don’t want to talk about it,” Myka said. “In that case, any and all wondering canceled. Canceled like... an underappreciated cult TV show.” That was something a colleague would say, wasn’t it? A particularly collegial one, such as, for example, Claudia, from whom Myka had copied and pasted the words about television.

This wasn’t the first time she’d plucked words like this; articulations of her own, she feared—even more so now than in the past—were likely to reveal too much.

Helena raised an eyebrow. “You sound like Claudia.”

Mission accomplished, if a bit too well, so Myka shrugged and said, “I’ve heard characterization can get weird in a reboot.” That was also from Claudia, who had asked Myka, not long ago, “Do you think H.G.’s okay? I know characterization can get weird in a reboot, but she seems a little off,” and Myka had pleaded ignorance as to the entire concept, despite her wish to opine at length on how Helena seemed definitely, from Myka’s perspective, not okay. Definitely off. More than a little.

“I did use that word,” Helena said.

“You did.”

“I did also steal the artifact in question.”

“Napoleon Sarony’s camera.”

“Yes. I gave it to Oscar Wilde.”

“You did?” Oscar Wilde. Okay.

“I told him to have someone use it to take his photograph.”

Obviously this has something to do with its effect, but Myka has no idea what. Helena clearly wants to be drawn out on the point, so Myka probes, using what she knows, “Because it was what Sarony used to take those photos of Wilde when he was on his big star-making tour in the U.S.? Or because of the Supreme Court copyright case about that one Wilde photo he took? Oh, that case, I bet it’s why the camera’s an artifact, but—”

“You’re correct on the why of the artifact. But do you know its effect?”

“I didn’t have time to look it up before we left. And it’s not in the file.”

“Artie left it out, I suspect.”

“Because it’s exculpatory?”

“Because it’s explanatory. As far as anything could be, given that time. Obviously nothing is exculpatory.”

Isn’t it? “Do you want to explain?”

“Want,” Helena said, and oh god if Myka could have given herself leave to understand that word said differently. But this was not that reboot. After a throat-clear, Helena went on, “It was... post.”

Myka didn’t need to ask post-what.

“So many artifacts there were,” Helena continued, “so many unhelpful to me in my extremity. Nevertheless I thought to help. To make some difference. Where I could, as opposed to where I could not.”

In old times, Helena had not said this much about her mental state... post. Fleshy, this admission was, and Myka did not know what to make of it. Was it a step closer, akin to the old sort of physical proximity? Or was it just... explanatory? “The effect?” she prompted, gently, hoping for clarification.

“Artistic enhancement of the subject photographed. Oscar too was... post. Imprisonment had diminished him so terribly. I thought an artifactual photograph might help restore his writerly prowess.”

“Did it work?” Myka asked.

“I can’t prove causation,” Helena said. “Nevertheless, post-photo, he did write ‘Ballad of Reading Gaol.’”

That was one of those utterances Myka would be processing for quite some time. Separate and apart from her outsize feelings for Helena as Helena—as a physical body to which Myka’s own body has for years now compulsively responded—there was the ongoing absurdity, the near high comedy, of Helena speaking factually about events of such cultural-historical import. “I can’t think that was a bad outcome,” Myka eventually managed to say.

“I can’t either.”

They had not had so genuine, so genuinely substantive, a conversation since Helena’s return.

However, their renewed familiarity, if that’s what it was, did not outlast the plane.

They found the camera, and they neutralized it with minimal difficulty—if a bit more consternation on the part of the gentleman who believed he had the right to possess the piece.

That was all very... collegial.

And—but—they then tried to check in at their hotel. Or rather, Myka did. Helena was occupying herself with the snacks on offer in the lobby. “Steve usually checks in,” she’d said. “Do you mind?”

How could Myka have been less accommodating than Steve? Also she was—she had to concede—more than a little charmed by Helena’s seeming admission of... well, not incompetence. Just a slight slink away from responsibility.

Please, a more cynical part of her said with a snort of derision, you’re charmed by the way she does everything. Walking, talking, existing. Inspecting potato-chip bags across the lobby in a hotel’s snack pantry.

“Bering and Wells,” the desk clerk said in confirmation of the reservation, and Myka wanted to thank him for that ordering of names. He followed up with, “One king.”

She didn’t want to thank him for that. “No,” she told him, and it was good that Helena was out of earshot. “Two. Kings, queens, doubles, twins, I don’t care. But two.”

“Sorry,” said the clerk. “Full up.”

So one king it had been.

And now, in that one king, Myka’s arm is asleep.

“Are you asleep?” she wants to ask of Helena, aloud, to ascertain the true contours of the situation, but the very asking might—would?—change the contours, and Myka isn’t sure she’s in any kind of state to handle any certainty or any change. So she thinks the question at Helena instead, thinks it over her shoulder at that warm body over and over, Are you asleep, are you asleep, are you asleep, are you asleep, until she’s estranged from the question as anything but words, until “asleep” in particular begins to strike her as bizarrely archaic, its construction completely uncontemporary, and she interrupts her telepathy to think, It is archaic; we don’t ask “Are you abed” or anything like that anymore—

—but she interrupts herself again, for that doesn’t ring quite right. So she calls up the dictionary, the A’s, riffling her way through, and the exercise offers her all sorts of examples that show how very unarchaic indeed it is to say “asleep”: ablaze, abuzz, aground, ajar, alight, aloud, amid...

The list goes on. It’s far longer than she expected, but she continues, doggedly, to the end of the A’s, through “astray,” “aswoon” (she doesn’t linger on that one), on to “atingle” (that one either), on and on, ending with “awhirl.” She’d been by then vaguely looking forward to something like “azoom,” but alas.

Such a lengthy jaunt through the initial chapter of the dictionary surely must have eaten up significant time, perhaps even more than she imagined; perhaps morning is at last approaching, and the alarm will ring, and all this physical consternation can be resolved by sudden wakefulness on everybody’s part.

The clock on the nightstand tells her the journey took three minutes.

Spectacular.

Well, fine. If the A’s were three minutes, the rest of the dictionary should offer her at least an hour of distraction—both from her arm’s discomfort and from the physical, emotional, and existential discomfort created by the presence at her neck, back, and hip.

She starts in on the B’s. First comes “b,” defined, in entry 1a, as “the 2d letter of the English alphabet.” No doubt it’s important to periodically refresh one’s memory of such things.

The B’s proceed, slow and thorough; after “b” comes “baa,” and on and on... “bedlam” catches her attention, in a Warehouse-y way; “bed of roses” does too, as it’s “a place or situation of agreeable ease,” which this certainly is not—

—in sudden, striking emphasis, Helena’s hand on Myka’s hip moves, a minimal slide-glide toward thigh, and oversensitized Myka can’t control a too-violent twitch in response, one that jolts her toward the bed’s edge, which was nearer than she realized, for now its surface is an abrupt absence, and a crash to the floor is imminent, and instinct, instinct: her brain shouts for an arm to break her fall, but the volunteering limb is the stupid somnolent one, and OH GOD she has never known pain to manifest like this—she’s taken a bullet but this is more, for “seeing stars” is no mere metaphor, as she’d always imagined; her vision is literally stellating, even as she hears herself yelp in prelinguistic anguish.

The horrific fullness of the situation settles on her as she additionally hears, directed at her from some angel perspective, the voice of her dreams but now this nightmare saying “Myka? What’s wrong?”

“Everything,” Myka moans at the unforgivingly injurious floor, and then the stars win.

TBC

[venomhound]

Hazbin Hotel - Morning Routines

Kind of a part 2 to the Sleeping Habits Post??? While that one is about falling asleep with them, this one is about what its like to wake up with them. Same lineup; Alastor, Vox, and Lucifer. I... also might have accidentally started a Charlie one so I might be doing more parts to these (｡ŏ_ŏ)

Contents/WARNINGS: Gender neutral reader; NSFW in Vox's section; mostly just nuclear powered fluff; somebody PLEASE get Lucifer a doctor the man is so depressed (18+), MDNI, NSFW below the cut ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

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Alastor ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

As gone over in my sleeping habits post, Alastor does not like sharing a bed normally. But if it does happen to be a blue moon and he actually stayed the whole night; it is a sight to behold in the morning.

Alastor's hair is naturally curly. Due to internalized racism (from you know, the 1920s), Alastor insists his hair must be straight and has a crazy hair routine to keep it that way. One of many reasons why his hair is so... gnarly looking.

Right after he wakes up in the mornings though, his bedhead breaks through the illusion. You get to see the glorious sight of Alastor's hair attempting to go back to its natural form. The edges of his locks are making small loops in all directions, and his face is framed in loose ringlets.

Unfortunately, this only lasts for about ten minutes at most before he goes to "fix" it.

Other then getting to see that beautiful sight, the mornings are the same regardless of if he stayed in the bed with you or not; You always get to wake up to his wonderful cooking.

Alastor has unfortunately had to take it upon himself to be the hotel chef. Charlie did try to do it for a little bit, but that resulted in more fires and ambiguous remains then anything. Vaggie and Husk can barely operate a microwave. Nifty is well... Nifty.

So Alastor pops into the hotel kitchen at around 7am to start cooking breakfast for the hotel. More 7:30 if his hair has been particularly unruly that day.

Alastor pokes fun at everyone over being their chef, but he really likes it actually. He will never admit that to anyone though. He finds the mornings relaxing because he gets to just cook, something that he enjoys and thats deeply nostalgic for him. It starts him off on the right foot for the day.

The only times it starts him on the wrong foot, is when Lucifer decides to get up at an ungodly hour (or straight up pull an all nighter), just so he can steal the kitchen and make the hotel breakfast instead.

Lucifer does this because he thinks he is a better chef then Alastor. Surely, Alastor's annoyance is proof of that! But Alastor is actually pissed off because his plans for the morning got set on fire by Lucifer's dumb ego.

Alastor really does go above and beyond as the chef by the way. For a cannibal, you would never expect how respectful he is of everyone's dietary preferences. If your a vegetarian, or even a vegan, Alastor won't blow you off. He will make something for everyone that still works for you, or just make you something special. He sees it less as you having a dietary restriction and more as a challenge of his skills.

Anyways, thanks to Alastor, mornings at the hotel are always extremely nice. Everyone comes down to eat together, hang out, and just be. Its a tranquil time and atmosphere that he has taken great care to cultivate. Sets him up perfectly mentally for his afternoon radio shows.

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Vox ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Vox always wakes up with a big sigh. He is very much that type of person whose first thought when waking up is, 'goddamn it, I woke up'. Hates leaving the bed but knows he has to.

At least Vox stops having those thoughts when you become apart of his life.

If your still in the bed when he wakes up, Vox is immediately comforted by your weight on his chest. He cant help but smile as his arms tighten around you. One of Vox's hands starts absentmindedly carding through your hair as he goes over everything he has to do that day in his head.

If your not in the bed when Vox wakes up, it completely fucks with his mind. His sleeping body does not register you moving or getting up at all. So from Vox's perspective, you were in his arms one second then... not. Vox will wake up to you not there and be super confused. He will legit start looking for you like a puppy.

Depending on your relationship status with him, Vox might even just assume that he dreamt/hallucinated the whole encounter with you. Only realizing that it actually happened upon outside evidence.

Operating on the assumption that you two are a thing; Vox now tries to keep his mornings flexible because of you. They used to be very regimented. Vox would wake up, get dressed, grab a coffee, then be right out the door to head to work. But now that your here, the mornings are much more relaxed.

When you first move in, Vox's first order of business is to hire a personal chef. Don't get me wrong, Vox loves it when you cook for him. The guy absolutely melts when you do. But the reality is he loves it a little... too much. Which often results in no breakfast actually being had because Vox ends up dragging you back to the bedroom. Of course, that's if he doesn't end up fucking you right on the counter or kitchen table.

Look. Seeing you by the stove in an apron just does something to him, alright?

If you ever even asked Vox if he knew how to cook, the guy would probably bluescreen. The only thing he knows how to ""cook"" is 'takeout'. (image included) If he tried to boil an egg, he would burn the water.

So yeah. Vox takes initiative to get you two a chef. He doesn't want you to have to cook for him anyway; he wants it to be an act of love rather then an obligation. If you push Vox and say you want to cook for him, he will making heart eyes and be ready to marry you on the spot.

Seriously. Make him cute, homemade lunches for work. Vox will brag about them to everyone. Put adorable love notes in there and everything. The guy will be on his knees.

Regardless of who actually made the breakfast, Vox always has it with you. He may be a busy man, but he makes sure this is a time you get him exclusively. Vox lets you know of his schedule for the day (assuming Valentino doesnt set it on fire ofc) and when he plans on being home.

When Vox leaves for work he actually has a genuine smile on his face. Don't get me wrong, he still hates it and cant wait to get back home to you. But Vox doesn't feel that same crushing dread that he did before.

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Lucifer ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

It used to be so hard to get up for him. It wasn't uncommon for Lucifer to just wallow in bed for an entire day. But now that your here, everything has changed. Lucifer actually has a reason to get up in the mornings again. He used to just go back to sleep and pretend the world doesn't exist.

He is a morningbird by nature, so he often wakes up before you. However, Lucifer hates leaving your arms and the cozy bed. So one of two things happens depending on how he is feeling.

If Lucifer is feeling good, or just particularly lovey that morning; he will pull you extra close to him and start kissing all over you. You'll wake up to the wonderful feeling of fleeting kisses and his smile on your skin. No better way to start the day.

As soon as he notices your awake, Lucifer moves to place quick, chaste kisses all over your face. All while asking, "How are you feeling, Ducky?", "Did you sleep okay?", "Have any fun dreams?".

Lucifer looks at you with the most adoring look in his eyes, desperate to snuggle and feel your skin on his. He wants to listen to you talk about anything and everything.

After awhile of cuddling and pillow talk, you have to be the one to convince Lucifer to get up. He will playfully whine and try to keep you in the bed, but he won't keep it up for long. Lucifer also cant wait to make you a wonderful breakfast and talk more while he cooks too~

Lucifer is a chatterbox when he wants to be. Especially with someone he loves. He basically wants to imbibe your entire being; that includes getting to know every random thought you have and every dark corner of your mind.

But if Lucifer feels the weight of depression weighing him down that morning, he simply snuggles deeper into you when he wakes. His grip on you tightens, and he pulls the sheets tighter around you two. Like he is building a cocoon or trying to shield you both from the outside.

Sometimes you can tell as soon as he wakes up that he is in a bad state. Instead of kisses, you are woken up by the trembling of his small form. Shaking with unshed tears and fresh pain from old wounds.

Lucifer clings to you desperately; the grip of his claws threatening to break your skin. You have to physically force him away from you just so you can look him in the eyes. Even then, Lucifer whimpers and tries to hug you tighter in protest.

He will begin to plead with you. Saying things like "Don't leave me" or "Please stay". You kiss him gently and bring him into your chest as he finally begins to sob. You two stay there for a long time. Lucifer is extra clingy that day. Attached to you at the hip and always holding your hand in his. His heart rate picks up and he starts to get frantic if your fingers slip out of his.

Mornings with Lucifer are overall just very slow. Meandering. Lucifer's safe place has become the bed since the heights of his depression, so he is reluctant to leave it. Some dark part of him feels that the longer he can keep you in bed, the longer he wont have to say an inevitable 'goodbye'.

✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿

FURTHER READING ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Its a super silly idea, but I love >>THIS POST<< by @antiheroalastor where you find out Alastor has a extensive skincare routine.

Cute imagine by @voxisdaddy where Vox has to cuddle you to fall asleep can be found >>HERE<<

Then something more spicy, >>HERE<< are some ADORABLE Lucifer aftercare headcanons by @redr0sewrites. Rose writes the rambling, dorky, disaster Lucifer that I have envisioned in my head PERFECTLY.

[illfoandillfie]

Late 80s Roger x Reader making love (a bit kinky if you want, anything really, just something sexy and cute) and having to keep it quiet bc of their kids.

Blurb Advent 2023: Day 7

Ahhh thanks anon this is a great prompt! Hope you like it for day 7 of the advent calendar!

Warnings: oral sex (f receiving), implied p in v sex, implied unprotected sex

Neither your or Roger had ever been anniversary people. You had friends who were. They made big deals celebrating it at expensive restaurants or big parties and got each other gifts corresponding to how many years they’d been together. But neither of you had ever been like that. It wasn’t that you didn’t care or didn’t want to acknowledge the date, you just didn’t need to make a fuss. You kept things low key. Half the time Roger was away on tour anyway so there was no point making a big deal of it. It’d just lead to both of you feeling bad you couldn’t celebrate it together. When he was in town you might have dinner out or buy a bottle of champagne to accompany whatever you ate at home. Or sometimes you just counted it as celebrated if you got to have sex. Especially since the kids had come along. You used to try to make the sex different to normal in some way – a position you’d read about and wanted to try, and act normally reserved for special occasions – but you hadn’t even bothered with that recently.  

Admittedly, it was easier to have some alone time now they were all a little older, but still, three kids under the age of seven did not an especially active sex life make. Mostly it happened very late at night, right before you went to sleep. You were almost counting the days until your youngest would be at pre-school so you could manage a day at home with Roger, even if you had to take sick leave to do it. The kids were all generally sleeping through the night, but you did still have to contend with them sometimes stumbling into your room after a bad dream or a wet bed. More than once they’d managed to interrupt you at inopportune moments. So, when you realised your anniversary was coming up, you decided your present to both Roger and yourself should be a decent shag. One where you could actually finish without stopping first. Where you wouldn’t have to throw a robe on and show your daughter there was no monster in her closet and then stay with her till she fell asleep while Roger’s hardon deflated back in your room. Of course, Roger was in very strong agreement when you mentioned your idea, and during the lead up made sure you knew how much he wanted it with little squeezes and comments that made you blush muttered quietly to you while the kids were distracted. Which just made you more determined to have a good night. You considered palming the kids off their grandparents for the night but your parents weren’t free and Roger’s lived just a little far away for it to be worth the trouble. But hiring a babysitter would mean also getting a hotel room and eventually you agreed to make it work at home, you’d just make sure not to get too loud.  

The key, Roger confidently assured you, was making sure all three kids were completely worn out before you tucked them in. Bad dreams were the biggest risk but there wasn’t a whole lot you could do to prevent that. You just made sure the night light in the girls’ room was working and hoped it would be enough. But Roger took charge of exhausting the three of them – instigating tickle wars, playing whatever silly games they came up with, and then, when he wanted to sit down, coming up with objects for them to search the house for like some sort of scavenger hunt. When they were all looking sleepy you herded them off to do their teeth and get them settled. Roger read to the younger two in their shared room while you got the eldest settled with a warm milk that sent him to sleep quick. You hurried back to your room and stripped down to your knickers to save some time, settling on the bed, impatiently waiting for Rog. Almost absentmindedly you began touching yourself through your panties, but you figured things would go a lot smoother if you were even just a little bit ready by the time Roger was finished with the girls.  

He entered about 10 minutes later, pulling his fly down as he walked, pausing only to drag a chair under the doorknob just in case. If one of the kids did try to come in you’d get up but you didn't have to worry about being barged in on.   “You ready?” he asked, throwing his shirt across the room, “Because this is it, this is our shot.”  You giggled, trying to stifle the sound with your hand, “shhh Rog, we have to be quiet. If we wake them we’re screwed in the not fun way.”  “Well the girls were practically snoring before I got through the third page of Clive Eats Alligators so I think we’re good but sure,” He held his finger to his lips, somehow making the action feel sarcastic.   “Oh shut up,” you laughed settling back against the pillows and opening your legs more.   Roger took one look at your parted thighs and hastily kicked off his underwear, crawling toward you on the mattress.   You giggled again as he hovered over you for a kiss but too soon he moved away again, settling himself between your legs.   “Oh, okay really?” you asked, surprised as he kissed the front of your knickers, “Thought we were just going straight for the main event. Been touching myself to get ready.”   “I could tell and the wet spot made me want to taste you. So just stay quiet and let me.”  You squeaked a little as he licked over the wet patch, earning a little nip on your thigh before he pulled your underwear off and pressed his lips to your cunt.  

It had been a little while since you’d last managed any sort of oral but the way Roger so enthusiastically went about it made it seem like he’d been denied your pussy for years. Which made it all the more difficult to keep your pleasure to yourself. Small moans and whines escaped your throat every so often and, despite how hard you tried to keep them quiet, Roger seemed to enjoy telling you off for the smallest whimper. He’d hum in warning which would inevitably make you more inclined to moan again. He’d catch even the softest sounds, giving you little bites as punishment. You tried to deter his teasing by smothering your whines with your arm, something that clearly amused Roger and only seemed to encourage him. His attention on your clit became even more focused, until he drew another string of sounds from you.   “Do I need to stop?” He asked playfully, though it was hard for you to recognise the joke when you were so worked up.   “Please don’t. So close,” you managed to get out as Roger returned his tongue to your slit.   “Good,” he said against you, “Want to get you off like this.”   He made it hard for you to keep quiet, all his focus on your cunt until you gasped, a hand tightening in his hair as you came. That’s when it was Roger’s turn to moan, though he muffled himself easier than you managed.  

The shifting of the bed brought you back to the moment. Before you knew it, Roger was easing himself into you, biting his own lip at the feeling. After a few inches, he distracted himself by leaning forward and kissing you, stealing what little breath you had, groaning against your lips as you tightened around him at the slight change of angle. Slowly he sank deeper, filling you inch by inch. You grabbed his arse, encouraging him to go faster, and he grunted into your neck at your eagerness.   “I’m trying to be gentle, love.”  “Just fuck me, Rog.”  He chuckled at that and kissed you again and he let the last few inches of his shaft be swallowed by your cunt.   “Better,” you moaned.   “Alright, gonna start moving,” he grunted in warning.  The bed creaked as Roger moved but he didn’t find it as funny when you told him to keep it down.   “Do you want to be fucked or not?” he grumbled, giving another tentative thrust, making the bed creak again. Your laugh was cut short by a gasp at the way it felt as he moved within you. 

For a little while you both lost yourself in the sensations, ignoring the creaking as you chased your highs. And then you heard a cough from somewhere down the hallway.   Roger stilled instantly, and you bit back a whine at the abrupt end to the stimulation.   You both listened for more noise – small footsteps, a cry for one of you, the jiggling of your doorknob. There was a squeak from a different bed and you willed it to be nothing more than it’s tiny occupant rolling over.  “Swear they have some sort of sixth sense for when we’re trying to fuck,” Roger breathed out, “You think that’s it?”  You shushed him and strained to hear more but everything was quiet again, “Yeah, false alarm.”  Roger sighed against your throat, “If I didn’t love your pussy so much I’d regret spending so long going down on you.”  You batted his shoulder, “Just hurry up before one of them wakes for real. Want to feel you cum in me.”  Roger was laughing softly as he kissed you, only to eager to do as you asked.

[miscellaneoussmp]

I want my happy-ish domestic ending, so I wrote it myself. Anyways, here's Emi's sixteenth birthday (cw/tw: death mentions):

When Emi woke up, she was filled with excitement. Today, she was officially sixteen. She had lived one more year, and that was something, right? She had a relatively normal life now. She was adopted all those years ago. She goes to school and hangs out with friends like all teenagers her age do. After getting up from bed, she walked into the kitchen of the apartment, passing Luis, who was sleeping on the couch. A note was held on the fridge door with a magnet. It was from Benito. It said he had to go into work early, but hopefully, he'll be back in time to celebrate her birthday. It finished with him telling her to have a good day. Emi tried her best not to feel upset as she knew Benito was out here saving people. Like how he saved her. She made herself a bowl of cereal and sat on the arm rest of the couch where Luis slept. The tv was playing some old reality show that Emi didn't much care for.

School was pretty normal for Emi, aside from being given a few happy birthdays and a small gift of a cookie from a friend. There was only one hiccup in the day. Honestly, it really isn't a hiccup, just a surpise. A substitute teacher called full names on the roster, including hers Emilía-Lucie Camelo. When her adoption became official, she was allowed to change her name. She thinks it was meant for her to only change her last name, but when she added Lucie to her first name, Benito smiled so brightly at her. It was another way to keep Lucie's memory and legacy alive.

After school was over, Emi went back to the apartment she shared with Benito and Luis. Only Luis was home as it was his day off from working night-shift security at some fancy hotel. He greeted her and wished her a happy birthday while ruffling her head under her beanie. The two sat in comfortable silence while she did homework, and Luis did some minor chores. Near sunset, there was knocking at the door. When Luis opened the door, there stood Jeffrey and Diego. The two had been traveling around the world working through whatever they needed to work through. They still made time to be in Emi's life when possible as they, Diego mostly, took comfort in her being living proof of Lucie's memory. After a small group hug, they four took some time to eat a few snacks and watched some more trash tv together like a family would. They are a family afterall.

Benito came back just a bit after sunset with a cake and a few candles. It was too long after, when Emi sat at the dining table with a cake in front of her with some candles stuck in it. "She would be very proud of you if she was here, Emi," Diego spoke, and Emi's started to tear up. "Don't make her cry on her birthday, jackass." Benito immediately responded with both Luis and Jeffrey giving him 'what the fuck' type looks. Diego immediately apologized, saying sorry quickly in rapid secession. Emi found herself laughing softly as the candles were lit. She closed her eyes and blew out the candles. Her wish was for her to make what happened all those years ago worth it. Her birthday cake was caramel apple flavored.

[faulty-writes]

Hey faulty, it’s currently 4am and I’m feeling really sick rn aha. Could you maybe do a oneshot of Iida x fem reader where she gets sick at night? Like they’re on a camping trip with the class 1A and they end up having to share a bed? (Cliché ik but I love this trope sue me) and she gets sick at night. I’m talking fever keeping her up until 3am then going to the restroom in the bedroom to puke. She doesn’t want to wake up iida and tries to just deal with it alone.. but she ends up waking iida up anyway when she goes to the restroom. She got so hot that she had to take off her t shirt but left the sweats on. She’s in a white tank top btw. (For plot you’ll see) Iida knocks on the door bc like he’s worried ya know? She says it’s open and then a few min later after talking, she asks him to bring her a black tank top from her luggage bc the one she has on is kinda see through. She’s red from the fever btw. Iida brings it and she turns her back and just slips it off to replace it with the black one. Normally shy but friendly reader would feel embarrassed in changing in front of him (and even being in a tank top) , but at this point, she feels like dog water so she doesn’t care. When she quickly slipped the white tank over her head, iida gets flustered (you know naturally bc u know girl he likes). He’s gonna turn around (or act how iida acts) but he sees some scars on her back for just 2 seconds. This leads to late night caring and reader opening up about trauma from rich parents. (Think like Killua from hxh just for the abuse he went through- parents wanted to make reader really strong and we’re obsessed over it-she’s in a better home now tho with a relative)

iida and fem reader are in the “I kinda like you a lot but I’m not going to do anything bc I love our friendship rn phase.”

Could you make it cute and fluffish and domestic? (I think that’s how u use that word lol) Reader and iida grow closer through it too. I’m sorry this ask is so specific lol, I have a vision in mind. I also think sweet shy fem reader x iida is really cute. (This is not self indulgent at all aha😂)

It’s ok if ur not up to it.. tho I would be really happy if u did write it up. I love ur fanfics!! Been a fan for like 3 years even before I had tumblr!(❁´◡`❁) just lemme know if ur busy rn or don’t wanna write it! No pressure. :)

Thank you!

[ Alright! Sorry this took a bit, but I hope you're feeling better and I hope I did this story justice. It was kind of fun to write, I like the whole "I like you but need to stay friends" trope because it can always grow into something more. Anyways, I tried to make Tenya flustered just enough in this fic. I love embarrassing him. ]

“Are you most certain you’re correct?” Tenya urged, and Izuku held up a piece of paper muttering under his breath. “That’s w-what I counted,” he replied before yelping when Katsuki grabbed the back of his head. “Shut the hell up already!” he snapped before glaring at Tenya.

“Who the hell cares if two of us have to share a damn bed!? It’s your fault for not accounting for this, four-eyes,” he growled, making Tenya frown in response. “I am afraid that I did not anticipate the weather causing our pre-scheduled camping trip to be postponed,” he explained, slightly annoyed by Katsuki’s behavior.

He wanted to make graduation special and insisted that Class A take a camping trip. However, due to the rainy weather and the persistence of his female classmates, the choice to pull over and book hotel rooms for the night was made.

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” Katsuki responded, releasing his hold on Izuku. “Come on you spikey-haired idiot!” he growled at Eijirou who nervously chuckled. “Well, I guess that means Bakugou and I are taking the first room,” he said.

“Best of luck figuring out who shares the one-bedroom suite for the night!” With that, he waved goodbye and chased after Katsuki. “Mineta and I can share a room!” Kaminari announced. “Yes, and Jirou and I can share a room,” Momo said.

“Mm, very well,” Tenya replied, looking at Izuku and Shoto. “I assume you two wish to share a room,” he said. “Oh w-well uh…” Izuku tried to reply but Tenya ignored him. You were sitting on one of the provided chairs in the lobby of the hotel, remaining quiet as you watched the scene unfold.

You coughed and cleared your throat a few seconds later. “Are you okay Y/n?” Tsuyu questioned laying her hand on your back. You nodded. “Uh, yeah just a bit of a sore throat,” you replied, rubbing it to ease the discomfort.

“Everyone please, pair up in groups of two and take a room key!” Tenya announced, and you looked at Tsuyu. “Go ahead,” you said, waving her away. “I don’t care who I spend the night with,” you soon regretted those words when only Tenya and you were left.

“Forgive me,” he said, unlocking the hotel room and turning on the light. “I hope this accommodation does not cause discomfort for you,” he said, gesturing you into the room. He could hear a steady stream of rain hitting the window and vicious thunder rumbling outside.

“I guess this camping trip turned out...s-sour, huh Iida?” you tried to joke, but he didn’t seem to find any humor in your words. Your smile faded and you folded your hands in front of you, focusing on the floor. ‘Well, that didn’t turn out the way I wanted’ you thought with rosy cheeks.

You moved out of the way when Tenya walked into the room, placing the bags on the floor by the bed. He insisted on carrying yours, and it didn’t come as a surprise considering he was a gentleman. “Are you feeling well?” he asked, noticing your reddened cheeks.

“Uh…w-what?” you replied, snapping your head up and trembling when he glared at you. “Are you feeling well?” he repeated. “Um, I uh, y-yeah I’m f-fine,” you choked out, thinking that your sore throat was nothing more than the rain irritating your allergies.

“I see,” he walked over to the bed and asked, “Do you prefer sleeping on the left or right side?” You knitted your eyebrows, unsure what he meant. “Uh, w-whichever side is fine,” you replied but knew your answer wouldn't satisfy him, so you thought of a diversion.

“I wanna take a...a shower!” you exclaimed, trying to ignore his now suspicious glance. The worst part was that you could barely stand looking at his gorgeous eyes. “Very well, you are welcome to freshen up in the shower. I trust you have the appropriate slumber wear, yes?” he asked, adjusting his glasses.

“Uh, y-yes,” you said. Maybe taking a relaxing shower would alleviate your throat soreness. “I’ll um, just g-get them from my s-suitcase,” you said, pointing to it. “Um, t-thanks for carrying it for me, uh, b-by the way,” Tenya nodded.

“I do not believe it would be appropriate to expect a lady to carry her luggage,” he explained, watching you open the suitcase and look through it for your sleeping clothes. Once you gathered everything, you scurried to the bathroom and shut the door behind you.

“What is wrong with me!?” you hissed, walking to the large tub, and turning on the water. You stripped your clothes off and carefully climbed inside, sighing in contentment as the water eased your body’s muscles. You lay there for what felt like hours before carefully climbing back out.

Droplets of water fell from your body, creating a rhythmic pattern as they hit the floor. You drained the tub before walking to the sink. You placed your hands on the counter and looked at your reflection in the mirror. You felt a bit odd and wondered if you had spent a little too much time in the tub.

Well, maybe you’d feel better when you lay down. Once you had dried off, you slipped on a white tank top, a short sleeve shirt, and a pair of sweatpants. “The b-bathroom is free,” you said, walking past the bed. “Hm?” Tenya was sitting on the right side of it reading a book.

“Oh, I see. Thank you,” he replied, closing his book, and placing it on the nightstand near the bed. You closed your eyes, feeling an overwhelming urge to lie down. You pulled back the blanket and sat, pressing one hand against the mattress to feel its firmness.

You looked up when Tenya stood, although he didn’t say anything when he gathered his sleeping clothes and headed to the bathroom. You took a deep breath, coughing softly when you laid your head down and pulled the blanket back over you.

The sound of running water accompanied by the rain and thunder that still bellowed outside helped you drift off to sleep, but a few hours later you woke up sweating. “Ah…” you blinked, feeling exhausted, and reached up to touch your forehead. ‘Why am I so hot?’ you thought, wiping your face dry.

Hearing soft snoring, you turned your head. Tenya was lying beside you in blue pajamas and a matching sleeping cap. His face looked content and part of you wondered what he was dreaming about if he was dreaming about anything at all.

‘Maybe this fever will go down if I keep resting’ you thought as you closed your eyes and tried to relax your body. Unfortunately, you found yourself restless and your fever grew more severe, making you whimper on occasion. This combined with the nauseating feeling growing in your stomach finally made you sit up.

“I’m gonna barf…” you muttered, turning to look at Tenya to ensure he was still asleep. The last thing you wanted was to wake him up, especially after all the planning he had put into this camping trip. Besides, maybe it was better you dealt with this by yourself as you never wanted to burden others. You winced, holding your stomach as you stood.

You swallowed hard, tasting acid on your tongue. You turned to look at Tenya one last time before scurrying to the bathroom quietly. Your breathing was heavy and sweat dripped from your skin so profusely that your clothing stuck to your skin making movement uncomfortable.

As you swallowed again, you slowly pulled your arms inside your shirt. You intended to take it off despite being hunched over the toilet. You sighed in relief when the cool air hit your skin, somewhat thankful you made the choice to wear a tank top underneath said shirt.

At the moment, it didn't matter to you that it was white and see-through. You closed your eyes and wiped the sweat from your brow, your mouth salivated so much it dripped down your chin. You dry heaved, feeling your stomach twist until its contents splashed into the toilet.

When you coughed, Tenya's eyes fluttered open and he turned his head, noticing you absent from the bed. He sat up slowly and grabbed his glasses. He was more than certain the noise that had woken him was you.

It was natural that he wanted to check you were okay, so he stood up and walked to the bathroom, noticing that the door was closed. He pressed his ear against it growing more concerned when he heard heavy breathing, followed by sniffles. He frowned and paused before knocking three times.

You snapped your head up, eyes wide but vision blurry as you looked at the bathroom door. “Y/n, do you require assistance?” he asked, and you latched onto your lip to suppress the gag threatening to come. The inside of your mouth tasted sour, and your throat burned.

You shifted your eyes back and forth, knowing if you didn’t answer soon, he’d likely do something drastic. “I…” Your voice was weak, but you tried to push through it. “I…I don’t know,” you replied, before wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.

Your answer alarmed Tenya, and seconds later he heard a toilet flush followed by running water. “What is the matter? Are you feeling ill? Are you injured?” he questioned, feeling ridiculous for talking to you through a door. You took a deep breath, resting your hand on your stomach.

You looked at your reflection in the mirror, noticing your hair was disheveled and your cheeks red. Your eyes looked swollen and irritated, in other words, you were a mess. “I…just…” Maybe it would be better if he saw for himself.

“Um, t-the door is open,” you said reluctantly. “Very well, may I enter now?” came his reply. “…yeah,” the door squeaked, and you wrapped your arms around yourself before turning to face him. His eyes widened upon seeing you, noting your irritated-looking eyes and reddened face.

He didn’t want to assume anything, but you certainly looked ill. “Forgive me, but you look rather...ill and I do not believe I have a thermometer so I cannot take an accurate measure to confirm or deny any possible fever,” he replied, tapping his chin. “I…I’m not running a fever,” you lied.

He narrowed his eyes and reached out. “Pardon my touch,” he said, pressing his hand against your forehead. Yes, it was a rather outdated method to use, but it would allow him to feel your temperature regardless. “Hm,” he raised his eyebrows and lowered his hand.

“Your forehead is rather warm,” he noted. “May I check your pulse?” You blinked in response, hissing softly when you noticed how dry your eyes felt. “Um…okay?” you replied and gasped when he took your wrist, pressing his thumb against it.

The seconds ticked by awkwardly as you clenched your bottom lip. “Your pulse appears slightly elevated, suggesting possible sickness,” he said, lowering your wrist. “Oh um…” you wrapped your arms around yourself again, suddenly anxious, and self-aware of your see-through tank top.

“Hey Iida,” you said, glancing away shyly. “Yes?” he replied. “Uh…c-could you…get me another tank top? The black one from my luggage?” you asked sweetly, nervously rubbing your upper arms. Tenya knitted his eyebrows together, uncertain why you asked for a tank top when you already had one on.

However, out of curiosity, he glanced down, and his eyes widened. He covered his mouth when he noticed that the fabric of your current tank top was rather…well perhaps it was rude to continue to stare at someone's exposed body.

“Y-yes!” he suddenly shouted, immediately looking away from you. His cheeks glowed a furious red color which was accompanied by a feeling of shame. He knew he should not look at a young lady in such a disrespectful manner. It was improper!

After all, he did not mean to look at you that way, but it seems his mistake caused him a bit of embarrassment. “I would be honored to…” He cleared his throat, trying to ignore the unfamiliar heat that ran through his cheeks.

“I would be honored to assist you, please give me a moment,” he said, promptly turning around and scurrying out of the bathroom. He took deep breaths as he opened your suitcase, searching for the black tank top you requested.

Despite his concern about his fast-paced heartbeat, he believed it to be a natural reaction given his feelings toward you. Of course, he didn't want to ruin your friendship by acting on said feelings. “Here we are,” he said, neatly folding the article of clothing before returning to the bathroom.

“I do hope this is the correct item,” he said, hesitantly holding it out. “Yeah,” you replied, taking it. Unless you were in a relationship or classified yourself as a free spirit there was a certain level of modesty when it came to changing in front of the opposite or even the same sex.

However, given how horrible you felt now you didn’t think twice about turning your back on him and removing your current tank top. Tenya’s eyes widened when he realized what you were doing. His cheeks flushed, and he immediately raised his hand, intent on scolding you, but no words came out.

Despite not anticipating activating his engines, his nervous state made them spark to life and a soft rumbling echoed through the air. “P-pardon!” he stuttered and turned to face the door, feeling his heart accelerate again. “Hm?” You paused and briefly looked over your shoulder at him.

‘Weird…’ you thought, before dropping the white tank top to the floor. A groan escaped your lips as you slipped the black tank top over your head. While he knew it was rude to look at you when you were topless or changing, your groan concerned him enough to make him turn his head.

That's when he noticed the scars on your back, and instead of flushing yet again or feeling embarrassed, he grew concerned. Although your scars looked old and healed, he wanted to know what caused them. It is natural for heroes to receive injuries which then created long-lasting scars.

But yours almost looked…well perhaps it was more appropriate he didn't assume where they came from. He turned his head back, feeling the slightest amount of sweat drip down his face and he almost regretted not having brought a handkerchief to bed.

He cleared his throat, tugging at the collar of his pajama top, and was tempted to undo the first few buttons to cool himself. His cheeks were a deep rosy color, and his engines continued to rumble softly although he hoped they were not too audible.

Just as you finished putting your new tank top on, you heard Tenya clear his throat. “Huh?” you raised an eyebrow when you turned only to stare at his back. “Um...” you stepped closer to him, hesitantly reaching out to touch him.

You stumbled back when he trembled in response and turned to face you, his eyes wide and his face red. You blinked, unsure if you had scared him or if he was beginning to feel sick as well. “Um…a-are you okay?” you asked, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I…” he glanced away. His mind filled with images of those scars, and he lowered his eyebrows in thought. Frankly, he wished to address what he had seen but did not want to appear strange or alarming. Furthermore, he did not wish to force information out of you or make you feel uncomfortable.

He cleared his throat once more and raised his hand, chopping it through the air as he said, “P-perhaps it would be best if we retired to the bed to further address your question.” You knit your eyebrows, not fully understanding him. Then again, did anyone understand Tenya?

Maybe his closest friends, but even they seem baffled by his antics sometimes. You placed your hand on your stomach, somewhat relieved you were feeling better. You shrugged. “Okay?” you replied, following him out of the bathroom. Your fever was still high, and you wiped your brow.

For a split second, you debated running to the ice machine. However, the thought of walking down an empty hotel hallway made you feel uneasy. Come to think of it, you didn’t know how late or early it was, not that it mattered because who knows how long Tenya could take to answer your question.

“Please sit,” he said politely gesturing to the bed. You looked between him and the bed before sitting down as requested. The bed gave a soft squeak when he sat down next to you. The two of you exchanged glances before he cleared his throat.

“I…do not wish for you to think I am being disrespectful when I ask this as I understand personal matters are quite difficult to speak about with those you are not close with,” as painful as it was to admit, despite the many challenges Class A went through together, there was still distance between all of you.

Yes, a few classmates had admitted their personal matters and remorse over certain things or times in their lives. However, he noticed that you tended to keep to yourself. While you were kind and compassionate, there was a shy nature about you, and he had noticed you struggle in social situations before.

“W-what do you mean?” you asked, your voice trembling and your anxiety rising. He was silent for a moment, and you noticed his shoulders were stiff. He shifted his legs almost as though he were uncomfortable, but you swear you heard a soft rumbling.

Was his quirk acting up? You quickly glanced at his face, his eyebrows were lowered and there was an uncertain glance in his eyes. His cheeks were slightly reddened, and his hands were in his lap, but you noticed his fingers were interlocked.

“Forgive me, I believe it would be beneficial if I were to explain more clearly. I…” he took a deep breath, laying his hands flat on his thighs. He cleared his throat again and reached up, tugging at the collar of his pajama top.

“I noticed that there were…rather severe-looking scars on your back.” A chill ran down your spine and you leaned away from him. Your eyes were wide, and he expected you to be angry, but instead a look of hurt and dread spread across your face.

You fisted your hand into your chest and the other into the blanket, keeping silent. Tenya frowned. “I…apologize,” he said, carefully placing his hand over yours but immediately jerked back when you gasped. “I…pardon I did not intend for my touch to-” You shook your head.

“N-no, it’s f-fine Iida,” you replied, despite your heart racing in your chest. “It’s just…” you glanced away, “no...n-no one has asked that b-before.” Then again you weren’t exactly the type to flaunt your body and usually changed in the locker room stall.

You latched onto your lip, the thought of your parents made your stomach twist, and you suppressed a dry heave. “Are you well?” Tenya asked, slightly alarmed, and though you nodded, he wasn’t fully convinced. “Forgive me,” he said, standing up from the bed.

“Perhaps I should not have inquired. I did not wish to make you uncomfortable,” he said, turning with the intent of walking to his side of the bed. “N-no!” you cried out, grabbing his arm. He stumbled back and looked at you bewildered.

“Uh…” You blinked, and your cheeks grew red. You felt so hot you were liable to faint, but you shook your head trying to fight through your anxiety. “S-sorry!” you said, quickly letting go of his arm. You swallowed hard, groaning out of embarrassment.

“Um…I…the s-scars are…” you looked away, rubbing the back of your neck. You felt the bed dip when Tenya sat down again. He wanted nothing more than to comfort you and once again extended his hand, placing it on your shoulder.

Your head shot back, looking at him with wide eyes and parted lips. “Please do not be afraid,” he said, his voice hushed and full of concern. Oddly enough, you smiled and nodded. “Right, s-sorry,” you said, glancing at your lap.

Your throat felt tight, but you forced yourself to speak. “The scars…are from the training m-my parents put me through,” you explained, refusing to lift your head to look at Tenya's expression. You expected him to be worried and maybe even feel sorry for you.

Instead, you gasped when he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around you. He knew it was irrational, and he did not know how you would respond. Although he could not confess the feelings he had for you deep down, he would not stop trying to physically prove it to you.

A part of you wanted to push him away because you weren't used to this type of affection, and because you didn't want him to catch whatever you had. But you couldn't help but melt into his touch. He was aware of the training that was deemed necessary in order to become a worthy and true hero.

However, there were other, unethical training methods such as the ones that Shoto went through that proved to leave long-lasting emotional and physical scars. He could not fathom why certain families pushed their children so hard during training.

Yes, a villain would not be easy on a hero, this much was certain. But to inflict such pain that it left physical scars was unacceptable, and it made righteous anger burn deep within him. However, he took a deep breath, calming himself.

“Forgive me,” he said, pulling away. “I…I do not believe I could help myself,” he stated, bringing his hands to his lap. He knew very well that he let his emotions get the better of him and at this moment, he needed to remain focused.

“Would you favor continuing our conversation?” he asked. “Um…well, my p-parents aren’t heroes but…t-they’re rich and w-when my quirk manifested they...” you paused and curled your fingers inward, ignoring how your nails dug into your palms.

He leaned closer with a serious expression on his face. You closed your eyes, sighing. “They…saw promise in it and…wanted to u-use me as a tool. If their daughter c-could be a hero…then it would boost my family‘s name and...r-reputation.” That spark of anger ignited again, but he held himself back from speaking.

You frowned and opened your eyes. “T-they forced me to train...every day. P-pushed me to my limits, and t-that's why I have...scars on my back. They always t-told me heroes don't feel...pain, they just do whatever it takes to gain f-fame.” Your eyes watered over, but you quickly wiped them.

“The...the m-more pain you can withstand, the more l-love you will receive,” you said, continuing to wipe away the tears on your cheeks. “I-I'm sorry,” Tenya frowned, uncertain how to comfort you. “Please do not apologize,” he said, reaching over to gently grab your wrists in order to pull them away from your face.

“You are likely to irritate your eyes further if you continuously rub them,” he explained before cupping your hands in his own. “I am quite honored that you have shared such memories with me, but are you physically and mentally well?” You glanced down, nodding.

“Yeah…” you replied, tightening your grip on his hands. “I live with a r-relative now….” and you hoped it would remain that way. He leaned closer, making you stiffen out of shyness. “Uh…” you dared to look back up and your face flushed when you locked eyes with him.

“I am…grateful to hear you are safe. Please know that I would never allow anyone, not even the fiercest villain to subject you to such injuries or pain.” While you assumed he was lying, the heroic and loving look in his eyes said otherwise.

And the way he embraced you further convinced you. His arm was tightly around your waist, and when he pulled you close, his opposite hand tangled itself in your hair. Whether it was the fever talking or the fact you were a little touch starved, you wrapped your arms around him in return.

His eyes widened and his heart accelerated. Being this close to you was something he always desired, but knew he could not have. At least not now, but there was always hope for the future. After taking a deep breath, he reluctantly pulled back.

His cheeks burned pink, and he cleared his throat, lifting his hand into the air. “Perhaps it would be best if we retired to sleep,” he suggested, and you turned away shyly. “Oh, uh…” How many hours passed anyway? What time was it? You were tempted to look at your phone but decided against it.

“Please allow me,” he said before standing and walking over to your side of the bed. He pulled back the blanket and shifted the pillows. “Hm,” you looked at him with a blank expression but walked over and sat down.

“Place your legs under the blanket,” he instructed and for a moment, you felt like a young child being tucked in but knew you shouldn’t take it that way. Tenya was just trying to be kind and after everything that happened tonight, it felt comforting to be taken care of by someone.

Once your legs were underneath, Tenya pulled the blanket over you and ensured you were comfortable before walking over to his side. Your face was glowing, and you closed your eyes, wishing your fever to go away. When you felt the bed dip, you mumbled and turned on your side so your back faced Tenya.

He glanced at you but said nothing and removed his glasses, placing them on the nightstand by the bed. Then he lay down with his arms by his sides. His attention was focused on the ceiling for a few minutes, allowing silence and your breathing to ease him to sleep.

Morning came too quickly, and the blinds didn’t stop the sunshine from leaking in. You groaned, fluttering your eyes open. Your head ached softly, and sweat droplets trailed down your forehead. You reached up, intent on wiping it but noticed your arms were stuck.

“Huh?” You looked down, and heat rushed over your face when you noticed a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. Your eyes widened and you turned your head, seeing Tenya’s sleeping face, and realized how heavy his body felt against yours.

You snapped your head back and panicked as you thought of the ways you could get out of this situation. You also thought of how to wake him up without making this awkward. Then again, maybe there was no way you couldn’t make this awkward.

You moved your body and wiggled your arms to jolt him awake. “Iida, Iida!” you hissed out, and he moved his head with a soft mumble in response. A deep breath sounded before he slowly opened his eyes. “Are you…a-awake?” you asked nervously, and he nodded.

“Yes…” he replied, lowering his eyelids. “What is the matter?” You shivered at the sound of his raspy voice. “Uh…y-you um…” How could you explain that his arms were wrapped around you? Sucking a breath in, you tapped his arm with your fingers.

“Hm?” He glanced down, and upon seeing the rather inappropriate position you were in, he immediately pulled his arms back. He stumbled out of the bed, and you jolted up when he hit the wall. “Iida!” you cried out, your eyes wide with concern and your hand extended in his direction.

“P-please accept my most humble apologies!” he frantically pleaded, placing his hands on his thighs, and bowing. His sleeping cap slipped off his head and fell to the floor. However, he resisted the urge to pick it up until you responded.

You blinked, and slowly pulled your hand back only to fist it into your hair. Your forehead still felt hot, but somehow you felt better than last night. Your cheeks burned red, and you glanced away, unsure how to respond to Tenya’s frantic exclamation.

“I-it’s fine,” you said softly before pulling the blanket back and hanging your legs over the side of the bed. “Um…t-thanks,” you said as Tenya leaned back up. “Hm?” he responded, looking at you despite your back facing him.

“F-for last night um…” you rubbed the back of your head, “I t-think it helped,” as talking things out usually did. He looked taken aback but smiled, “I am very honored to have assisted you in such a way and I do hope to be of more assistance in the future,” yes, he wanted you to run to him whenever you had an issue.

But he supposed only time would tell whether that type of trust strengthened between the two of you and despite no longer being the class president, he still wanted to be your closest friend. You turned to look at him, slightly surprised before looking at the floor. “Oh um…s-sure, maybe?” you replied, standing up and stretching.

“I suggest we change our outfits and relocate to the lobby as breakfast is served promptly from 8 a.m. to 11 a.m. Then perhaps we can depart and resume this scheduled camping trip,” he said, reaching for his glasses and slipping them onto his face.

“R-right,” you replied, walking over to your suitcase, and laying it flat on the floor before opening it. You tapped your lips, deciding what outfit you wanted, unlike Tenya who more than likely already had something picked out.

As the two of you walked to the lobby, there was an awkward silence. Part of you wondered if it was your fault, and your anxious thoughts began. What does he think of you now? Is he going to look at you differently? You clenched your jaw, squeezing your eyes shut.

It was almost like something was about to burst out of you but then you heard a familiar voice. “Y/n!” Ashido called, running up to you. “Excuse me Iida!” she said, looping her arm through yours and dragging you away before you could say anything.

Out of instinct or panic, you held your hand out to Iida. However, due to his past experiences with Ashido, he thought it best not to interrupt whatever conversation she wanted with you. “Hey, Iida!” Uraraka called, she was currently sitting at one of the tables available in the lobby with Izuku.

He smiled and looked at you one last time before walking over. “How was your night with Y/n?” she asked when he approached. He paused, recalling last night's events, and cleared his throat. Uraraka tilted her head, noticing the flush on Tenya’s cheeks.

Izuku noticed this as well and they both exchanged a glance before Uraraka smiled. “What happened between you and Y/n last night?!” she questioned excitedly, and Tenya stiffened. “I…I believe I will gather my breakfast,” he stated, quickly walking away from the table and toward the breakfast area.

“Mm…” Uraraka pouted and scanned the room, easily spotting you and Ashido. “I’ll be right back,” she said to Izuku before walking away. “Your flushed face says everything! So, spill it!” Ashido shouted, raising her arms above her head. “Iida was flushing too!” Uraraka said, approaching your table.

You shivered when she turned to you and smiled. “Is everything okay between you two?” she asked suspiciously, and you shook your head. “N-no, I m-mean yes, I...I mean...” you groaned out of embarrassment. You took a breath, trying to gather your composure.

“I was just a-about to tell Mina t-that nothing happened just…” you rubbed the back of your head, glancing at your lap. “We just h-had a talk,” the girls leaned forward, eager to hear more. “A-and well…” you nervously chuckled. “I’m g-glad that he’s my f-friend.” Ashido sighed. “Seriously!?” she cried out, clearly disappointed.

Uraraka frowned and leaned closer to you. “Nothing happened between you two?” she asked, pouting. You nodded and shrugged, “Sorry?” you said before turning your head to look at Tenya who had gathered a plate of food, and happiness washed over you. ‘Yeah...just a friend’ you thought with a bright smile.

[octuscle]

Max

If only he'd bothered sooner, Maximilian thought as he stood in front of the graffiti-covered, slightly run-down apartment building facade in Leipzig's student district. It was bad enough that he had to go to this stupid fair. But a hotel would have been better than this shared room rented through airbnb. It had taken him a while to finally come around to the idea that it would make sense for his career not to always sit in the lab or at the computer. Getting in touch with clients occasionally was certainly supportive. But now the city was booked. At least by his budgetary standards, the hotel rooms that were still available were absurdly expensive. So three years after he had been awarded his doctorate summa cum laude, student communes once again. He could think of little worse.

Maximilian rang the doorbell. Indistinct rustling came from the intercom, but the door was pushed open, lights came on in the stairwell, and a "fourth floor, elevator is unfortunately broken" sounded from above. Things were getting better. He was panting by the time he had heaved his untrained body, the suitcase with a week's worth of clothes for the fair, and his laptop bag upstairs. Standing in the doorway was a young man he estimated to be maybe in his mid-20s. Leather pants, sandals, bare chest tattooed all over, full beard, and man-bun, or whatever they called that hairstyle. A hipster to the core. "Max?" he asked. "I'm Leo, welcome! Your room is right across the hall, here's the bathroom and there's the kitchen. Would you like to join us?". Maximilian declined with thanks. To sit down in the smoked kitchen, where cigarettes, shisha and obviously a few joints were consumed, was really the last thing he could imagine. The smell that hung in the apartment quickly got into his head. And it was Sunday night at 22:00, he just wanted to go to bed, tomorrow at 06:00 he had to be in the cab to help his colleagues open the booth.

Fuck, why did fairs always have to start so early. 05:00 was no time for him. His studies simply weren't behind him long enough for him to get used to the rhythm of professional life. Quietly, wearing only the boxers he had slept in, he went to the bathroom. Normally, he was only in Leipzig on weekends, and his five flatmates, with whom he had been sharing this flat for eight months now, were only used to movement in the hallway and bathroom at this time of day when someone came home on the weekend. He was just the buffer here, but they all liked each other. And with his salary, they could at least afford a cleaning lady and a fully automatic coffee machine.

Showered and shaved, he stood in front of his closet in his shared room. He hadn't even considered that he didn't have anything sensible for the trade fair. On weekends, he needed something for stoned evenings in the shared kitchen and for raved evenings. The only suit that hung here had been hanging here for eight months. And that was ten kilos ago, which he had lost thanks to regular jogging and yoga. Well, that had to be okay for today; the important customers never came on the first day of the trade show anyway. Nevertheless, he was looking forward to the day. Unlike his colleagues, who tended to hole themselves up in the labs, he had taken pleasure in sales. Accordingly, the nerds were happy to rarely come out of their corner for technical questions today; most of the work was done by Max and his somewhat younger colleague Kevin from Marketing. When the trade fair gates closed, the two of them moved from booth party to booth party, while the other colleagues probably sat happily in front of their computers in their hotel rooms. When he unlocked the door to the shared apartment at 10:00 p.m., the air was already as smoky as it was every evening. Max just quickly took off his suit, hung it neatly on the window for airing and sat down with his friends in adilettes, sweatpants and a T-shirt. It was nice to be home during the week. In Munich, where he had to live because of his job, he hadn't felt comfortable for a long time.

Fortunately, he didn't have to be at the fair so early today. But he didn't want to be too late either. After all, he had only been with the company for a good year and wanted to do a good job. But first a smoke and a coffee. And then off to the bathroom. Kevin and Max had a successful and entertaining day. The two of them rocked the booth simply because they both stood out fashionably. Between all the overweight older gentlemen in ill-fitting suits, they were both by far the best dressed. Max had been unsure at first whether the slim-fitting suit in the eye-catching Tratan fabric with the high-gloss Doc Martins didn't look a bit too Britpop, but Kevin assured him that his ass would come out great in it. And Max didn't get the impression that his competence was in doubt because of the outfit, either.

After his colleagues had left the booth on time again and no booth parties were scheduled for tonight, Max and Kevin registered for dinner at the WG. Loaded with two cases of red wine, the two arrived and were received accordingly euphoric. But it could also be due to the fact that at 6:00 p.m. the first joint was already circling. In any case, it was an exuberant evening and that Kevin would not spend the night in the hotel today was quickly clear after the blowjob in the bathroom.

When Max woke up in the morning around 06:00, he realized how lucky he was that Kevin was with him at the fair. Max was fresh out of university, the signatures on his doctorate certificate barely dry, and Kevin had been in the business a few years longer. That was a great comfort for the work at the booth. And for the past night it was not helpful, but just horny. Since he moved into the flat-sharing community two and a half years ago at the beginning of his doctoral studies, Max had kept himself fit mainly by playing soccer with the boys in the park, running track and doing yoga, and maybe the occasional jog and swim. Kevin had discovered his enjoyment of pumping iron a year and a half ago, and by now it was impossible to miss. Max didn't like mountains of muscle on himself, and he wouldn't have wanted Kevin's magnificent full beard and blatant undercut. But on the guy next to him in bed, it looked divine.

Max and Kevin showered together. Also because it was horny, primarily because the bathroom schedule was tight in the shared apartment. And because their schedule was tight too, Kevin couldn't go back to the hotel and get a fresh shirt. So, because of the uniform appearance, only a t-shirt under the suit had to do for Kevin and Max today. Whereby Max's t-shirt stretched over Kevin's chest alarmingly. As expected, today, Wednesday, was the day with the most trade visitors. And even though Max still lacked a lot of practical experience, he scored with brilliant theoretical knowledge. There was corresponding praise from Kevin as the two of them drank an after-work beer at the neighboring stand. Unfortunately, Kevin couldn't come with them to the WG today, as he still had an official customer appointment, at which, much to their annoyance, the older colleagues had to come along. Max enjoyed it all the more to sit at the kitchen table at 20:00 in sweat pants and T-shirt. Sure, the discussions sooner or later got to the point that Max had made himself a slave to the old economy and a climate destroyer to boot. But he could live with that. With a joint in any case.

Thursday morning. The fair was as good as over. After all, there was really good money in it. Max was grateful that he could combine his work as a student trainee so well with the hot phase of his doctorate. He had already used part of his salary in advance for the suit that he wore to the fair and that he also wanted to wear to the viva. Max thought he looked awesome in it. The slim-fitting navy blue suit was perhaps a bit conservative for him. But it accentuated his lean and wiry body just great! The day at the fair was exhausting. The visitors really only ever wanted to see his more experienced colleagues, so Max spent most of the time just standing around decoratively. He could hardly wait for the end of the trade show day. Kevin was invited to a trade show party and wanted to take him with him. And thank god the party turned out to be quite boring and so the two of them ended up in one of Max's favorite corner bars first. And then around 10:00 p.m. in Max's bed.

Kevin was certainly five years older than Max. A seasoned marketing manager and beast of a man. Max, who was just about to take his exams, didn't have to hide visually, but the hairy and full-bearded colossus didn't really fit in at all with the rather slender and still very youthful-looking student. Nevertheless, they had fucked like rabbits. Kevin had ordered a cab early and had gone to the hotel to freshen up and change for the fair. Max had left his waiter outfit in the catering area of the fair and just had to quickly jump in the shower and then into the S-Bahn before his shift started. Eyeing his reflection in the windowpane, he wondered if he should follow Kevin's example and get a beard and some tattoos, too. Friday was the last day of the fair, and things were getting high. Tomorrow, Saturday, maybe a few more foreign guests would come. But in itself the specialized public departed today starting from 15:00 o'clock so slowly. Max already had a few years of trade fair experience and had meanwhile risen to the position of shift leader. He knew some of the waiters and waitresses, some of them in passing, and some of them better from university. The jobs here were well paid and in demand. But he also had to walk some miles, easy money it was not. Still, Max enjoyed the day. He assumed this would be the last time he did this. Next year, he was either going to write his doctoral thesis. Or already work in the chemical industry. He had enough offers. Too bad, actually, he looked' really good with the white shirt, the narrow black tie that disappeared between the third and fourth button in the shirt and the long white apron over the tight black pants. He was a handsome man, and he knew it. And that occasionally brought him even with a stud like Kevin.

In the evening, he made three crosses when he could take off his shoes. His feet were just used to sneakers and Docs. Good thing tomorrow would be the last day he got to serve trade show guests dressed as a penguin. The others had the foresight to order pizza, beer and something to smoke, and by 9:00 p.m. Max was exhausted and in bed.

The last day of the fair. Finally. If only because he no longer had to argue with his stupid supervisor. Max had only one or two trade fairs less experience, but at just under 26 years of age, he was clearly the younger one. And his boss let him feel that. That's why he wasn't allowed to work in service today, but had to work as a barista in the coffee bar. One advantage was that he could keep his clothes on without any problems. Sneakers, jeans, T-shirt and beanie. Only the black apron he had to wear. And another advantage was that rat-hot Kevin would drop by from time to time. Today rather more often. On the last day, there was simply little going on. At 4:00 p.m., the first booth builders arrived and began to dismantle the booths. And Kevin asked Max if he would like to go out for a bite to eat with him before Kevin headed back to Munich. Kevin had chosen a steak restaurant that Max would never go to. Much too expensive. And he lived mostly vegan. But being invited by the hottest guy at the whole fair was more than okay. The only pity was that Kevin didn't have time to come up for a fuck today. But at least Max could still suck his boner as a farewell. A worthy end to a strenuous week at the fair.

Sunday, 10:00 o'clock! Finally slept in again. Actually, Max should have been working on his bachelor thesis. But among the other sociologists he was considered a mega nerd anyway. A bachelor with not even 25 was rather unusual at his faculty… And today the weather was great. Having breakfast somewhere in the sun now just sounded more appealing. And finally he could just slip into his pants and tank top without showering and hide his unwashed hair under his hat. A quick glance in the mirror. Perfect. And tomorrow he would make an appointment with the tattoo artist he trusted. He would definitely invest some of his hard-earned money from the past week in ink. Let's see what kind of inspiration he could get on the street.