#all of these were meant to go in separate bundles but i just. moved on and only made the one drawing so forgive the haphazard styles

[persphonesorchid]

Echoes Of Nebula - MYG

Summary: Some people say that soulmates are made of the same star, a part of each other, one and the same. Stars don’t live forever, Yoongi found, but they do burn forever.  

Genre: Exes to lovers, angst, fluff

Word Count: 5.5k

Warning(s): I don't think there's any, but let me know if I've missed! Any mistakes are my own, I proofread this one (1) time 😭

Masterlist

Notes: Eep, hello! Here's this lil thing I've been working on! Also, Yoongi and Mc didn't end on bad terms, their separation was somewhat mutual and they're all good :)). Feedback is always appreciated and encouraged! Enjoy!

“Make sure to eat, okay?” 

Snow swirls along the train tracks, following a gust as a train pulls into the station.  There’s the bustle of people getting on and some getting off, bundled up warmly against the winter air. Some are going to see their families, some are taking a break from theirs. Some of them are stepping onto the train to never step foot in this town again. Some of them are just starting the first day of their adult lives. 

Min Yoongi? He’s moving to Seoul.  

Your hands tuck the ends of his scarf securely into his sweater, staring at him like you’re trying to memorize his face. Your tears make tracks against your cheeks and dry quickly in the cold.  

Min Yoongi is breaking up with his girlfriend.  

“Eat on time. And I don’t mean ramyeon because you’re too lazy to cook.” You sniffle, and Yoongi wipes under your eyes with his thumbs. His glove has a hole in it. Not that it matters much right now, he’s trying to get you to stop crying. “Sleep on time, not when the sun’s coming up.”  

Min Yoongi is trying not to cry.  

“Okay.” He holds you still because he’s trying to memorize your face. He’s got pictures, even the silly ones that he took and promised to delete, but they won’t compare. “I’m sorry.” 

He must’ve apologised for the millionth time. He doesn’t know what else to say.  

You nod, smile — sadly, tears on your waterline — and, “I understand.” for the millionth time.  

He’s moving to Seoul, a long way away from Daegu.  

A mixtape he made for shits and giggles took off and pulled him with it, and he has no choice but to follow. Your life is in this little town like a ship in a bottle and like a captain you’ll go down with it. You can’t follow.  

You both talked about it for days, compromising, bargaining, but in the end, your lives are going separate ways.  

Stars either explode or implode when they die, and Yoongi feel like the star you’re both made of has finally reached its end. It’s imploding, folding in on itself and pulling everything with it.  

He has five minutes left to take you in, how the tears shine in your eyes despite his efforts, the string of the necklace he won you at a fair peeking from behind your scarf. The way you smile and your eyes squint, the way he could feel the chill of your hands through his gloves.  

He wants to stay right here in this moment and never leave if it meant he could take you in for five minutes till eternity.  

“Remember to...” His throat feels raw, but it’s because of the cold and definitely not because he’s crying. The lump in his throat makes it hard to swallow. He looks somewhere above your head to give himself a second, things like these are always hard for him. “Remember to dress for the weather.”  

He squeezes your hands, takes a breath that he almost chokes on, and looks back at you. “Don’t skip meals. Get warm when you feel cold. Always carry an umbrella in July.”  

Sometime later, Yoongi will wonder if the things he reminded you to do made much sense, if they mattered at all. Wonders if you’d actually remember. The umbrella one is really important; you always forget.  

He sat where he could see you when his five minutes were up and eternity never came. Waving from behind a glass and missing the warmth of you and the sound of your voice. He watches you wipe your tears and smile big and you walk alongside the train when it pulls off and then you run, and then, Yoongi could no longer see you.  

Min Yoongi broke up with his girlfriend and left her in the middle of winter chasing a train.  

July is always rainy. 

And every time it rains, Min Yoongi remembers the love he left in winter. He wonders if you remember to carry an umbrella. It’s been five years; he wonders if you remember him at all. 

He watches the rain splash into puddles and listens to the patter against his umbrella. Seoul bustles on, indifferent to the weather, its crowds meandering through the mid-summer downpour. Despite the season’s warmth, a stray breeze slips past his collar and reminds him of colder days. He’s grateful his gloves no longer have holes. 

He walks along the sidewalk, carried by the crowd’s flow without much thought.  

There’s not much that he wishes for anymore, not much he can wish for when he’s got everything. He lives in a high rise, works at the top music production company. Sometimes it’s a bit hard being the most sought-after producer in Seoul. Life has been good; he can’t complain. That mixtape opened doors he thought he’d be knocking on forever, and he’s worked hard to keep them open. 

Min Yoongi doesn’t need much of anything else. 

But on days like this, when the wind is just a little chilly and the sky’s opened up and crying, he misses you. 

Sometimes he looks back on that day and feel guilt. He knows it was just as hard for you as it was for him, the pain in your eyes that you smiled through. 

For a while, he’d call you every night and update you, made sure that you were doing well. For a while, he’d keep up with you and made sure that you’re doing well. For a while, he’d call you every now and then, see if you’re doing well.  

For a while, it had been a while and life, and then five years slinked on by.  

Yoongi sighs, and there’s guilt in it. He got busy, as one gets being a producer in Seoul with a shit ton of expectations. He’s changed phones over the years, lost your contact, and he got busy. 

Of course, he’s dated — mostly blind dates his friends set him up on — and he’s tried his best to push forward. There’s no point living in the past, he’s sure you’ve moved on and on by now. Sometimes he’s fine, and sometimes he’s back on that train station platform, wishing he’d begged you to come with him. 

It would’ve been the selfish thing. It wouldn’t have been fair to you had he done that. When he got to Seoul, he’d buried himself so deep into his work he barely found himself. He would’ve dragged you out here, made you give up everything just to sit on the side-lines.  

He misses you sometimes, anyways. He’s forgotten the sound of your laugh, but he still remembers the way your nose scrunches when you do. He’s forgotten the scent of your favourite perfume, but he remembers the way you lit up when he saved up and bought you a bottle forever ago. 

Min Yoongi wonders if you remember him at all. 

As Yoongi turns the corner, his umbrella catches a gust of wind and flips inside out. He fights with it for a moment before giving up, letting the rain soak his hair and the front of his jacket and jeans. He can’t help but laugh at the irony, standing there drenched, remembering the countless times he reminded you to carry an umbrella. 

In the distance, he spots a small café and decides to seek shelter. The bell above the door jingles as he enters, and the warm, cozy atmosphere wraps around him like a comforting hug. He shakes off his umbrella – finally pulling it back down – and steps up to the counter, ordering a hot coffee to chase away the chill. 

As he waits, his eyes wander around the café, taking in the rustic décor and the soft hum of conversation. A bulletin board on the wall catches his attention, filled with flyers and photos. His gaze lands on a familiar face, and his heart skips a beat. 

It’s you. Your photo, smiling brightly, pinned among various advertisements and announcements. You’re standing next to a large canvas, looking proud. He steps closer, reading the caption beneath your picture: “Local Artist Exhibition - Featuring Works by ________.” 

Yoongi’s mind races as he takes in the information. You’re here in Seoul, and you’ve been showcasing your art. A mix of emotions floods through him—relief, excitement, and a twinge of nervousness. He jots down the address of the gallery from the flyer without much thought and leaves without his coffee. 

As Yoongi steps out into the rain, a million thoughts swirl through his mind, each one more turbulent than the last. He wonders why you never sought him out. Seoul is vast, but you’d known he was here, making waves in the music scene. Did you ever think about him? Did you ever miss him? 

The realization hits him hard: he never knew you were doing art before he left. In all your conversations, all your late-night talks and shared dreams, you never mentioned a passion for painting. He feels a pang of guilt. Had he been so wrapped up in his own ambitions that he failed to notice yours? The thought stings, and he can't shake the feeling that he should have been there for your journey, supporting you the way you always supported him. 

The gallery isn’t far, and soon he’s standing in front of it, his heart pounding in his chest. He takes a deep breath and pushes the door open, the sound of soft music and hushed voices greeting him. There’s quite a bit of people mingling about in quiet discussion, taking photos of the art mounted on the walls under ambient lighting. 

Inside the gallery, he feels out of place. The walls, adorned with your art, are a testament to a part of your life he knows nothing about. Each piece is beautiful, but they also serve as a painful reminder of how much he’s missed. He wonders how many late nights you spent creating these, how many times you might have needed someone to share your successes and frustrations with. 

Yoongi wanders through the gallery, the sound of soft music and hushed voices creating a backdrop to his thoughts. The rain outside has left him feeling introspective, and as he takes in the various pieces of art, he feels a strange mix of pride and sadness seeing how far you’ve come. 

Each painting tells a story, each one a glimpse into your life over the past five years, a life he wasn’t a part of. 

His gaze is drawn to a large canvas on the far wall. The colours are bold and dramatic, the brushstrokes chaotic and full of emotion. As he steps closer, he realizes with a jolt that the scene depicted is achingly familiar: a train station, snow swirling in the air, and two figures standing close together, wrapped in scarves and winter coats. 

His breath catches in his throat as he takes in the details. The style is unmistakably expressionist, the exaggerated forms and vibrant colours capturing the raw emotion of that day. The figures are abstract, but he knows them instantly: one is you, and the other is him. 

He remembers the way you tucked his scarf into his sweater, the tears that made tracks down your cheeks, and the way you both tried to memorize each other in those final moments. The painting captures all of it, the pain and the love, the sorrow and the hope. 

Yoongi feels a lump in his throat as he stares at the piece. It’s a testament to your skill as an artist. He wonders how long you carried the weight of that moment, how many times you revisited it in your mind to create this masterpiece. He’s overwhelmed by a wave of emotions: regret, longing, and a deep, unspoken connection. 

The title of the painting, written on a small plaque beside it, reads “Departure.” It’s fitting, he thinks, for the moment it captures, but also for the way it marks the beginning of your separate journeys. 

As he stands there, lost in thought, he hears your voice nearby, and for a moment, he simply stands there. Your words meld together and he isn’t hearing much of what you’re saying, just the sound.  His heart pounds against his ribs as your laugh — it sparks a memory and adds sound to the ones that were muted — bounces off the walls and around in his head.  

He turns and sees you, in a corner, your back to him talking to a taller man, discussing a point of space where you’re standing. The sight of you, so vibrant and alive, sends a mixture of relief and nervousness fluttering around in Yoongi’s tummy.   

Gathering his courage, he takes a step forward, then another, until he’s standing just a few feet away. You turn and startle, staring at him like he’s a ghost. There’s a brief moment of surprise — he gets it — and then you blink. 

“Yoongi,” you breathe, and turning to the man next to you, you smile gently. “Taehyung...Can you give us a moment?”  

The guy looks between you both for a second with a raised brow before he’s gone, walking off to some other part of the gallery. Yoongi’s mind is too occupied taking in the sight of you to wonder what that man’s presence may mean. 

“Hi,” he replies, his voice soft and filled with all the words he’s wanted to say for years. Despite this, he doesn’t actually know what to say, he didn’t actually think this far ahead. He glances back at the painting of the train station platform, then back at you. “I saw your painting.” 

You follow his gaze and nod, your smile tinged with a hint of sadness. “It was a significant moment for me. For both of us, I think.” 

It’s a lot awkward, with him just standing there, not sure what to do with himself. You look the same, though now your hair is styled professionally and not the frizzy, wind swept mess it was when he last saw you.  

There’s so much he wants to say but he feel like he doesn’t have enough words, or the right ones, so he takes it easy. “I saw a flyer...in a café. Um... It’s amazing...your work.”  

“Thank you,” you say, your eyes reflecting a mixture of pride, nostalgia and a certain sadness. “I didn’t know you’d be here. It’s... good to see you.” 

The conversation goes slowly, awkwardly. There are long pauses and nervous laughter, each of you trying to bridge the gap of five years with small talk about your art and his music. 

“You’ve done well,” he says, gesturing to the paintings around you both. “I didn’t even know you were into art.” 

You smile, the same just barely there sad smile from earlier. “It was something I started after you left. It helped me cope.” 

“Oh...” His heart aches at the thought of you turning to art just to fill the void he left behind. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. 

You shake your head and shrug. “We both had our paths to follow. It’s just... life.” 

He nods, but the guilt lingers. Life had taken you both in different directions, but he can’t help but wonder what might have been different if he had stayed, or if he had at least tried to stay in touch better. 

Min Yoongi is an idiot and he’s always told himself so. He’s an idiot and he sucks at this sort of thing. 

As the gallery starts to empty out, Yoongi looks at you, the rain pattering gently against the windows. There’s a part of him that wants to apologize, to make up for all the lost time, but he knows it’s not that simple. 

“Do you have time for a coffee?” he asks, hope and uncertainty mingling in his eyes. 

Your smile is a little hesitant, but you nod, “Sure.” 

You excuse yourself to grab your jacket and an umbrella — you remembered, he smiles privately —, and then you talk to the man from earlier for a minute before Yoongi follows you out of the gallery and onto the wet street.  

The walk is quiet, filled with the awkwardness of five years’ worth of missed everything’s, and Yoongi holds tight to the handle of his umbrella. There’s a confidence to your step as you weave your way through the crowd, head straight forward and not looking down at your feet like he remembers. 

You’re not the girl he left on that platform five years ago just as he’s not the guy that left you there.  

You walk back to the cafe he’d come from, and he realises that you’re probably a regular here. The barista behind the counter greets you with a smile and asks if you’re having your usual. You order a coffee and Yoongi asks the girl behind the counter to reheat the one he bought earlier, and the barista’s eyes dart between you both. 

You lead him to a cozy corner table after the order was called, and as you settle in, the conversation starts up slowly again. 

“How long have you been in Seoul?” Yoongi asks first, his voice a little hesitant, not sure if he’s allowed to ask.  

“Almost three years now,” you reply, looking down at your coffee cup, the tiniest furrow between your brows. “It took a while, but I got settled.” 

Yoongi takes a moment to observe you, trying to reconcile the person in front of him with the memories he’s held onto for the past five years. You don’t look much different, your hair’s in an up-do, your cheeks are a little fuller, but that’s as much as he notices.  

The silence that rings between you both is louder than the other customers in the cafe. Yoongi can only imagine what this scene looks like to others; two people who are barely looking at each other, like awkward strangers forced to share a space.  

His coffee is still hot, and it burns his tongue when he sips at it, but at least it’s given him a distraction. He steals glances at you, watching the way your eyes comb the cafe and avoid his gaze.  

Unfortunately, Yoongi is naught but a man, and there’s a nagging sound at the back of his brain. It grows louder until he fidgets, the nerves of his free hand feel like they’re dancing and he takes a breath. He looks down at his coffee cup, glances at you and then back to the cup. Then, he asks a question that made him want to crawl out of his skin.  

“So...that guy back at your gallery seemed nice...”  

He knows it’s been five years, and a lot can change in that time.  As toxic as it may sound, the thought of you moving on with someone else stirs a mix of emotions in him. 

He knows he has no right to be upset if you’ve found happiness with someone else. It’s not his business anymore, not after all this time.   

Still, the fear is there. He doesn’t want to admit how much it hurts to think of you with someone else. He can’t deny the pang of jealousy at the thought, but he tries his best to ignore it. He has no claim over you. You deserve to be happy, and if you’ve found that with someone, then he’s happy.  

He sighs inwardly, pushing the thoughts aside. He wants to focus on the present, on the fact that you’re sitting in front of him right now. Whatever happens, he’s happy to be here, he hopes he can be a part of your life again of you let him, even if it’s only as a friend. He doesn’t want to ruin this, whatever it turns out to be. 

You stare at him for a moment and Yoongi can’t tell what you’re thinking, “He is...he’s got an eye for art.”  

Yoongi nods slowly, his fingers tracing the rim of his coffee cup. He hums softly, and now it’s his turn to pretend you’re not looking; he finds interest in the light fixtures above.   

His next question sits on his tongue trying to pry past his teeth. He feels like a kid trying to find the right moment to ask his parents if he could go play outside. There’s a nervous churning in his tummy that isn’t at all pleasant. How does one ask their ex of five years if they’re seeing someone?  

Yoongi imagines they’d just ask, out of curiosity, and get it out of the way. He could play it well. Maybe lean back into his seat and appear more casual before he says the stupid words. Maybe he could stop staring at the lights like a damn moth, and act like a being with a fully developed frontal lobe.  

“Are you two...close? Or...you know...” He waves a hand and then lays it on the table. The sound of his ring knocking against it is kind of jarring, but it gives Yoongi an opportunity to look away again. 

You make a quiet sound, and Yoongi finally meets your gaze. There’s amusement in your eyes, it’s obvious you’ve figured him out already — he wasn’t exactly being subtle. Which is unfortunate, because now Yoongi could feel embarrassment tapping on his shoulder. 

You say nothing of it, even though he knows you want to. He could feel it.  

“As close as business partners can be, I suppose.” You say, and Yoongi can see the beginning of a smile as you lift your coffee to hide it.  

“Right...Sorry.” Yoongi says sheepishly, though, a weight lifts off his chest. As he looks at you, he notices something that makes his heart skip a beat.  

You’re still wearing the necklace he got you all those years ago, the one he won for you at the fair. The twine that the little pendant hangs on looks worn, fraying a bit at some points, but you’re wearing it.  

You kept it. 

He clears his throat, the words he’s been holding back spilling out. “I’m sorry I lost touch. I got so busy, and then it felt like too much time had passed to reconnect. I lost your contact, and… I didn’t know how to find you again.” 

You nod, your fingers brushing over the necklace like you sensed his gaze on it. “It’s okay. Life happened, for both of us.” 

“But why didn’t you seek me out when you got to Seoul?” Yoongi asks, his voice soft, devoid of accusation; genuinely curious. 

“I thought it would be for the best,” you say, equally as soft, staring into your coffee as though it would give you the words you’re looking for. “So much time had passed, and I didn’t want to disrupt your life. You were doing well.”  

You look so sad when you say it that it almost breaks Yoongi’s heart.  

“You know I wouldn’t have...” He wouldn’t have turned you away.  

“I know, I just...” You sigh, your eyes dart somewhere to his left, and then back at him, “...I really missed you.”  

Yoongi wants to reach out and take your hand so he does. Your fingers are warm from the coffee, squeezing his own, and tears beads at your waterline.  

“I missed you too.” His gaze is soft and he knows it, but he doesn’t care because its you. You’re still you and he’s still him, and he misses you and the girl he left on that platform.  

You’re both still made of the same star. It’s imploded but still glowing, and your necklace pendant catches the above head light.  

His finger brushes over your knuckles, he stares at them, the shape and colour and all the little things about them that makes them a part of you. All that with his heart in his throat because he wants to ask something.  

“Do you think…” His voice is barely a whisper, as if he’s afraid the wrong volume might shatter whatever delicate thread holds this moment together. “Do you think there’s a chance… that we could try again?” 

You stare at him, your eyes wide, and he feels the subtle pressure of your fingers in his. He knows it’s a lot to ask,  but the longing, the sense that maybe something beautiful can still be salvaged from the pieces, presses him to keep going. 

Hope catches on the glint of your necklace pendant, and he clings to it. 

“I don’t expect anything to happen right away. I just… I want to be in your life again, even if we start slow. No pressure, just… what feels right.” 

You’re quiet for a moment, and then a soft smile curves your lips, almost as if you’ve been waiting for him to say something like this.  

“We could try,” you murmur, the words tentative but filled with the same cautious hope Yoongi feels. 

And from there, the pace is unhurried. You both ease into each other’s lives like rivers that find their way back to the same stream.  

Some days Yoongi feels like he’s been whacked on the head with a giant stick. Anyone could tell by looking at him, when he’s got that stupid look on his face. Like he’s seen a goddess and she spared him a glance. He feels like he’s dreaming, and the last five years without you seem to blur.  

He starts small, a text here and there; good morning and good night. Even if he’s busy he’d keep up with you, except when his work demands his focus. There are some days when you’d disappear, and Yoongi understands when you explain you’ve been in your studio for hours.  

Your gallery isn’t far from his work, and as much as he could he’d go see you. He finds himself drawn to small gestures—bringing you lunch or a cup of coffee, or sometimes a sweet he thinks you might like. Each time he steps into the gallery with something for you, he feels a warmth settle in his chest. 

It’s an excuse, he knows, to see you smile, to watch you light up at the thoughtfulness of it. And each time you look at him with that gentle, appreciative gaze, he feels his hope grow a little stronger. 

You’d tell him all about your creative process, how you’d spin and weave what’s in your head onto a canvas. He’d listen attentively because he’s interested and he owes it to you. All those nights spent burning the midnight oil, steeping in his frustrations; you were there. You’d listen to him rant and cry when things weren’t working out the way he wanted. 

He owed you much more than that.  

He feels like he has to learn you all over again, which, in a sense, he does. Even if the bases of you are the same, there’s new facets. Little shards that fit into the mirror that reflects you, some pieces are a little dusty and worn with time and others are new and shiny. Yoongi has to take his time cleaning the old ones to see them again, and get used to the new ones that twinkle his eyes.  

He invites you to his place for dinner, something simple and easy, and the conversation flows a lot better than it had a month before.  

There’s no awkward sentences that cut off somewhere in the middle. Yoongi knows what to do with his hands and he has a better time looking you in the eye now. He feels a lot like he did back then, like a school boy taking his crush to meet his parents. His hands are a little sweaty, but the food is good and your eyes sparkle like they did back then, too.  

You seem so sure, like you’re not worried one bit. Like you knew you’d meet him again and you’d be here in this moment; sipping on white wine – something new he’s learned – and chucking over stories set in the past.  

The day he let a pet name slip was the day Yoongi wished a chasm would open up and swallow him. He had his excuse ready; the clock’s pushing one in the morning; he’s tired. The truth? It’s so easy to slip back into old ways, like nothing changed at all.  

Like a smouldering fire in a hearth. It’s not quite out yet, and if you throw some sticks in there, they’ll catch.  

After a while, on some sunny evening, Yoongi invited you to his studio. 

“This is where I spend most of my time.” And he means that, letting you into his studio. There’s a blanket tossed haphazardly on the black couch that lines the wall near the door.  

There’s day old take away coffee cups that never made it to the bin, cluttered in a designated spot. The bin he meant to empty is overflowing with scraps of paper and crushed takeout containers. That’s as far as the clutter goes. Though, Yoongi’s embarrassed now – he prides himself on keeping tidy. He wasn’t thinking when he asked you over, didn’t expect you to agree either.  

So now he’s clearing up his desk and tying a knot on the waste bag. You make yourself comfortable on his couch like you’ve been there before, throwing the blanket over your lap as your eyes dart about to take everything in.  

You’re impressed, he could tell by the gleam in your eyes and your little down turned smile. He’s come a long way from his old computer and MIDI.  

“Its nice, cosy. Beats camping out in your bedroom.” You smile and Yoongi chuckles, nodding.  

“Damn right.” He agrees, but he wouldn’t trade in those days for anything. Truthfully, he’s been here for three days, only going home to shower. Inspiration on an all time high and he’s just been riding the wave, you’ve been his muse for the past month. It isn’t the first time, at moments over the years gone you’d float into his mind like a mirage, and he’d get stuck on you.  

He’s grateful for the break, though, there’s nothing much to do and he doesn’t want to bore you with rambling about what he’s working on. So he orders something, and lets a movie play on his laptop.  

The clock ticks softly in the corner, its sound nearly drowned out by the hum of the desk lamp — he should really get that replaced. You’re still curled up on his couch despite the hour, the blanket pooled around your legs, your eyes scanning a painting on the wall he doesn’t remember hanging. 

“It’s peaceful here,” you say, your voice quiet but steady, like you’re speaking directly to the heart of the room—and to him. 

Yoongi glances up from the cluttered desk he’d been half-heartedly straightening; resorting his things because he can’t sit still. He watches the way you seem to belong in his space, your presence settling into the corners he never realized were empty. The faintest smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. 

“You think so?” he asks, moving to lean against the edge of the desk. He crosses his arms, the soft light from the lamp catching on the fine lines of his face. “I always thought it was too chaotic.” 

You turn your head, your gaze locking onto his. “Chaos can be beautiful. It just takes the right eyes to see it.” 

The words settle between you, their weight both gentle and profound. Yoongi feels something inside him shift—a small piece of armour finally cracking and falling away. 

He takes a step toward you, his hands slipping into his pockets, his expression tentative. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” 

You sit up a little straighter, tilting your head. “What is it?” 

“Would you…” He hesitates, his fingers brushing against the edge of a USB drive in his pocket—the same drive that holds the tracks he’s been working on for weeks. “Would you let me write something for you? About you?” 

Your surprise shows in the slight widening of your eyes, followed quickly by a soft, warm smile. “You already do that, don’t you?” 

Yoongi chuckles under his breath, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment. “Maybe,” he admits, with a small smile that meant more than he could say. “But this time, I want you to know it’s for you. No hiding it in metaphors or beats no one else understands. Just…you.” 

You rise from the couch, the blanket slipping to the side as you close the small distance between you. Standing so close, Yoongi count all the things that make you you.  

“Okay,” you say softly, your fingers brushing against his. “But only if you let me paint something for you, too.” 

Yoongi takes your hand because he wants to, and his fingers make home in the spaces between yours. It feels like déjà vu and an epiphany all at once: five years ago you were this close and he was saying goodbye. His gloves had holes. Today...he’s saying hello again, and it feels like no time had gone by. And he kisses you now because he didn’t kiss you then, and you sigh into it like you’ve been waiting a lifetime.  

Some people say that soulmates are made of the same star, apart of each other, one in the same. Stars don’t live forever, Yoongi found, but they do burn forever.  

Tagging: @hoseoksluna @xpeachesncream @amon-rei @allhobbitstoisengard @euphoricfilter @madbutgloriouspond

[kkoct-ik]

yet unposted doodle dump of varying quality

[dollfacefantasy]

kinktober day 10 - hybrids (again) leon kennedy! x fem!black-cat-hybrid!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, hybrids, heat cycles, daddy kink

Sweet and silent. That's how you moved about Leon's home ever since the day he brought you in. His precious little black cat.

He hadn't really been looking for a companion of any kind when it happened. His most recent string of hookups had all amounted to nothing as usual. He didn't even know if he was capable of anything long term anymore. Living life in service of the D.S.O. kept him away from home often enough that any woman with aspirations of a family would pack her bags before she ever got the invitation to move in.

Though with you, he never really extended that offer in the first place. You sort of just fell into his lap after being discarded by your unit in the BSAA. You'd been the lone feline in a unit of canines. After realizing what should have been obvious, that it was a horrible idea, they cut you loose. With nowhere to go, Chris brought you to Leon's attention, knowing the other man had been going through a hard time and could use a companion of some sort.

While he was reluctant at first, those cute curious eyes of yours were hard to resist. And now that almost a year had gone by, he couldn't have been happier about saying yes.

During the days you napped on the couch right where the sun cast through the window. He'd come home from work and find your soft form glowing, radiant under the orangey yellow rays. Your eyes would flutter open as soon as you sensed his presence, and you'd lazily rise to greet him, dragging your cheek across the expanse of his chest and nuzzling into his muscles.

At night, you drifted through the halls curious about what you could get up to without his supervision. It was never anything too troublesome, just the natural urge to explore more than anything else. He didn't mind. You'd gone from being trained for stealth missions to being allowed to laze about for however long you pleased. A little restlessness was to be expected.

Plus, that wasn't the most jarring form of restlessness he saw from you.

When you'd come into his life, Chris had warned him about 'heat cycles.' He told him what it meant and how he could deal with it, but honestly, Leon hadn't been too concerned with the idea. He figured it would be like normal ovulation, if not slightly more intense.

He didn't expect the power with which it affected you. The way you clung to him as if the smallest bit of separation would kill you. Your face stayed in the crook of his neck, taking deep huffs of his scent every few seconds. And your hips, they never seemed to stop moving. You were constantly squirming, trying to grind up against him and get some friction on the aching bundle of nerves between your legs.

Finally, he gave in and fucked you out of pure necessity. He was worried you'd throw yourself into pure exhaustion from how desperate you seemed.

But like the initial choice to take you in, he didn't regret this one either.

The change in your relationship didn't make things awkward. It didn't feel weird or uncomfortable now. The two of you were closer than ever. He could see how much you loved the affection. It was obvious now that your craving for it was a big part of what had you so restless in the first place.

And now the two of you could have days like today. Time where the hours passed with you tangled in each other's arms, him nice and snug inside of you.

“I understand why you like laying in the sun so much, sweetheart. Makes you all warm,” he murmurs into the back of your head.

He nuzzles you gently as his hips pump against your ass in a lazy rhythm. The two of you were laid up on the couch. It was your favorite time of day to sprawl out for a nap. The sun cast through the window at the perfect angle to bathe the sofa in its radiance.

You nod languidly in response to him. “Mhm,” you purr, pushing hips back against his body.

“Such a good girl for me,” he whispers.

He grabs your waist tighter and keeps thrusting. Even with the increased pressure, the pace remains soothing. His nose drags up the back of your neck as he takes in your scent.

He'd never known bliss like this before you. Prior to your arrival, life seemed so bleak. It was job after job, and the space between them was as bleak as the missions themselves. He never imagined himself experiencing peace like this. So calming it melted into genuine happiness.

"My sweet girl. So perfect for me. Don't know what I'd do without you," he mutters.

"Don't know either. Always need you," you mumble, the tone in your voice breaking into a whine.

His free hand glides up to massage at one of the obsidian ears atop your head. The move brings a deep rumble of pleasure from your chest, causing his dick to throb within you.

"That's my baby," he grunts, "You know just what daddy likes, don't you?"

The title makes your clit pulse, and your ass automatically writhes backwards. He knows the effect that word has on you. Ever since you'd accidentally let it slip once, he'd never allowed you to live it down.

"Mhm," you hum in response. Further words weren't needed. Both of you knew it was the truth. That everything you did in moments like these was for the other.

He now takes his hand off your head and brings it down and around to the front of your body. His fingers wrap around your palm, clasping your hand in his own. You can feel the tiny tremble in his limb. The shiver of impending release.

"You gonna make daddy cum, baby? Gonna let him get you all warm and full?" he rasps.

You nod eagerly. That was a question you would never say no to.

His pelvis keeps connecting with the swell of your ass as he thrusts deep inside. His tip kisses all the little internal sweet spots inside you. It's only a few more pumps before he spills himself inside you. His fingers drop your hand to swirl around your clit and get you there too. It feels like heaven, riding out the high with him, bathed in warm sunlight.

When the both of you have started to come down, you feel kisses being laid upon the back of your neck. He rubs your belly at the same time, long soothing swipes of his hand stroking back and forth. It brings you back to earth, but you still feel a little hazy since he hadn't pulled out.

"What do you think about taking a nap now?" he asks softly.

You nod, already drowsy yourself. Now you just had the added bonus of him staying with you.

[american-horror-whore]

SICK DAY — evan peters ᥫ᭡.

a/n. requested ୨ৎ

warnings. adult content, nsfw, cunnilingus, hair pulling, gentle oral sex

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐥𝐲, watching Evan waltz into the bedroom. His large hands held a bowl that was filled to the brim with chicken noodle soup.

“There you go, baby..” Evan sighed, placing the bowl down on your nightstand. You turn your head weakly, staring at the white, ceramic bowl, steam rising up in small streams into the air, releasing the smell of the classic sick-day food. The dim lighting of your room reflected off the ceramic, making the atmosphere all the more cozy, even if you were sick.

The bedroom smelled of cold medicine, essential oils, and now chicken noodle soup. The large windows in the bedroom showed a beautiful view of the city’s skyline, giving you something to look at as you slowly rotted away with the vicious cold/flu-like sickness you had acquired from a coworker.

Evan placed the back of his hand on your forehead, the veins in his hands pushing against the abnormally warm flesh of your forehead. He hummed in a slightly concerned ton, putting his hand palm-down against your forehead, his thumb tracing slowly back and forth against your hairline.

“How’re you feelin’ chica?” Evan asked, using a nickname he’s had for you since you two started dating. You attempted to answer him, but he obviously wouldn’t be able to understand a sea of unintelligible “mnnn..”s and “bleh..”s.

“…shitty…” You manage to mutter out over all other things deemed incoherent. Evan placed a kiss to your forehead, his soft lips brining a cold fake-out feeling to your skin. You knew his lips weren’t actually cold. But it was a stark contrast to your body burning up like the Sahara Desert.

“Mm…I know, babe..” He cooed softly, kissing your forehead once again. You whined, your fingers pawing around his face. The pads of your fingers felt the semi-coarse feeling stubble that he was starting to grow, due to having to constantly take care of you these past days, which meant he had no time to shave.

Evan’s kisses trailed down your temples to your neck, opening and closing his mouth against your skin. You let out a soft moan, lolling your head back a bit. He slipped his hands under your hoodie, prying it up a little so his hands could run over your stomach. He pulls the hoodie from your body, gently as to not hurt you or jostle you around too much. Evan hooked his fingers in your sweatpants, pulling them down to your ankles as he started to speak.

”Any position you want, babe. Name it and we’ll do it..” Evan murmured huskily, kissing at your thighs. He lays on his stomach, gently guiding your legs over his shoulders.

Evan kisses you through your panties, nuzzling his nose against your clothes clit. He nipped your inner thighs, sucking roughly on the skin. When he pulled away, a small hickey already had started to form.

“…Whatever you want..” You murmured back, your hands going down to his hair. You tangled the brown locks with your fingers, intertwining but not pulling yet.

“Well I wanna keep you laid down…You don’t need to do a ton of moving around..” Evan said, pressing a small kiss to your cunt. He pulled one hand down, spreading your lips open, making them separate with a wet, vulgar sound. Evan pushed the tip of his tongue inside, swirling shallowly just far enough into your entrance before pulling back.

Evan spit on the tips of his finger, sliding them up and down your slit. You let out a shaky whine, silently pleading with him to keep going as you tugged gently on his hair.

“Agh, fuck…” Evan groaned gruffly, flicking his tongue up and down against your clit. he took the small bud into his mouth, sucking gently on it. He swirled his tongue around the happy little bundle of nerves before pushing it out of his mouth, sucking on the entirety of your pussy now. He pushed his tongue in and out of your hole, bending his tongue up inside of you to make you feel the maximum amount of pleasure. You tense your muscles, squeezing your eyes shut as you grabbed at his curls.

“Fuck-!!” You squeal, closing your legs around his head. He groans, his hands quickly going to your thighs as he continued to eat you out.

His tongue flicked against you once more, starting at the bottom of your cunt, drawing a wet line up to your clit, which received a few kisses. Evan nuzzled his face against you, breathing you in. “You doing okay..?”

You nod weakly. You loved it when he did this. When he took care of you, tried his hardest to take your mind off of being sick..You loved him. You were pulled out of your blissful thoughts of praise as you felt him hit that good spot. Your muscles tensed, your fingers clenched in his hair. And then you came, your orgasm crashing over you as harshly as it possibly could, making your already sickly body shudder. You let out a sharp moan, the loudest noise you’ve made yet.

Evan chuckled throatily licking another line from the bottom of your slit up to your clit, collecting that sweet, sugary substance, tasting of hints of honey and sin. He sighed, exhaling against your skin before continuing to clean you up.

“You’re so good..You feel better, chica..?” He chuckled softly, resting his head on your lower stomach. You nod, your eyes fluttering shut as you sighed, your chest heaving softly. Evan smiled, wiping his mouth as he sat up. He readjusted you, slipping your panties and hoodie back on. He held your hips, moving you carefully into a sitting position, holding that ceramic bowl of chicken noodle soup.

“Let’s get you eating something, baby..” Evan smiled, grabbing the spoon in the bowl.

taglist. @fear-is-truth @dangeroustaintedflawed @newwavesylviaplath @coentinim @lacucarachapisser @evansonlylove @dearlizzies @oceanblvd111 @foreverviolets @emmasshitblog @jazz-berry @xrag-dollx @taintandviolent @colinzabelswife @marchsfreakshow @evanpeterspeter @whosbloom @redroses07 @lemoniiiiiii @partypoisxn @evanpetersbf @ultraviolamb @jdnymos

american-horror-whore © 2024. All rights reserved. Do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content. Inspiration may be taken with permission

[shogunish]

𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝗷𝗼𝘀 & 𝗶. [𝟬𝟭]

pairing. single dad!/dilf! gojo x f! reader

genre. fluff, comfort, slice of life

contents. megumi is gojo's biological son, non-curse! au, language

words. 1.4k

summary. when satoru struggles as a single dad, he's more than thankful when the new neighbor wants to help him out.

note. just a fun little series that i talked with @cinnamonmon about 🫂 also i'm not dead, just lurking in the shadows

comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

previous || next

when you move into your new apartment, you never expect the sadness of a child to fill the dead of night. soft sobs seep through the walls that are as thin as paper, it seems. otherwise, you wouldn't wake up with heavy eyes and half the mind to silently complain about the kid crying next door. with a groan, you check the time: 11 pm. you let your head drop back into the plush of your pillows, arm draped over your eyes as a sigh slips your lips.

sure, it's normal for children to cry, you know that much, but you would give the world up if it meant that the kid shut–

the sound of a key opening a door catches your attention. is the kid's parent just now coming home from work? that is either irresponsible or a very tragic situation. either way, you swing your legs out of bed, quietly approach the wall separating you from your neighbor and press your ear against it.

such matters are none of your business. and yet, your heart breaks.

"there, there. papa is here now, buddy." satoru speaks in soft tones as he enters megumi's room and takes a seat on the edge of the bed. the mattress dips underneath his weight.

white hair is a mess, the toe around his neck loose and a couple of buttons popped open. satoru is as tired as megumi looks.

"where were you? i've waited all day for you, papa." megumi is quick to crawl into his father's arms, burying his face in satoru's chest where he sobbed quietly and refused to let go of his dad. it's likely one of those nights in which satoru would share the bed with megumi, his little bundle of joy (even though the boy is scowling most of the time).

in that moment, satoru hugs megumi a little bit tighter as if it could make up for lost time, hoping that his true feelings somehow got through to the little kid in his arms.

failure is the only thing satoru ever feared when he became a dad and he feels like he's doing a phenomenal job at neglecting his son. satoru wants to be there for megumi, for him to have a good life filled with even better memories and friends, but here he was, crying for his dad who is gone all day and night, stuck in an office that keeps him prisoner every fucking day. it's not fair, he thinks.

a father is supposed to raise his child, love and nurture it, yet..and yet..

you swear you can hear the voice of the man living next door choke up like he is on the verge of tears himself.

when satoru hears three gentle knocks in the morning, he expects the old hag to be behind the door, telling him to control his son or else she'd file a noise complaint. but instead, a pretty woman stands there, a nervous look on your face and a platter of homemade cookies in your shaky hands.

right..the new neighbor who moved in just a couple of days ago. satoru hasn't seen you around before, but you certainly are a sweet thing, looking all shy and nervous. if he didn't think you're there to complain about megumi crying last night, he'd smirk at you and maybe flirt a little bit.

"hey, uhm..i know this might be weird, but may i talk to you for a second?" your voice is soft like velvet and yet, satoru can't help but believe that your next words would be against his son. because of him.

quickly, you lift up the platter of freshly made cookies and let a smile tug at the corners of your lips. "oh yeah, i made cookies, too!"

satoru can't quite make sense of why exactly you show up at his doorstep in the morning, but you..don't look like trouble if you bring cookies. "..sure, come in."

with a nod of your head, you thank satoru and enter the surprisingly cozy home. pictures of megumi and satoru hang on the walls, shelves are filled with books, photographs and souvenirs from travels. it doesn't take a genius to see that the furniture is rather expensive and you silently wonder just how much satoru earns to be able to afford it. maybe you shouldn't touch anything. just in case.

you're ripped out of your thoughts when a wet snout sniffs you and you're greeted by two dogs, one with black fur, one with pristine white fur. just behind them stands megumi who regards you with a somewhat unimpressed look; completely different from the child you heard last night.

smiling, you offer megumi a warm cookie and kneel down to his height. he is an adorable little thing, you think to yourself. "here, have one. but don't let the dogs eat them. chocolate is bad for them, you know?"

the boy looks at his father who nods at him and finally takes the cookie. "thank you..," he mutters and is quick to hide the candy from his dogs that were already regarding him with those infamous puppy eyes. you can't help but laugh.

a smile tugged at the corners of satoru's lips at the view. affectionately, he ruffled through megumi's hair. "go play with the dogs, megumi. the adults need to talk, okay?"

negumi..pouts. "..fine.." even though he doesn't look too satisfied with his father's words, megumi calls his dogs, kuro and shiro, and goes outside in the garden.

once megumi is out of earshot, satoru's face morphs into a more serious expression. sitting down on the couch, he offers you the seat next to him, cerulean eyes stare at you over the rim of his pitch black shades. "so? what is it you wanted to talk about…?"

"[name]," you fill the gap with a kind smile on your lips, putting the platter of cookies on the coffee table. you don't quite know where to start. your concerns, your offer..it is more than just odd. a beat of silence fills the air while you fidget with your fingers, but satoru doesn't seem to mind as he allows you to gather your thoughts.

"it might sound really weird, but..i heard megumi cry last night and..," you trail off, pausing. "..it sounded like you were struggling.."

"..huh..?" satoru's eyes widen at your words. his cool exterior..it cracked.

you suddenly go on an awkward ramble, telling satoru about how megumi woke you up at 11 pm, how you heard the key in the lock and decided to listen in. "what i'm trying to say is.." a soft sigh slips your lips. "..i don't think you're doing this on purpose and if there's something, anything i can do to help.."

satoru glances outside where megumi plays with the dogs, crumbs of your cookies around his mouth and the ghost of a smile on his little features. giving his little treasure into the care of a stranger should be a no-go for any father who loved their child, but..you look like you really wanted to help with those round eyes of yours staring at him so pleadingly. if you hadn't been genuine, you wouldn't be sitting on his couch and offering your help.

a small, humorless laugh escapes satoru's throat. "megumi's mom left me right after he was born. balancing a full-time job with a kid..it makes me feel like i'm the worst father to walk this earth."

satoru took off his shades, letting you see the sky in his eyes. he pushes his messy bangs back, sighs and even though he still looks stressed, the tension in his shoulders leaves as if he shed a small part of the burden placed upon him.

"i don't think you're a bad father. just an overworked one who needs a hand." and when you say those words in a voice so warm that it rivaled honey, satoru can't help but see the light at the end of a tunnel.

at least one person knows he's trying for megumi. even if that person is a stranger, it felt..good to be seen and heard. just what are you, satoru thought. heavensent? an angel? too good to be true? maybe all of the above.

"..do you think you could watch over megumi tomorrow?"

a grin settles down on your features, crinkles the edges of your eyes and lets a little blush bloom on the apples of your cheeks. "of course!"

taglist. @ayanominitrash, @torusmochi

[1800-page-not-found]

hello author (＾▽＾)

can I ask you to write vampire reader x human Yjh and Kdj relationship hc i thing it's would be interesting

HI!! THIS IS SUCH A CUTE RELATIONSHIP!

btw this is going to be a healthy relationship, im not a huge fan of writing toxic/abusive relationships ykyk

HELP I DIDN'T REALIZE YOU SAID HC AND IM ALREADY 3/4 IN WRITING EVERYTHING...ITS OK ILL JUST DO BOTH LMFAO

human yoo joonghyuk, kim dokja (separate) x vampire reader

summary: the awful sun...it burns! thus, your lover decides to (somehow) give you a coat that has sun resistance so you can finally step out.

Yoo Joonghyuk is a ruthless man. However, during his regressions, he came to find you, a vampire. And what was so interesting about you is that, you were a vampire before the apocalypse. At first he brought you along only because he found you useful. But then, when he was able to clear more and more scenarios with you, he started to develop these 'strange feelings' he calls them.

Being a vampire was a struggle for you. After all, there were so many people around you, it was hard to resist. you usually drank animal blood from the nearby butcher, but when the apocalypse hit, you lost your supply. But when you met him, Yoo Joonghyuk, everything changed.

Blood is like wine. The more it ages, the better it tastes. So, as a regressor, Yoo Joonghyuk's blood was amazing. Of course, he killed you the first few times he met you, but started warming up.

Now, as the relationship developed, and when you two started dating after, what, 7 regressions? Well, he realized it was hard for you to join him completing scenarios with your weakness of the sun.

He scoffed, "weak." he muttered under his breath as he turned away from you.

His actions were very different though. A week later, he brought a coat that looked almost identical to his, except in a beige color, and with different attributes. Yours made you gain sun resistance.

You cried when you stepped out in the sun, feeling warmth from the fiery ball for the first time. You hugged him dearly, thanking him over and over again.

Yoo Joonghyuk was shocked to say the least. As a man who's unfamiliar with such emotions, he awkwardly patted your back. He never realized how much this meant to you. After all, vampires have feelings to.

headcannons here

he definitely gets the coat first thing when he regresses

since the scent of blood is so strong to you, he will use his coat to wrap you up and calm you down

Where SP exists, YJH definitely gets jealous whenever SP gifts something to you at the exact time you need it.

ur blood bag, he volunteers

every time he regresses, its really weird

like just imagine some super over powered hot guy comes to you and says like-

"Let me be your blood bag i love you" or something LMAOOOO

Nah he wouldn't do that (he probably might)

It would be really awkward though because he'd try to like move the relationship really fast cuz he just wants to date you and hold hands and other lovey-dovey stuff

he's awkward in general

definitely has killed before to give you blood

brought back a bucket of blood once

you didn't drink it because like STDs yk

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kim Dokja was like a child asking Santa Claus questions about Christmas when he first met you (pre apocalypse btw). I mean, you're just like the characters in his favorite novel!

It was an accident when he found out. I mean its not normal seeing your co-worker drink animal blood and eat raw animal meat is it? And i mean... it was pretty odd everyday when you came to work all bundled up.

When the apocalypse hit, the two of you were both on the train/subway. You were breathing heavily, trying to control yourself. He gave his coat to you and put it on top of your head, blocking your vision. Few minuets later, he gave you a grasshopper to kill.

Later on, after he became 'Demon King of Salvation,' he met 'Mass Production Maker' at the Gourmet Association when they were viewing the scenario and talking.

(I cant remember all they way how Mass Production Maker acts fyi)

"Mass Production Maker sir, I'd like to ask for a favor." It was rare for someone like the Demon King of Salvation to ask for a favor, well unless it was you. "Oh? And what may someone like you ask for from an old man like me?" Mass Production Maker did not take his eyes off the scenario, but you could tell he was listening to the rather newly born constellation.

"There's someone very dear to me who needs a rather special coat...I know you don't really do commissions but-" The Mass Production Maker laughed an old hearty laugh. "My, my, what young love folks like you have! How enjoyable! I like you young man, make sure to stay loyal, I'll do it for free as you helped me earn so many coins from the bet!" (I think that's what happened if I remember correctly?)

-----

when you two finally met again, Kim Dokja wrapped you in a lovely beige coat, just like his. "What is this?" you asked curiously. "A coat for you to step out in the sun!" You gasped. "R-really?! I can finally go outside?.."

He nodded and dragged you right next to where the shadows met the sun. You stopped, nervous to if this would work or not. Kim Dokja turned around and held your face. "Hey..It's going to work, I promise." He assured you.

[The constellation, "Demonic Judge of Fire" squeals in happiness.]

[500 coins have been sponsored]

"Alright then..." You slowly stepped out in the sun, eyes shut as you waited to burn but-you didn't? You slowly opened your eyes, your senses feeling the warmth on your face. "I'm-I'm in the SUN!" You jumped and hugged Kim Dokja. "Thank you Thank you!" You cried, tears running down your face. You could finally feel the warmth you longed for with him under the sun.

Headcannons!!!!!

Likes to give you blood

wants you to just drink all of his blood, i mean its not like he can't revive

Flabbergasted when you cried when he was dead for 3 days

He likes to hug you because you're always cold (cuz ur a vampire...ykyk)

Had a HUGEEEEEEE cultural (or vampire) shock when you didn't bite his neck but his hand instead

and the silver thing

and garlic

becomes a huge vampire nerd

will correct people when they say something wrong about vampires

outsiders will think HE'S the vampire because of how much he talks about them

likes to be carried bridal style by you with your super strength vampire abilities

first time you two ate together at a restaurant when he knew you were a vampire, he asked for a raw slab of meat with lots of blood

the waiter looked at him weirdly

everyone in the restaurant stared at the two of you

you guys got banned from it

THE ENDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

[softquietsteadylove]

Only FIVE prompts left??? We can’t have that! (Unless you want a break then we absolutely can have that) BUT here’s another words prompt just in case you want more! I may be back with an AU specific prompt as well 👀 words are: luck, train, discovery

"You two, take the back cars, bring back anything useful."

Thena said nothing, all but rolling her eyes at the order. But she moved in the direction of the back of the train, pulling Gil with her by the hand.

He was less eager to argue with Ikaris, but he chuckled as Thena kept a close pace with him. "Bit bossy, huh?"

"He thrives off of ordering people around, I believe," she muttered, although she didn't let go of his hand, even as they walked. "At least with you here, he's not barking as much."

To say that he was not a fan of Ikaris would be an understatement, but Gil was quietly happy that the group leader seemed to give him a little more wariness than the others. He didn't think of himself as a fighter, by any means, but if that prick thought he could get away with being a bully, then Gil was happy to get in his face again.

The sun hit the top of Thena's head, reflecting off of it in a blinding way. But the sun was a good thing--it meant they had good visibility and that most of those things would be stumbling around idly rather than riled up.

"Feels kinda nostalgic, right?" he chuckled as they arrived at the back two cars. "Remember that time we spent on the Amtrack line?"

"Of course," she smiled, watching as he pried the sliding door open for them. That was the main reason he had been asked along on this scavenging trip--and that it was probably going to be lucrative, and the more they could carry at once, the better.

"Nice and quiet place to sleep, at least for a few nights," he reminisced. He groaned as he got the door open, but as soon as he did, Thena slid in front of him, knives up and at the ready.

He remembered their time on the train most fondly because it was the first time Thena had quietly and shyly settled herself beside him to sleep. It was his most treasured memory, even if she didn't know he had it.

She kept her knives up, tapping the metal tips against the walls and overhead rails, just to test if anything was lying in wait. "Rear?"

Gil looked behind them, but it seemed pretty clear. He looked around again, his eyes dashing down to another - completely different - rear before he blushed and cleared his throat. "Looks good."

"Okay," she murmured, reaching the front of the car. She looked through the window of it, catching Kingo in the next car forward. He waved; Gil waved back, while Thena gave him a very stiff not. "Let's start checking."

If there was anything worth taking, it was probably already gone. But things got lost and forgotten in the panic of fleeing. Anything that was left had the potential to have at least a few good things left. A toiletries bag inside a suitcase, some snacks that had been stashed away. Even just the clothes were an asset.

"What do you think it's like for them?" Gil asked, mostly for the sake of talking. He glanced at the end of the car, "scavenging like this even though they've never been out in it?"

Thena eyed the direction of his gaze but returned to methodically digging through bags. "Every time we do this, I see them hesitate. I think there's still a sense that the people who owned these wouldn't want them dug through, or something."

Gil nodded. He understood it, sure--the sympathy he could have for all these people who hadn't been lucky enough to survive what he had. But he agreed with Thena that they didn't have the luxury of thinking like that every time they needed supplies. The things shuffling around in their bodies now had no need for the shreds of their human lives anymore.

He blinked as something was tossed at him. Thena didn't even look up, still digging through things and separating them into piles. But he shook out the little bundle, pleased by the light material of the green plaid shirt. "Yeah?"

"It'll be lighter than the one you have now," she muttered.

He was indeed still wearing a flannel over his t-shirt. It was just something he could wear around the hospital, on kitchen duty or whatever. But he had to admit, out here and under the sun, he was starting to sweat a little.

Thena tilted her head at him as he pulled his darker green one off and pulled on the lighter one. "Hm."

He let her move over to him, rolling the sleeves up to his elbow for herself. He probably would have anyway, but he didn't mind if she wanted to do it. "What do you think?"

She looked up at him, smiling more than she had since they left this morning. "It's a nice colour for you."

"Don't I have to turn it over and, like, request it or something?" he asked as he adjusted the collar of it. He didn't know all the ins and outs of it, but Thena had told him about the system they had for inventory.

From what he understood, everything came back to the hospital, and if someone found something they wanted to keep, they were at the top of the list for it once it had been accounted for. Supposedly it caused less petty theft and argument over resources.

Thena shrugged, though, tying his old shirt around her waist. "Ikaris kept a hat last time and Kingo found a jacket he liked that he was never going to turn over. It's not stated, but if you find it and you're willing to fight for it, no one will argue."

He wasn't sure if that really applied to him - a temporary grunt worker - but he didn't argue. The shirt was already nice and cool on his skin. "Anything I should keep an eye on? Is there anything we aren't keeping?"

"Everything is good to have, but we also can't carry every single thing we find. Divide everything into sections and the priorities will be half from lighter things, half from heavier and outerwear. Shoes and undergarments are a must, but dresses and skirts and suits we can leave."

Things that were less useful weren't a priority. Choice was great, but fashion wasn't a burden for them to bear for those back at the hospital.

Although, Gil watched Thena retrieve another suitcase, if he happened to see something he thought she would like, he wasn't above squirrelling it away for her.

"Oh."

"What?" he leaned over from his sorting to look at her new find. It was a hard shell suitcase, but there weren't any clothes in it at all. It seemed to contain souvenirs or home decorations. Photo frames were in there, although the glass had broken from being tossed and abandoned in the scuffle of things.

"You don't see this often," she sighed. It was never pleasant to have to truly toss away someone's life in your findings. She sifted through things delicately, mindful of the little shards of glass.

"Careful," he couldn't resist muttering over her shoulder. He got a look for it, but he shrugged. He reached in for himself, pulling out a little dragon figurine. "Jade--supposed to be good vibes."

Thena pulled out a broken handheld fan, as well some beautiful painted - and broken - porcelain. "I can see why it was left behind, but it's amazing they even bothered to pack it in the first place."

It was probably evidence of an early phase of evacuation. One where people were still being promised safe havens and places to reestablish themselves.

"Hey," he grinned, fishing out another artifact. He held it delicately, noting the crack already running down the face of it. "This looks just like the one that used to be on the counter in my old restaurant."

The lucky cat's smile was in tact, despite everything. Its paws were held aloft and the gold detailing of it still shone under the dirt and dust.

"Here," Thena handed him the little red pillow that went with the decoration.

Gil held the thing in his palms. It was nostalgic in a completely different way, reminiscent of a totally different time in his life. But something about looking down at the little face was like seeing an old friend. "I used to say hi to him before every shift."

Thena smiled. "I'm sure you were great friends."

He turned sheepish; it was a little silly, and most didn't enjoy remembering the before times, as it were. No use mourning something so irreparably lost. "Wish we could take you with us, little guy."

Thena watched as he set the little cat, on its pillow, back into the suitcase.

"No room for non-essentials," he excused before standing and dusting off his knees. "I'll clear this back one."

"Careful," Thena responded reflexively. He gave her the same look she had given him but she just shrugged.

He snorted and grinned at her; she was cute, for a huge hypocrite. He slid the door between the cars open, holding onto his skillet. It even felt like old times to be holding it again, ready to swing it at any potential threats.

Ikaris and Kingo kept trying to give him guns and he kept saying no; he didn't know how to handle one anyway, and he was better with short range force than long range accuracy. Thena had her knives and the speed and grace of a gymnast, and he had a cast iron skillet and upper body strength. It had gotten them this far.

He looked back as Thena joined him, her backpack already zipped up with a bulging top. She nodded, "your shirt's in here, too."

They went back to work, sorting through bags. Thena was mostly silent, but she didn't mind when he brought up light conversation either. It really felt like when they were on the road, just the two of them, half a lifetime ago.

"Oi, you two," Ikaris poked his head in, "finished?"

"Yes," Thena responded concisely. "Load up the car, we'll be there."

Ikaris merely nodded. They were a similar brand of efficient but unfriendly, in a funny kind of way. Kingo at least gave them a thumbs up as he followed. How those two found themselves being friends was beyond Gil.

"Ready?" she asked him much more gently, holding out her hand.

He accepted it, standing with a groan again. "Maybe I'm going soft--not used to being out here like this."

She gifted him with one of her adorable little laughs. "I didn't think you missed prying open doors for me."

He shrugged though, rolling his shoulders as he followed her out. "Kitchen duty isn't nearly as much of a workout. Maybe I should start squatting the potatoes, just to stay in shape."

Her eyes flicked over him just for a second, "you're plenty in shape."

He blushed again, trying not to congratulate himself in his head over a silly little nothing compliment.

"Bags in back," Ikaris directed, mostly for Gil's sake.

He tossed his bag in freely, although he and the other two looked as Thena set hers down and took out a bundle before zipping it again.

She looked Ikaris dead in the eye, practically demanding he start a fight over it. "Gil's shirt he came with today."

He and Kingo looked over, noticing for the first time that indeed the shirt he was wearing was not what he had arrived in. But the stubborn Scot nodded, "fine."

Thena clutched the balled up shirt to her and tossed the backpack in with the other bags now full of supplies.

"Man, that was a good haul," Kingo declared loudly, stretching before he hopped in front. "I even found some shampoo!"

That was indeed a good find, and probably would be high on the request list. Gil had his hand on the door when he felt a hand on his arm. "What's up?"

Thena gave him a sheepish smile and tugged at the shirt bundle. Wrapped up inside was a little peek of a white, porcelain ear. She covered it again, clear that this was not the time to celebrate their find.

Gil grinned though, as if his face would split apart. Of course she had kept it for him. Because Thena was much more sweet and sentimental than anyone here knew. He pulled the door open, holding his hand out, "after you."

Ikaris and Kingo both rolled their eyes in front.

Gil held Thena's hand as she climbed into the backseat. He leaned forward, brushing his lips against her cheek as she passed, "you're the best."

They settled in the seats, leaving the middle one unoccupied despite no one bothering with seat belts anymore. Gil leaned his elbow against the door, tilting his head so he wouldn't get caught making eyes at Thena. The jackasses in the front would just make fun of him anyway.

"You okay, T?" Kingo asked, looking in the rear view mirror. "You look a little sunburned."

Gil looked over, indeed catching a pinkness in her cheeks that wasn't usually there. His heart skipped.

She cleared her throat, obviously not a fan of getting called out. "I don't usually get this much sun."

Ikaris started the SUV, "sign out a hat next time."

And that was that. They were on their way back to the hospital. Ikaris was maybe not as much of an asshole as he could have been. Kingo seemed nice the more Gil got to see of him. He peeked over at Thena again, still holding his balled up shirt on her lap, concealing her very sweet gift to him.

Now he had to come on another scavenging trip to find something she would like.

[potatonugget7]

Something Worse Than A Spider, A Child.

The sequel to OH MY GODS THEY WERE ROOMMATES?! also posted on AO3. It’s been like two years but here we goooooo!

TWs: Fear of death, Spiders. 3.8 Words

Wilbur is having an absolute *field day*. He tripped and dropped a whole bundle of firewood, got stuck in a spiderweb and nearly eaten, oh and then he was also captured by a human. IT WAS FANTASTIC! Then he met his soulmate who APPARENTLY defies the laws of the universe because rules are meant to be broken I guess!

Soulmates; for some they’re lovers, for some they’re best friends. Either way they are meant to be inseparable pairs. Everyone’s got one; that one person with whom you’re supposed to spend your life with. They’re tied together with a metaphorical string, fate pulling them closer and closer together until the day they finally meet. Both bear matching marks on their wrists and have the ability to message each other by writing on their arm.

---

Wilbur considered himself a very skilled borrower, a very well-educated borrower. With this information you may be wondering, how exactly did he find himself trapped in the sticky web of a garden spider? It’s a very short story. Unfortunately, this house was not the most ideal for a borrower, but it was his home, and moving was a lot of work. The biggest flaw was that it had children. 

A very loud, rambunctious teenager with an unfortunate fascination with bugs, insects, and mud. Meaning it spent most of its time running around the yard. The yard that Wilbur had to traverse during his day-to-day life.

Now how does this tie in (ha, tie) to him getting stuck in a spider’s web? Unfortunately, the child had just gotten home, yelling at the top of its lungs of course, about its latest school project. Involving insects. And usually said child did all its bug hunting in the backyard. So he knew he had to hurry if he wanted to make it home alive.

But hurrying when you’re in the process of carrying a stack of firewood in your arms usually tends to cause accidents, which is exactly what happened. The brunet borrower couldn’t see where he was going over the pile of sticks in his arms, and ended up tripping over a few rocks and was sent stumbling right into the sticky webbing strapped to the tall gnarled roots of the oak tree in the backyard. Wilbur had been trying very hard to avoid the webs whenever he went outside, knowing the orb weaver it belonged to was not one to be crossed. It wasn’t a particularly massive spider, not bigger than him, not like ones he’d heard stories of. But it was much bigger than any ants or bees he’d seen in the garden. And he knew how bad their venomous bites were.

His little brother had had a run-in with it once, before they’d gotten separated. It had left him unable to move for a few days, and the nausea and fever that followed was awful. Wilbur had tended to him the entire time, and thankfully Tubbo had recovered.

The tall borrower wondered where he was these days, and prayed to Prime that he was safe. Though currently, he was praying for his own safety. Death by an orb weaver was not swift and painless. He’d be paralysed by its painful bite, and then wrapped up in the silky webbing to be eaten later… just like the moth he’d seen tied up in its web the week prior.

‘Oh here it comes now.’ he thought fatalistically as the webbing vibrated, and the bright yellow marked spider started climbing down the large web, its beady eyes trained on the brunet. Wilbur stared up at it with a frown, trying not to let his fear show. It wasn’t like he wanted to die. Quite the opposite. He was actually absolutely terrified, but struggling didn’t work. He’d tried at least a dozen times. The borrower looked down at his chest, glaring down at his ugly yellow sweater before closing his eyes, waiting for paralysis to take him. 

Damn. He didn’t even get to say goodbye to his soulmate… 

He opened his eyes again and stared down at his arm, his trench coat sleeve covering the pictogram on his wrist. It was a picture of a music note, a sword down the centre of the treble clef. Wilbur sighed sadly and looked up at his impending doom with a fierce glare.

“I hope you get indigestion, you yellow menace.” he spat as venomously as the orb weaver’s own poison. The spider hissed in response, pinching its venomous pincers. So apparently, spiders can speak English. Cool. Unless this spider was secretly his soulmate. But Wilbur sincerely doubted that. Never in a million years had he heard of cross-species soulmates. The idea was just absurd.

“Oh go shove a moth in it won’t you? We both know you’d never beat me in a fair fight.” Wilbur snarled out, glaring into the spider’s beady eyes. 

Suddenly he felt the web vibrating more, continuously, but the garden spider wasn’t moving. The orb weaver seemed to pause, going still. If spiders were intelligent, he’d say he could see the gears turning in its head.

“What? Calling your mate are you? Am I a lunch date for the two of you or something??”

Then the spider ran away.

“...Uh… okay… bye then?” 

Anxiety pooled in his stomach as the webbing vibrated more and more, but it wasn’t a spider. The ugly yellow bastard was already scuttling off into the tall grass. Wilbur could feel the tremors travel from the ground to the webbing, he could see the ground shaking. Thunder roared under the earth as something big stomped closer and closer, and before he knew it, he found himself engulfed in an impossibly massive shadow, a pair of giant shoes planted centimetres in front of him. Well, bigger spider could definitely be crossed off the list!

“Where’s that yellow spider… I know it’s around here. It’d be perfect!” a loud voice rumbled overhead, and the brunet hesitantly looked up, and up, worried that his greatest fears were about to smack him right in the face.

And he was proven right as he saw the creature casting the shadow, was none other than that giant blond menace of a human, standing over him, a glass jar in hand. It wasn’t looking at him… yet, instead scanning the tree branches for… the spider apparently. You know what? Wilbur was fine with this. The death traps could deal with each other. The human would probably win but at least it’d be putting the orb weaver out of his misery.

The borrower squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a small startled gasp as the blond suddenly stepped over him obliviously, still looking around the tree for the bright yellow spider. While that was scary… he wasn’t dead! Wilbur slowly reopened his eyes, shuddering as he felt the tremors still. Now was his chance to get free while the giant was distracted and the spider was elsewhere!

Wilbur focused on one arm to start, trying to rip his right arm free from the sticky silk. Then once he got it free, he could pull his knife out of his bag and-

“Woah… what’re you supposed to be?” a voice cut through his thoughts, and the borrower felt his heart skip a beat. Looking down, the shadow had changed. Slowly he looked up, and up, and met the gaze of the massive human. It was tall and lanky, taller than most humans he’d seen in his lifetime, yet had a child-likeness to its face. Massive icy blue orbs bore into his own, and Wilbur felt a shiver travel down his spine, only one word going through his head.

Fuck.

“Well? You can talk, can’t you little man?” the human crouched down in front of him, and the brunet gave it the most venomous glare he could muster despite the fact that he was trembling. The borrower rules, AKA his way of life, said under no circumstances should you talk to a human. It usually ended in getting dissected or something painful like that. But also, fuck the rules, this kid just had such an insultable face. 

“So what if I can? What's it to you, big man?” he spat mockingly.

“Well, truth be told, you’re pretty unusual, and I just happen to be looking for something unique. You’re far more interesting than some garden spider that’s for sure.” the borrower tensed, trying not to show his nervousness as anxiety flooded into his mind like a tidal wave.

“I wouldn’t call myself particularly interesting actually. I’m a bit tied up right now, physically and metaphorically. So how about you help me out and we can just forget we ever met, yeah?” Wilbur tried, starting to sweat a bit.

“Hmmmmmm, nah,” the human gave him a toothy grin. “It’s not every day you find a tiny person in your backyard.” in all honesty, yeah that was understandable. But also fucking shit piss hell fuck shit-

The borrower let out a startled noise and visibly recoiled as a giant hand suddenly reached over and wrapped around his small frame, easily ripping him from the spider web and carrying him into the air. 

“This- okay how about we make a deal?” he tried nervously, and the human raised an eyebrow.

“What sort of deal? I’ll have you know, I’m an excellent businessman and not easily persuaded.” Wilbur swallowed nervously as he was lifted higher up, held in front of the giant face, the kid nearly going cross-eyed to stare at him. 

“Well, I’ll tell you the truth. I’m actually an alien.” he whispered.

“What.”

“That's right, I come from the planet of-... L’manburg…” the borrower said slowly.

“Sounds like bullshit but alright.” the human didn’t look convinced, but Wilbur continued the act.

“Wh- excuse me?? How dare you!” 

“Look pal, I know aliens aren’t real. You’re coming with me, and that's that.” Wilbur’s stomach lurched as the human stood to its full height, and he was stuffed into it’s shirt pocket.

“Just a sec-” the colour drained from his face as the giant started fiddling with the mason jar it’d brought outside with it, and started unscrewing the lid. Wilbur had a feeling he knew exactly what it was for, and his anxiety was suddenly heightened. His heart rate went from one to a hundred in less than a second as giant fingers pinched the back of his trenchcoat and carried him into the air, before unceremoniously dropping him into the glass prison. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-

He slowly scooted back until his coat pressed against the cold, hard wall. The brunet crossed his arms over his chest, hiding how they shook as he continued glaring up at the child.

“Are you aware kidnapping is a crime?”

“I’d hardly call it kidnapping when you’re the size of a mouse.” the human chuckled in response. Wilbur was knocked onto his hands and knees as the container jolted suddenly, and everything started moving. He took one look at the ground far below before yanking his head back and glaring up at the giant once again.

“N-not even going to ask for my name?”

“Would you tell me if I asked?” blondie raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe,” Wilbur crossed his arms. “Will you tell me yours so I can stop mentally referring to you as ‘child’?” 

The human stopped in its tracks, sputtering out an offended string of noises.

“How fucking dare you! I am not a child you tiny bitch! If anything you’re the child!” 

“And how exactly does that logic track?”

“Cos’ you’re short an’ shit.” the borrower raised an eyebrow this time.

“Yes well I think it’s been established I’m not a human. So you can’t hold me to human standards.”

"What are you then? Some weird mutated rat man? Or are you a faerie?" the jar was lifted higher, and Wilbur nearly fell flat on his face.

“Are you going to tell me your name or not?”

“Fineeeeeeeeeeeeee,” the blond rolled its eyes. “It’s Tommy, TommyInnit, the biggest man.”

“Uhuh…”

“What's yours then?” ‘Tommy’ questioned, staring holes into his head with his massive eyeballs. “Wilbur. No title.”

“Got any friends, Wilbur no title?” the human asked teasingly, and Wilbur scowled.

“Not that I can think of…”

“So no one to miss you? Well don’t worry, you and I can be the best of friends.” suddenly the jostling worsened tenfold, and the poor borrower was beginning to feel motion sick.

Fucking hell…

He tried his best to stay upright, sitting back against the glass with his palms pressed to the curved walls.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll have to pass.” he bit out.

“Wha- why?! I’m probably- no definitely, the coolest and greatest man you’ve ever met!” Wilbur crossed his arms.

“You put me in a jar, and you’re annoy-ing.” he enunciated the last word. The blond human obviously wasn’t happy with this answer. The stupid child sputtered and scoffed.

“Well- y’know- I- I might seem a little annoying at first- but I promise it’ll grow on you!”

“...I don’t care.” he wasn’t exactly scared of the human anymore… it was more like… a fear for his safety.

Tommy’s face scrunched up in anger, going bright red, Wilbur thought he looked like a tomato- He yelped as he was thrown against the glass again, and he realised the human was swinging the jar through the air… again.

"Can you not??" he grumbled out, but Tommy didn't stop swinging his arm back and fourth as he walked.

"What was that little man? You're so quiet I can't hear you!" the blond replied loudly in an exasperated tone.

"Oh my Prime you are such a fucking child-" he grunted in pain as he was slammed against the glass wall again.

"ALRIGHT FUCK! I'M SORRY!" his stomach lurched and he fell onto his back, but the jar finally stopped swinging.

"Apology accepted."

"Prime, do you humans really feel no shred of guilt?? Empathy??" Wilbur demanded.

"I do but you're being a bit of a dick right now if I'm being honest." Tommy stated firmly, and Wilbur clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms. He paused, and stared down at his arm. That's right… he had a chance to tell him soulmate his goodbyes now! The only blessing the human boy unknowingly gave him. Quickly he rolled up his sleeve,

'Techno are you there?' he wrote quietly, trying his best to remain inconspicuous so as to not get interrupted by the blond human.

'Hi. I just got home.' an answer appeared on his arm, causing it to tingle.

'I have some…' Wilbur paused, dread pooling in his stomach as he thought about what he was writing.

'Bad news.' he finished.

'Ok. What is it?' his soulmate responded, the message didn't look all too urgent, but Wilbur knew that was just how Technoblade was sometimes.

'I'm… I'm kind of in troubl-' he started to write, when the jar gave another violent shake, and smooth wood appeared below his feet. Looking around, Wilbur realised it was a table, the big one in the kitchen where all the humans ate. An intrusive thought wormed it's way into his mind at the implications of that.

Tommy sat down in front of him, just staring him down with those big blue orbs. Why did blue-eyed people always look scarier than everyone else?

"Well you got awfully quiet." Tommy started, and the borrower gave him a frown of malcontent.

"Apologies, contrary to what you might think,most people don't enjoy making conversation with their kidnapper." he bit out, pausing to look down at his arm as it tingled again.

"Alright, kidnapping is a strong word pal." Tommy interrupted, only to get ignored.

'With the police?' the message read, and he couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped him, despite everything going on. The human stared at him like a madman. 

"The fuck are you laughing about??"

"Something my friend said! Is it a crime to want to laugh now?!" Wilbur snapped, giving him a venomous glare. Tommy looked like he was going to yell or something unnecessarily aggressive again, but stopped, a new emotion crossed his features; guilt.

"You mean… your soulmate?" the blond asked slowly, in a surprisingly gentle tone.

"...Yes." 

"Even… tiny people have soulmates?" Tommy asked, as if it was some wildly impossible concept. The brunet stopped himself from glaring, and instead swallowed down his anger and worry.

"Yes… of course we do. Everyone does." 

"Actually, I don't." the blond replied bitterly, and Wilbur gave him a confused look.

"What? Don't humans have them?"

"Yes, but I don't," Tommy held his arm up to show the lack of a pictogram on his wrist. "Dadza said I'll get one eventually, but I don't think that's how it works…" 

"Yeah… you look far too old to not have one…" Wilbur mumbled. He'd had his for as long as his memory dated back, and Tubbo's had appeared when he was only two or three. Wait- right Techno!

'No not the police! I mean a human Techno! This isn't the time to joke!' he scribbled quickly, ignoring how he could feel the human child's eyes burning a hole in his head. The silence that followed while Wilbur waited for a response was painful, but eventually it came.

'Oh. I'm sorry… I don’t know what to do. I hope they're nice.' 

'Techno. Human trouble. Obviously they're not nice!' he wrote back quickly.

'So… is this a last words kind of situation?' the message appeared across his arm in slow motion, and a few tears began beading down his cheeks.

'Yes…'

"Are you… crying?" a voice rumbled above him, and Wilbur remembered exactly where he was. He scrubbed away the tears and glared up at the blond.

"No! Fuck off!" the brunet snapped, despite the fact that Tommy sounded genuinely concerned. His tone had completely shifted, and the look on his face was sympathetic as he laid his head on the tabletop, staring into Wilbur's glass prison.

"Alright, suit yourself. I'm just trying to help." the borrower's brain wasn't paying attention to whatever Tommy said as he watched another human enter the room. A red-eyed man with pink hair, his dark roots stealthily showing his natural colour. The pinket looked nervous, staring down at his arm as he walked behind Tommy towards the cabinet where the cups were kept. Wilbur felt his heart beating rapidly, anxiety and panic pooling in his stomach and spreading through his core once again.

"Hm?" Tommy looked between him and the pinket a few times before he realised what must be going on. Suddenly giant hands wrapped around the jar again and Wilbur felt his stomach lurch once more. Tommy held the jar in his lap and turned slightly, blocking his brother's view of it's contents, but not before the brunet caught a glance of his arm.

Technoblade's arm.  

"Heyyyyy Blade." Tommy drawled out in the most suspicious tone ever.

"Hi…" he replied monotonously.

Wilbur's entire world had just come crashing down.

"So uh… what's going on with you? Why are you out here?"

"I'm making tea… and this is the kitchen." Techno deadpanned.

Techno was a human. His only friend, who made him feel safe and hopeful- and think that there were still other borrowers out there!

"You look kind of stressed." the blond pointed out obviously.

"Yeah… m' just worried about ny soulmate… he said some worryin' things and hasn't got back to me yet…" Wilbur hadn't even noticed the new message tickling his arm. He stared down at it in wide-eyed shock.

'I guess I should tell you something then.' the borrower swallowed nervously.

'That you're a human?' he wrote shakily. 

Technoblade let out a small gasp, before looking around in confusion and worry.

"Hello?" the pinket asked aloud, and Tommy looked at him like an absolute lunatic.

'Help me. Techno I'm here. I'm trapped. Your little brother caught me.' he wrote desperately, panic bleeding into his writing. 

There was a silence, before footsteps started thudding against the floor. 

"Tommy." the pinket started, and held out his hand.

"What? What do you want?" the teen asked defensively, hugging the jar tighter to his person with a defiant glare on his face.

"Give me the borrower." Techno demanded calmly, though his aura radiated an intimidating strength. Tommy looked shocked for a minute, before he sneered and shook his head.

"Leave my tiny friend alone and go find your own." 

Wilbur scoffed. Friendship was not what they had, that's for sure.

"Tommy. Give me my soulmate." the pinket tried again, sounding less patient. The borrower felt his mouth go dry and his heart clench. It really was Techno… and… he… actually wanted to help?

"Your soulmate?!" Tommy exclaimed in pure shock.

"Yes. His name is Wilbur." 

"I know what his name is! But what do you mean soulmate?!" Tommy demanded, haphazardly setting the jar down on the table so he could make wild motions his hands.

"Hes tiny! How can you guys be soulmates when hes not even human?!" 

"Don't know, don’t care." Techno stated dismissively before picking the jar up off the table, accidentally knocking Wilbur over….. again. The brunet pushed himself up and scooted back, a nervous look on his face as he pressed his back against the glass. So big… even bigger than Tommy… scary.

He met Techno's harsh, red-brown eyes, and swallowed nervously. Quickly they softened, but it did nothing to quell the poor borrower's anxiety.

"Well let's get you outta' here." Techno said before he started unscrewing the lid. Wilbur didn't have time to process anything as he was gently slid out of the jar and into the human's awaiting hand. The borrower immediately tensed up and braced himself, squeezing his eyes shut as he waited for the fingers to close around him like vicious claws. But it never happened.

Slowly he opened his eyes again and looked around, hugging himself. Techno was just staring at him.

"Um…-"

"Sorry- I didn't mean to stare… this is just really weird." the pinket put the jar down and took several steps away from the counter, moving his free hand underneath the other for support.

"You… you knew I was a borrower?" Wilbur asked finally.

"Mhm."

"A-and you never thought to mention you were a human??" Techno looked conflicted, before nodding.

"I figured it might complicate things so I kept it to myself."

"You- I- AHG!" he yelled, tugging at his hair.

"...So mind explaining exactly what's going on? I'm still confused" Tommy interjected.

"Nah. The big kids are busy." Techno replied unapologetically before walking out of the kitchen, and headed upstairs, taking Wilbur with him. Nervousness tugged at his gut, and after a minute, Wilbur worked up the courage to ask.

“Um… Technoblade… what exactly are you… going to do... with me?” the tall human sighed, pushing his bedroom door open with a creak.

“I’m gonna put you down, an’ you can do whatever you want after. I’d like for you to stay and talk… face to face, but I can understand if you don’t wanna do that.” he said in an honest voice.

The borrower mulled over the words as Techno walked across the room to his desk. He gently set Wilbur down on top of it, before sitting down in front of him.

“Well… I suppose I could stay for a little bit…” the brunet started hesitantly. 

“Sounds good. Why don’t we start with how the little gremlin caught you?” Wilbur scoffed.

“I’d hardly call him little, but sure. It involves a web and the world’s worst garden spider.”

[honey-fickle]

green text

in a dream last night

you sent me a text

in two parts

separated by two lines

i hadn't hurt you

except by moving on

both our hands were clean

and free to finally touch

i woke and wished it was real

i just want another mixtape

and then i'll drop it

i thought about you drunk

that video of you

calling my name over and over

like a foghorn (siren call)

i was 4 hours drive away

and i got up to lace my shoes

in the middle of the night

to run to you

oh dear lord please help me kill you

all you have become is a story

to stop before it reaches the presses

lest i follow the steam bursting clouds

above the factory where they hold you

and force myself into the machine

to wrench out the picture of you

that got stuck in the jam

that made the ink leak

all over my hands

and stain me with you like the

notebook you had

covered in my name

a conjuring

a blatant smoke signal

that filled my lungs

and consumed me for weeks

with an insatiable hunger

to go through your drawers

that compelled me to howl

yelp and scream and cry

to show you i was there for claiming

but you were too scared

to dig in your claws

because you weren't ready

to be a father like your father wasn't

but who at that age

is ready for that?

really all i needed from you was to be my first

to be your first

to belong to each other in that way and that way only

to look back when i get older

and have children with somebody else

and remember us still mostly clothed and clinging

and be thankful that was how i gave it

how i got it

i am still thankful

it was all beautiful

but it wasn't you

you were long gone by then

i dripped and it fell onto the fingertips of a stranger

i felt an urge to collect myself

bundle up the parts of my body i left strewn across her floor

and drag myself to your door

to kneel before you

palms up, in offering

my body, bone, blood, tears, sweat,

and the new thing i had just discovered

for you to devour

and regurgitate

as soon as you realised

you needed to see me in front of you

wait, maybe that's it.

maybe you couldn't take me apart

because you couldn't put me back together after

i would have given you a whole lifetime

to study my composition

i would have waited

if you had let me

twenty and a half years

if it meant

(at the end)

you could end my world

and build me a new one.

i could have been your dad, your dog, your punching bag

you only let me be your dictionary, your lamp, or on a good day a key

who will you lean on when your mother is gone?

because last we spoke

your only friend was a leech

and when you can no longer spare

blood for him to drink

who will be left

holding you up

to face it all?

[mystical-flute]

Chapel of Love (Swanfire Month Day 25)

The day Emma Swan never thought would happen has arrived: Her wedding day.

AO3 || FFN || Ko-Fi?

It wasn’t what Emma would have thought she would be doing - standing in front of a mirror at her parents’ house, getting ready for the wedding.

Her wedding.

It was supposed to be a royal affair - the daughter of Snow White and Prince David marrying a handsome prince, or duke, or some other nobleman.

But she wasn’t. Instead, Emma Swan (not princess, no matter how many people outside her family members tried to call her princess) was marrying the son of The Dark One who had been a petty thief in his younger years. It was far and away the wedding her mother had pictured for her, she was certain of that.

On the other hand, it also wasn’t the wedding Emma had envisioned for herself either. Emma had thought she’d just go down to the courthouse wearing a pair of jeans and her leather jacket, but instead, Ruby had done her hair up in a bun, small pearls dotting her hair, and a long veil cascading down her back. Her dress was floor length and lacy, but form-fitting. Emma hadn’t thought she would have wanted something like this, but when she’d gotten a look at herself in the mirror at the bridal shop, she couldn’t have said no.

Planning the wedding would have been easier if they hadn’t lived in Storybrooke, so between Pan separating them from Storybrooke, her unexpected pregnancy in New York, everything with Zelena, Ingrid… so many adventures they’d gone on.

And now they would be going on one of the biggest adventures of all. Even if everyone already considered them married.

“Mommy! Mommy look!”

Her daughter’s voice broke her from her thoughts, and Emma glanced over just as Audrey burst into the room, blonde curls bouncing as she moved. “Lookit! Grandma got me in my dress!”

Emma smiled. “Well, don’t you look pretty, Audrey?”

Her daughter giggled and twirled on her toes. Audrey’s dress was a standard flower girl dress - while, puffy, princessy, with a purple bow wrapped around her waist the same color as Regina’s dress.

“What do you think, Audrey? How does your mother look?” Regina asked, following Audrey into the room. They had only needed two witnesses for the wedding, so she’d selected REgina as her Maid of Honor, and Neal’s Best Man was Killian. Though Emma had doubted it would happen, she hadn’t wanted to deal with the bridesmaid drama today.

“Mommy looks pretty too.”

“Yes she does. She looks beautiful,” her mother said from the doorway, dressed in a long, burgundy gown with soft makeup to match. “But if you don’t mind, grandma needs a minute alone with her.”

Regina understood and was quick enough to distract Audrey with the basket of flower petals waiting for her downstairs, leaving the two of them alone.

“I said I had the perfect something borrowed for you,” she began, holding out the necklace box to Emma. “It was my mother’s. I finally got it back from Rumplestiltskin, and I knew I wanted you to wear it on your wedding day.”

It was a beautiful crystal necklace, far more elaborate than anything Emma had ever worn, but it complimented the dress beautifully, almost like it was meant to be worn with it, and Emma smiled as she looked at her reflection in the mirror.

“Oh Emma…” her mother breathed. “Look at you.”

“Do I look like a fairytale princess?”

To her surprise, her mother shook her head. “No… but I don’t think that’s what you want to look like. You still look like Emma. My beautiful daughter, who may or may not ever want to dress like a princess.”

Emma laughed and hugged her. “Thanks Mom…”

“Now let’s get you married, hm?”

Emma nodded and grabbed her bouquet from its spot on the dresser, then followed her mother downstairs to Regina’s car, where Regina and Audrey were waiting.

Even though the wedding was supposed to be small, with only close friends and family, it seemed like the entire town shut down just to watch as she was driven toward the beach, like she was Kate Middleton or something.

It was weird, and caused a small bundle of nerves to form in her stomach.

But she was marrying Neal, and after everything they’d been through, a wedding would be a breeze.

David was waiting for them as they pulled up to the beach, Regina, Audrey, and her mother vacating the car before David helped Emma out of the back seat. She could already hear the soft rock music playing from the speakers set up at the altar. Archie, Neal, Killian, and Henry were already standing there, waiting.

An instrumental version of "Only You" played softly as Audrey and Regina made their way up the aisle, and Emma felt like she was gliding as she followed behind with her parents on each arm.

Emma had never felt so secure in her life. Her parents and brother who loved her, friends who cherished her, and finally, Neal and their children, waited at the end of the aisle for her. All of it felt so good and so right. She never wanted to lose this feeling.

And she wouldn’t, as she took her place beside Neal and took the vows she’d mocked as an angry, unloved teenager. But she had that love in spades now, and she understood just how important this was.

Neal’s face was wet with tears as they had their first kiss as Mr. and Mrs., and Emma could only chuckle against them, the sound of the applause a dull roar in her ears. All she could see was him, and the bright future they had together.

They turned, reaching out for their children before making their way down the aisle and toward the tent where the reception would take place.

Behind them, Emma heard Regina snap her fingers, moving the chairs toward the tables waiting for them, and she knew the canopy had been moved as well, closer to the tent to make taking photos easier.

Dinner was simple - hamburgers, grilled chicken sandwiches, hot dogs, and fries and onion rings. Regina had turned her nose up at the menu, but had settled for chicken and a glass of wine, which looked absolutely hilarious in Emma’s opinion.

The kids hadn’t complained though, all of them having towers of fried goodness on their plates, leaving the actual meal looking small in comparison.

The music had been chosen by her and Neal specifically for people to be able to get up and dance and have a good time. Neither of them were stuffy people, but there were some slow songs on the playlist to give people a reprieve.

“Sorry we couldn’t get everyone to Tallahassee,” Neal rumbled when they had a quiet moment to themselves on the dance floor.

Emma smiled. “It’s okay. But you know you lied to me, right?”

“What? When?”

“I spent a few years in Tallahassee after I got out of prison. The nearest beach is two hours away.”

Neal blinked in surprise, then sighed. “Ah shit, is it really? I was thinking about taking you there for our honeymoon. I was gonna buy tickets tonight and everything.”

She shook her head. “I don’t need to go back to Tallahassee. I have it right here, with you and our family.”

He grinned down at her, that boyish grin that had gotten her into trouble all those years ago. “Sure that’s what you really want?”

“What I really want is you. Until death do us part.”

[kikaikiga]

Little Big Workshop vs Smart Factory Tycoon

Little Big Workshop:

“Manage your workers, stations, machines and create awesome stuff as your little big workshop grows into your dream factory!”

Smart Factory Tycoon:

“Smart Factory Tycoon inspired by Little Big Workshop is a tycoon management game about running your dream factory with robots. Design your dream factory, plan all steps of production, research new technologies and become a tycoon!”

-------------------------------------------------

You say Tomato I say Tomato – You say sidewalk I say pavement – You say Factory I say Workshop?

I will be honest, when I first saw ‘Smart Factory Tycoon’ come up in a bundle option I was convinced it was a rip from Little Big Workshop. Some further digging shows that it is more of a love letter to it and trust me, when they say ‘inspired by’ they mean it – Smart Factory Tycoon (SFT) literally screams Little Big Workshop (LBW) in nearly every pixel!

This kind of has me dodging the question of the blurry lines between ‘inspired by’ and ‘idea steal’ but I’m going to leave that well alone. On this occasion I want to compare just how similar these games are and what each does well and, well, what each doesn’t.

So, to kick us off, let’s start with the basics shall we?

Loading/Start screens:

Both start screens show a preview of your latest Factory/Workshop, and both give useful hints and tips while loading. Nothing criminal here, let’s move on.

Settings: Video, Gameplay and control wise these marry up pretty well, I will say however that on the Audio side of things, this is where SFT wins it’s first point. Little big gives you the option to change Music, effects and ‘Minion’ effects separately which is great, however Tycoon goes an extra step and also lets you adjust the machines, Robots, ambience, vehicle AND UI volume all as their own entities – For someone with hypersensitive hearing, this is literal music to my ears!

Workers hiring, skill progression & customisation:

I must admit I’m kind of torn a little on this one … I’m not even sure I’m torn for the right reasons.

SFT allows you to hire robots – You can choose which ones you hire based on pre-allocated skills, change their colour, names and the building they are allocated to. However, all robots look the same and, until you pay considerable money to unlock an ability which gives you higher skilled robots to purchase, your stuck with the 0/half star robots that need charging every 5 seconds. One thing to note on this is that, when they do eventually level up, you can choose which skills they level up in your own preferred order.  

LBW does not allow you to choose who you hire, other than a worker or hauler. You can change their name but nothing else, however they are all randomised in appearance so you never get the same looking worker twice. They do however all start with minimum experience and have to work up to any noticeable skill level. Once sufficiently experienced, you can choose their skill speciality and turn them into a specialist assembler, wood worker, metal worker or plastic worker. For haulers, they can become technicians or super haulers.

Why am I torn? Because one gives me the option to focus on speed or stamina first whereas the other gives me little people I can watch do weird little actions while they moan about being overworked and sleep deprived … I honestly can’t choose a preference.

Worker Energy:

Speaking of overworked and sleep deprived, I will admit robots are sooooo much easier to maintain. You build them a charging station and a lubricant shower and they are good to go in an endless cycle of work -> recharge -> repeat. Minions on the other hand have the audacity to moan like toddlers when they haven’t had a coffee break after making 4 shelves. Not only that, if they can’t get to the break room on time they will pass out in the middle of the floor until their cat nap is done and then wander around trying to figure out what they were meant to be doing. Robots win on this one, hands down … err … yeah hands, let’s stick with that.

Leaves, Tree’s and everything green:

This is probably one of the more finnicky parts of both games. Tycoon requires you to have forests and solar panels to reduce your energy impact and costs, whereas as workshop has grumpy people that want plants LITERALLY EVERYWHERE or they collapse all the time.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m all for being green and using renewable energy, and I also understand plants in the workplace make people happier BUT … I draw the line at needing every room looking like I’m running a garden nursery business on the side.

Blueprints and planning:

This is where things get as finickity as it comes, and where both games kind of merge into one. Apart from some visual differences, the base of it is pretty much the same. You choose your materials making sure the requirements are met, link your machines and the execute the plan, all the while hoping you have enough bodies and machines to get the work done in time! Visually, I prefer LBW, along with the fact that if you are missing a workstation, you can go and buy it mid planning and come back where you left off. In tycoon however, if you are missing a machine and you exit the plan to go and buy it, you have to start the plan from scratch. It’s not the end of the world as such but it does get annoying after a while, especially if you need multiple machines.

What exactly is the aim:

This my friends is where my decision gets made for me. Little Big Workshop has a Storyline! You have allies to make, rivals to beat and even minigames with a cash bonus if you complete them. Tycoon has none of this and your goal is literally to build a big factory. Yes there’s a leaderboard of Fake factory’s but this doesn’t actually mean or affect anything. If I had to make a decision between the two, this would be my main deciding factor.

To sum it all up:

Both games are a decent way to lose hours of the day and leave you having nightmares about lack of storage space and not enough foliage. Both games also get you frustrated at workers taking breaks at the worst possible moment, causing that oh so vital order to fail/lessen in value. Both games scratch the itch of wanting to micro manage a factory environment to make toys. However, only one of them actually gives you a purpose for doing all of this in the first place. Now please excuse me, I have imposters in my workshop to deal with!

[timbertumbr]

Can I please request red son and mk with a demon s/o who’s always in human disguise and them seeing there s/o out of disguise for the first time? (If you do headcannons they are preferred but if you don’t I don’t mind) and basically reader is panicking cause it wasn’t meant to happen and there worried the boys are gonna break up with them but then there’s just fluff of them saying something along the lines of “your still the same s/o” after the initial shock of actually finding out there s/o is a demon and if you can some headcannons of there daily lives after the reveal (if this is too much don’t feel pressured to do it and it’s completely fine if you don’t)

You’re You, And That’s All I Can Ask For (Red Son X Reader X Monkie Kid)

Don’t let the title fool you, they’re going to be separate headcanons. And I don’t feel pressured at all, I love the idea! >:3 Expect a lot of screaming on MK’s part. Oh, and I kinda altered MK’s a bit-

Monkie Kid- 

You thought you were home alone and wanted to relax without the disguise, it’s kind of uncomfy for you to wear all day long. You had snacks and a streaming service up and running to have a few hours of relaxation. You bundled yourself up in a blanket, about to play your show when the door is KICKED open. In walks MK.

“Hey! Y/N! Piggsy let me go early and I brought some-” He enters the room, pauses, and stares. You two have a silent staring contest, you noticed the take-out bag of Piggy’s in his hand. He’s quick to drop the bag onto a nearby counter (monkie powers) and summons the staff and pointed it at you.

“WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH Y/N?!” He demanded, trying to look intimidating, he just looked like an angry puppy. You would’ve been slightly hurt if not for the ridiculous situation. You couldn’t help but let an amused chuckle escape as you rummage through your snacks to pull out the accessory MK gave you a while ago.

“You got me this when it was my birthday, a reminder that you’ll always be my side. Remember?” He stares.

Processing…

Processing…

“WAIT, Y/N?!” He’s quick to put the staff away, mortified with himself.

“I’m so so sorry- If I had known I’d-” You’re quick tp shush him by throwing one of your bagged snacks at him.

“Dude, it’s fine. I kinda knew this would play out the moment you saw me,” Mk is predictable in his empathetic ways, which kind of worked out in your favor. He visibly relaxed.

“Oh thank goodness… Well, since that’s out of the way, want to eat takeout while chilling?” You smile.

“More than anything,” And thus began the relaxing cuddle session with shows, snacks, takeout, and a boyfriend who asks a lot of questions. You didn’t mind, he’s a curious one, always has been. But once he finds out the disguise can make you uncomfortable, he can and will go out of his way to make sure you’re comfortable. He encourages the disguise to be taken off in private and tries to limit your time when you’re outdoors. 

I’d see him trying to get you to use your abilities for stupid reasons, you’d obliged as long as no one got hurt. 

If someone else were to find out with him in the room, he’s quick to explain and protect you if necessary, you’re not bad, just misunderstood. 

Expect a lot of compliments on your true self-

Red Son- 

You decided to do a few chores out of the disguise, you wanted to move around while out of the disguise since you were obviously alone, it was kind of uncomfortable. You did anything you could set your sights on, sweeping, dishes, laundry (mainly your own), etc. While doing a bit of organizing, Red Son opened the door and walked in.

“Y/N, I demand cuddles-” He pauses upon seeing you, he’s quick to connect the similarities.

“Well, this is a surprise,” He says somewhat surprised, you panic, putting whatever you were holding down and waving your hands frantically.

“I-It’s not what it looks like! You weren’t supposed to find out like this, I’m sorry for lying just please don’t leave me…” You teared up at the last bit, Red Son simply raised a brow before approaching you and lifting your head to meet his gaze.

“My love, you’re dating a literal demon. If you love me for who I am, what makes you think I wouldn’t love you back?” You blink at him as he gently wipes the tears that fell before resting his head onto yours.

“You’re still you, are you not? You may look a tad different but you’re still the same Y/N I fell in love with,” You’re quick to hug him and he hugs back while you mutter thank you’s under your breath. 

After that, he’s going to make sure you’re comfortable in your own skin. He’ll encourage that the disguise stays off in private and will also look into ways for the disguise to make it as comfortable as possible if you ever have to go out in public. 

He’ll also encourage training lessons to learn your skills in fighting and power, that way he’ll know you can handle any danger that comes your way. He believes in you. 

If anyone else were to find out in his presence, he’s going to threaten them and hug you tightly, just glaring at whoever found out and mouthing phrases like

“You tell anyone and I burn you alive,” 

Very chill about the whole thing and is very supportive. 

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: HALO: A MasterChief Collection: Conceal {9}

Master Chief Pablo x Sergeant Reader

Warning: Cursing, Angst, Plot, Blood, Violence

Words: 3.9k

Summary: You are part of the mighty SPARTANS as sergeant and a pretty badass addition to the team at that. Everything is different. You’re different. Master chief is different. But the two of you are the only ones who know this. That means this secret must be hidden. Can you both do it?

Note: Guess who needs more fics? Master Chief!!! I’ve decided to make a Master Chief collection of standalone one-shots. They all can be read separately to understand but can also be read in sequence. I will put a number on them so anyone who is interested in reading in sequence can, but again not necessary. This might be an acquired taste, but it’s Pablo as Master Chief forever and always around these parts.  Thank you for reading! Enjoy!

Note II: Tapping into some Elsa vibes with the title. I had to be restrained from making the title: Conceal, Don’t Feel. Like seriously restrained. LMAOOO. Also, I am not 100% sure the ranking but I think I got it right, if not excuse the mistake and overlook it. Just know Seargent Y/N is ranked under master chief but just above the other Spartans. 

 If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!!

 ***NOT Edited/Proofread***

Previous: On Your Six*** | Feel Something | A Night Off | Apex Predators | Truth Be Told | Confess | Unto Dawn*** | Learn Me, Learn You*** | 

~~~~~~~~~

Brrr, Brrr, Brrr, Brrr. Brrr, Brrr, Brrr, Brrr.

 The blaring alarms could be clearly heard. You jumped up reached for your weapon while rolling out of the bed, ready for anything. Scanning the dark room, you found no threat, only John across the room on the opposite side of the bed in the same crouching position you were in with his weapon raised. The light shining through the windows in a circular motion showed you his face in sporadic fashion.

 “That’s the alarm for a breach,” John voiced.

 Both of you stood at the same time. It was him looking over your body that made you remember you were naked—as was he. Both of your communicators went off and in the same breath both of you went into motion hurrying out of the bedroom to where your clothes was bundled. As you read the alert you groaned.

 “All Spartans are bring called in. No word on if it’s a breach,” you announced hurrying back to your bedroom.

 You quickly grabbed some clothes then pulled them on. You’d learned long ago how to get dressed in under two minutes. Now wasn’t any different. You dropped onto the bed and pulled on your boots then rushed out. John was just rising from a chair fully ready.

 “Did I beat you.”

 “Not this time.”

 A half smile was spread across his lips. The two of you walked to the door but John pulled you back and pressed you into the wall and his body against yours. Your eyes widened in shock.

 “Wha---.”

 Your words were cut off by his lips for a tentative kiss, a kiss you returned. While every kiss between you over the last near forty-eight hours had been passionate, desperate and wild this one was slow almost hesitant, sweet and so tender. By now, you’d lost count of how many times he’s stolen your breath. When he pulled away you both sighed a sort of relieved sigh.

 “What was that?”

 John brushed your cheek with his thumb, “It felt right.”

 You smiled and kissed him once more. “We don’t have time for this.”

 “I know. I just had to--.”

 You nodded fully understanding what he meant.

 “Wait, it’s smart for us to go separately. We can’t let Halsey know that your pellet is gone.”

 John’s jaw ticked and he slowly nodded.

 “We can’t let her know a lot of things,” he added.

 Your eyes met and the conversation continued, no words were necessary. Far too soon, John moved from you and walked through the door. Half of you wished he would look back, but the other half knew he wouldn’t. He was once again Master chief Petty Officer John-117 and you, his subordinate. It was almost painful—painfully poetic.

  ~~~~~~~~

 “Spartans, fall in!”

 You rushed in and fell in line along with Vannak, Riz, Kai and Master Chef, ready for instructions.

 “All right Spartans, we have intel that says we have another artifact on Eridanus Two and thanks to Master Chief we can confirm that as accurate. Our plan is of course to get it before anyone else since we know we are not the only ones after it,” Captain Keyes briefed.

 “I don’t think I have to stress how important it is for us to be the ones to get this artifact before the covenant,” Dr. Halsey said stressing her words for emphasis. “Do I make myself clear Spartans?”

 “Affirmative, ma’am!”

 “We’re tails up in ten, move out,” Captain Keyes finished.

 You and the other Spartans made your way over to your suits in controlled fashion and proceeded to change and suit up. The entire time you undressed, you tried to keep your head in the game and on mission rather than where you’d been not even thirty minutes ago. Peeling off your leggings, you reached for the one impact proof one piece you wore under your suit. You glanced across the way to find John’s eyes on you and the intensity you saw in them made you fumble the garment. Your eyes locked and you knew what he was thinking. The moment seemed to last for eternity. His eyes bore into you and stripped you of the remaining clothes you wore. The look in his eyes said if you were alone he’d slam you against the metal of the lockers and fuck you hard and raw. Your belly quivered. You wanted it.

 “Master chief.”

 John snapped his head away to give his attention to Miranda who’d somehow kept up beside him. You looked back into your locker and grabbed the garment you’d long dropped and proceeded to stuff your legs inside.

 “Seargeant (your chosen nickname).”

 You looked over your shoulder into Kai’s face and instantly came back to yourself. You were Seargeant Second Class Y/N-144. You were a solider—a weapon made by the UNSC to get the most complex and impossible missions completed. You were not a woman. Not a woman with thoughts of her own. Not a woman who could feel, desire or want. Not a woman who knew what a kiss felt like. Not a woman who knew what it was like to have master chief’s hands on your body or have him inside of you. You were a weapon. A lethal weapon with one objective—the mission.

 “Kai,” you replied keeping your voice even and free of any emotion.

 She studied you but didn’t say anything else. You tried not to think about what she was searching for.

 “Nothing,” she said before she turned back to her own locker.

 Pushing the encounter to the back of your mind, you continued to suit up reciting the objective in your mind. Once outfitted you walked over to the weapons rack and caught John walking off with Dr. Halsey. Curiosity picked at you. What could she be saying to him? Was she giving him different orders or was she trying to dig her hooks deeper into him? Whatever she was doing John’s face, and posture gave nothing away. He just nodded his head like the obedient solider he'd always been. It hit you then this would be his first mission completely free of the pellet, completely at the mercy of his human thoughts and emotions.

 You remembered your first mission and said a silent prayer he had an easier time than you had.

 “Seargeant Second Class 144.”

 You stood at attention as Miranda approached.

 “Dr. Keyes.”

 “At ease.”

 You eased your stance but kept your eyes forward and off of her. She leaned closer just a touch and spoke.

 “Head in the game?”

 “Affirmative.”

 “The full force of the UNSC will be accompanying you to Eridanus Two. Be sure to remain compliant.”

 She was reminding you the best she could that eyes would be everywhere and neither you nor John could fuck up and give anyone reason to suspect anything was off. You nodded.

 “Yes Dr. Keyes.”

 She nodded then walked off. If you hadn’t been anxious before, you sure as hell were now.

 “Conceal, Y/N, conceal,” you whispered to yourself.

 ~~~~~~~

 The ride through slip space was a quiet one. Sometimes you and the others would goad each other about your skills and who was better but now none of that happened. Everyone sat in their seats, backs straight, heads high and eyes forward awaiting deployment. Across from you, John sat the same as all of you were—disciplined. With his helmet on, you had no idea where he was looking but you didn’t doubt he was focused. There was something about putting on the full suit that did something to one’s focus. Somehow no matter how distracted you were, putting on the helmet always brough things to a point.

 “Entering Eridanus Two outer space now. Prepare to exit slip space,” the voice informed through the ship.

 You gritted your teeth and allowed the feeling in your belly to course through you. It was similar to doing a free fall with no gravity to catch you only intensified twofold. It only lasted a few seconds though. Kai and the others were lucky. You were certain they didn���t feel it because you hadn’t felt it before your pellet was removed. Now you felt it every journey in and out of slip space. A few minutes later, the ship was on the surface and soldiers and Spartans disembarked.

 Halsey walked off with John behind her scanning their surroundings. They were headed to look into the location of the artifact.

 “Spartans maintain a perimeter, keep your eyes open and weapons ready,” John ordered through coms.

 “Yes, master chief,” you all replied in unison.

 For the next thirty or so minutes, you walked the surface checking areas where enemy combatants could be lying in wait and even those any inhabitants of the planet could be buried. Eridanus Two was practically a wasteland, one of the harshest planets to survive on but you didn’t doubt that some poor souls called it home. Not many came here. It was the perfect place for an artifact to be. It would have remained unbothered for centuries.

 By the time your boredom set in, you realized it had been nearly three hours. Three hours and nothing had happened. Three hours and the artifact had not been acquired. You wondered what was happening. Was John all right? Suddenly, a massive energy pulse went through you and as far as you could see and sent you flying and down for the count as the loudest pulsing and screeching sound went off around you. It didn’t hurt though—it felt like it was talking to you and what it said crippled you.

  ~~~~~~

 -John-

He shouldn’t have touched it but there was no way he couldn’t have not. Like being in slip space, he saw memories of himself he didn’t recognize. He felt feelings he remembered feeling somewhere in him. It all seemed so similar, so real. He knew they were real. This hadn’t been the first time he’d experienced memories. He traced this back to the first time he touched the artifact in Madrigal. He knew these were his memories. This latest set pulled it all together. Halsey had been lying—about everything. She’d taken him from his home and turned him into this.

 His gut bubbled with bile and rage. As he stood, he saw red, and his only wish was to see blood. His eyes fell back to the artifact he’d just touched, the artifact that had given him these answers, that had pieced everything together for him. He felt connected to it, and he knew for sure he had something to do with it. They were connected.

 “John?”

 He spun on his heels and glared at her. Through his helmet he knew she couldn’t see the anger in his eyes but he knew in seconds she would feel it. He took a step to her, she took one back.

 “John,” she cautioned sensing the predatory instincts coursing through him.

 “You’ve been lying to me.”

 Halsey’s eyes widened but it wasn’t with confusion it was with shock and fear. That was all the answer he needed. Ther was no mistake. She was the villain in this story—his story.

 “John,” she cautioned again.

 He ignored her and stepped closer.

 “Why have you been lying to me?”

 “I—I--,” she stuttered before gulping. You need to listen to me. I know you have a lot of questions.”

 “I will get the answers!”

 He leapt to her, but she slipped to the side before slapping something onto the back of his head sending him into darkness.

 When his eyes opened, he had two thoughts, you then Halsey. Getting to his feet he began stalking from the cave but once he stepped out, he felt it—the incoming threat of carnage. Someone—or someone was coming. Seconds later, there was a large explosion. Several others echoed after and fire and shouts came next. He felt torn. His training said the mission was paramount, but everything else in him said you came above it all.

 “Spartans on me!”

 He heard the response of Riz, Kai, and Vannak but he didn’t hear you. He began to call your name but stopped himself. Balling his fists he tried again.

 “144 come in!”

 Silence.

 “144 come in, now!”

 Still nothing. He gritted his teeth and continued to usher the soldiers into motion.

 “Riz, Kai, Vannak, do you have eyes on (your chosen nickname)?”

 “No, master chief,” they replied together.

 Worry set in, then he heard another reply come in.

 “144 was securing the west quadrant perimeter. That is where her location is paused,” Riz answered.

He dodged a bomb, dove to the right then opened up his map and sure as day your dot was stilled.

 “144 come in. Do you need assistance?”

 Nothing.

 “Goddamn it!”

 “Master chief your orders are to get the artifact to Dr. Keyes’s ship,” Captain Keyes informed.

 Again he gritted his teeth. This was the first time he wanted to ignore an order. The first time he had the free will and desire to say no.

 “144 is mission, Captain Keyes.”

 “Understood but the artifact is what we came here for. It is the mission not 144.”

 “Fuck!”

 An enemy combatant ran to him completely unaware that he was an uncaged animal right now. Lifting his foot, he sent it into their chest sending them flying. He pulled his secondary weapon out and released three shots dropping the fighter. He jumped onto the speeding vehicle that held the artifact, shooting down an incoming raider whose intent was to overtake it.

 “Not today. Spartans, get in!”

 In seconds Riz, Kai and Vannak barreled to him and leapt into the vehicle. With Riz on the machine turret, she took over shooting any and everything that did not look human. As he drove, he kept an eye on the map on his forearm at your dot that still wasn’t moving. Damn it, he thought. Something was wrong. You wouldn’t go silent, not in combat and not after last night. He heard more persistent orders telling him to get the artifact to the ship and he wished for the first time to be anyone else. Anyone who could get to you.

 “Goddamn it 144, reply now!”

 He heard a chough and a long groan. It was a familiar one.

 “144?”

 “Uuugh, fuck, what—what--.”

 “144 come in!”

 “I’m here.”

 He sighed out as he swerved missing a newly dropped bomb. The vehicle did a donut bringing up a thick cloud of dust.

 “Twelve o’clock, three o’clock and above,” Riz shouted.

 Each of them went into action on the location at the same time. Vannak went for the three o’clock, Kai the twelve and he aimed his weapon up and fired round after round.

 “Clear!”

 “What’s happening? The covenant?”

 “Get your ass to my location 144.”

 You groaned again and he worried you were hurt. When he was about to ask you spoke.

 “Yes, master chief.”

 He looked at the map on his forearm again and saw your dot moving. Slight relief washed over him, and he found he could focus on the mission again thought the nagging need to see you himself still picked at him. He doubted he would be fully focused until you were on his six. He drove and swerved around obstacles and focused on the road and not the screaming soldiers around him. There was so much carnage, so much destruction. He was numb to it before but now—he saw this war up close and way too personal.

 “Coming to you, master chief,” you said.

 He saw you from the side but also saw a hover rover coming for you.

 “On your nine, 144!”

 You leapt but it was too late, it collided with you and shot you through the air and several feet. He watched your body fall beam over the cliff and right in the middle of where the battle was the bloodiest. All he heard was the sound of his own heart nothing else registered. You remained down for too long.

 “144.”

 No response. As he drove further and further away, he thought of his options. He knew what he should do but what he was about to do was not it.

 “Stay on mission, John!”

 Halsey’s orders were loud and clear, but something else spoke to him much clearer and much louder.

 “Vannak take the wheel. I won’t let her die.”

 Before anyone else could get a word in he leapt out of the vehicle and ran to the edge of the cliff. He saw quickly approaching enemy mid-range ship and he jumped for it landing on its hull. Pulling his side piece, he shot into it knowing he’d made impact. Soon, the ship began declining. He rode the steam down then jumped off right before it collided with a much larger ship. A massive explosion erupted for a few moments all was silent.

 When he stood, he saw a legion of covenant fighters armored up, and armed across the field that was set ablaze. He counted at least ten with one large ugly son of a bitch in the center.

“Great.”

 Right in front of the legion there you were crumpled still barely moving.

 “I’m coming, Y/N. Tuck and hang on.”

 You didn’t reply and he prayed he wasn’t too late. The legion screamed a battle cry then took off for him. Releasing his own battle cry, he followed. He was ready to show them the demon they swore he was. He bent grabbed a discarded weapon and shot until the chamber emptied. He then shouted in frustration and threw it lodging it in the skull of one of the fighters. He tumbled, grabbed another and off-loaded sending bullets into most of the fray. Still the large one remained. He grabbed two weapons and went into close combat rotating in a circling taking them out one at a time. When the weapons failed, he relied on his fists.

 To anyone looking in the outcome probably looked grim, but he didn’t care. To him he wouldn’t stop until he got to you. The large one grabbed him and threw him across the field. He should have said thanks because he was now closer to you. You were now on your back. Not dead. He stood fighting through the pain and ran for the only one standing. He took a foot to the head then dropped to his knee. Sensing this fighter’s next move, he waited. When the punch came, he grabbed onto its arm hooking himself on then climbed up lodging himself on its back. With the last weapon he had, he released shots into its back then attached an explosive. Before he could leap off, it hooked him. It must have sensed its demise and wanted to take him along. The explosive went off and he went flying.

 Again, silence was all he heard. Silence with a high-pitched ringing. Groaning he flipped onto his back and tried to catch his breath. On his back he saw a ship break off form the hovering one that he guessed was where whoever was in charge was waiting. The breakaway ship began its descent and he cursed.

 “Goddamn it!”

 Across the field by you he saw the artifact. You were maybe ten or so feet apart. It was now a choice he had to make. He could grab one, but he doubted he could do both. He could hear a staticky command, but he couldn’t make it completely. What he did get was artifact. He knew it was an order to secure it. He saw you make a move to your knees, but you dropped back down. Your eye shield was broken, and it gave him a slight look at one of your eyes. It was bloodshot and locked on his.

 “The artifact, John. Not me.”

 He gritted his teeth. The largest combatant he’d seen dropped from the sky and landed in a cloud of dust. In hand was a massive clobber axe that looked ready for action. Another curse escaped him before he took off running toward the fight. As the creature lifted its weapon to swing, he slid intending to go through its legs, but he was met with an oncoming attack. In the nick of time, he opened his shield bit it was too late. It sent him right back to where he’d begun. With the upper hand the combatant ran to him with weapon held high. It slammed it down, but he rolled to the side avoiding the weapon completely.

 Looking into the face of his opponent, he almost gulped. He was the ugliest son of a bitch he’d ever seen. He clocked a weapon a few feet away then ran to it. The creature made a move for the artifact instead. It registered too late; you were standing by the artifact with your foot on it. You looked half dead but still defiant as all hell. You opened fire with the two weapons in hand shouting the entire time like the badass you were. He might have smiled and felt pride at the sight in a different situation but seeing how the gargantuan figure still ran to you he felt something else. Fear.

Without thinking, he grabbed the mine explosion laying on the ground that he knew must have fell out of one of their ships. He ran like his life depended on it toward the creature because he felt it did. When one of your weapons went out, you grabbed your secondary and opened fire again. Just before the other went out he jumped, soared through the air and landed on its back ramming the device into its flesh. It screeched out and reached for him, but he propelled off of its back soaring to you. You didn’t stop firing even with one weapon. As he glided past you, he grabbed it and aimed for the device. It exploded and he grabbed you, while you grabbed the artifact. The explosion sent you across the field.

 He gasped long and sprung up to a sitting position. He frantically looked around for you then saw you lying there a few feet away. He scurried to you and realized you clutched the artifact to your chest.

 “Y/N!”

 You gasped then coughed. He pulled off his helmet then yours and looked into your battered and bloodied face. Through the damage he saw your eyes were open. He sighed in relief.

 “Artifact---secure,” you grunted then smiled.

 He scoffed. You were a badass all right. A badass with a death wish. Suddenly, a beam of blue light came down, enclosing you in its perimeter. Your eyes widened as you began to levitate off the ground.

 “No, Y/N!”

 “John!”

 Your panic was evident but you didn’t release the artifact.

 “They want the artifact. Let it go!”

 “No!”

 “Y/N, let it go. That’s an order!”

 You didn’t and soon got out of reach of him.

 “Let it go!”

 Your eyes locked and that fear from earlier returned.

 “John!”

 “Let it go Y/N, I can’t lose you. I can’t!”

 You released it but you still beamed up to the ship. Seconds later, your body dropped while the artifact went up. Sliding just in time, he caught you before you collided with the ground. The covenant ship zipped through the air taking off. He should have cared that the artifact was gone and the mission a failure, but he didn’t. He held you tighter. What he cared about was that he had you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

TagList:

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[horny-ari]

Hey guys! I moved this fic from my main @lord-of-the-darkness to here bc my main isn't meant for it. I hope you understand^^

Tw: Female bodied, eating out, top Barbs and bottom reader. Minors DNI

Barbatos's Special Dessert

It was another long day for the demon butler Barbatos, one of many long days. Many meetings and much planning to do for the upcoming ball, and he was exhausted. After checking to make sure his Lord was asleep he made his way to his room for some much needed relaxation. He may even indulge in his favorite dessert.

You were in Barbatos's room getting everything ready for when your lover returned. The room was clean, the table was set, the tea fresh and hot. You even put on your demon's favorite lingerie, a deep forest green lace one piece with crotchless bottom for easy access to his favorite dessert.

The door opens and Barbatos steps inside the room, smiling at what you've done for him. He goes into your shared bathroom to get cleaned up and put on something more comfortable as you pour the tea for him.

Leaving the bathroom in dark green silk pjs, he sits in the chair you offer him and takes a sip of the tea.

"Hmm, this is delicious, my love." You hum in response, moving behind him to massage his shoulders.

"I'm glad you enjoy it love. Take your time and relax, after you're done with your tea perhaps you'd like dessert?" A smirk plays on Barb's face as he enjoys his tea and your hands working the sore muscles in his shoulders and neck.

Barbatos sets his now empty teacup on the small plate and turns to you, bringing a hand up to kiss the back of it.

"I believe it's time for my dessert, love. Come let's move to the bed." You nod and follow him to the bed. Laying down and spreading your legs for him to fit between. Crawling above you he kisses you gently before leaving a trail of soft kisses down your body and settling between your legs. Trailing kisses, hickeys, and bite marks along your thighs, skipping your obvious arousal. His teasing does nothing to soothe the ache between your legs.

Whining you buck your hips trying to move his attention to where you want him.

Chuckling he places one hand on your tummy to stop you from moving and moves the other to start slowly stroking between your folds, lightly applying pressure around your clit. You gasp and moan at his ministrations, a hand going to grip his hair and the other to hold the wrist of the hand holding you still.

He moves his hand down from stroking your folds to fitting two inside,thrusting them at a steady pace. He lowers his face, wrapping his mouth around your bundle of nerves,sucking hard, using his tongue to add more simulation. You moan at the sudden change, grip on his hair and wrist tightening making him groan sending the vibrations straight through your clit tightening the knot in your tummy. He switches, his long serpent like tongue thrusting inside you while his fingers work your clit. Your moans spur him on, going harder and moving faster. The knot snaps and you release all over Barbatos's face.

He laps up your juices and continues pulling two more mind numbing orgasms before he gives you a moment break, licking his fingers clean then kissing up your body.

"Forgive me for getting carried away, you're just too delicious my love." He nips at the bottom of your ears before removing himself to take off your lingerie and his pjs. Your cum coating the lower half of his face before he cleans himself off and returns to his position above you. Kissing you hard, nipping at your bottom lip for entry. You open your mouth, his tongue sliding in to play with yours. You can taste a bit of yourself on his tongue and you moan.

Separating from the heated kisses he trails open mouth kisses down your neck, paying special attention to your sweet spots and leaving hickeys. His hands go to your breasts massaging and pinching your sensitive nipples. You arch into his touch and whine, it's almost too much. Almost.

He continues to trail kisses down your shoulder to your right bud leaving bites and hickeys in his wake. Barbatos looks up at you with lust filled half lidded eyes eating up your extremely lewd face, and brings your bud into his mouth. Sucking, running this tongue over the bud and lightly biting he has you painting and squirming underneath him begging for more. Barbs ignores your whines and makes his way to the other nipple giving it the same treatment.

After he's done marking your chest, neck, and shoulders does he line his hard cock with your entrance, pushing in slowly so as to not hurt you. Once he bottoms out he pauses, putting his hands on your waist, waiting for you to get used to the delicious stretch of him inside of you. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him deeper in you.

"Please move B-Barbatos!" You whine moving your hips and wrapping your arms around him, nails on his back.

"Of course my love." His grip on your waist tightens slightly as he starts a rutting into you at a steady pace, going faster and harder each time. Watching you fall apart underneath him and feeling the drag of your nails along his back. The familiar knot gets tighter each time he thrusts back in. You cum undone, screaming his name on him and he slows down, helping you ride out your high before getting faster, chasing his high.

Your moans had turn into whines and whimpers of overstimulation, clawing and scratching his back while he groans and whispers into your ear,

"So t-tight. I'm c-close love. C-Can you give me one m-more?" You can feel your fifth and final orgasm creeping up on you. Barbatos's thrusts has gotten sloppy and hard, his twitching shaft inside signalling how close he was. His grip on your waist is bruising when he gives one last thrust, painting your walls white, pushing you and him over the edge.

He continues moving, riding out your highs. He pulls out first and leaves to get you some water and run a bath. Coming back with water he helps you sit up and drink some, carrying you to the bathroom when you're done. He sets you in the warm water and disappears for a few minutes.

When he returns, barbatos slips into the bath behind you and starts massaging your sore muscles. Grabbing the shampoo he washes your hair massaging your scalp, then washing your body. He lets you wash his hair but does his body himself.

Barbatos gets out of the tub first, wrapping himself in a towel before picking you up, drying you off, and helping you dress. He gets dressed and lets the water drain from the tub. You drift in and out of consciousness as he carries you back to the newly clean bed, laying you under the covers and sliding in behind you. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer, kissing your nape and falling asleep in your warmth.

[owlswritingcafe]

Blue Ramune Kakigori (Summertime Saddness Collab)

Warnings: MINORS AND AGELESS DNI. TIMESKIP SOUYA IS USED.

Reader: Gender Neutral + AFAB Sub/Brat Reader

Word count: 3k

Genre: Smut, Oneshot

Content Warning + Trigger Warnings: implied poly Smiley+Angry x Reader, Full nelson, public sex, theft (just one thing), oral (male receiving) after vaginal penetration, pussy slapping, recording, vaginal penetration, Reader is called baby (not in a kink way), implied tits on reader sorta

Summary: You two finally arrived at the little beach shop. You really wished the shop was air conditioned while you browsed the inventory. As you browsed, Souya was looking away, too embarrassed to even look your way, practically acting as if you were changing in front of him.

Well… That did give you an idea.

“Do I really need to be in here with you while you change?”

This is my Souya contribution to the “Summertime Saddness” Collab hosted by @mitsuyaa​ ! I am honored to be a part of this collab!

It was damn hot out and you and Souya were melting in this heat. It got to the point the three of you had to close the shop for the day, and it wasn’t even a Tuesday. 

God knows what kind of mix a summer heated kitchen with Smiley would be for the annoying customers… 

You and Souya were laying on the living room floor, fanning each other and suffering in the summer heat as the television played in the background, acting as white noise while you two tried to help the other in this melting heat. You even helped Souya tie his hair back. 

It didn’t really do much for him.

For you though, it only made you hotter.

The two of you really should have gone with Nahoya when he said he was going to visit Mikey and Emma’s little bakery to help the two out with customers. That cute little shop at least had some air conditioning there… 

Sitting back up, you face the tv that’s been occupying the silence. On screen you are met with a beach scene. You dunno if it was an ad or a movie, either way you were convinced. You scooched yourself over to where Souya laid, shaking him and pointing at the beach scene on tv. With a pained groan he agreed to go to the beach with you. 

Unfortunately, you didn’t have a swimsuit on hand so you and Souya decided to buy the swimsuit once you two were at the beach. 

God, you could go for something cold right now…

                                              ─── ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ───

You two finally arrived at the little beach shop. You really wished the shop was air conditioned while you browsed the inventory. As you browsed, Souya was looking away, too embarrassed to even look your way, practically acting as if you were changing in front of him.

Well… That did give you an idea.

Folding your chosen swimsuits over one arm, you hook your free arm with Souya’s and drag him to the changing room with you. All the while, the blue haired man starts sputtering in confusion as you bring him to the changing room near the end of the hall. You gently pushed him down on the chair, urging him to sit down.

“Do I really need to be in here with you while you change?” Souya was already hiding his face with his hands, peeking at you through the gaps of his fingers

“Well, I do need a second opinion on these outfits.” You dangle the swimsuits in his face only for him to close the gaps between his fingers once more, as if he was hiding from the swimsuits.

“Couldn’t you have sent me pictures?” 

“Oh~? Souya, I didn’t know you were into that kinda stuff, you should’ve told me earlier~!” You giggled as the man started stumbling over his words again, looking at you with taken aback eyes.

“No! That’s n-not what I meant and you know it!” You giggled, starting to strip your clothes to change, causing Souya to let out a squeak and hide behind his hands once more.

“Souya… My little cotton candy babe… It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve seen me naked you know.”

“I know! But still-” You gently place your hand on his, slowly pushing them down to his lap. The sight of you only in your undergarments made the man’s face flush a dark red, you could practically see the steam come out his ears. 

“I need you to look at all of me… How’re you gunna judge properly if you’re not looking?” You smooched his hot cheek before stripping the last of the clothes that separated his eyes from your naked body. This time, Souya’s eyes never left once from your body as you stripped. 

Taking off the last of your clothing, you were finally bare as the day you were born in front of your boyfriend. He looked at your body with such intensity, as if any moment could be his last day before he could fully memorize your body. You chuckled, giving him a 360 spin of your bare body.

“It would be interesting if it was a nudist beach, but unfortunately it’s not that kinda beach. Maybe next time?” He perked at up at the thought of a nudist beach but started vehemently shaking his head at the suggestion. 

“I… I don’t want anyone else staring at your naked body like that!” He looked away, embarrassed about his slightly possessive thought. You only chuckled as you held him by the chin and turned his head to face you once more.

“I’m just teasing, sweetie. Now then, remember to keep your eyes on me.” You grabbed the first swimsuit from the pile and put it on. The intense stare Souya had on previously returned once more. Once you got the swimsuit on, you did your 360 spin like before. You catch him doing a quick glance to the mirror behind you so he could try to get a longer view of your ass.

“So… What do you think of this one so far?” 

“U-Uhm, I… Uh, can… Can you turn around again?” You smiled and happily showed off the other side of the swimsuit, watching Souya’s intense stare through the mirror. 

A little plan to rile up your boyfriend popped into your head, a mischievous little smirk twisted its way onto your face.

You start to move backwards, surprising the man and only making him flush an even deeper red once you sat on his lap. You could already feel his hard-on through his shorts, he must have been like this for a while.

“Just looking wouldn’t do. We need to test all parts of this swimsuit.” You licked your lips as you grind yourself on his lap, you could feel your boyfriend get even harder as you kept moving. “How’s that feel? You think it’s good?” You teased him with questions when he’s currently way too focused on trying to not break you in this tiny changing room. A public area for goodness sake!

But to be quite honest, that’s what you’re praying for. 

You just want him to let loose and push you against the mirror, move the swimsuit bottoms to the side and punish your pussy right there. You want him to pound your pussy so hard that you can’t sit down for days. 

His hands were gripping on the bench so hard that it was starting to crack. You placed a hand over his, bringing his hand to your chest, waiting a bit for him to realize what you’ve done. You turned your head to face him properly, at this point, there was steam coming out of his whole head.

“How’s the material? Isn’t it soft?” Souya couldn’t even process what you said and just stared at your lips, nodding his head like he was paying attention. His dick on the other hand was paying attention to every word, twitching at your sultry tone. You guided his hand downwards to your thighs, urging him to give them a little squeeze by squeezing his hand. It was like you were controlling every little move he made.

God…

He can’t take it anymore!

Souya called out your name as he suddenly wrapped his arms around you, his head resting in the crook of your neck, soft and bouncy curls tickled your face. The feeling of his lips on your neck sent shivers up your spine. His hand you had guided started to travel downwards, finding its way in your underwear. Souya’s fingers slowly started rubbing circles on your little clit, he moved his legs so that you could spread your legs for him while his other hand released your chest from its prison and started to grope and grab at your chest, firm but gentle. You were fully spread out for him in the mirror, you were already looking fucked out of your mind, sweat glistened and clung to your body as an occasional shiver rocked through your body from your boyfriend’s touches. 

You bit your lip, trying to not let any moans escape your throat. The tears already started to form in your eyes as you felt two fingers enter your cunt and reach all the places you could never reach with your own fingers. You felt sharp teeth graze the side of your neck, not enough to make a scratch, but the feeling alone made your little cunt throb. The feeling was so good yet agonizing, you just wanted him inside you already. Looking back in the mirror, you saw Souya’s piercing gaze. Even now, he was trying to memorize every little twitch your body made from his touch.

You brought a shaky hand to his hair, gently playing and twirling a lone curl with your pointer finger. You were mesmerized with the way it wrapped itself around your finger like a predator trapping its prey. As you continued to play with his light blue hair, his fingers only started to move faster and deeper inside you as his pad of his thumb played with your sensitive clit. Releasing the single curl from your finger, you comb your hand through his bangs, revealing his mostly hidden face and making his already striking eyes pop out even more. A moan finally escaped your lips when he hit the sensitive bundle of nerves inside you. The moan only encouraged him further to rub the nerves inside you.

“Right there baby? There? God, you’re so wet for me right now…” You can already feel yourself close to cumming on his fingers, you place your free hand over his hand that was practically drenched in your pussy juices. His movements halted immediately when he felt your hand over his, making you whine a bit.

“Souya please… I wanna cum on your big cock…” Souya gulped at the sound of your voice, fuck, that voice alone could make him cum in his shorts. 

“Alright… I’ll give it to you babe.” Souya pushed down his shorts and briefs, hissing as the air reached his throbbing cock, he moved the hand drenched in your pussy juices all over his cock. Afterwards, he took out his phone and handed it to you.

See, there was a rule you and the twins had set up before you had officially gotten in a relationship with those two. If either twin is alone with you then they need to record the sessions they had with you so the other isn’t left out. The other twin makes it up with you after.

With a shaky hand, you unlock Souya’s phone and start recording the mirror where the two of you were fully visible. Your blue haired boyfriend lifts you up a bit and hooks his arms around your legs, putting you in a full nelson position. With one hand holding the phone, your free hand traveled downwards to his weeping cock. With how much his dick was throbbing, even his cock lived up to his old little nickname. You gave his cock a few more pumps before pushing him inside your tight cunt.

The feeling of being filled to the brim made you so full, you almost came on the spot. Souya shifted to spread his legs out more, starting at a slow pace. You gripped the phone tightly, with two shaky fingers, you zoomed in where you and Souya were connected. The closer view of the disgustingly lewd sight of your dripping wet pussy and his cock inside you only burned you up inside even more. Your free hand snaked down your body and your fingers found its way to your sensitive clit, rubbing little circles that matched the pace your boyfriend fucked you with. The sight of you playing with yourself as he fucked you gave Souya a little idea, he bit his lip at the image of what he wanted you to do.

“Babe, babe… Could you… Spank your pussy for me?” The question caught you off guard a bit. Souya usually wasn’t for spanking in fear of accidentally hurting you, unlike his brother who was all for manhandling you anyway he saw fit, with your consent of course.

 “You need- ah, a punishment f-for teasing me this whole trip.” And with that you spanked yourself, landing right on your clit. It’s not as good as how ‘Hoya spanks you, but it being a command from Souya is what made it feel so good.

“Harder. It’s supposed t-to be a punishment.” You spanked yourself harder, biting your lip this time to keep yourself from screaming. Souya started to pound your tight little cunt even faster, the tip of his cock repeatedly hit your cervix. The harsh thrusting from your boyfriend mixed with his balls slapping your ass and the spanks you were giving yourself was sending you over the edge. 

You threw your head back onto Souya as you creamed on his big cock. Even as you came, he only continued to thrust. You were trying to catch your breath until he suddenly released your legs and pushed you up against the mirror. You still (somehow) had the phone in your grip, you flip the camera to selfie mode before pointing it downwards to give it a better view of your pussy.

Your poor little cunt was getting abused by your boyfriend’s harsh thrusting. The hard grip on your ass only added to the overstimulating pleasure you felt in this moment, the shame you felt as your breath fogged up the mirror looking at yourself didn’t help either. You had just came but you could feel a second one coming already.

Before Souya could cum, he pulled out, leaving your poor pussy empty and desperate to grip on something. He moved back a bit, the loss of stability made you fall onto your knees. You turned back, only to be face to face with your boyfriend’s dripping wet cock. 

“Give me the phone.” Souya was flushed and out of breath, you handed him the phone and he turned the camera towards you.

“Suck.” Like a dog with a bone, you happily pounced on his cock. You could taste yourself on his wet cock and that only made you even more wet. Your hands gripped his legs as you bobbed your head up and down his dick, then you moved your mouth off his cock with a small ‘pop!’ You started to suck his shaft while one of your free hands played with the tip, all the while you looked up at Souya and the camera with the biggest pleading eyes you can muster.

“God, you really gotta make yourself so cute even while sucking my dick?” The blue haired man used a free hand to gently move you off his cock then moved his hand to the back of your head. He did a quick pause so you could mentally prepare yourself for what happened next.

The hand firmly gripped you and thrusted his dick inside your mouth. Souya moved your head up and down his thick cock. The filling of it going down your throat made you feel like a personalized fleshlight whenever your boys did this to you and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

With one final thrust, Souya was balls deep down your throat. The hot feeling of his cum sent shivers up your spine. Truthfully, sucking his dick made you cum too, all while not being touched. Souya pulled his softening member from your throat, with some left over cum lingering on your tongue.

You looked at the camera with your open mouth and closed your mouth to swallow the last bit of cum then reopened your mouth revealing you did, indeed, swallow the cum. The sight of you so lewd and thoroughly fucked makes him almost makes him wanna go again.

… Almost.

After stopping the recording and sending it to his brother, Souya started to stagger a bit from everything.

“Oh god, are you okay baby?” You quickly stood up, reaching out in case he faints, ignoring the dull pain from all the fucking he did your your pussy.

“Y-yeah, it’s just really hot right now.” Souya properly put his shorts back on and sat back down. He doesn’t remember when his hair got untied but he re-tied his hair back to cool down a bit more.

You on the other hand found out you and Souya just ruined the swim suit you had just tried on. Shamefully, you put your previous clothes back on.

… Well, it looks like you’re going to have to put the swimsuit in your bag.

“Babe. Babe, what are you doing? Are you stealing it?”

“Look, if you wanna be the one to slap this wet thing on the counter and explain why it's wet without any water in this damn place then be my guest.” That quickly shut your boyfriend up and made him blush a deep red. Well, since that swimsuit is out of the question, it looks like you’re gunna have to buy one of the other swimsuits you chose.

After the slightly awkward, but quick exchange at the register, you two decided to buy some shaved ice and water so Souya doesn’t faint in this heat. You could feel the dull pain as you sat down in front of Souya with the blue shaved ice.

As you fed Souya some sweet shaved ice, you were greeted with a text from Nahoya.

‘If you needed someone to spank you like that, you should have invited me. Next time, I’ll make sure the hits aren’t some pussy weak slaps like that.’

Fuck.

Looks like today is going to be a long day for your poor pussy.

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin and the Jedi Babies: Names and Faces

Context:  Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

Word Count: 6,477

---------------

It goes like this:

Nobody wants to separate Anakin from the children in his care until they know more about why he’s here. The gamble paid off, to some degree, and he thanks the Force that it did.

He hasn’t felt that cold in years.

He knows the logic of why the Mandalorians he’s fallen in with aren’t doing anything yet. He’s an obvious Jedi, and they don’t know why he’s here or what he’s doing. Hedging on the Mando’a and the cultural obligation to childcare hadn’t been anything close to sure, but it was... enough. He got lucky that these Mandalorians leaned on those obligations, at least to the point of keeping them all in the same room. He can sense that much, even before he opens his eyes, and he has to be grateful.

The looming hypothermia had probably nudged things in his favor.

Anakin opens his eyes to a guest room of a cell, something well-furnished and cozy, but definitely not meant to be something he can escape from. His saber is gone, and there are Force-nullifying cuffs on his wrists, and he’s pretty sure they’ve taken his--yep, vibroblade’s gone.

Fuck.

His body doesn’t want to move, and he’s still shivering a bit, but he’s mostly back to normal. When he sits up, he notices that there is, in fact, only one Force-nullifying cuff. They detached his arm.

He closes his eyes and breathes deep and tells himself it was probably medically necessary. Large pieces of metal aren’t great for maintaining homeostasis. He’ll get it back.

Probably.

“Ah!”

The voice makes him jolt, and his eyes fly open.

Two cribs, one much bigger than the other. Both are occupied. The larger one has bars, and through it...

“Snips,” he breathes, lurching to his feet and then crashing to his knees, about as graceful as a newborn eopie.

“Bah!”

“Just--just one second,” Anakin grits out, grimacing as he tries to pull himself to standing again. The fact that he’s down an arm doesn’t impact him much, but the shakiness of his legs is... a problem.

“Owwww,” Ahsoka coos with an exaggerated grimace, reacting to his pain with the innocent sympathy of a toddler. She looks, what, two? Maybe? He’s not sure if there’s anything particular about how Togruta babies age. She’s too young for words, clearly.

“I’m fine,” Anakin assures her, even as his heart sinks. She’s Ahsoka, clearly, he knows her in the Force and it can’t be anyone else, but her memories...

She recognizes him, but that’s not saying much.

He manages to get over to the chair next to the crib, but doesn’t trust himself to take her out right now. The snow and the mess of a fight before that haven’t been kind to him. Instead, he just sticks his hand through the bars and lets her grab at his fingers.

He can’t help but smile, really. She’s adorable, and she’s so damn happy to see him.

“Skyguy!”

“Oh, so you are talking,” Anakin says, part of him relaxing just a tad. “I was worried.”

“Mine,” she stresses, patting at his wrist.

“Yeah, your Skyguy,” he says. So she remembers... some things, at least. “And you’re my Snips.”

She squeals and yanks on his hand, just enough that the Force-suppressing cuff clanks against the bars of the crib. “Sky, Sky, Sky!”

Oh, she’s precious.

“You having fun?” he asks, filling the air with words faster than his head can fill with doubts. “Has everyone been nice?”

“Mmmmm,” she grumbles, falling to her butt with a huff. “Doc!”

“Oh, a doctor?” he asks, wondering at his own tone. He never expected to be one for baby-talk. “Was the doctor mean?”

“Cold!” she tells him. “Cold here!”

She taps at her chest, right where someone might check her heartbeat or breathing; the metal would be cold, and also necessary. He doesn’t fault anyone for it. Considering how poorly Anakin had fared, he’s just happy they’re all alive and mostly fine.

He doesn’t know what year it is. He knows he’s not in the year he should be. He’s vaguely aware of the name Jaster--one of the Mandos had said it while bringing him in--but he doesn’t know when Mereel’s reign ended and Fett’s began. He does know both are supposed to be dead.

Has Anakin been born yet? Has Ahsoka? Hell, has Obi-Wan?

Can he give out any real names?

A series of small, upset noises start coming up from the other, smaller crib.

He stands, but Ahsoka clings to his hand and refuses to let go. He can’t pry her off, not without his other arm, but he pulls away with quiet reassurances that he just has to check on... on...

Her brother, he says, aware that there’s more than a slight chance someone has the room bugged. He’s a Jedi in Mando custody. They aren’t stupid, and neither is he.

Obi-Wan’s the most likely to have already been born. Having the same name and face will draw attention, will cause questions, but... he can’t just rename his master like a recently-adopted pet. That’s just... wrong.

Anakin’s less shaky than when he first woke up, but he still has no way of safely picking up the kids. He reaches into the small crib, something twisting behind his sternum, and tickles under Obi-Wan’s chin.

The baby--the infant--looks up at him with wide eyes, too blue for the Obi-Wan he knows, but full of wonder and--

Love, the Force whispers through the cracks in the effects of the cuff.

“Love you too,” Anakin whispers, though he wonders if Obi-Wan would really feel like this as an adult again. Babies love easily, he thinks, and he’s the only adult that Obi-Wan knows right now. Maybe it’s just chemicals.

He stands there for longer than is probably a good idea, with the state of his body, but he can’t help it. Obi-Wan keeps grabbing at his finger and kicking with tiny legs, and sticking a tiny, tiny fist in his mouth as he tries watches Anakin.

It’s all Anakin can do to mutter a stream of meaningless nonsense as he struggles not to cry. He’s always had too many emotions, and right now he’s the only person these two can rely on. He’s the adult.

The door whooshes open.

“The medic said you were awake.”

He knows that voice. He closes his eyes and doesn’t turn, because there are a million feelings in his chest and he’s not sure which one is going to come out first.

“Sky?” Ahsoka questions, likely feeling his worry. “Issokay! Good!”

No, she wouldn’t have the mind to recognize why this familiar face she knows as friend is quite the opposite.

Anakin turns away from the crib, and smiles. “Mando.”

“Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker,” the teenager in the door says. He’s not wearing his bucket, but the rest of his armor is in place. Anakin would peg him as younger than Ahsoka was, before. Not by much, but... fourteen, maybe fifteen. The face is painfully familiar, and stays utterly neutral as he answers the question Anakin didn’t ask. “We found your Ident card after you passed out.”

Cool, so, Anakin definitely can’t change his name.

“Are they yours?” the teenager that will one day create an army says.

“They have no one else,” Anakin tells him. It’s true enough. Still, he gets the feeling that’s not what Fett’s asking. “They’re family.”

Jango squints at him. “I was told Jedi can’t have families.”

Anakin’s mind flashes to Padme and the fantasies he’d long harbored of children born free, and tears himself away. He can’t think about that right now. He can’t think of who he’s--

“Jetii!”

Anakin’s head snaps up, and he realizes he’s shaking. Fett’s not neutral anymore, just... concerned.

“I’m fine,” Anakin spits out, and leans on the crib behind him. He can hear the little ones whimpering. He has to pull his thoughts in and bundle them up into something that won’t hurt the incredibly Force-Sensitive babies behind him. “I’m--I’m all they have. They’re all I have. Are the exact words important?”

Fett doesn’t grimace, exactly, but his expression isn’t pleasant. “I guess.”

Anakin waits to see if there’s anything else coming, but no. Just an awkward silence. He holds onto his frustration, but it still gets the better of him.

“What are my chances of getting my arm back?” he asks.

“Hm?”

Anakin waves what’s left of that arm, the tied-off sleeve flapping about. “My arm. If you don’t want to give me mine back, can I at least have some kind of placeholder? I can’t pick up the babies without worrying that I’m going to drop them.”

“I can ask the medics,” Fett says. He stares at Anakin for a little more, and then asks, “Aren’t you going to ask about our plans for you, or...?”

“If you wanted to kill me, you already would have,” Anakin mutters. “Right now, these two are my only priority. I’m more likely to keep them safe and alive here than I am if I try to break out. I can be patient. I would also assume they wouldn’t have been left in a room with me, alone, if any of us were in danger of medical complications.”

Fett flushes and turns. “I’ll tell buir you’re up and active. There’s a nurse droid in the hall, I can have it handle feedings until you get an arm.”

“Thanks,” Anakin drawls, aware that he’s a little bitchy right now, but not in any mood to temper himself.

He settles himself on the floor next to Ahsoka’s crib, lets her play with his hair while the nurse droid feeds Obi-Wan, and then feeds Ahsoka herself. Anakin thinks he could probably pull the droid apart for an escape attempt if it came down to it. He hopes it won’t be necessary. He’s barely existing in the moment as it is. The droid asks Anakin if he needs anything, and he... shrugs.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Perhaps some non-perishables,” the nurse droids suggests. “Ration bars, for if you are hungry before one of the Mando’ade returns.”

Anakin shrugs again. “Alright.”

He ignores the droid after that. He’s only mostly cut off from the Force by the single cuff. He can’t blanket his Master and Padawan in his own Force presence, try to make them feel safe and calm with the fact that he’s here and ready to protect them, but he can monitor them. He can meditate, even if it’s not the way he prefers to do it. He doesn’t have the strength for moving meditation right now, but a regular meditation... he can do that.

He needs to do that, because no other stress relief option is available to him right now.

Anakin lets himself feel the babies fall asleep, the two of them radiating contentment and warmth. He lets himself trust that, for the moment, he doesn’t need to worry. He lets himself sink into an absence of thought, and then the Force guides him deeper still.

“Anakin!”

His eyes fly open.

This is not the real world.

This is not the room-cell in the Haat Mando’ade base he’s managed to stumble across.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says again, a smile hidden in a beard and worn laugh lines about his eyes. The right age, the right size, reaching for him and--

There’s only a moment’s hesitation for Anakin to process, and then he sprints forward and yanks his Master into a hug.

“You’re good,” Obi-Wan mutters to him, rubbing his back as they both sink to their knees. There’s a click of bootheels against the empty white not-space that they’re in, and Ahsoka buries herself into their sides. Anakin pulls her in a little closer too.

They stay that for longer than is maybe necessary, but Anakin’s stress levels are sky high right now, and he needs this. A hug, even one that’s technically only taking place in his head, is important.

“Sorry, Skyguy,” Ahsoka whispers. “Thinking in the real world is... really hard right now.”

He pulls away from the desperate hug he’d started them off with, rearranges things so he’s leaning against Obi-Wan, lets Ahsoka lie down with her head in his lap, on her back and legs stretched out across the white nothingness.

“I don’t know what happened,” Anakin says. “I mean, Sith stuff, probably, but... we’re in the wrong year.”

“I’d wondered,” Obi-Wan admits. “I thought it odd that I couldn’t feel the clones, but I only have so much energy to think right now...”

“Please tell me there’s a way to fix it,” Anakin begs. “I can’t be the adult, Obi-Wan. I haven’t even been born yet, that’s how far back we are. I don’t know what to do, and I can’t just bang around making bad decisions without you there to pull me back and--”

“Breathe,” Obi-Wan tells him.

“We’re in the Force,” Anakin says, just a little hysterically. “We don’t need to breathe!”

“Actually, I think we’re in your head,” Ahsoka says. She’s pointing and stretching her feet like a dancer, but looks up to grin at Anakin like the little shit she is. “You’re the only one whose brain is big enough right now.”

“Hey,” Anakin complains, putting his entire palm over her face as revenge. She giggles and swats him away. “That any way to talk to the guy who taught you how to kill five guys in one move?”

She sticks her tongue out at him. He rolls his eyes and runs a hand over her montrals, smiling when she wriggles and makes a little chirruping noise.

“She’s not wrong,” Obi-Wan says. “Though the phrasing was unfortunate, it does stand to reason that as the only person without the brain of a toddler, you’re hosting. Our minds can’t handle the strain of our own selves, let alone sharing space.”

“Infant.”

“Hm?”

“Ahsoka’s a toddler. You’re an infant. Maybe six months.” Anakin grins, just this side of brittle. He doesn’t want to joke about a problem he can’t fix, but what else is there? “You’re the literal baby of the lineage now.”

Obi-Wan sighs over the riot of Ahsoka’s laugh. “Of course I am.”

“It’s okay, Master,” Ahsoka assures him. “Skyguy’s gonna take care of us until we can fight again.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says, grimacing slightly. “I am sorry for you being put in such a position, Anakin. It’s certainly not an easy one.”

Anakin wishes he could say that his immediate reaction isn’t a sense of hurt, a you don’t trust me, a you don’t think I can do this, a you’re disappointed someone else wasn’t here to handle things instead.

He wishes he could make that claim and have anyone believe him, but they are in a shared meditation, and in this moment there are very, very few secrets. He does not make the effort to hide his reaction in time, and Obi-Wan catches it.

Anakin turns away as Obi-Wan’s face fills with surprise and horror. “Anakin--”

“Can we just pretend you didn’t feel that?” Anakin asks, and flinches when Ahsoka pops up from where she lies and scurries around to hug him like a vise. “Can we just pretend I’m not--”

“Dear one, there are very few people I would trust as much as you in this,” Obi-Wan says. “Those who match up are largely the people who helped me raise me when I was actually this age.”

“Being completely reliant on your padawan isn’t--”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, cutting him off there. “I can trust you to care for me in ways that don’t just come down to making me a useful general again. I already trust you to risk your life and safety and freedom to see us survive, given what little I remember of that storm.”

“You handed yourself over to Mandalorians you knew nothing about so we’d be safe,” Ahsoka mutters into the fabric somewhere over his ribs. “That could have gone really badly, and you still did it because you were worried about us.”

“We trust you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, pulling Anakin to his chest and resting his chin on Anakin’s head. “We know you.”

“You don’t even know what happened in the storm,” Anakin mutters. “You were asleep.”

“I caught enough listening to the doctors,” Obi-Wan says. He runs a hand over Anakin’s head and through his hair. “You did well, Anakin.”

Anakin wonders why they don’t do this in real life. Obi-Wan doesn’t usually hug him, let alone cuddle. Maybe it’s because they’re all stuck in too much truth in this shared meditation, and the other two are currently stuck in child bodies that crave physical affection in ways they don’t realize they’re expressing in here as well. Maybe it’s the stress.

“What even can you hear?” Anakin mutters, still in Obi-Wan’s arms. Ahsoka giggles at him, nuzzling into his side in a way he doesn’t think she’d ever let herself, normally.

“We can’t really think in the real world right now,” she muses. “Only when we’re sleeping, and probably when we’re meditating once we’re bigger. If I try to think too hard, my head hurts worse than that time Ventress got me in the head with the back of her saber.”

“Everything takes up more space than it should,” Obi-Wan adds. “It’s... all of my senses are bigger and brighter and take up more of my attention, but they aren’t very clear, really. They’re just more. I can’t focus on anything, either, except... well, the feedings.”

Ahsoka makes an annoyed noise. “The whole diapers and bottles thing is really embarrassing, by the way. Only here, though, I barely notice when I’m awake because...”

“Because you’re a toddler,” Anakin says drily.

She huffs. “How would you feel if you were stuck like that?”

That’s fair.

“I don’t remember much,” Obi-Wan says carefully. “But part of me recognizes familiar things, even if I can’t quite make the connection.”

“Was that Fett, earlier?” Ahsoka asks. “Because I thought I saw a friend, and I pretty much forgot the face as soon as they left, but--”

“It’s Fett,” Anakin confirms. “But I guess that’s good to know? You saw his face and your baby brain just assumed it was one of the clones?”

“Pretty much.”

“And we know we trust you,” Obi-Wan adds, and tightens the hug when Anakin stiffens. “Anakin, I can barely understand the world around me at all right now. It’s like being on the painkillers that don’t knock you out but leave you saying only the most ridiculous things that come to mind. You have a general understanding of what’s going on, but all your emotions are too much and the room spins, you can’t stay on one track mentally, you can’t remember what you’ve done and what you haven’t--”

“You can’t control your bladder,” Ahsoka mutters, just a touch spitefully.

Obi-Wan grimaces and nods. “An unfortunate commonality in the experiences, yes. What I was aiming to address, however, is the fact that I only remember a very few things with any reliability. Most of my adult mind, so to speak, appears to be stored in a stasis form in the Force itself, because the infant mind can only handle the barest edges of who I am. But what that infant mind knows, and what I remember thinking once I have some sense of my full self in sleep, is that there is no one I react to as positively as you, Anakin.”

“What he’s trying to say,” Ahsoka interrupts, “but can’t because he’s trying to be a serene Jedi Councilor who definitely doesn’t break the code, nosiree, is that we don’t remember much about ourselves when we’re awake, but we remember you, and we know that we love you, Skyguy.”

Anakin stares at her, and then twists around to look at Obi-Wan instead.

“Master Kenobi,” Ahsoka croons. “Stop being emotionally constipated. We’re literal babies right not, which sucks, but we’re like 90% emotion. Tell Skyguy.”

“Yes, er, Ahsoka was not incorrect,” Obi-Wan says, stroking his beard and refusing to meet Anakin’s eyes. “I, that is to say, we...”

“Master Kenobi,” Ahsoka says, a touch sharper than she might have dared if not for the reversal of their ages.

“I do love you, Anakin, and it’s one of the only things my child mind knows consistently.”

The Force does, in fact, sing with the truth of this. It circles them like a delighted tornado of emotional reality, pulsing like a coat of positivity.

Anakin buries his face in Obi-Wan’s shoulder and hugs him as tightly as possible.

“Oh! Oh dear, I--Anakin, really, this isn’t news.”

“Master Kenobi, you’re allergic to actually talking about your emotions. Let him hug you.”

“Anakin, I’ve raised you since you were nine, it would be nearly impossible for me to not care, why are you--”

“Master Kenobi, stop questioning him!” Ahsoka whines. “It’s affirmation time.”

“Ahsoka, have you been spending time with the mind healers again?”

“I was a teenager in a warzone and also Barriss bullied me into it for my own good.” Ahsoka shrugs. “I learned some stuff. You two should have gone, too. You were more karked up than I was.”

“Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan scolds.

“What are you going to do, spit up on me? You can’t exactly make me run laps, Master.”

“Both of you shut up,” Anakin mumbles, and tries to push as much of his own affection as possible into a little ball of feelings that he can just drop on the two of them while he’s still in his own brain and not somewhere he can’t touch the Force. “Just--just shut.”

Apparently, Anakin’s feelings are a lot, because Ahsoka bursts into tears and Obi-Wan zones out so hard Anakin starts worrying about him.

They’re in a mindscape, a thing that he didn’t really think happened, but does. He shouldn’t have to worry about his--

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, pulling him in tighter. “Why did you...”

“Skyguy, I don’t think you planned on putting in the part where you worry about nobody loving you back as much as you loved them,” Ahsoka says, raw and uneven. “Because, uh, we got that? Skyguy, that’s really wrong!”

Oh shit.

“No, you were... you were not supposed to get that,” he says, just a little strangled. “I am so sorry, that wasn’t--”

“Be our dad.”

Anakin stares down at his Padawan. She stares determinedly back.

“What?”

“Fett asked if we were yours, and you edged around the question by saying we were family, but he was asking if you were our dad. I’m guessing you didn’t want to claim that when we couldn’t agree to it, so I’m telling you now: do it. Adopt us the Mandalorian way or whatever. You were already my older brother, basically, this is just a step sideways in how we talk about it.”

He stares at her a bit more. He doesn’t have words, and his emotions are such a cyclone of conflicting thoughts that he’s surprised the Force hasn’t tossed him out.

“I don’t know if I’m going to be born, but if I am, then I need a name so I don’t have the same one as future me,” she says. She takes his hands, holds them tight and leans in close. “You’re going to be raising us anyway. The Force already made it clear there’s no fixing this, we tried asking while you were unconscious, it wants us to grow up the long way. You’re going to be our dad. Just make it official. Make me a Skywalker.”

Anakin sits up straight, looks her up and down, the determination and affection and--

He turns to look at Obi-Wan. “Master?”

“...yes, Anakin?”

“I know she said ‘we’ and ‘us,’ but I’m not letting anyone speak for anyone else. Not for something this important.”

Obi-Wan blinks at him, and then rearranges himself to something a tad more formal. He takes one of Anakin’s hands in his own. “Anakin, we’ve been family since you were nine. This is just redefining the terms. We can adjust as we go forward, but for all intents and purposes, the majority of the time, I will be that youngling in the cot. For all intents and purposes, I will be your child, and... and I would be honored for you to make that official.”

“Even if it breaks the Code?” Anakin presses.

“All is as the Force wills it,” Obi-Wan says, almost but not quite overriding Ahsoka’s, “This doesn’t break the Code.”

They both turn to look at her. She shrugs. “What? You guys are always arguing about it and Skyguy was married. I went and did some digging about what is and isn’t allowed. This adoption would be skirting the edges of some rules, since we should be taken to the creche to be raised in a communal manner, and official adoptions are discouraged for reasons relating to later padawan stuff, but since the Force is also insisting we stay with the Mandalorians, I think it qualifies as an exception and will be treated as such, retroactively, by the Council. You also won’t be able to take either of us as Padawan once that time comes. It does not, however, violate the Code in and of itself.”

“What the hell, Snips?”

“I’m impressed, young one,” Obi-Wan says, with a smile Anakin can feel. “I could have expected to see you in court in a few years, with an argument like that.”

“You knew I was married?” Anakin squeaks.

“Rex isn’t a very good liar,” she says. She then droops. “Or, he wasn’t. Wouldn’t be. He tried, at least, but I caught on. That was against the Code, though. Just so you know.”

Anakin runs a hand over his face, tries very hard not to think about what and whom he’s left behind. He can save that breakdown for later.

He chances a look at Obi-Wan.

He gets a raised eyebrow in response.

“You’re not mad?”

“I knew you and the Senator were close, considering all the kissing you did in the Arena,” Obi-Wan says drily. Anakin isn’t stupid enough to ask how he knows it’s Padme. “I didn’t know you were married, and am a little disappointed you didn’t at least tell me, or consult me before you did it, considering you were still a padawan... but no, I’m not mad. Even if I were--and I am not--we’ve time-traveled, so I’m fairly certain that qualifies as annulment. It’s a non-issue.”

Anakin pushes down the tidal wave of grief for people who haven’t been born yet, and just breathes instead. This is important. This is too important for him to just kriff it up.

“Names,” he says.

“I still want part of it to be ‘Soka,’ if you don’t think it’s too risky.”

Obi-Wan shrugs with a smile. “Almost every time I’ve posed as a Mandalorian, since my first mission with Satine, I’ve gone by Ben. It would be fitting that, now that we’re here and apparently staying, I take the name for real.”

Anakin nods. He closes his eyes, and breathes deep, and thinks that they may be among Mandalorians on a world of snow, but he has the desert in his bones and will never forget it.

“Ahsoka Tano, sister of my heart,” he says, hoping he’s getting the words right, and takes her hands in his. It’ll have more meaning here and now, where they’re both of full mind. He holds her gaze. “You ask to join my family, to be of those who walk the sky. You shed your old name as you shed the chains of your past. You become my daughter, not of blood, but of love, loyalty, and survival. My wells are your wells, and all I own and earn is to set the path of your freedom. I name you Sokanth Skywalker, she who slips through every hunter’s trap, and you are my child.”

She smiles brightly at him, and looks like she might cry. He presses his lips to her forehead. He turns to his Master. He hesitates, because it’s one thing to redefine his little sister, but...

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, father of my heart,” he says, his voice catching where it shouldn’t. He can do this. It’s weird but he can do this. “You ask to join my family, to be of those who walk the sky. You shed your old name as you shed the chains of your past. You become my son, not of blood, but of love, loyalty, and survival. My wells are your wells, and all I own and earn is to set the path of your freedom. I name you Ylliben Skywalker, he who hunts the monsters of the darkest nights, and you are my child.”

The man before him almost laughs, well aware of how absurd it is for Anakin to be the one adopting him, but keeps it limited to just a twinkle in his eye and a quirk to his lips. Anakin presses his lips to his teacher’s forehead.

He pulls both of them in close. Padawan and Master. Ahsoka and Obi-Wan.

Daughter and son. Soka and Ben. His.

“I’m still gonna call you Skyguy,” Soka says wetly. “But Mas--um, Ben. Ben can call you buir, all the Mandos are gonna love it.”

“Fine by me,” Anakin says. “I’m going to be telling you Tatooine bedtime stories, by the way. You’ll remember creche stories as you grow, but these’ll be new.”

“I do believe that would be appropriate,” Ben says, laughing just a touch. “I also think we should perhaps disband this, unless you have something else to address. You’re going to be dealing with two very cranky younglings soon.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, we’re gonna have headaches after this,” Soka laughs, rubbing her face against his shoulder. “But it’s okay, we got what we ne--”

“No, shut up, what you do mean, headaches? You said that was only when you were awake!”

“I mean, we’d be sobbing after like three minutes if we were awake,” Soka says cheerfully. “This way, it’s been like... an hour or whatever between all the talking and the hugging and the crying and the feelings, and we’re just gonna be grumpy.”

“Oh my--wake up!” Anakin growls at both of them. “I’m responsible for you now, wake up.”

He ignores Soka’s laughter and drags himself back to wakefulness. Behind him, he feels slight confusion and pain mixed with love and delight. Ben starts fussing.

Anakin drags a hand over his face and groans. He gets to his feet, nods to the nurse droid, and steps over to the cribs.

“Can we put them in the same one until I get my arm back?” he asks. The droid obliges, moving Ben to Soka’s crib. She immediately crawls over to him and envelops him in a hug. She pouts up at Anakin, eyes going watery, and he drops into the chair next to her and offers his hand through the bars. She grabs it.

“You’re going to be trouble for a long, long time, huh?”

She sticks her tongue out at him, and he smiles at her. Yes, trouble in spades, his Snips.

He starts telling her one of the fables of Tatooine, the really sanitized ones meant for children her age, before they got to the slave stories and haunt-tales. She falls asleep for real, no Force Shenanigans, shortly after. Ben is dead to the world by that point, making small snuffling noises whenever the blanket tickles his nose.

Anakin knows he’s got the galaxy’s dopiest smile on his face. It’s fine.

It’s a few more hours before someone stops by. He’s used the fresher by that point, helped the nurse droid coax Ben through a feeding, and helped Soka play with the little stuffed eopie they’ve given her.

“They got names, aruetti?”

He looks up and over. “Yes.”

The middle-aged man ambles over, arms crossed. “Jango said you claimed to be all they had left.”

He is. “They’re family. I’ve had a few hours to think it over, now that I’m not getting shot at or dying in the snow. To any system that allows it, I’ll be their father.”

“No chance of returning them to their people?”

Anakin shakes his head. “Soka has none who would recognize her, and I already--I already babysat her regularly, and she thought of me as a brother. It’s an easy next step.”

“And the human?”

“I... the master-padawan relationship is often one that is compared to that of parent and child,” Anakin says carefully. “My own master was like a father to me, and Ben is... Ben is all I have left of him.”

There. Not quite the truth, but... technically not lying.

Ben makes a small noise in his sleep, fussing, and Anakin reaches through the bars to brush his thumb across the infant’s chubby cheek. He smiles helplessly as Ben whines and curls in tighter on himself, pressing a tiny fist to his mouth.

“You’re good,” Anakin whispers. “We’re fine, Ylliben.”

“I don’t know what you’re hiding,” the Mando says. “But I do believe you’re doing what you can for those kids.”

“That’s all that matters,” Anakin agrees, finally looking away from his... his son.

Mine, the greedy krayt in his chest whispers.

“When are you planning on going back to Coruscanta?”

“I’m not,” Anakin says, standing and looking the man head-on. Anakin’s taller than him. That’s usually useful. “I don’t know why, but the Force wants me to stay here, or at least with the Mandalorians.”

“You want me to believe that you support my cause?”

“I don’t know your cause,” Anakin admits. “But I don’t like Death Watch, and I know you don’t either. Nobody on Coruscant is going to know to miss me, and the Force is warning me away from trying to go back. Whatever it is that needs doing, I’m supposed to be doing it here.”

The man steps forward. “Anyone tell you who I am?”

“No.”

“I’m Jaster Mereel.”

Good for you, Anakin thinks, and doesn’t say. “I’m pretty sure you already know my name.”

“I do,” Mereel says. “Wanna tell me how a Knight with a seemingly valid ident card claims nobody will know to miss him?”

“No.”

Mereel doesn’t even blink. “Try that again.”

“It means exactly what I said,” Anakin says. “The ident card is real. My training and rank are earned and deserved and bestowed by protocol. All of it was done at the Temple in Coruscant, but if you phone up the Temple with my name and face, nobody will know who I am.”

“And you’re not going to tell me why,” Mereel grouses. “What’s stopping me from calling them up anyway and asking them to come fetch your hypothermic ass?”

“...the fact that I already offered to help you?” Anakin manages. “I... I did say that part, right? That I’d help?”

“What’s stopping you from wanting to go back? And don’t give me any of that ‘will of the force’ banthashit.”

“I broke the Code,” Anakain says. The words sit heavy in his mouth, but one of his violations is lesser than the other, and-- “I married, and we’re not supposed to do that. She’s... not around anymore, but it still stands that I did it.”

The Tuskens weigh on his mind, suddenly and intensely. He hasn’t thought about them in ages, has always pushed those memories down, down, down, but--

“And they won’t take you back?”

“They might,” Anakin admits. They probably would, with his full title and everything, especially if he told them about the future. “But they wouldn’t let me keep the kids.”

Understanding flickers. “Not allowed kids?”

“It’s not... technically against the code,” he hedges. “But they’d find out about my marriage while investigating my past--” maybe, he’s not sure what kind of investigation they’d justify for a complete stranger of a knight, especially to confirm the future, but if they had a psychometric so much as touch his saber or arm, once he gets those back, there’d be a risk, “--and after already breaking the code by marrying, they’d be far less willing to bend the rules about the babies.”

He doesn’t realize how likely the risk is until after he says it, because he’s just been focusing on staying alive and following the Force, but.. they’d want the kids in the creche. He’s broken the code enough that any investigation they set to prove he’s legitimately a Jedi Knight that isn’t recorded and isn’t in the system is going to uncover something through the Force. They might not let him keep his family.

“What are their names?”

“I already--”

“Jango kept his last name,” Mereel cuts him off. “Did yours?”

Anakin looks the man in the eye, and then attempts to cross his arms in response, to mirror the pose and hold his ground. Unfortunately, he’s forgotten that he’s only got the one arm, which is really kriffing irritating.

“I gave them my name,” he says. “They’ll know where they came from, but they are mine.”

Yeah, no shit they’ll know where they came from.

Mereel’s face twitches, but the man is unreadable in the Force. Still, there’s something in the air... “So, those names?”

“Sokanth and Ylliben Skywalker,” Anakin tells him. He spells it out when the droid asks. He assumes it’s just for the medical data their droids are collecting.

“How well can you fight without your laser sword?”

“You mean unarmed?” Anakin asks, and then smiles brightly and tauntingly and waves his empty sleeve around. Mereel does not appreciate the humor. “Pretty well, but I do better when I have the Force, and am not still recovering from hypothermia. And I’m a fair shot with a blaster, but no specialist.”

Mereel eyes him for a moment, and then nods. “One of my snipers is Force-Sensitive. Never was enough to get more than some basic training in mental shields and the control to not hurt herself, but when we mentioned bringing in a Jetii, someone asked her what she thought. Came by the room while you were unconscious and said she thought you felt sad, angry, and desperate... but that she had a good feeling about where you’d be going.”

“Sad, angry, and desperate?” Anakin repeats, a little offended.

“You act like a veteran, kid,” Mereel says. He shrugs. “Damn near everyone that goes through some kind of war has all that going on. S’normal. You got Kamira’s approval, though, and that means a damn sight more. Keep your secrets for now. We’ll get there eventually.”

No we won’t, Anakin thinks. Out loud, he asks, “So, how much of what kind of work would I have to do to borrow a ship to Tatooine and earn enough to free a slave girl?”