#and have i played with any other keepsakes? No.

[gayforthesun]

Thinking back to (aka wishing i had the energy to draw a comic about) my first death with with Moros’ keepsake because I remember so vividly thinking “Oh this is really OP, it’ll make everything easy!” after reading the item description. And Then. the the first time the countdown started I was so caught off guard it was like [ten] WHAT [nine] HE TALKS? [eight] this is NOT what i EXPECTED [seven] *realizes I’m supposed to fighting, panics* [six] *mental flatlining* [five] oh god I’m not even halfway through this boss’ health bar what the fuck [four] Okay But Seriously What The Fuck [three] *realizes i’m going to die* SHIT [two] *mental flatlining but with more panic* [one] and then I was left watching the death screen in stunned silence like what the FUCK just happened to me.

[nbclover]

hehehe

[a-b-riddle]

Part Six

Can't stop thinking about reader finally giving the boys a taste of their own medicine. And hurting my own feelings in the process of it all. I wanted to make this a baddie reader chapter, but its just a saddie reader chapter. I played Down Bad by T.S on repeat while writing this. Y'all need to thank @blueladys-world for being my ventor for this part.

None of them came the next day to pick up the box of everything you had collected. By everything, quite literally everything. Birthday cards and gifts. Keepsakes from your time together they had given you. Even going as far as returning lingerie they had given you. You didn't want any trace of them in your home anymore. You were gonna have to work hard in rebuilding it to be your safe space once again.

You were surprised that someone from the expo had DM'd you. Renée was an author who had tried to stop by to your stand, but got too caught up in the day. She was in London, working on her next series installment and wanted to pick your brain. Writer to writer.

The two of you agreed on a time. She had mentioned wanting to try this restaurant the last time she visited and you already knew you would be putting that meal on a credit card. It was a bit of splurge, but after the past week you deserved it. You could even wear that sexy black number that had been collecting dust in your closet.

By the time you were done getting ready and squeezing into your dress, you looked more ready for a date than dinner with a colleague.

A colleague. You had a colleague!!!

The knock on the door pulled you from your girlish glee. You didn't need to guess who it was. Your friends knew to text you before they came over and Renée had agreed just to meet you at the restaurant.

It was one of them.

You didn't even t bother looking through your peephole before you opened the door to find Johnny standing there with a floral arrangement of your favorite flowers.

Johnny began to speak, afraid you were going to shut him down immediately no less. But no words came out. His eyes traveled up and down your body, taking you in.

A vision.

You wanted to snap at him that your eyes weren't located on your hips. But damn if it didn’t feel empowering seeing Johnny’s gaze gloss over.

"Fuck me." He swore, gathering his bearings before realizing you were dressed. In a sexy black dress and heels and makeup and oh, fuck you were going out. "Where are you going?"

"First off, none of your business," you said holding a finger up. "And secondly, what are you doing here?"

"Listen," "Bon-"

"The box is right there." You said pointing to a large cardboard box on the floor. "That's everything."

"If you just let me make it-"

"Up to me?" You cut him off again. "I'm over it. Really."

"Just give me a chance."

"Either you haven't spoken to the other two to know I am well and truly done with this situationship, or you’re hoping some half-ass apology and flowers will let you get a last fuck in and the skedaddle. So hopefully if it was latter, hopefully the former answered that for ya.”

So if that's all you came here for, I've got to get going. My reservation is at seven and it's rude to keep a friend waiting."

"It's been a week and you're already going on a date?" He accused.

"Who said anything about a date?" You didn't outright say it wasn't. Where would be the fun in that? “It's just dinner with a colleague.” You didn’t want to lie. It wasn’t a date. But you didn’t need to say it was a woman. “Hardly a date.”

“Look at the sight of ye!" He said, taking the opportunity to take a quick look at how deliciously your ass filled that dress. “A fookin’ dinner with a colleague. Like one of us would show up to a briefing like that.” You opened your compact. Not needed in the age of cellphones but loving the feminine touch.

There was something so... seductive about using a compact mirror to apply your lipstick.

“Kyle does have the legs for this dress.” You said, applying that lipstick he loves. That same shade that looked beautiful on your lips. The same lipstick you would mark all over Johnny’s body. “Believe what you want. Not my problem anymore.”

You put your compact back in your purse along with the lipstick in case you needed to reapply it after dinner.

Johnny's eyes zeroed in on your lips before his eyes met yours. That's when you felt it again. That undeniably spark of chemistry that you had with him. With all of them. That feeling that sucked the very breath from your lungs and for a moment all you could see was the man in front of you.

"Bonnie," he said placing his hands on your neck. His thumbs stroking your cheeks softly. "Just one more chance." He begged, his voice breaking. "I'm a fucking git, but I won't let you go again. I won't leave." You knew that when it came to promises, Johnny had proven that even if he didn't mean to break them, he had forgotten he made them in the first place.

But in that moment you didn't care. Even after everything, Meredith was right. You had loved them. Everything else had ended so shitty. John had blamed you. Kyle had only shown up until it was too late. And Simon. The last time you would ever hear his voice was after he said such cruel things to you.

No.

If you were done with Johnny, you won't let the last time he fucked you being a quick, rough fuck doggystyle before leaving you naked and alone in your bed.

No. The last time with Johnny needed to be good. It might make it harder to finally leave, but you needed this. You needed to know that he could still make love to you and not just fuck you like an animal in heat.

"Johnny?" You asked. Your mouth dangerously close to his. "I don't want you to fuck me."

"I don't have to," he said, starting to take a step back to give you some space before your hands reached his. Holding him in place.

He can't let you go. You couldn't let him go. Not yet. Just one more. You needed just one more time to get him out of your system. The closure you needed.

"Make love to me." You begged, your eyes pleading. "I need to know that I wasn't just something you wanted to fuck." You don't move as his eyes search yours, looking for reassurance. When you nod, his mouth softly touches your own.

His hands travel along your body, but never fully leave you. Sliding your neck to your back. Pulling your body closer to his. A hand placed on your hip so tightly he's afraid you might disappear.

There's no rush, no haste in his touch. His mouth not eager to devour you.

He's slow. With his hands, his tongue. Even when he picks you up and walks to your bedroom with your legs around his waist.

He doesn't throw you on the bed.

Not this time.

He lays you down. His body laying on top of yours. His hand skimming along your bare thighs, but not daring to travel any higher.

But damn you needed him. You wanted love making, but if he didn't get inside you soon, you weren't sure you could let him go after this. You weren't sure you would be able to leave.

"Johnny," you whimpered, pulling away from his mouth. "Please." You took his hand, putting it between your thigh. Aching for any friction.

He obeyed without hesitation. If you told him to get on his bark, he would in that moment. Anything to make you happy. Anything to keep you.

"Got to get you out of this dress first." He resting on his knees before he began to slide the black satin from your thighs to your stomach. You maneuvered, helping him undress you leaving you in nothing.

"I thought you liked the dress." You couldn't help, but tease. Your hand finding its home on the back of his neck, pulling you to him once more.

In a tone lacking any note of humor and in all seriousness, he looked at you. Really looking at you. Taking in how your smile reached your beautiful eyes before he said, "I want you bare to me when I take you."

You felt your stomach flutter at his words before he began to take off his clothes.

He joined you again. His body relaxing when they got between your legs again. His mouth traveled from your exposed neck to your nipples. Sucking and flicking them with his tongue until your back arched. Pressing harder into his mouth.

Your hands tangled in his soft brown hair before you boldly guided him to your already dripping core. He slid down your body before his hands began to push your knees apart until you were fully expose to him.

With your knees bent, Johnny settled on his stomach, placing soft kisses on your soft inner thighs. God, did he love seeing you squirm. He smiled at your tortured expression before looking down at your sex. "There she is." He said before placing a kiss on your pussy.

It wasn't sloppy. He wasn't diving in and licking at your center like so many times before. He was kissing it just as tenderly as he kissed your mouth. Slowly building it deeper and deeper. Adding tongue. Breaking away to readjust his head.

The delicious ache between your thighs began to become to unbearable. "Need you inside me." You panted. "Johnny-"

"Shhh." He soothed. "Got to warm you up first , Bonnie." He said before slipping his finger inside of you. One was all it took before your head settled against the pillows again. When your body relaxed, he added another. He would need to add three to make sure you were good and ready.

His digits stroked that spongy spot inside of you that made your toes curl. "You're barely fitting around my fingers." Johnny was a good 6 inches in length, but the girth is what always did you in. It hurt to take anything past his head into your mouth. If you fucked him without any preparation, especially after a week of no sex, he would tear you into too.

His tongue caressed your clit, your eyes squeezing shut as you felt your first orgasm creeping up on you.

"Johnny." You moaned, your fingers running through his soft brown hair.

"Give it to me, beauty." He panted. "Come on my face. Squeeze my fingers, Lass." He begged before his mouth went back to you.

It was like lightning. Your body now sensitive after being forsaken for so long. Your vision blurred and before you could process it, Johnny was sitting on his haunches between your legs, stroking his cock.

You could only nod, dazed and barely keeping a grip onto the reality of what this was.

The end.

He leaned forward, his cock nestling against you. You knew this was going to be nothing compared to his fingers. "Tell me if I need to stop."

You smiled, mockingly. Reminding him, "Not our first time together, Johnny." just our last.

"You were wrapped tight around my fingers." He gave a half smile before kissing your forehead. The gesture like a knife twisting in your heart. "I just don't want to hurt you."

"I'm ready." You brought your legs around his waist again. Pulling him to you, your arms wrapping around his neck as your mouths meet.

He presses into you. The head of his cock sliding inside just one or two inches. You body contracting around him in a small spasm. He swallows your moan and lets you adjust. He pulls away before looking down where the two of you meet.

"I could die like this, Lass." He said, his breath coming out unsteady as he tries his best to control himself. So close to just burying himself inside of you to the fucking hilt. "Seeing you like this is this first thing I want to see when I make it to the other side." You let out a choked cry as he pushes deeper inside you. Another inch. And another. And another until you're taking all of him.

He slurs something that sound like "fuck", but you are in too much of a daze to care. You arch into him, trying to get closer.

His thrusts are slow and deep. His pubic bone brushing against your clit making you whine and squirm. Begging for more.

You're not sure how long he had fucked you like that.

You needed it to stop.

You couldn't handle it. The softness. His words.

I could die like this, Lass.

Your lip quivered as you told him you wanted to be on top. You needed a moment. A chance to create a bit of space before he shattered your world yet again.

He pulled out. His absence already making you ache for him again before he settled beside you.

You squatted above his cock. Your feet flat against the mattress as you grabbed his hardness and slipping it inside of you. The sound you let out was pornographic. A high pitched, soft moan slipping from your lips as he buried himself inside of you again.

You placed you hands on his chest. Using the leverage to ride him. Your arms serving as barrier for you to get your bearings.

You used his body just as he had used yours. Throwing your head back, you moved faster and faster. Readjusting so your hands went from his chest to his stomach, giving him a better view of your connecting bodies.

His hand slips between the two of you, thumb pressing against your clit, and you tighten even more around. A needy whimper coming out of your throat. The sound mixing in with the sounds of his labored breathing and slapping skin as he begins to fuck up into you.

Even though he had been doing all the work for the last several minutes, you felt the tension start to creep into your calf.

"Fuck fuck fuck." You screech, barely able to hold yourself up any longer. "Ow." You hissed as the cramp took hold.

"Leg cramp?" He asked, not even faltering in his thrusts. You pathetically nod before he takes it upon himself to flip you on your back again.

"I'm going to do this every chance I can." He promises, pressing a searing kiss onto your exposed neck. "Any chance you'll give me." You can't take it. His words, his mouth, his fucking cock. It's too much. "I'm going to show you how much I want you. How much I want to fucking worship ye. Do anything to make you feel good. Not going to leave you again like that, Bonnie."

You reach for him again, pull him into a searing kiss just to shut him up. You need him to shut up. You couldn't take his false promises. You wouldn't survive it. Couldn't.

"Shit." His thrusts quicken, his thumb returning to your swollen bud. Flicking it in a way he had crafted into an art. He buries his face into your neck and you know he's getting close.

You weren't too far behind.

He didn't want to come, not yet, but this was fully out of his control. It was pathetic. A week without sex and you had him nearly coming in the first ten minutes.

But that's what you want. To see him lost in the idea that you would stay.

"Johnny." You groan out. "Please. Cum inside me."

He draws fast, beautiful circles around your clit that immediately push you over the edge. You shut your eyes tight, squeezing him like a vice as you come in strong waves, continuing to push inside you.

in out in out in out.

Deliciously clenching around him tighter and tighter until he can't take it anymore.

"Fuck," he says again, and you see it in his face, and you see it in his face, the second it's all over for him. You want to sear the image in your head. Keep it there forever. Knowing you'll never see it again. The way those enchanting blue eyes squint nearly shut before closing in complete ecstacy.

His mouth would open. A moan caught in his throat that he isn't ready to let go.

His hand closes around your hip, holding you to him while he presses as far as he can go, and it's only then do you feel his cock twitch in quick, jerky movements. He moans out your name before taking your mouth into a searing kiss.

"I fucking love you." He says. "So fucking much."

He was still under the blanket when you returned from the bathroom. You picked up your clothes up from the floor. Looking at the clock realizing you had less than five minutes to get out the door before you would be late for dinner.

"What are you doing?" he asked. You couldn't look at him. Hearing the panic in his voice almost made you stop. Tell him it really was just dinner with a colleague. A woman. That you would be back. Beg him to wait until you came home.

"I can't cancel on the dinner." You said slipping your feet into your heels. "This was a mistake."

You weren't sure why you said it. You weren't sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself. If you wanted to hurt him or make him think you regretted it when you would truthfully do it again. You would do it again and again. You would never stop.

Like Johnny, you could have died in that moment, but for a completely different. Where he would be content, you would be saved from the pain. The pain currently coursing throughout your very soul.

"Lock the door behind you." You say as you practically sprint out the bedroom. Only slowing in your stride to snatch your purse off the kitchen counter before running out. The door slamming behind you.

The restaurant was nicer than you expected. The wine alone was the price of an entree. You didn't seem to be phased at all and were relieved when Renée insisted on picking up the bill.

Your dinner had been delicious and the conversation even better. Renée wrote fantasy romance and wanted to pick your brain about a Why Choose. You had nearly spent out the over priced wine you weren't even really enjoying. Oh the irony.

"It's like all the rage now, but it's hard to make more than one appealing as the love interest. You should have seen the Goodreads comments on my last book. So many people bitched about my FMC not ending up with a character who was quite literally her adopted brother."

"So," you took a breath trying to find the words. "I'm going to be honest. I only read your latest book and I loved Luka. But I can't compare him to other MMCs you've written about so I don't know if they are similar or different. But what I can say is that I'm seeing like this trend of MMCs where they are all this dark-haired, brooding or mysterious character who dislikes mostly everyone and is only soft for either a select few or only the FMC."

"I think if you are going to write a Why Choose you need to think of guys you wouldn't mind falling in love with." You couldn't help, but think of what drew you to your boys. "One could be the leader. Someone who isn't afraid to have his neck on the line. To make sure everyone else is taken care of and being strong enough to handle the stress of that. He would be big on words of affirmation. Lifting the FMC up. For me, it would be someone that I know will take care of business. He's confident in his decision. That confidence would extend to me." You clear your throat. "If I was the FMC, that is."

"Okay." She nodded, pulling out a pen and notepad. "You don't mind if I-"

"I don't write about polygamy." Crossed that bridge. Currently trying to burn it. "So feel free."

"Another could be the one who it's so easy to fall in love with their charm. The one who falls to his knees. Wanting to worship every inch of her. The one who makes her laugh. That one to make her forget about the sadness that creeps into her bones. The one to hold her whenever he could. He's about quality time and physical touch."

"So different love languages." She said, her pen quickly scribbling.

"Yeah." You said, leaning forward. "Then there is the gift giver." Your mind went to Gaz. Most of the gifts and trinkets in the box sitting by your door had came from him. He had gotten you new earbuds when yours broke. When you were being harassed at your gym, he had bought you and him a membership at a different one. "The one who would give her the world if she asked for it. If you're going with a high fantasy then maybe the one to take note of something at a market that the FMC had been eyeing and he bought it for her. Just someone who takes notice like that."

"So acts of service would fall with all of them then you think?"

No. Simon had been the one who probably spent the least amount of money on you. He didn't praise you like John. He didn't even try to attach himself at your hip like Johnny.

But if you needed something fixed, he would come fix it himself. He'd be damned letting a strange man into your apartment. And alone? Fucking forget about it. The one who hated any sort of cardio activity outside of fucking you, but didn't hesitate in attempting to keep up with you when you wanted to go on a run and get some fresh air. If you needed something done, he didn't pay someone else to do it. He did it. If you wanted to do something, he made it happen. He made you safe.

You couldn't bring yourself to say explain it. Your eyes begin to itch. Warning you to think of something else.

So instead you just told her yeah. That they would all commit acts of service. And even in your hypothetical explanation of characters that haven't even been written yet, Simon was still the ghost among them.

"Lucky fucking girl." Renée said setting down her pen.

"Yeah." You said, downing the rest of your wine.

You walked home. The cool crisp wind feeling like it was whipping your exposed skin. It was soothing as the ghost of Johnny's touch still seemed to burn you.

You had hoped that you would get some closure, but you just felt hollow. You came twice and still manage to leave unsatisfied. Johnny wasn't malicious... he was Johnny. He wasn't like the others. Simon would never apologize and John and Kyle wouldn't try to keep reaching out after you told them know once.

Johnny couldn't stand you being mad at him. He never could. He would beg and beg for your forgiveness. You didn't regret fucking him one last time. He needed to know that you were well and truly done. There was no going back from this.

"Hey, Love!" You were pulled from your thoughts at the sound of a voice coming from a source you couldn't see. You perked up, quickly scanning the dimly lit street before your eyes settled on a cluster of shadows just across the street. "Yeah." The slurring voice said again. "Talking to you gorgeous!"

You resumed your trek home. Now picking up your pace. "Don't be like that! Where ya off to?" The voice followed you. You kept your gaze straight. You were three minutes away. Three minutes and you would be at your building.

Three minutes.

Three minutes.

"What's the rush?" Another voice joined the cacophony. "Just want to have a chat."

You turned. They were maybe twenty feet away. You kept your eyes glued to them as your started to make a run for it.

You had made it about ten feet before your body collided with someone. Firm hands gripped your upper arms, steading you as you threatened to fall back.

You sucked in a breath of air, ready to scream when you looked up. It was too dark to make out the man's facial features. He was tall. His head eclipsing the street lamp just behind him. You shook beneath his hands. The voices behind you now silent.

"Keep walking." You didn't need to see his face. You knew that deep timber voice anywhere. He released you from his grip before letting you pass him.

"Just wanted to have a chat." You heard one of them try to reason. "No harm done."

"No harm done yet." Was the last thing you heard Simon say before you broke out into a full fledged run.

[somejazzinthemorning]

snapshot.

Carlos Sainz x Reader [Warnings: overuse of pet names because i'm a romantic, masturbation, mentions of sex. not beta-d so sorry for typos or mistakes ] - Word Count: 1K

you capture a candid photo of your boyfriend sleeping. little do you know, this innocent act sparks some ideas in his mind.

(i needed to do something after i saw him in boyfriend mode taking photos of his girl. hope this is a good way to make my comeback. soon i'll post about the little break I took. love you all. hope you enjoy) 🫶🏼

The morning sun pours its golden rays through the curtains. You wake up with its gentle kiss. The warm glow envelops you, seeming to prickling your naked skin. You find yourself nestled in its embrace, entangled in a sleepy haze, locked in the limbo between dreams and wakefulness.

You sigh as you open your eyes.

The gentle glow of the light dances around you, creating a peaceful ambiance that centers on the man lying next to you. Carlos. His head rests on the pillow; hair falling in disarray over his forehead.

Owning the image before you, your eyes don’t shy away from taking in the whole scene—the slightly parted lips, the shadow of his long eyebrows, the naked chest rising and falling with the rhythm of his slow breaths. There’s a serene vulnerability about him in that morning light, a beauty that begs to be immortalized.

And you know you can’t trust your mind for that. You can’t afford to have time tarnish it.

So you shift in bed and reach for the nightstand where your phone rests, and you aim the camera at Carlos. For a second, it seems a crime to so casually steal that image of beauty and serenity with something as mundane as a touch on a screen. Beauty like that deserves more effort.

Carlos stirs slightly, a fragment of a smile playing on his lips as he mumbles, with his eyes still closed,

“What are you doing?” There’s drowsiness in his voice, laced with a hint of amusement.

“Nothing,” you whisper softly. “You just looked so pretty.”

He smirks and runs his hands over his face. “I should feel violated,” he teases, extending his hands towards you, “My turn, now.”

Handing him the phone, you watch him. His gaze shifts to you with a different glint. You’re sitting on your knees in bed, the sheets around your legs, and nothing but your hair covering your chest. Reclining in bed, he points the camera at you. Instinctively, you cover your chest with your hands, the modesty you still hold translated into something similar to a pose.

Carlos lets out a soft groan. “No, no,” he protests, “you can’t hide those from me.”

“You want a photo of my boobs?”

“Sí, to have it as a keepsake in my wallet.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes and giggle at the sight of him. The sleepy eyes. The messy hair. The ridiculously overly feminine case on your iPhone that looks absurdly small in his big hairy hands. And all of this bathed in the soft glow of morning light and the memories of last night when you loved each other to sleep... God, you feel so lucky to have found this man.

Tilting your head to the photo, a faint smile grazes your lips as your gaze lingers on him, disregarding the phone pointing at you.

“The hair,” he directs.

This time, without even noticing, you were already obeying. You sweep your hair back, leaving the strands to cascade down your back. The soft sound of the clicks locks this moment into eternity. Looking down, you see the streaks of light cutting through your chest, drawing parallel lines over your naked bosom. You pass your fingers over it. Click. You take a deep breath and look in the direction of the light. Click. Your arms stretch over your head, in a casual stretch like you've done any morning, without a camera aiming at you. Click.

When you look back at your boyfriend, he’s smirking.

A mischievous twinkle awakens in his eyes. He’s enjoying this. Probably way more than you.

You let your fingers rest over your lips. Click. And then they hover over your jawline and your neck, which is still sore and probably painted with small hickeys. Click. Patiently, they glide over the curves of your chest with a fatherly touch, a tease enough to make your skin erupt into goosebumps. Before you dare to touch yourself, you look up.

“Do you like this?” His voice cuts the silence. And God, it’s so much deeper than before. “Tell me, love. Do you like having me here… watching you?” You nod. “Go ahead then. Play with them.”

You obey his command, gently pressing your fingertips against the buds on your chest and grazing over your nipples. Without realizing it, you squeeze your legs together. Carlos probably notices it because he moves in his place. When you look up, his hand is cradling his cock over the blanket. The power of his words and the sight of his hand on his cock are enough to make your breath hitch. You intensify your touch, tracing circles around your nipples, feeling them harden under your touch. Click. Your eyes never leave him as you continue to play with yourself, knowing you're putting on a show for him. The thought sends shivers down your spine and makes you wetter than before.

His hand doesn’t move too much, almost like he’s saving himself for you. You can see the tension building in him, the way his muscles are tense and his jaw clenched. It's a game of self-control, and you both know it.

"Spread your legs," he commands in a low voice. You obey without hesitation, spreading your legs wider and giving him a full view of your body. Click. "Fuck," he mutters through gritted teeth. "I want to be inside you."

The mattress shifts, and as you look in his direction, you can see him crawl towards you. His eyes are dark with desire, and there’s a hunger in his gaze that makes your heart race. Reaching for your chest, he kisses the spot your fingers are still pinching. He circles his tongue around your hard nipple, making you shiver, as if an electric current is flowing between the both of you. You arch into his touch, wanting more.

And then his teeth graze over your chest, ever so slightly, before he bites into it, making you gasp and whimper. The combination of pleasure and pain has you gripping the sheets tightly as he continues to tease and torment your sensitive nipples.

His hot breath is fanning over your face as he looks down at you, panting and begging for more. A smirk plays on his lips, knowing he has you right where he wants you. “Such a good girl,” he praises, before leaning in to kiss you again. This time, his tongue is demanding and forceful, exploring every inch of your mouth. You moan into the kiss, your hands reaching up to tangle in his hair as you desperately try to deepen the connection.

His fingers trail down from your chest to your stomach and then lower, slipping between your legs. The other hand keeps holding the phone, registering it. You take a couple of seconds to notice it, but you’re shaking. Burning.

“You’re so wet for me, baby,” he growls, before abruptly pulling away from you and returning to his seat. Arousal is dripping down your thighs as you watch him recline against the headboard. “Go ahead. Touch yourself.”

The memory of his lips and teeth seem to feed your body and arousal. You’re burning. The feeling of the sun on your skin only feeds that feeling. A warm tingling spreads through your chest and down to your core. You slide your fingers down. And God, you’re truly wet. You didn’t realize how hot this little game had turned you. You push your knees further apart, which earns a satisfied groan from your boyfriend.

"Do you want a photo of that too?" he asks.

You nod eagerly, feeling the heat radiating off your body. Without losing eye contact with him, you slide your fingers down to your throbbing center, spreading your folds and teasing yourself with light touches. His eyes are dark and intense as he watches you pleasure yourself under his gaze.

"Fuck," he groans, snapping another photo of your hand between your legs. You moan at the sound of his voice. "I love watching you, baby. You look so pretty."

Carlos repositions the phone to make you be right at the center. It’s a masterpiece. Your body fits perfectly within the frame of the phone. Your skin taken by the streaks of light, golden sunshine gilding your naked body almost like blessing the pleasure you're implying on yourself. You’d later learn that you looked unreal in those photos—something pulled out of a painting, shadows and light in perfect harmony. But in that moment, you just felt needy and desperate.

"Can I move?" You ask, your voice shaking with need.

"You can do what the fuck you want, baby," Carlos replies, his eyes never leaving you as he slides out of bed. You feel a surge of confidence and power as you take his spot, spreading your legs wide.

Your fingers slide over your wet lips, teasing yourself with light touches. Carlos sits at the end of the bed, watching intently. The sunlight streaming through the window catches on your juices and they sparkle in the light.

Your eyes meet his, and he nods encouragingly. You let out a breathy moan as you start to move your fingers in circles over your clit. The pleasure builds quickly within you, and you hear Carlos let out a low growl.

You slide two fingers inside of yourself, the wetness making it easy for them to slip in. You let out a loud moan around your fingers, imagining they're Carlos' instead. The thought of him filling you up makes your walls clench around your fingers.

You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, but you want Carlos with you. "Carlos," you cry out his name, hoping he'll join in and take over where your fingers are currently working.

But he doesn't move from his spot at the end of the bed. He continues to watch you with dark eyes, his hand still hovering over his erection but not touching it.

You can see the longing in his gaze and it only fuels your desire further. You want him desperately, to be taken by him until all sense is lost.

You call out to him again, pleading for his presence and touch. You long for him. His hand tightens around his erection as he struggles to hold onto control. Your eyes lock with his, and he lets out a small laugh of helplessness.

"Use your words, baby," he grunts. "Tell me what you want."

"Please, come here."

"Not yet."

"Can I?... Please? Can I cum?"

"Yes. Go ahead. Give in for me."

You comply, arching your back and pushing your hips forward. Your fingers glide in and out of your body at a rapid pace, your breaths becoming shallow and erratic. Carlos' gaze never wavers from you, and the sound of his gentle moans fills the room.

Climax is imminent.

You can feel it building, a searing warmth spreading through your veins, threatening to consume you completely. You know you're on the edge, but you want to prolong this moment, revel in the pleasure of it all.

When you open your eyes, he's standing by your side. The camera is focused on your face, but his eyes? His eyes are fixed on yours. All his attention is on you.

"I'm—," you gasp, meeting his gaze, your voice barely audible. “I'm so close.”

“I know, my love,” he whispers. Click. “Let yourself go for me.”

As the words leave his lips, you feel yourself start to unravel. Your body trembles with ecstasy as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. You let out a guttural moan, your fingers still working their magic on your slick folds. It hits you like a wave, stealing your breath and lifting you higher, as you cry out his name and arch your back, almost like being pulled towards him by an invisible force. The camera continues to click as your body convulses, capturing every bit of your ecstasy, your face twisting into a mix of pain and pleasure.

As you come down from your high, you're aware of Carlos moving around the room. The bed dips slightly, and then he's beside you, his hand reaching out to touch your sweat-damp skin.

“Can you take me now?,” your voice low. “Please?”

Had this one in my mind all day so I just needed to sit down and write it down before it would vanish. I know I've been MIA, but I see all the support you keep giving me. You're all incredible. Hope you enjoyed this one silly thing. As always, all feedback is appreciated. 🫶

[prettyflyforawhitelie]

Hazbin Hotel x Sick!Reader

A/N: Hey guys! I wanted to do some more x reader headcanons just because they’re so fun! I love the idea of the characters caring for you when you’re sick, it’s just so cute. I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Hazbin Hotel x Reader

Warnings: None (if you don't count tooth-rotting fluff) 

Characters: Alastor, Charlie, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Lucifer

🦌📻Alastor📻🦌:

Essentially hides you away in his room: wants more than anything to take care of you, but refuses to expose this “softer” side of him to anyone else. If anybody knew that you were the Radio Demon’s only weakness, not only would that put him in danger, but you as well.

Will prepare any food that your heart desires - his mother brought him up to be an excellent cook! His recommended feel-good food is his mother’s jambalaya, but you absolutely love when he makes etouffee!

If anybody dares to try and disturb your well-needed sleep, he broadcasts their screams to remind them just why the hotel has a radio tower… 

Will suggest that you take advantage of the bayou-side of his room for the fresh air, but of course will not force you to do anything against your complete comfort.

The best thing that he knows to do is what his mother did to him whenever he was sick: Sit in bed with him and tell him Creole folk tales. They always enamored him, and just the fact that he was allowing you to see this personal side of him made you feel better. 

At the end of the day, Alastor would take advantage of the beautiful setting that the dark bayou side of his room provided and conjure up a lovely scene of fireflies, all while softly playing his piano and singing his favorite songs to guide you to sleep (You are the only person he will let hear his singing). While Alastor may seem heartless from afar, you wouldn’t trade this demon for all of the money in the world.

🗝️😈Charlie😈🗝️:

Would definitely notice that you were sick before you did and insisted that you get plenty of bedrest. When you refused, insisting that you were ok, she would monitor you until you finally accepted that you were sick and let her take care of you. She would say, “I’m not saying I told you so, buuuuuut…”

Takes care of you to the point where some tasks of the hotel were neglected, but to be honest, it was a win-win for everyone in the hotel. She was happy that you were being taken care of, and everyone else was happy that they didn’t have to participate in trust exercises. 

She would crack open her book of the story of Hell - it always calms her down during an extermination, so hopefully it could calm you down as you try to sleep. 

If she absolutely had to leave the hotel to do/get something, she would most definitely buy a little keepsake and bring it back for you.

She would use her love for singing to lull you to sleep, singing sweet lullabies that her mother used to sing to her as a child.

You have to constantly remind her to take care of herself as well, as she will literally remain at your bedside, not caring to eat or sleep, until you get better. She often gets so caught up in caring for others that she forgets to care for herself! You tell her that it would genuinely make you feel better to see her taking care of herself as well.

🪽⚔️Vaggie⚔️🪽:

Gets more defensive over you than usual, which honestly scares everyone. Nobody wants to so much as speak to you wrong in fear of Vaggie literally attacking them. Having Vaggie around is the definition of scary dog privileges. 

She’s honestly extremely dramatic when it comes to you getting sick, which may seem ridiculous, but think about it: she was thrown away by her “family” in heaven, and now you’re the only person that she truly has. You confide in her, you allow her to let her guard down. If she lost you, she doesn’t know how she could even exist. So whether you have a cold or something more serious, she will automatically jump to the worst conclusions and get worried as Hell.

As tough as she seems, Vaggie loves to cuddle. She will literally lay in bed with you all day, not caring if she gets sick as well. You’re the only person that she can be vulnerable with, and if you have to be in bed all day, you better bet she’ll be right there next to you. 

Her love language is absolutely telling you about all the things that she would do to defend you. She will go into immense detail about the things that she would do for you, and you will always listen in awe. She has been through so much, and this is the only way that she knows how to express her true love for you. 

The last thing she wants is for somebody to feel abandoned in their struggle like she did when she fell from Heaven, especially you. She will make sure that you know how much you are valued and loved, not just by her, but by everyone at the hotel.

When you’re finally ready to get out of bed and start participating in hotel duties again, she monitors you the whole time to make sure that you’re not over-exerting yourself.

🕷️💖Angel Dust💖🕷️:

Is very upset and on edge - Valentino forces him to work everyday, no matter the circumstances, and not being at the hotel to care for you or at least watch over you makes him feel horrible. 

Basically forces you to sleep as much as you can, even better if it’s in his room so he can see that you’re okay immediately when he gets home.

Encourages you to cuddle with Fat Nuggets - he’s essentially a cute and cuddly heating pad. (He actually gives Fat Nuggets this adorable pep talk about how he needs to take good care of you while “dad” is at work)

He wholeheartedly believes in the power of comedy, so he essentially treats your bedrest as a stand-up comedy show for him to perform in order to make you laugh. He’ll tell stupid jokes, put together horrible dances, or even just hide in places and scare you in hopes that making you laugh will help you forget how bad you feel. 

Loves talking to you after work. You’re essentially the only person that he takes off his hypersexual mask around, and he knows that he can be himself around you, that you would never judge him. So, sometimes he will get home to find you already asleep and get in bed with you, holding you tight, whispering all of the things that he wanted to tell you about today, hoping that at least some of his words wiggle their way into your dreams. 

Loves sappy rom com movies and will 100% force you to watch them with him. He claims it’s because the “good vibes” of the romance will make you feel better, but to be honest, he just wants someone to watch his dumb movies with.

♦️🥃Husk🥃♥️:

Will blame himself for your sickness, claiming that he shouldn’t have let you drink so much over the past couple of days (He literally cannot comprehend the idea that people can be sick NOT from being hungover lol).

When you insist that it’s not his fault, he’ll ease up. He’ll use some of his bartending skills to make some sort of juice mocktail for you and will definitely sneak in some vitamin C to heal you faster.

Everyone - specifically Angel - will wonder why the fuck the bar hasn’t been stocked in days (It’s because Husk has been chilling in bed/taking care of you nonstop).

This is the only time that he will completely surrender to the idea of being one big stuffed animal to cuddle with. I mean, he’s warm, soft, and he purrs! What’s more therapeutic than that?

This is also a great time to get uninterrupted talking time with Husk. He’s a great listener, so you’ve always opened up to him, but it took him a while to open up to you too. He had told you that you were one of the only people that he trusted enough to confide in, but always seemed to air on the side of caution when sharing his personal struggles because it always seemed that someone would just pop up at the bar asking for a drink whenever it happened. This was one of the few times that the two of you could be completely open and vulnerable with each other without the risk of outside judgment. 

Given the fact that he was such a gambler, Husk has a knack for all sorts of card games. If you get too bored, just give him a deck of cards and the possibilities for entertainment are endless. Want him to teach you how to play poker or rummy? Done. Want him to embarrass himself while he tries to relearn some card tricks that he used to flaunt? Done and done.

🐍⚙️Sir Pentious⚙️🐍:

The second you told him you were sick, he would waste no time in finding one of his many inventions that could help you in some way. He definitely has some complex medical screening device hidden somewhere that he could use… he just has to remember where he put it. 

If you complain about being sore, he will insist that you snuggle up next to him. Because he’s a cold-blooded reptile, his body is one big ice pack! On the other end, if you feel yourself coming down with some feverish chills, he has you covered! His bedroom ceiling is essentially one huge heat lamp, so feel free to chill under there, too!

Has assigned himself as your personal nurse and will provide anything that your heart desires. If it for some reason cannot be found within the hotel, he will travel to any ring of Hell necessary to make sure that you are well taken care of. This man is DETERMINED.

You can tell that he’s taking this seriously because he actually neglects his “evil duties” for a couple of days. The airship isn’t even mentioned until you heal (unless, of course, you feel that taking a ride on the airship would make you feel better. Then, of course he will set it up for you!).

Despite literally voicing his complete and utter devotion to your every flight of fancy, this man is still as awkward as ever. He will still struggle to ask you if you want to cuddle, quite literally fluttering around the subject until you bring it up for him. 

At the end of the day, though, Sir Pentious is probably the sweetest sinner you could’ve ended up with as your caretaker. He may be awkward, but boy, does he love you!

👹👼Lucifer👼👹:

While you are resting in bed, he will conjure up the most delightful images of anything you request (his favorite, though, is a group of ducklings waddling through a golden lake together 🫶)

Being the King of Hell, he has so many interesting stories to tell you if you’re willing to listen. He will gladly tell you stories as you lay in bed with him, slowly lulling you to sleep. (His daughter clearly got her love of storytelling from him).

He loves that you trust him enough to let him take care of you - he doesn’t often have people around, let alone people that he truly loves. Just your presence in his room truly fills him with so much joy.

He didn’t want to annoy you with his ramblings about his many rubber ducks so he was ecstatic when you asked him to give you a tour of all of them. This man was telling you each and every duck’s name, backstory, etc. and honestly, it was adorable. When he quickly glazed over one of the ducks anxiously, you asked why. He then shyly revealed that it was, in fact, a rubber duck that looked just like you. 

His love language is definitely gift-giving. This rubber duck would lead to him showing the many, MANY gifts he has created for you in his free time. He always has a ton of downtime, so making gifts for people is his favorite hobby. These gifts include, but aren’t limited to: various duck items, binded storybooks, music boxes, paintings, etc. This man is TALENTED, to say the least. He just hopes that looking at these will distract you enough from being sick. 

Also, his room is by far the comfiest to sleep in while you’re sick… the mood lighting that is naturally provided from his glowing light shows is simply unmatched.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Gorefest.

Pairing: Yandere!Gojo x Reader (Jujutsu Kaisen).

Word Count: 1.3k.

TW: Gore, Blood, Major Character Death (Reader Is Fine), Implied Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Touching, Prolonged Stalking, and Delusional Behavior.

You found his latest gift on your doorstep.

It was a heart, this time – deflated but otherwise fully intact, blue viens still visible against pink flesh. A small puddle of blood and other gelatinous viscera surrounded it, but you ignored that in favor of wrapping the disembodied organ in your cardigan and unlocking the door to your apartment, too exhausted to fumble with your keys and too worn down to pretend you still thought you could get away from him on your own. His present was dropped into the ever-bubbling vat of crimson slurry you used to boil down his gifts until they’d been reduced to a less incriminating state, your shoes kicked off and left by the door. You didn’t bother turning on any lights. You were home, but you didn’t want to let yourself acknowledge that until he was gone.

You found Gojo in his usual spot; on the floor of your bedroom, his hands still stained red and one of your threadbare sleepshirts crumpled at his side, the dark material stained with something white and awful. That made two articles of clothing ruined, tonight. A few months ago, when the most he ever brought you was a half-beaten bouquet of roses and a list of questions for the strange man whose favorite place in the world seemed to be your living room, you would’ve been tempted to demand that he pay for the damages. You’d learned better than to imply you wanted anything from him, since then.

He was lying on his side, toying with something large and vaguely circular, his grin that of a cat dropping a slaughtered mouse at its owner’s feet. He was surrounded by more of his ‘presents’ – the disembodied organs of whatever poor criminal or curse user he’d taken it upon himself to dissect. You were glad you’d kept the lights off. You could see the outline of small intestine strung along the walls, assorted gore left in carefully considered piles wherever Gojo deemed it necessary. It’d take hours to clean up, after he left. Demanding that he help would only give him the impression that you wanted to spend time with him, and you weren’t going to make that mistake twice.

You moved to speak, but as always, he just had to be the center of attention. It was like he couldn’t imagine a world where you might’ve done anything but focus on him. “Welcome home,” he half-sung, pushing himself up and pulling his oblong, mishappen keepsake into his lap. “Do you want to start with dinner, or should I run you a hot bath? Or, if you want, you could always have a little of me—”

“Shut the fuck up.” And then, pointing in the general direction of your front door, “Get out.”

“So cold, babe. And after I went through all that trouble to set this up.” The coppery stench was starting to get to you. You could only pray the neighbors wouldn’t notice, or that you’d be able to think of a feasible enough excuse by the time they did. “I got hurt for you, too.” He held up a hand, gesturing towards the faintest, shallowest cut on his cheek. “Aren’t you going to dote on me? You know, like you used to – after you found me in that alley and bandaged my wounds. What was the first thing you said to me? That I was too pretty to bleed to death alone?”

You didn’t encourage him with a response, only crossing your arms over your chest and deepening your scowl. “Get out,” you repeated. “I don’t want you here.”

His grin only broadened. “If you keep saying things like that, I might start to think you’re trying to get me to leave.” Exasperation bled into your agitated expression, and Gojo let out a bark of a laugh. “Look, I know you like to play shy, but I’d really like it if we could use tonight for us. We could watch a movie, or—”

You let out a frustrated groan, dragging your hands over your face. “You know what? Fine. If you want to be here so badly, then stay.” You shut your eyes, standing a little taller. “I’m getting out of here.”

“Running off to spend the night with another man? Ah, what a cold-hearted temptress I’ve fallen for.”

“Oh, I’m going to do more than just spend the night with him.” You really should’ve shut your mouth. You should’ve bitten your tongue, swallowed your pride, refused to tell him anything save for the fact that you weren’t going to stay here any longer. But, the blood in the air was getting to you and you could still feel the cold flesh of the heart against your palm and you needed to get away, and you needed Gojo to know you were never coming back. “I met someone – a sorcerer. He knows you’ve been stalking me, and he offered to help.” You flashed him a grin, almost as awful as his own. “His name is Nanami, and he’s strong enough to keep me safe from people like you.”

You waited for him to laugh, to say he didn’t believe you, or better yet, to get angry, to feel a fraction of the dread and the rage he’d forced onto you. When he didn’t say anything, didn’t scream or yell or gloat, you opened your eyes. He was still staring, but his smile was softer, his eyes half-lidded in a way that could only mean something bad. “Oh, baby,” he started, his voice dripping with faux sympathy. “Whose heart do you think I went through so much trouble to bring you?”

A pebble threatening to slip off of its cliffside; two ends of a torn wire, a hair’s width away from connecting. Whatever he was trying to tell you, you just couldn’t seem to process it. “What?”

“Right. I’m sorry, sweetheart – that’s on me,” Gojo chuckled. “You were always more of a visual learner.”

The object in his lap was taken up and rolled towards you, coming to a teetering stop at your feet, where the residual light from the hall could illuminate it properly. In a daze, you dropped your gaze to it, allowed yourself to recognize blonde hair, razor-sharp cheekbones, and glassy brown eyes staring lifelessly back at you. There was a dark bruise on his jawline, paled by blood loss, and the mangled stump that used to be his neck was encircled by ragged flesh, as if it’d been torn from his shoulders. Despite everything, his mouth was closed, lips still pressed into a thin frown. As if he didn’t have time to so much as scream before Gojo got to him.

You must’ve passed out. One second, you were staring down at the disembodied head of your savior, and the next, you were on the floor, lying limp and breathless as Nanami’s blood formed a puddle underneath you. Gojo was already at your side, hauling you up and against his chest. You felt his arms around you, then plush of your mattress against your back. You were aware, distantly, that he was straddling you, that his mouth was pressing into the dip of your shoulder, then the curve of your throat. “It’s alright,” he muttered, his voice partially muttered by his closeness. “Why don’t you come stay with me for a while, after this? I’ve got a room ready for you back at my place and everything.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Straightening his back, he let his lips crash into yours – his kiss lingering and deep and filthy. By the time he pulled away, he’d drunk the air from your lungs and frozen the blood in your veins, leaving you as empty and as lifeless as one of his gifts.

You thought, idly, of the heart being reduced to viscera in your kitchen, and wondered if you should’ve held onto it for just a few minutes longer.

“I’ll be able to spoil you properly, once I’ve got you where you’re supposed to be.”

[meimei-archives]

KEEPSAKE PT2!:: rafe cameron

WARNING! :: marking, oral (m & f), fingering, slight rejection, teasing, sexual tension, dirty talk, cum eating, unprotected sex, choking, 80's au! (Mostly fluff)

SUMMARY! :: after a harsh rejection Rafe wants to prove that he is completely over his ex.

PT1

It had officially been around 2 weeks since you went on that date with Rafe, and ever since he's been sending you flowers to your doorstep, ignoring any other girl in his line of sight when your around, calling you as soon as he comes home from a day of meetings with his father telling you about his day and asking about yours.

You could tell Rafe was desperate for a second date, and at first you weren't convinced he truly had the intention of going on a well spent date and he just wanted sex, but when the date offers became less and less intimate and sounding more fun you caved.

Just the night before he called you at the same time asking about your day and if you were free the next day. It felt like a scene in sixteen candles, sitting on your bed with your desk lamp twirling the yellow cord to your landline that sat beside your bed on your finger as he talked. You couldn't break the small smile as you hear him stutter over his words to ask you if you would go out with him on a date.

"Better than last time. I promise" he said, and that's when you knew he was serious. He humbled himself after you gave him your panties on your doorstep and sent him off in his shiny red car back home deflated by the slight rejection. He really wanted to be clear that not one girl in outer banks had his attention like you did. Not Sofia, or Kiara, or Ruthie. None of them can hold a candle to you.

Something about you just screamed you were different than any other girl he's been with, any other girl would be calling him back for a second date but instead he's the one calling and chasing after you like a lost puppy. And when you finally accepted his offer he almost jumped with joy as he told you with the biggest lopsided smile that he'd pick you up at 7 after a meeting and hung up the phone too giddy to even continue a conversation.

When you hear the doorbell ring you give yourself the final touches, straightening out your skirt and checking your makeup, you make it to your front door with a grin as you open the door to greet the tall blonde haired boy who held a bouquet of flowers wrapped in a reflective cellophane.

"I got you flowers, I didn't know what your favorite kind were so I just got what reminded me of you" he says as he smiles handing them over to you. Your grin grew wide as you looked down at them "you're already taking me on a date, you didn't have to get me flowers Cameron" you say teasingly as you press the flowers to your nose taking in the smell.

"I like them" you say as you place in a vase that had been sitting in your foyer along with other flowers your mom most likely set out and watered every morning. "If you're ready we can head over to the carnival, I'm pretty sure at this time it's more lively" he says with a smile holding out his hand to you gently.

Taking it you felt how soft yet sweaty his palm was. You could only assume he was nervous, this was his second chance to get to know you better than your last date which was an absolute shit show to say the least. Guiding you to the passenger side door he opens the door and waits until you're seated perfectly in his leather seats before he closes the door.

Putting on your seatbelt you could hear the faint sound of music playing which makes you hum along to the upbeat song. The yellow and orange tones of the sun as it was beginning to set makes you feel warm as you look out the window into your neighborhood as he pulls out of your gravel driveway and onto the streets into the direction of the carnival.

"I feel like on our last date I didn't let you talk enough... so I'll give you the floor" he says with a small grin, eyes flickering from the road to you. "Well isn't that just the sweetest thing?" You tease him with a small laugh earning a chuckle out of him.

On the way there you and Rafe kept the conversation going, you both talked about your taste in music and even fought over which songs on the radio were bad and laughed about how Rafe had caught two kids in the movie theater after hours while he was cleaning up and was scared half to death. The car ride was so chaotic that Rafe almost drove past the entrance to get in. And when you made it to the parking lot of a packed Carnival you knew this date would be fun.

The both of you get out of the car and walk into the crowds of people, keeping close you could feel Rafe's large hand on your lower back as the both of you point and look around for things you want to do.

"How about we get on a rollercoaster first do we know what we're dealing with yeah?" He asks as he tears his eyes from the large ride that was spinning and carrying kids of all ages screaming their heads off. "Yeah, that sounds like fun" you smile up at him, pointing in the direction of the big ride.

"You wanna get on this ride? I mean if you're scared or anything we can get on something else" he says as you both walk closer "I'm sure" you nod with a smile on your lips watching as kids spill from the exit gate looking pale and sick.

"Really? Like you're 100% sure?" He asks his voice going up in pitch making you laugh "Rafe if you're scared to ride it then you don't have to get on it with me" you said laughing it up.

He scoffs as he straightens his posture "I'm not a kid y/n I can handle some stupid 5-minute ride that spins" he rolls his eyes dramatically making you smile "if you say so. But if you throw up on this ride I think we can get on the kiddy rides" you say with a big smile that has your eyes almost closing which has his heart fluttering.

"Whatever. But just know, I won't because I'm a man and I can handle a stupid ride" he says once again making you shake your head as the ride conductor opens the gate letting people on the ride and taking their tickets.

And as the two of you got on you see that only a few spots were left the both of you right beside each other as you press your backs to the cold rusting metal you push the bar below your waist close and grip onto the handles. "Is this safe? I mean there are no straps or anything" he says from beside you as he grips the metal bars that seemed to be chipping away.

"We'll be moving too fast to even move Rafe. Besides they have a bar holding down our waists, we're gonna be fine. And- if you want you can hold my hand until it's over" you say as you watch the worker close the gate to the ride taking the safety precautions before going into the control booth.

"I'm only taking your hand because you'll probably be scared. I don't need to hold your hand like a kid" he says scoffing as he repeatedly tries to put up a brave front while he is practically screaming from the inside. His large hand grips yours over the bar, turning his head to see you already looking at him with a fond smile.

"What?" He asks with a soft smile "you're scared" you coo making his jaw slack as he's ready to defend himself which makes you smile even wider as the dramatic and intense music of the ride plays and small lights flash. "It's about to start! Aren't you excited?!" You ask almost jumping with joy to see the nauseous look on his face.

"Sure" he nods as he closes his eyes and lets his head fall back. He was stressed out and the ride hadn't even moved yet. His grip on your hand becomes tighter once he feels the ride begin to slowly move and he can hear the old gears and screws sputter. "Oh god" he whispers to himself.

He feels his heart flip at the sound of your screaming and laughing, and when he opens his eyes he can't help but smile and laugh at your wide eyes while the wind blows your hair wildly the yellow bright lights from the carnival rides around you lighting up your face. He laughs as he sees your head toss back in sheer delight, he realized the ride wasn't so bad after all.

And when it was over he was dizzy and lovesick. And as the both of you walk out of the small exit gate you stop eyeing all of the stands and trucks with food and games. "Why don't we get some cotton candy? Play a few games and then get something to eat before we go?" Ge asks, looking down at you.

Nodding at his proposal you look up at him "I heard fair cotton candy tastes like a cavity waiting to happen" you laugh as you think about the time your mom told you she hated the taste of cotton candy. "What?! Who said that? Because cotton candy tastes the best when it's from a fair" he explains in shock.

"My mom. She doesn't like it so I just never ate it because I assumed it was gross" you scrunch your nose making his eyes widen at your words. "Oh, you're serious?!" He asks as he looks around for the cotton candy stand.

"You've never gotten candy? Like ever in your life?" He asks in utter shock. "No, never. What's so wrong with that?!" You laugh at him who was completely mind blown at the little fact he just learned about you. "You're just missing out is all I'm saying" he shrugs holding his hands up which makes you laugh harder.

"Okay... so why don't you give me the first-time experience of eating cotton candy" you smile up at him. "It's gonna blow your mind I swear," he says while he grabs your hand softly and unconsciously as he pulls you along the crowd of kids, teens, and parents who're most likely emptying their pockets on food and games.

As the both of you near a man dressed obnoxiously you clench your hand in Rafe's as you cringe. "Do you want pink or blue?" He asks quietly as the both of you near the man working the machine with a pack of long white paper sticks in hand.

"What do you usually get?" You ask, looking at the man before flickering your eyes to Rafe. "I mean I get blue, it tastes really good" he nods as he pulls his wallet out of his back pocket seemingly dropping your hand to your dismay. "Then I'll get blue" you nod watching as he pulls a crisp $5 out of his wallet.

"Cool," he says as he walks to the man politely asking for two sticks of blue cotton candy. You stand back in awe as he laughs at the man's words you can't seem to catch. But when he nods his head towards you, you can't help but feel a tinge in your stomach.

"Is that your girlfriend over there waiting for you?" The man asks as he swivels the paper cone around the spun sugar forming into a neat ball of fluff in a pastel blue color. "Ah, no. We're here on a date. And I'm hoping that if it goes well I'll eventually get to ask her to be" he explains with a bittersweet smile. "I remember when I was young and I asked my wife on dates like these" he sighs as he reminisced.

"How long have you been married?" He asks with raised brows "15 years, but we've been together for 18" he nods as he hands off the come to his going to make another one. "That's cool" he smiled as he can imagine the couple being his age walking around like him and you.

"Here you are! I hope your date goes well" he smiled at Rafe, making him nod as he handed off his money and turned on his heel to see you looking at him with narrow eyes. As he comes closer he sees you reach your hand out to him making him smile, you genuinely seemed excited to eat.

Handing you the sweet confection he could see the way your eyes sparkled "let's go sit down and eat these before we go running around yeah?" He looks at you. "Mhm," you hum as you look for a nearby vacant bench.

And as the both of you sit down you eye the cotton candy suspiciously and then look over at Rafe who had paused to watch your reaction. "Well? Why are you just looking at it?" He laughed, "try it. I promise it's not gonna bite you," he says, shaking his head with a huge smile.

"What if I don't like it?" You ask with a small pout "then we'll throw it away" he answers with a shrug "but then that would have been a waste of money" you answer back making him sigh. "It's not about the money y/n it's about the experience. And if you don't like it we'll throw it away, or I can eat it" he reasons with you. "Okay" you mumbled as you sniffed the candy, almost surprised at how sweet it smelled.

Excitedly you take a small bite out of it and in almost an instant you feel it dissolve making you hum and chew before swallowing it. "Did you like it?" He asks tilting his head to meet your gaze, only to see your pupils were blown out and a small smile on your face. "I love it" you whisper which makes him chuckle.

You look like a kid whose parents bought them their favorite ice cream. "I knew you would," he says fondly as he takes a bite out of his. As the both of you talk and look amongst the crowd you see 2 kids smiling and laughing and you couldn't help but smile at the sight.

"What are you smiling about?" He asks looking around to see if anything, in particular, would catch his eye. "Those two kids. Over there, they're so cute" you point over at the two twin boys as they stood in front of the fish bowl game tossing rings hoping they could get a pet fish.

"Really? You like kids?" He asks his smile softly as he learns another thing about you "I wouldn't say I like them, I just sometimes enjoy how adorable they can be" you shrug pretending that you had no idea what he was talking about. "Yeah?" He asks as his eyes flicker between you and the young boys.

"Yeah," you say back, and out of the corner of your eye you watch him stand up from the bench which makes your brows shoot up "what are you doing?" You ask with a nervous smile. "I'll be back, just stay here," he says, handing you his cone with only a bit of cotton candy left on it.

Your eyes follow him as he walks away, it wasn't until you saw him tap one of the boys asking if he could help them win a fish that you realized his plan. You were smiling so big as you saw the two boys celebrating the fact that Rafe had tossed the last few rings, making them on the rim of the bowls that contained fake plastic fish inside.

Smiling and celebrating with them, the small boys were practically shining as the guy running the stand gave a bag with a little orange fish inside that had the boys looking up at Rafe smiling and thanking him. Only brushing them off with a smile and a "no problem" before walking back over to you and sitting back down.

"You're sweet" you mumbled to him as you bite off the last chunk you can on your cone and tossed it into the trash can next to the bench. "They needed help," he shrugged with a grin. "Whatever." You roll your eyes sarcastically "hurry up and finish so we can play that game with the water guns" you say practically bouncing to play the game.

And when he scarfs down the rest the both of you were almost skipping to get into the short line and play. "I bet that I can beat you no problem" Rafe teased "what?! absolutely not. We had gym together our sophomore year and you sucked at dodgeball because your aim was shit" you scoffed making him open his mouth to defend himself but he couldn't.

"Okay, that's fair. How about the next game we play with the balloons and darts. Since your aim is so good how about we bet whoever wins gets what they want" he says sternly looking down at you. "Fine. If I win you have to buy me a cherry slushie" he nods "okay that's fine" he plays it cool with his words.

"And if you win?" You ask looking up at him curiously as to what he could be thinking of if he has to win. "If I win, I get a kiss" he teased, which makes you laugh and shake your head. The both of you saw how you were next in line and could see all the stuffed animals were hung up and you were eyeing the big pink teddy bear.

Rafe caught whim of it as you both sat on the stools in front of the booth. The woman behind the booth smiles as she states the rules, counting down the both of you hearing the ring that urges you to start. And just as you presumed your aim was really good, hitting the target you saw the balloon over the top of it filling up with water.

Rafe shouts as he struggles to aim the water where he needs, making you laugh as his balloon is barely filled with water. "If you want I can help you," you say loudly over the noises of people around you. "I can still win, I don't need your help" he sassed you which makes you giggle at his stubbornness.

When your balloon popped and a loud ringing sound to determine you had won made Rafe laugh at how you shot out of your chair shouting in celebration. "I told you I'd win," you say as you pat his shoulders "whatever, I just let you win because you were so excited" he drags out his words as he rolls his eyes dramatically.

"Just admit you have shit aim, and I beat you fair and square," you say as you arch a brow at him he only shakes his head "we'll just have to see after this when I beat you at the next game," he says with a casual shrug only making you shake your head. You turn towards the woman at the stand smiling at your bickering.

"Choose whatever stuffed animal you want," she says as she points a wooden staff at the toys hung up along a small wire. "The big penguin" you smile as you point to it with shimmering eyes which makes Rafe's brows furrow as he remembers you looking at the teddy bear.

The woman handing it off to you as Rafe pays, you see him turn to look at you "I won you this" you hold it out for him to take wide eyes peering up at him for a reaction. "What? It's your prize, why don't you just keep it?" He asks, shaking his head "because it reminded me of you so I wanted to give it to you" you smile. Most girls remember guys when they win them stuffed animals, but you- you won Rafe a stuffed animal and he'd cherish it with his whole heart.

"You didn't have to. I saw you looking at the teddy bear, so I thought you'd get it for yourself" he says as he gently takes the plushie from your hands holding it to his chest and squeezing it. "I felt bad, you've paid for everything we've done today. I just thought this was the least I could do" you say softly making him practically melt.

Everything about you made Rafe feel fuzzy. How your eyes crinkle when you laugh, how you had birthmarks and moles littering your pretty skin, how you looked breathtaking underneath the colorful lights all over the place, even after you got on a ride your hair tousled and you didn't even bother to fix it because regardless you still looked good.

"Earth to Rafe... are we gonna play the next game or not?" You laughed as you watched him sit in silence and stare blankly at you for a moment. "Yeah- yeah we can.. go now" he sputters over his words nodding as he pulls himself out of his small lovesick daze.

"You know, I've never played darts before so you might have an advantage over this game," you say as you both settle on walking towards the game that had been set up with balloons. "Don't forget our bet. If I win I get a kiss" he teased and you only roll your eyes "yeah and if I win I get a slushie" you say as you both walk to the wooden counter to set up Rafe handing him 20 dollars.

"You just aim for the balloons and whoever pops the most or pops all the balloons before the other wins" which sounded easy to you. But when she had announced that the game had begun Rafe lifted a dart up aiming straight for a balloon and popping it. You watched and did the same only seeing as it had missed.

You both were giggling like kids forgetting completely about the stupid little bet the both of you had arranged. When you guys had gotten more darts you could feel frustration bubbling in your chest as you feel yourself becoming more competitive.

You hadn't realized how passive you began to toss the darts until you had seen Rafe disappear from your line of sight which makes you turn your head in hopes that you would be able to find him if you looked fully. But when you feel a hand on your forearm and a hard chest pressed against your back making your breath hitch.

"Relax, lift your arm and aim at the balloon you want" he says slowly, your breath caught in your throat. The warmth of his hand around your wrist as he straightens it has your head spinning. "Try it" he huffs, the feeling of his warm breath on the back of your neck makes you slightly shiver while you attempt to gather yourself to aim the dart at the balloon.

One of his hands drifting to your waist holding you, honestly if he hadn't on time you would've most likely collapsed from how weak in the knees he had made you. Taking in a deep breath as you feel his hand tighten on your waist, your grip on the dart tightens, you look at a balloon that still hasn't popped.

Slightly bending your arm back you slightly jump forward letting go of the dart hearing the loud pop bringing you back to your senses you smile and turn on your heel with a smile on your lips "I did it" you almost squeal as you wrap your arms around his torso.

Rafe could only smile at the giddy feeling bubbling inside his stomach practically flipping while he wraps his arms around you "that's good, but I still need to beat you" he teased as he pulled away wishing that it would last longer. Scoffing "if you wanted to win so badly you shouldn't have taught me how to do better" he said, pulling away and turning back to the game.

The game continued on for around 5 minutes with Rafe winning with a cocky smirk on his lip as he tossed a few teasing comments at you. "Looks like you won, and didn't cheat... I guess" you say, rolling your eyes sarcastically. "Yeah, let's go to get you your slushy and then I'll take you home" he said, pulling you to his side with his hand resting on your hip.

Your brows furrowed as he completely pushed aside the fact that he had bet on a kiss. Maybe he forgot. That's what you kept telling yourself at least. He didn't let go of your hip when he ordered for you and paid, but on the way back to the car he was smiling and talking.

Maybe he just didn't want to kiss you. This date was completely different from your last one, he wasn't trying so hard to impress you, he was actually letting you talk about yourself and was just all around being a good date. You just couldn't help but feel a tinge in your stomach that told you that he didn't want to kiss you.

But as you sit in the car you hold the small penguin and rub your hand against the faux fur in sheer silence as the radio plays low. Rafe's eyes on the road while his fingers tap in a rhythm against the leather steering wheel. Your eyes train on the street lights that whip past the car window in orange blur's.

When he pulled into your gravel filled driveway you realized you rarely wanted the night to end. Even if Rafe didn't want to kiss you, he still treated you well on your date proving that whatever stupid front he put on when he took you on your first one but he was nothing like before.

Opening his door first Rafe walks to the passenger side and opens the door for you, holding out his hand you take it giving him a sweet smile mumbling your gratitude to him only earning him a hum. He doesn't let go of your hand, but he shuts the door behind you as you begin to slowly walk towards your familiar front door.

Suddenly it all came rushing back to Rafe, your last date was sort of shit show and he regrets treating you like every other girl he had gone on dates with in the past. It was the simple fact that none of those other girls were like you, they wouldn't dare reject him for a second date.

None of them would be bold enough to even take their panties off on their doorstep and stuff them in his pocket. Hell Rafe couldn't even remember the other girls before you, because every detail from; how you've never eaten cotton candy, to liking scary carnival rides took up all the space in his brain.

That's why he didn't kiss you. And as the both of you walk up the steps to your front porch you stand under the dim orange-ish light with a smile on your lips. "I had a lot of fun today, this tops our last date for sure" you said smiling

Rafe nods agreeing, taking a deep breath "I'm glad it's nothing like our last date to be honest with you" he sighed. You tilt your head at his words "how come?" You ask "because today was really great, I liked that you got to talk about yourself and it wasn't just me talking about myself" he scoffed which makes you huff out a small giggle.

"How come?" You say you look into his eyes only to see him already looking at you. "Learning all these things about you made me cherish the time we had. You even won me a penguin, I don't think any future date will top this one. And I don't think I want to go on any future dates with... anyone else but you" he says as his words become more quiet with each passing word that comes out before he can even think.

You smile at him and your eyes soften at the confession. "I don't think I want to go on any more dates with anyone else but you either. But I'm just curious about something" you return his feelings and it makes his heart soar within the confinements of his chest. "Hm?" He looks at you with a curious gaze trying to fight the smile on his lips.

"Why didn't you kiss me?" You ask quietly, your eyes trail to your beat up shoes getting a bit of dirt on them from walking about the carnival for so long. "Oh, I didn't want things to end up like last time. I didn't want to seem like I was only doing this to get into your pants. Maybe that was the initiative the last time I was here but the more I called you and we talked the more I realized that I didn't just want sex with you" he says hoping you'd look at him and see how genuine he was.

"And I know you think I still want to be with Sofia, but I don't. I really don't. Because you, you were a wake up call to move on. The way you rejected me so many times, you didn't hesitate to humble me, you broke my stupid facade. All of that playboy act was bullshit. Sofia broke my heart and I didn't know what to do so I just slept around until I finally met my match" he says the words coming from his mouth were coming out a mile a minute but you understood.

He was being genuine and you could tell by the sound of his passionate voice. "And I really need you to believe me" he whispers as he takes a step closer to you. When you finally looked to meet his gaze you failed to realize that the gap between you was barely a thing. "I do, I believe you. And although I wasn't really set on going to this date because of our last one I realized that I couldn't really blame. You have your faults and you learned your lesson. I really do like you Rafe, and I thought that when you won the bet you were going to kiss me and then you didn't. I thought this was all just payback and that you were going to tell me to never talk to you again" you laughed breathily.

Rafe could feel it on his skin as the cold air nipped at his pale skin. "You wanted me to kiss you?" He asks his voice just barely above a whisper, you nod with a smile "I was waiting all night for you to do it" you answered back. And it didn't take much for Rafe to cup your jaw, his warm breath ghosting over your face bringing warmth to your body covered in goosebumps for the cold night air.

His nose brushing against yours has your eyes fluttering shut anticipating the warmth of his lips on yours he leans closer, hesitation dripping all over him. You lean in as well, your stomach felt like you had been riding a roller coaster over and over again and the closer you moved together you could feel his warm breath on your lips which makes you feel like you're at the tipping point of the ride and you're about to hit the drop.

Your eyes flutter closed and you both pull together like two magnets as your lips catch each other's softness. You suck in a small breath through your nose as your lips move in a rhythm. Your hands find their way to the nape of his neck letting your fingers entangle in his blonde hair .

His hand touches your hip giving it a small squeeze, his tongue licks a small stripe against your bottom lip making your part your lips, you brush your tongue against his shyly feeling his warm wet tongue against yours.

Letting out a small groan, Rafe's hand makes way to the belt loop of your jeans, hooking two fingers inside and pulling your hips closer against his. Your chest pressed against his sent him into a small daze.

His tongue now licking a stripe on your bottom lip begging for access, parting your lips, his tongue immediately brushing against yours, mixing your saliva. As you suck on his tongue the remnants of cherry slushie and cotton candy on his tongue. Pulling away he chases your lips with nothing but sheer eagerness. "It's starting to get really cold, do you wanna come inside and warm up?" You asked breathily as your forehead presses against his eyes clouded with satisfaction in yourself.

He breathily laughs at your way of inviting him inside but nonetheless he accepts "yeah, I don't want you to catch a cold" he mumbled slightly out of breath as you pull away from his warmth fishing your keys out of your pocket and unlocking the door to your empty house. You felt like a kid again sneaking back into your house with a boy you knew was bad news and regardless you would still do it.

Closing the door right behind you it didn't take much for him to pull you by the arm into his chest, his hands wrapping around your waist pressing the warm palms of his hands to your lower stomach, his head over your shoulders makes you suck in a small gasp "you warm now?" He mumbles as he kisses the nape of your neck.

Your hands find his as you hold them in yours almost moaning at the feeling of his warm lips on your cold skin "mhm, feels really good" you whisper as if you had been any louder you would be caught. But you knew you wouldn't, your parents were never home longer than a week before they were off to some business in another state:

"But I think we would feel even more warm in my bed" you shiver under his touch as his hands begin to trail under your shirt. "You think so? Because I heard skin to skin contact helps too" he says you could feel his smirk against your skin as he leaves small wet kisses on your skin. "Well then I think we need to take off our clothes for that" you laugh breathily as he pulls away.

You both kick off your shoes giggling like you're high out of your minds while you pull him further into your home and up the staircase that leads to your bedroom. The halls are dark and if it had been any other night you wouldn't mind but the fact that you wanted to see Rafe so badly almost had you audibly cursing.

But as soon as you make it to your bedroom door you don't hesitate to practically rip your door off the hinges as you twist your doorknob and pull your door open, you practically drag him inside that has him stumbling in as you reach your light switch. The sight of your bedroom was almost exactly like what he had imagined, only smiling to himself as he looked over at you who was standing at your door with a smile on your face as you practically scale his figure.

He could feel heat all up and down his body, not that he minded in the least but it was getting harder not to touch you, kiss you, fuck you. He didn't care what it was, your presence was enough for him but he couldn't keep himself contained as he strides towards you, pushing your hips against the door hearing a thud of your body meeting the door harshly you almost moan at the feeling of his chest pressed against yours.

"I don't want anyone but you, and I think I've known that for a while now" he whispered as he pressed his forehead to yours, holding eye contact with him seemed to get harder "really?" You ask in a bit of disbelief which makes him scoff "I haven't slept with anyone or gone out since our last date. I was so hellbent on getting you on a second date and actually getting to know you that I just couldn't think of anyone else" he says as he leans in, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

"Not even Sofia?" You whispered into his lips, Rafe shakes his head "not even once. It's only been you" he answers as his kisses go from short and sweet to passionate and soft. And the moment your lips meet, has been a long time coming, an eruption of your lust. His lips are warm and gentle as he kisses you softly, delicately, as if he isn't sure you're real and he's still checking.

He's stealing your breath, and inhaling all the sweet little sounds you make, swiping his tongue to get a taste of your lip balm before it's completely kissed away. You're smiling against his mouth, you can't help it, giggling lightly at the feel of his breath fanning over your kiss-swollen lips.

His hands hold your hips pulling against his, you rock your hips feeling how hard he was becoming. You moan at the feeling of him pressing against your front, and although it had been weeks you couldn't forget how big he was, or how good it felt. the thought alone had your panties sodden with slick, and you could feel it begin to pool and settle. you were so unbearably wet, so touch-starved, you needed to feel some sort of relief. and right now, the friction was the closest thing to provide that.

Pulling away you chase after his lips only to hear him laugh breathily. His fingers tilt your chin back as your eyes bore into the ceiling, a small gasp slips out of your mouth when you feel his teeth brush against the skin on your throat. The warmth of his tongue makes you moan and ball your hands into fists. You were panting almost like a dog at the feeling of him kissing and sucking on your skin leaving behind what you assumed to be marks that would grow into dark purple spots within the hour.

Shivering as his warm breath ghosts her skin which is a reminder of why the both of you had been up in your bedroom in the first place. "Still cold?" He asks lifting his face away from your neck to look at you who had goosebumps rubbing up your skin. You nod your head meeting his gaze. "Why didn't you tell me?" He asked as his hand rubbed against your arm.

You only shrug at his sudden care; it almost made you flustered if it wasn't for how needy you were. "Can you still warm me up? I wanna take up your offer on that skin to skin contact" you say with a faint smirk on your lips at the suggestion. He scoffs and shakes his head "that's why we're here" he says giving you his own smirk.

Pulling away from you his hand catches yours as he tugs you towards the direction of your bed stopping before the both of you can get underneath the sheets. "Skin on skin, remember?" He says turning towards you "so strip for me" he mumbled as his hands caught the back of his shirt pulling it over his head messing up his hair. Tossing his shirt to the floor he looks at you awaiting your next move.

Reaching for your shirt you pull yours off as well leaving you in a bra, your jeans and panties. The both of you strip down to nothing, smiling and letting out small huffs and giggles until you're both bare, Rafe cups your jaw pulling your chest to his as his lips clash into yours, the both of you fall into the messy sheets of your bed barely breaking the kiss.

You straddle over his lap, his hands are all over your bare back while his nails drag across your skin lightly until his hands are tangled into your hair already messy from the wind and rides you had been on in the past few hours. You hum into the kiss pulling away foreheads pressed against each other you smile trying to catch your breath.

"I'm feeling warm already" you tease mumbling against his lips "yeah? Well I think you're still a little cold, and I wanna warm you up more" he says with a smirk on his lips that was very obvious. "Go ahead, I wanna see your technique" you laugh at your choice of words. Rafe pats your thighs as a way of telling you to get up, you lay flat on your back with your head to the pillow. Looking up at him you could see how well sculpted his body and face was.

Every scar, freckle, mole, dent, scratch, and scab. It didn't matter one bit to you. In your eyes he was as beautiful as they come, and while he practically hovered over your body giving you feather kisses from your jaw and neck, down to your navel, until he disappeared under the covers of your body. You could feel your heart beating in your throat as he kissed your hips, lifting your legs over his shoulder like they were nothing and kissing your inner thighs.

"You're being such a tease" you whisper you could feel the warmth of his breath fan across your pussy that had almost made your thighs snap shut. "Just doing my job" he mumbled as his tongue pressed flat against your pussy earning a breathy moan as he dragged it from your entrance to your clit loving the sweet sound of your moans.

"Oh fuck" you whispered as he presses his thumb against your clit and continuing to lick and kiss everything he possibly can. You moan as your hand reaches for the back of his head pushing him against your pussy.

Groaning against you sent vibrations all over as you let out a small giggle that broke into a moan feeling the harsh pad of his thumb rub against your clit while his tongue worked to push inside you. Pushing your thighs against your chest and pushing them together you became more aware of every touch, lick, and kiss he gave to you.

The sounds you make are music to his ears. He presses his nose on your clit, inhaling your scent deeply before his tongue dives inside your waiting pussy. You pull onto his hair, writhing against his face. "Feels so good Rafe" you moan.

You could feel his lips curve against your pussy sending shivers down your spine. The wet muscle repetitively enters you, eager to gather your juices. It feels like heaven, stomach tightening with each second.

Pulling away his thumb Rafe flattens his tongue against you licking from your entrance to your clit again, kissing it he sucks harshly on the bud with no regard as you moan his name mindlessly.

"Oh my god" you manage to whimper out you tug at his hair as he groans, your eyes shut as you "please use your fingers" you moan neediness dripping from your tone. His hand moving from your plush thigh, his thumb rubbing harsh circles on your clit he pulled away, licking your clit once more his middle and ring fingers make way to your entrance.

Pushing in slowly you groan at the penetration, easing your tight walls around his thick fingers as he pushes them deeper you feel the cool metal of his rings all the way at the knuckles of his fingers as it grounds you from the euphoric feeling.

Pulling his head he looks up at you from the small blanket over his head with your juices on his swollen lips and on his chin his fingers begin to move opening your eyes you look down at him feeling his gaze as he watches you react gasping as the feeling you grind down against his fingers "you like that? Hm?" He says as he licks your essence off of his lips.

His hair now disheveled as his cheeks were blooming with a soft blush, you nod eagerly "yeah? You want me to go faster for you?" He coos feeling you clench around him at the sound of his dirty words, you clench harder "yes please" you say losing your mind on his fingers as you absentmindedly grind down on them.

Without a single falter in his movements his fingers began to rub against the gummy part of your walls at a faster rate as the sound of your sopping pussy getting pounded by his fingers made you squeal.

"Feels so good" you cry out hoping to god he wouldn't stop the rewarding pace he had set. Your hips involuntarily buck against his fingers as his assault of pleasure on your pussy consumed you whole.

"I'm close" you whine as the sloshing sound and the sound of you and Rafe's mixed heavy breathing had been the only thing you could hear "yeah, you gonna cum all over my fingers?" He asks teasingly as his tongue licks a long stripe against your clit that had the feeling in the pit of your stomach churning in anticipation for your orgasm.

"Yes, wanna cum just for you" you whine under your breath as he pushes and pulls his fingers in and out of you faster watching you come closer and closer to the edge waiting for him to catch you. He sucks and licks your clit harshly making you let out a loud moan as you cum all over his fingers.

"So good" he hummed as he fucks you through your high slowing down as he kisses your clit that's now sensitive making you writhed under him. "Doing so good for me" he giggled as he pulled away from you kissing your thighs as if he was rewarding you.

You let out a small giggle that turned into a choked whine when his long fingers pulled out of you. With no hesitation he sucked on his fingers licking off any essence and cum you had left on his digits. Kissing up your stomach and chest once more he meets your lips, tasting yourself on his tongue and having you moaning against his mouth. "Wanna suck you off" you mumbled into his lips pressing yours against his harder.

"Yeah?" He asks, he can tell you are eager to get his cock in your mouth but that doesn't bother him in the least you nod as you pull away from him, the warmth the both of you shared had you feeling fuzzy. "Yeah, want it real bad" you almost whimpered at the thought of sucking him off again like you did in his car.

"I'm not stopping you" he says as the both of you shuffle around the bed switching places, the sheets warms underneath you as you settle between his legs. His cock hard pressed against his lower abdomen flushed at the tip glossy with precum. "You smile at his words as you spit in the palm of your hand, wrapping it around his shaft slowly jerking and teasing the tip with your thumb.

You hear him grunt making you slightly more confident with your actions, your other hand on his thigh gently squeezing as you listen closely to every huff, and groan that falls from his lips slowly. And when you finally put him in your mouth, finally swallow down the already-there taste of him on your tongue—you both let out a moan. Can feel the top half of him shift like his head has fallen back, an image of his beautifully parted mouth hung open, eyes screwed shut in pleasure has you moaning against him again; your body on fire, your pussy aching.

You match the pumps of your hand with the drag of your mouth up and down his dick. Swirl your tongue around the head and suck when you reach it. Let yourself go as far as your gag reflex will let you until you're gagging around him and he's cursing and digging his nails into the mattress once again.

And when you steal a glance to the side you can see how red his knuckles look from the death grip he has the sheets in. How his fingers twitch and hand runs along his thigh, acting as if he wants to touch you but not daring to. You steal another glance up at him, "oh, god" tumbling from his lips when your eyes meet; he looks so desperate right now. So flushed and pretty.

you take him deeper, using the back of his thighs to force yourself down. He's big. thick. and the stretch that comes along with taking him in your mouth is a plaguing reminder. but you don't mind it too much, you like the thought of him when he's all deep in your throat, and you can feel the tip of him hot and heavy in the back of your throat. it makes you gag, and choke, and your eyes get cloudy with tears to the point they spill over, but it's worth it. It's worth it without fail.

you keep your nose pressed into the skin of his pelvis until you physically can't, pulling off of him with a loud pop. your cheek is wet with tears, and your chin is slick with spit, the two coalescing at the tip into a sticky mess. The sight makes him twitch in your hand, because this is what he's been thinking about all day. this was his selfish wish, to see you below him with this expression. eyes all doe-eyed and desperate.

He can't help but to reach out and rub the callused pad of his thumb over your parting lips, pressing the salty digit flat against your tongue, and retreating it in the same breath to hook it around your cheek.

A string of profanities leave his lips. he's close, and you can tell by the way he begins to fuck into your face with unparalleled ferocity. to guide him there, you begin to hollow your cheeks and narrow your throat, using a single hand to massage his balls.

He can feel you start to get antsy, and when you start to scratch and claw at his thighs for air, that does it for him. with a final, lazy thrust, he releases the entirety of his load down your throat, keeping you pressed down on him until he's sure every last drop has been emptied into your mouth.

"Fuck" he breathily moaned as you pull away from him, your throat burning and tears wetting you lashes as your lungs begged for air, you couldn't help but puff out a few choked up giggles. "Still so damn pretty" he mumbled leaning forward, capturing your lips in a meaningful kiss. His hands caressing your cheeks as he refused to part from the kiss.

Filled with tongue and teeth clashing, it didn't matter that much to you because the feeling of his soft lips pressed to yours made you feel 10 times lighter. His hands find your hips, guiding you onto the empty side next to him, leaning over top of you finally breaking the kiss. The both of you having to catch your breath smiling and giggling close to each other's face not wanting to be too far apart.

"Are you sure you wanna keep going?" He whispered, you could feel the hesitation written all over his face. "Nothing could change my mind" you answer him pressing your forehead against his as he presses his tip against your clit rubbing it teasingly making the both of you whimper. The sticky sound filling the room as you both breath heavily as he teases you a bit more, eventually becoming impatient with himself as he settles comfortably between your thighs.

Rubbing his tip against your entrance and slowly pushing his head in he whimpers at the sudden warm and tight feeling, his head dropping against your neck as he fucks into you with just his tip making the both of you moan. Kissing and sucking on your neck he pulls out making you whine, he pulls your leg over his shoulder "I want to feel you deep" he groans as your leg meets your chest as he leans into you.

This time he lets himself sink inside you in a place he's never touched before that had your eyes rolling back and your jaw slacked at the feeling. You adjust to his size in less than a minute, his head back in the junction of neck leaving wet kisses in his wake "please move" you beg softly, how could he have possibly said no?

His hips moving slow and deep, the slick and obnoxious sound of your pussy and his heavy breathing against your skin had your hands trailing his back dragging your nails against his skin. "Feels so fucking good" he moaned loving the feeling of you around his so closely. Nodding at his words you were addicted to the way his cock dragged against your rigid walls.

His thrusts becoming harder and deeper than before your moans become louder, his teeth dragging against your neck had your mind in a haze. "Faster please" you whine digging your nails into his shoulder leaving behind red crescent shapes indents on his skin. "Beg for it" he whispered his grip on your upper thigh becoming harder, slowing down.

"Please Rafe, I need it so bad. Please" you whine, it was enough for him to pick up pace completely. Pulling away from your neck the both of you moaning loudly as the sound of skin slapping becomes apparent. "Oh fuck" Rafe moans as his brows pinch together while the feeling of nothing but pleasure takes over his entire mind. Capturing your lips in a rough and sloppy kiss as the both of you moan against each other's lips.

Clenching down on him Rafe moans louder than before, his thrusts becoming sharp and deep. "Rafe, oh my god" your moans ripple through your throat. Feeling eager to cum Rafe pulls your other leg over his shoulder pressing your thighs to your chest. Your head falls back against the pillow you let all sense of emotions slip. Your eyes flutter shut as the pace becomes more messy, Rafe's hand presses against the mattress gripping the sheets tightly making his veins become more prominent.

"I wanna cum inside you so bad" he says breathlessly watching your expression twist "please do. Please cum inside me" you moan clenching down on him tighter pushing him closer to his orgasm. Kissing up your calf his head falls back feeling how you're tightening around him, it was all too familiar that you were going to cum the thought alone made him not too far behind you. Moans becoming louder "please don't stop" you beg once more which earns a whimper from him.

"I'm gonna cum" he moaned as his fingers found your clit rubbing messy circles that has your hands roaming the sheets gripping them "me too"'you rasp as you feel yourself toppling right over the edge as a loud groan spills out of his swollen lips. Breathing becomes sporadically you both moan as you feel his warm cum fill you up. Your legs shake as the slight overstimulation gets to you.

His thrusts slow down and then stop completely until he pushes your shaking legs off his sore shoulders and pulling out slowly you both wince. Rafe watches as his cum dribbles down your ass and thighs biting his lip sighs as he falls down into the pace beside you. The bed filled with warmth he pulls your naked back to his chest. "I'll clean you up in a bit" he mumbled into your hair, taking in the sweet scent of you.

"Forget it. I'm too comfy like this, just stay and clean me up in the morning" you mumbled tiredly as well. "You want me to stay?" He asks not too much of a shock but the question now all comes rushing back to you the leading up events to this. "If we could stay here forever then I wouldn't have it any other way" you say making him smile content with your words.

He didn't mind this all too much, he didn't care if there wasn't a label or if there was. All he needed was you.

[lililasagna]

some disjointed thoughts about Nemesis and Melinoë (and Hecate and mommy issues)

I’ve been having lots of thoughts about the dynamic between Nemesis and Melinoë, and by extension both of their dynamics with Hecate. Hades 2 technical test spoilers to follow, obviously

First let’s talk about Hecate and Melinoë. Hecate raised Melinoë! She cares about her! But their relationship is not healthy by any means. Hecate is the only parent Melinoë has ever known, but out of loyality to Persephone she refuses to be Melinoë’s mother, and very harshly pushes back on the idea when Melinoë even suggests that she views Hecate in a maternal way. (Notice the difference to how Nyx treats Zagreus, and says he will always be her child.) Hecate raised Melinoë in a very militaristic way, for the obvious reason that they are at war, but isn’t it kind of nuts how even when playing hide and seek with very small child Melinoë, she frames their playtime in the context of hunting and killing titans? Enter Melinoë’s desperate need for approval. Yeah, it’s cruel when Nemesis says that killing Chronos “isn’t personal enough” for Mel. Unfortunately, she is right. Throughout the techtest, Melinoë continuously questions herself and other characters on how to keep up the motivation to save a family she has never known. She struggles deeply with this. My impression is that at this point, she is fighting To Make Hecate Happy. She is constantly vying for (and getting!) her teacher’s approval. She doesn’t question Hecate almost ever, and that’s in fact Bad for Melinoë. Melinoë needs to kill Chronos for Herself, and she’s simply not there yet.

Now, I noticed two things that made my alarm bells ring in regards to Melinoë, Nemesis and Hecate. Nemesis very clearly cares about Melinoë, even her digs at Melinoë are poorly disguised concern for her. She’s worried about Melinoë being sent out on her own by Hecate, she thinks Melinoë is a pushover to Hecate (she’s right), and she lets Melinoë call her “Nem”, even when they are fighting, without a comment. Meanwhile Hecate Hates Nemesis. She cannot deal with Nemesis questioning her judgement and expects complete obedience from her because of a pact she made with Nyx, while at the same time wishing she hadn’t made the pact because she cannot stand Nemesis to the point of wanting to throw her out of the encampment completely. Now this sucks for Nemesis of course, but what concerns me More, is how Hecate speaks to Melinoë about Nemesis.

Hecate actively discourages Melinoë from even cordially talking to Nemesis, to the point of acting disgusted when Melinoë uses her keepsake. Odysseus asks Melinoë to “smooth things over” between Nemesis and Hecate, implying Melinoë has in the past had to go between them. Hecate doesn’t respect Nemesis as a person, because Nemesis doesn’t respect her as an authority (nemesis still obeys Hecate, just not in a way Hecate likes)

I’ll write up these thoughts in more detail at some point but for now I want to leave you with this thought that made me sad: Characters constantly tell Melinoë she looks just like her mother and express pity and concern for her. Have you seen Nemesis? Do you think anyone has told Her how she looks like her mother? Of course Nemesis needs to keep reiterating her stakes in this struggle, because Hecate sure isn’t acknowledging them.

[artist-issues]

Yeah, again, you can tell that the creators of Wish wanted certain moments to be impactful and to hit as hard as any other animated Disney movie’s moments did. But they didn’t. Because there was no convincing build-up for the moments to peak on.

You can tell which moments they are.

When Asha and the King sing “At All Costs” - If you listen to the song on its own, and you have no context (which is to say, you make up the context on your own) it is moving. Because it’s a pretty-enough song with vaguely passionate lyrics, once you assign meaning to them. But the movie doesn’t build up why this song should be an impactful declaration for either Asha or Magnifico. We already knew that Magnifico made it his job to “protect” the wishes (which are the subject of the song.) Asha, on the other hand, has only just been introduced to us, and we know she “cares too much,” so we already knew she’d protect people’s wishes. The song isn’t giving us a deeper understanding of them, or a more interesting angle to look at their motivations.

But, that’s not really the problem. The problem is that the wishes are the subject of the song. And that whole concept, of wishes being tangible objects that hold the most important and beautiful part of people’s hearts, but when they’re tangible, they remove that part from the person, is bad. It’s not good to try and build a story of stolen-treasures on.

Because that’s how they’re treated. Like treasures that the king is hoarding, after manipulating the people of Rosas into giving them up. And you know what? That’s a terrible thing to sing a protective love song to.

Just think about it this way: the story is about a King who takes everyone’s favorite keepsakes (family jewels, ornaments, old photos) and promises to protect them, but in actuality…for some reason…the moment they hand the keepsakes over, they forget whatever made the keepsake important to them. And then the King and a young woman sing a heartfelt song to the photographs and old brooches about how they will love and protect the photographs and old brooches.

Do you see why this song is pretty but not impactful in the story? They shouldn’t be singing to the wishes. Even Magnifico. They should be singing to the people. The movie plays it as if that is what they’re doing—singing a heartfelt promise of protection to a person, or a people. But that’s not what they’re doing, and do you know why?

Because the people have forgotten their wishes.

By definition, the actual human beings in Rosas cannot care (believably) about the bubbles in King Magnifico’s tower. They can only vaguely care about the chance of being happier than they are now, someday, if the wish they don’t even remember is granted. And what a terrible lesson, never mind plot point.

Anyway.

I digress. The point is, for a personally-worded, vow-of-protection-song to hit the audience meaningfully, it needed to matter to the person receiving the vow. But there is no person receiving the vow. Because of the narrative and lazy concept, only Asha and Magnifico care this much about the wishes. Because the people who made them have forgotten them. (More on this when I talk about Asha’s mom.)

When Sabino’s wish is not granted - This is supposed to be like a “Tiana’s restaurant gets taken away from her when she’s outbid” moment. The character is crushed when the thing they wanted and really believed they would finally get is taken away.

Doesn’t work in Wish, though. Because of a few things, but the main two are:

The audience has no reason to believe this means so much to Sabino because he hasn’t been shown really longing for his wish to come true.

This movie avoids any vulnerable emotion in facial expressions.

When Tiana loses her chance to have her wish come true, it is also unfair—she was already promised the property, but the brokers accepted a larger offer anyway, and it’s implied to be because of racism. Similarly, everyone acts like Sabino is entitled to (“promised”) having his wish come true because he’s so old and it’s his birthday. Plus we, the audience, know that Magnifico isn’t rejecting his wish for good reasons, and that Sabino’s wish is unselfish. So it’s meant to feel unfair and sad when he doesn’t get it, but it’s not. Not like it felt with Tiana.

Not only does the lazy concept of wishes and forgetting them once they’re tangible hamstring all of this—but the fact that Sabino has had nothing but a handful of sparse lines (ones like “we don’t know for sure that I’ll get my wish granted”) to convince us that he really cares about this hamstrings it, too.

When Tiana loses her restaurant property, it’s only about 24 minutes into The Princess and the Frog, and we have already had:

1 - A song about how hard she’s worked for it. 2 - An opening scene where her relationship with her father connects the restaurant to a deeper, more personal meaning for her.

3 - Several scenes where she is shown doing drastic things to get enough money for it; her drawer full of tip money; the two jobs she works with only a minute’s sleep in between; her friends asking her to come dancing but reiterating the fact that she often loses time for fun and their good feeling toward her because “all she does is work.”

4 - We are also shown that people don’t believe she’ll get it. The cook at her job mocks her for her wish, which makes it all the more important to the audience that she gets it—to prove the jerks wrong.

Of course, it doesn’t hurt that the restaurant is directly tied to Tiana’s character flaw AND her strengths, at the same time, so that it’s killing two birds with one stone—we’re shown who Tiana is, and we’re convinced to empathize with her when something sad happens to her.

Sabino has zero of those things going for him. No character details or set pieces to hint to us that he wants the wish to be granted so badly—no speeches about what it means to him—no memories tied to how he began to wish for this thing—because there can’t be. Because he’s spent 82 years not wishing. Because he’s lived the majority of his life totally forgetting what he wanted. You couldn’t logically show any evidence that he wanted it that much, then, could you?

So Sabino can’t be shown caring too much about not getting his wish. Therefore the audience doesn’t care either. We’re shown a glimpse of his sad face, and Asha’s sad face, and then told, “now feel sad!” But the work wasn’t put in to make it happen.

They cut their legs out from under themselves.

Now you could say, “well it wasn’t really about Sabino’s disappointment, it was about Asha’s disappointment.”

Yeah, but that doesn’t really hold up either. I’ll explain how in the next moment-that-should’ve-made-us-feel-something failure:

When Asha’s family doesn’t believe her - This scene is very clearly supposed to be like the one where Mulan has an argument with her family about her father going to war, and knowing her place, and he yells at her and she runs out distraught.

You definitely feel for Mulan and care about how she’s feeling in this scene—you might even cringe at the part where her dad yells at her. Part of that is because the scene is so well-done—there’s the buildup of tension as the camera cuts between each family member quietly drinking their tea, refusing to talk about the day’s devastating events. Then Mulan bursts out by slamming her teacup down and starting the yelling, herself, in outrage. Her dad stays quiet and steady like he has the whole movie up till now, so then when he stands up and shouts at her, about the exact thing she has been so upset over since the Matchmaker’s, the audience really feels the impact.

You don’t feel the same way about Asha, and it’s not just because her family argument scene wasn’t done as well—it’s also not just because, as you can see above, the movie keeps tiptoeing away from emotional vulnerability in the way the characters look.

It’s mostly because there’s been no impactful buildup to this scene. Again.

When Mulan has an argument with her father, you know what it means to her to have him yell at her about doing what’s right in her own place—you’ve had the whole first few scenes of the movie to convince you of it.

Mulan is upset because she wants to find her place and she loves her father very much. But she does not, ever, say the words “I love my father so much.” She doesn’t even outright say things like that before the argument. She doesn’t say to the Matchmaker, “Won’t you please give me another chance? My father has been praying about this for weeks, and I can’t bear to disappoint him. My father is a great man; he fought for the Emperor and was wounded in the wars; for his sake, can’t you help me?”

Asha does. Asha says to King Magnifico (but really, to us, the audience) “My grandfather’s wish! It’s beautiful.” And “Your Highness, couldn’t you grant his wish?” And to her friends, and to her mother, and to her grandfather himself—over and over she just reminds us with flat, “okay-we-get-it” dialogue and exposition of what she wants.

Whereas Mulan shows us. She convinces us. She runs up to her father, in the very first scene, and we’re shown that even though she has trouble remembering what she’s supposed to say to the matchmaker—even though she has trouble remembering what time it is and getting her other chores done—with this one part of her life, her father, she can remember exactly what the doctor said about how much tea he needs to drink. And she is prepared for her own clumsiness to make sure he gets it.

And even after she doesn’t get what she wants, and is shown to be so ashamed she can’t even look at him (because that’s how much she loves him and cares what he thinks) the only thing that makes her feel better is when he carefully compares her to a late-blooming flower and basically promises that he believes in her, anyway. We know how much Mulan cares about her father because we’ve been convinced by the way the movie artfully and carefully shows it.

We also know that she cares about knowing her place, specifically because of her family’s wishes for her. So all of this combines to prove to us that having her father shout at her about knowing his place and why he’s going to die willingly is a devastating thing for her. Enough for her to run out of the house sobbing and cling to a pillar as if she can’t hold herself up.

But when Asha runs out of the house (barely sobbing, just kind of breathing fast, because there’s no vulnerability in this movie) and stumbles up to a tree in the same way, we don’t really believe something so devastating has happened to her.

Everything happened too fast. She just kept saying she cares about Sabino’s wish coming true, and that she loves him. When he explodes at her (and really out-of-nowhere asks if she wants to “break his heart”) it’s the first time he’s shown any kind of intense emotion, either toward her, or about his wish.

There is no build-up. So it just feels awkward, and kind of like a high school production where one of the kids hasn’t even been trying to act, but in one scene, he suddenly starts yelling because that’s what his character is supposed to do. And it’s just cringe because you haven’t seen that level of energy, happy or sad, good or bad, at all up until now.

And that’s a problem because it leads right into Asha’s “This Wish” song, which is supposed to be like her “Mulan riding off to war” moment. But it’s not set up well by the emotions tied to the family argument, or the emotions tied to the conflict with the King, so you don’t really care.

Moving on to the next emotional-moment failure:

When King Magnifico threatens Queen Amaya - I don’t have much to say about this one; I think you’re getting the point. When there’s nothing but bland words and one-liners spoken to convince us that the characters are thinking and feeling how they’re thinking and feeling, moments like this one just feel boring and forced. And try-hard.

Like, the lighting? The music? Fine. Good. When he points his new magic wand at her threateningly, and clearly appears ready to betray her? All that stuff is fine. It just hasn't been built up to, so it doesn’t hit.

It’s like, “that’s it?” He just says one line about, “Are you betraying me?” And she pours forth a bunch of lines like “no I’ve always believed in you and in Rosas.” And then he’s basically like “okay, I’m convinced, moving on” which of course is him already knowing that she’s betrayed him and already having a plan to trap Asha…but still. From Queen Amaya’s point of view, there’s nothing emotional here.

We’re supposed to believe they’re madly in love and that she trusts him wholeheartedly, so that when he falls to dark magic and she chooses to side with Asha it’s this big moment. But it happens so fast.

There’s no moment where Queen Amaya grieves her husband. There’s no real sense of loss, or even of impactful betrayal. The voice actress delivers every line like she’s trying and failing to feel what the character feels as she reads the lines to a 5 year-old who needs every concept spoon-fed to them.

And King Magnifico drops her like a bag of dirt instantly. No sense of loss from him, either. He’s not even condescending to her, like, for example, Mayor Lionheart was to Dawn Bellwhether in Zootopia. Or like Jafar was to Iago. All of those things would’ve made their quick severing of bonds to each other make more sense.

But we’re not shown that Queen Amaya has sensed any darkness building in her husband over the years, and is just now realizing that this is the last straw and maybe he was never the man she thought he was. She treats him like she adores him (blandly) for the whole first half of the movie. No hint of doubt. Even when he goes for the forbidden book the first time, she easily convinced him not to and then wandered away like “well, took care of that.”

When Asha’s mother loses her wish - The biggest problem with this moment is still lack of buildup, and that is because the tangible-wish forgetfulness thing is stupid as we’ve established. We don’t believe she feels grief, even when she says she does, because we don’t know this woman at all. We don’t know what she wants, or how badly she wants it—we certainly don’t feel that she’s been missing her wish.

But the other offenses are worth mentioning. When Asha’s mother’s wish is broken by Magnifico, she just…gasps. And her father-in-law says her name, and Asha yells something typical like “no!” She looks a little weak in the knees, like maybe she can’t walk for a second, so the 100 year-old man supports her.

But the cameras spend no time on how this is affecting her. The shots of the family escape in the immediate aftermath of this world-shattering thing don’t let us see Asha’s mother’s face. Not that her facial expression is that devastated, anyway. It’s just “typical sadness” expression. There’s a shot where they’re going from the house to the stolen horses and if I remember correctly, Asha’s mother has her back to the camera the whole time; I was looking at her because I was like “something devastating just happened; this is the most interesting part of the scene.” But there was nothing to see.

They could’ve had her visually turn grey. They could’ve had her go mute, stare off into space, suddenly become scarily unreachable. They could’ve had her weeping uncontrollably. They could’ve just had her go catatonic—after all, we’re supposed to believe that even the chance of having “the most beautiful part of her” returned to her heart was just destroyed. Wouldn’t that logically make a person…cold? Calloused? Unfeeling? Uncaring? But no. She’s as just keen to express concern for Asha and apologize for being wrong about Magnifico and urge Asha to keep believing in herself, passionately, as she would’ve been before. No big deal, just lost the most beautiful part of myself forever.

Doesn’t help that we never knew what the mom’s wish even was, so even we can’t miss it.

So when she gets her wish back at the end, and she’s like, “come home.” It’s just…cringey.

When Asha convinces the crowd to wish for Magnifico’s defeat - The idea of the movie is that “the power of the stars is in you because we all came from stardust, so keep wishing and working toward it even when it’s hard.” So this moment is supposed to be impactful.

But it isn’t. Because that kind of thing isn’t impactful. They literally sing a song, glow, and Magnifico is defeated. Even if we were supposed to believe Star was dead, and this is bringing him back like Tinkerbell coming back to life, it’s still not impactful. Because one, it happens way too fast. And no character really emotes about it, like Peter did when he thought Tink was dead.

Two, that hasn’t been the point of the whole movie; the main character never had trouble believing that she was powerful enough to enact change. She barely doubted her own wish. If they wanted us to be excited that she could win based on the stardust in her heart, and in the kingdom’s hearts, alone, then they should’ve given us several scenes where it’s like “Asha is relying too much on Star’s power.”

But no, doubt and disbelief and reliance were never character flaws of hers for this moment to overcome. She doesn’t really have any character flaws, let’s be honest.

Even if you want to say “well sure, Asha didn’t doubt her own power, but the kingdom did! Otherwise, why would it’s citizens have put so much reliance on King Magnifico?” Okay, that’s nice, but 1) that is never solidly or impactfully alluded to in the story, beyond jokes about how handsome they think the king is and the literal plot point of trusting him with their wishes. And 2) having a whole kingdom of background characters believe something false and then get their minds changed in a split second is not nearly as impactful as having the main character’s mind changed first—and then she passes that knowledge on to them.

Like Judy Hopps learning to try to understand Nick, then encouraging all of Zootopia to try and understand each other. Like literally any good story where a whole kingdom needs to realize something.

Also it is never a good idea to defeat your villain just by singing about how you want to defeat your villain. Nobody should have to tell Disney that. They wrote the book on this.

But this movie was made by a company that no longer knows itself.

I could say more, like about the moment where Asha supposedly is at her lowest, or the part where Star “leaves,” or when her friends work together, or the “Knowing What I Know Now” song, but it’s all the same problems.

[autumnmobile12]

My Hero Headcanon: Rei

When I think of Rei’s childhood, I think of Yuki from Wolf Children.

Just not at all being the lady her parents probably wanted her to be and living her best life collecting bugs, feathers, and small animal bones.

And just like Toga, those interests were suppressed because they ‘weren’t appropriate for little girls,’ and she was made to conform.

I mean, look at her expression and tell me she wasn’t told to sit still and be quiet too many times when she was a child.

I think she was a weird kid.

And that's why I play with the snowboarding theme when I do fanworks involving Rei, as well as the idea that Touya’s inability to sit still when he's agitated/excited comes from Rei. It's also why I have the headcanon there was never a point where Rei and Endeavor loved each other. They already have two extremely different personalities in canon, and the high-energy headcanon just highlights a further personality difference.

I’ve already gone into it in more detail with an Endeavor analysis that I made, but here’s an excerpt that illustrates my point:

...what I think shows here is they weren’t really talking all that much. Specifically, he is not ‘talking down to her.’  He is not treating her with any particular disrespect or putting her down as inferior.   He doesn’t have the arrogance he later exhibits. This also isn’t him being aloof and ignoring her either.  Look at his face, specifically his eyes.  That is the same blank, deer in the headlights, “I have one brain cell dinging around in my head that is struggling to find a way to interact with people,” stare he shares with Shouto.

He has no idea what to say to her. 

So finally, Rei turns off to the side to admire the garden, and he asks, “Do you like the flowers?”  It’s a small thing, but it does show that in some capacity, he did show some interest in Rei and making her happy.  He’s just stupidly awkward about it at this point. (Even if his ultimate goal was…well, we’ll get into that.)

...

The long and short of it is if you remove the violence/temper aspect of Endeavor's character, you basically have Shouto: An awkward dork who doesn’t entirely know how to interact with people and he probably doesn’t understand sarcasm or euphemisms either. The main reason we can’t see that side of Endeavor’s character very well is because he’s weaponized intimidation/violence to cover it up. (Dammit, dude, this it not how you patch a character flaw.) So I don’t think Shouto’s isolation and childhood training caused his social ineptitude so much as exacerbated a character trait that was already there. He got it from Dad.

So referring to the earlier pre-kids part of Rei and Endeavor's relationship before the violence actually started, imagine the awkward personality-type paired with a partner who is, by all accounts, weird and has too much energy to be contained. Arranged marriage aside, I like the idea that Rei reverted back to her odd personality after she left her parents’ house. I like to think she danced in the kitchen when there was no one home, hoarded feathers and skulls and other odd keepsakes, and looked for places where she could snowboard. She was a housewife by herself for long periods of time, so who was going to stop her?

There is a short story I absolutely love called Ink, Water, Milk by Catherynne M. Valente. The plot's not relevant to this post, but there is a scene where a bored housewife buys a bunch of those cube-shaped watermelons and just stacks them in her fridge to admire them.

And for some reason, I can picture Rei doing this.

Like Endeavor just comes home to find her sitting cross-legged in front of the open fridge and smiling happily at the nine cubed watermelons stacked neatly inside. (Keep in mind, these things average $100-$200 a piece and are inedible/decorative.) No explanation for why she's done this, she just has a big, ecstatic smile on her face and pointing into the fridge. You know, Touya energy when he's a kid and excited about something. And Endeavor, in true Shouto fashion, is baffled by what she’s done, has no idea why she’s done it, and wondering if there’s a joke he’s not understanding.

I like to mirror this behavior in Touya and Shouto when I can in writing for Ambush Simulation. Underneath the trauma, they are at their core the brother with their mother’s high energy and the brother who is socially awkward and doesn’t quite know how to deal with the unhinged behavior but doing his best.

...

Edit because I just found this gif.

Young Rei:

[biocrafthero]

I do think the problem with the PJSK Hunger Games polls is that I cannot properly account for character relationships. I don't think the majority of the cast would be willing to actually kill each other until like, at least three days into the games because the game makers would push them to fight for resources and such. A lot of the characters would likely naturally self-sort into their in-game units but they will also have alliances between individuals regardless of teams. Resourcefulness and physical skill are obviously important but character relationships would determine who would likely die first if someone gets injured or if any of the siblings decide that the other one needs to explode

I also can't account for the variable of keepsakes. The majority of keepsakes in the Hunger Games series (please note while I have watched the films, I'm largely using the books as my frame of reference, and I've only read the first one so far) are largely inconsequential. However, an unnamed tribute in a previous year has actually gotten killed by their keepsake, since they dropped it while on the podium. The keepsake was a small wooden ball and when they dropped it the ball rolled off and activated the landmines and killed the contestant before the games had even began. Keepsakes can play a role in a character's survival if they're resourceful enough, it just can't be something that would give them an advantage or something that's too big (hence why Rui would have to use whatever the arena and game makers provide, he cannot bring in any actual gadgets. Yes he is always a problem I have to work around in my polls LOL)

SORRY FOR THE RAMBLES ITS JUST INTERESTING

[thefirst3chapters]

There's something about the Danes men recognizing the Gilmores' happiness in their final OS episodes. ("You look happier than when I saw you last." / "I just like to see you happy.") Maybe the S6 writers weren't sure that this was going to be Jess's last appearance, but this was Luke's definitive end for the series; in either case, at the time these episodes were written, they were the show's final statements on who these characters are.

It's established over and over how well Luke and Jess know the Gilmores and vice versa. Luke knows exactly what Lorelai brought to Bid-a-Basket day and has her wardrobe memorized and steadfastly believes that she can start her own inn even when she's convinced that she's failing. Jess knows that Rory isn't herself when she's in Hartford and remembers her birthday even though he's barely seen her in years (and ASP directly confirmed that the intention was to portray them as seeing each other for who they are). This mutual sense of knowing is baked into the first times both couples meet. The first time Lorelai met Luke, she pestered him during a lunch rush for coffee and for him to tell her his birthday until he relented. The first time Jess met Rory, he stole her book and wrote all over it. Both of these actions could've been horrible first impressions for anyone else, and on paper could've been horrible first impressions for Luke and Rory specifically, but they were charmed and intrigued, and they treasured the written keepsakes they were left with.

Even with this intrinsic knowledge, the Danes' failures as partners often boil down to the same problem: they retreat when they're in crisis. With their biggest, relationship-ending conflicts (Luke keeping April from Lorelai and the fallout of Jess not graduating), they spend months thinking that they have everything under control when they really don't and fail to tell the Gilmores anything. This is perhaps Jess's core flaw in S3 even more so than the fact that he left; he didn't have anywhere to stay, and finding out who his father was probably ended up being an important catalyst for the person he became, but he wasn't able to share any of that with Rory. She directly brings up her hurt over Jess not telling her anything when she's in the car with Lorelai and when she's on the phone with him, and her unhappiness here is so similar to Lorelai expressing her unhappiness about her relationship with Luke when she's in the car with the therapist. ("I don't like how I feel and I don't like what I do." / "I'm not happy, and I feel crappy all the time and I just think I've had it.") They've both been left behind.

This isn't the end, though. Luke and Jess spend their time apart from the Gilmores still loving them while also building/rebuilding their professional lives, coming to terms with their pasts, and showing up for their families. This is what I think separates Jess leaving from Christopher leaving. Christopher had options and resources to be in Rory's life but chose not to be a consistent presence, and Lorelai accepted that. Rory points this out to Lorelai in S5 E9: "You're just always waiting for him to get himself together." Rory can tell that dynamic isn't healthy from the years she's watched it play out. She doesn't let Jess back into her life when she knows he isn't ready, and he grows up without her out of his own determination. His circumstances were never really like Christopher's, and Rory was left in the dark about that at the time, but when he returns in S6, I think she recognizes the difference. There's a reason why Rory shares her deepest insecurities with Jess in AYITL and sprints out of her house because she can't wait to share her happiness with him but has such an emotionally distant relationship with Christopher. As for Luke and Lorelai, they gradually get closer in S7 as they learn to trust each other again. Luke turns to Lorelai when April is sick and he needs a character reference, and Lorelai's letter helps him win partial custody and reveals where her heart truly lies, which is a catalyst for her relationship with Christopher ending once and for all. Lorelai asks for Luke's help when she's looking for a new car, and even though it doesn't make sense to him, he finds a way for her to have the exact same model again because he knows it's important to her.

Then we get to those final scenes. At Truncheon, Jess can tell just by looking at Rory that she's happier now that she's back at Yale and is editing the newspaper. She breaks his heart, but he makes sure she'll get back to her car safely and offers himself as an alibi because he still wants the best for her. In "Bon Voyage," Luke stays up all night helping the town set up Rory's party and sewing a tarp together but doesn't even want Lorelai to know. Luke and Jess have hurt the Gilmores and been hurt by them, but for both of them, their final act in the OS is quietly, selflessly wanting Lorelai and Rory to be happy. I just can't fathom a Luke who doesn't love Lorelai or a Jess who doesn't love Rory; that love is imperfect and doesn't solely define either of them, but it's an inextricable part of who they are.

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

Day 14 — Santa

Pairing || TFATWS!Bucky x Female!Reader

Word Count || Around 500

Contents & Warnings || Fluff, very Mild Smut — mild explicit language.

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Advent Calendar 2023

“Come on, babe, it’s gonna be fun,” you exclaimed, bouncing on your toes and playfully tugging Bucky’s arm as you joined the line leading up to Santa’s throne. The sound of holiday music resonated in the background, creating a magical atmosphere filled with anticipation and joy. The queue was adorned with vibrant decorations, and twinkling lights illuminated the path ahead. Families, children, and a few other couples patiently waited for their turn to seize a photo with Santa.

Bucky couldn’t shake off his reservations about sitting on Santa’s lap, a hint of standoffishness evident in his demeanor. You, on the other hand, bubbled with excitement. “I don’t know about this, doll. Isn’t this more for kids?” he questioned, arms crossed, his signature grumpy furrow accentuating his eyebrows.

You giggled, enveloping his waist from the side and gazing up at him with doe eyes and an adorable pout. “It’s for everyone who wants to create memories and capture a cute holiday moment together. It would be adorable to have a picture with Mr. Santa himself.”

He sighed, relaxing as your infectious enthusiasm softened his reservations. “I can’t resist when you’re being so cute,” he chuckled, embracing you tenderly and planting a kiss on your forehead, surrendering himself to a bit of festive childishness.

Finally, your turn arrived, and Santa, with a hearty laugh, welcomed you both to his throne. “Ho, ho, ho! What can I do for this lovely couple today?”

You grinned at Bucky before turning to Santa, your eagerness palpable at meeting the man, the myth, and the legend himself. “We just want a cute photo to remember this Christmas! If you don’t mind, Mr Santa?”

“A cute photo, you say? That’s a splendid request!”

Though slightly embarrassed, Bucky couldn’t resist the twinkle in your eyes. Your excitement warmed his soul, and he couldn’t deny that it also excited him.

As you settled onto Santa’s lap, he encouraged you to share your holiday wishes.

“I just want peace and quiet,” Bucky deadpanned, earning a chuckle from you.

Santa laughed heartily. “A man after my own heart! And you, young lady?”

You teased Bucky with a playful smile. “I wish for this guy to embrace the holiday spirit a little more.”

Bucky rolled his eyes teasingly, but a slight smirk played on his lips. The photographer captured the playful moment, freezing it as a cherished holiday keepsake.

Exiting the mall, Bucky couldn't help but feel grateful for the experience. You leaned into him with a happy sigh, and your warmth and infectious joy filled his heart.

"See, that wasn't so bad, was it, babe?" you teased.

Bucky chuckled, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. "No, not bad at all, doll. Fun even. But hey," he pulled you close in the vacant parking lot, his firm grip on your hips contrasting with his sweet demeanor at the mall. "Next year, I'll be the one wearing the Santa hat, and then you can sit on my lap, completely naked, of course, and whisper all your wishes to me. And trust me, baby, I'll make them all come true."

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[coraniaid]

Fuffy + keepsake + tension + quiet

Okay, this ended up being long enough that I should probably put a read-more somewhere...

Faith knows that none of this is real, right from the start.  

That’s something, anyway.  A small kindness on behalf of whatever higher power it is that runs all this.  It means that waking up, when it’s over, won’t hurt quite so much.

In real life, she knows that she’s about a year into a minimum twenty five year sentence.  That right now she must be sleeping fitfully on a hard bed in a gray cell somewhere in Stockton.  In real life she’s exactly where she deserves to be: locked up in a cage, in the dark, somewhere not quite in the ordinary world.  Somewhere she can’t do any more damage.  

Because she did it, all of it, everything they thought to charge her with and more.  She killed a couple of people, hurt plenty more, and she’d have kept going if somebody hadn’t stopped her, one way or another.  She’d enjoyed it – at least at first – and she’d been good at it.  Better than she’d ever been at playing at being some kind of hero. 

For a while, she’d managed to persuade herself that it was what she was born to do.  That she was becoming what she’d always been meant to be.  And then, later, when she’d sunk too deep, it didn’t matter anymore whether she enjoyed it or not.  There was no way out by then except to plunge head down and drown.

In the dream though, she’s back in school and none of that has happened yet.  

This isn’t a school she’d ever been to as a student.  Not one of the several different high schools back in Boston that had passed her back and forth like a particularly unappetizing hot potato before she’d done them all a favor and dropped out.  Not the school her mom had only sometimes remembered she went to, the school where she’d learned that other kids could smell weakness on you like a sickness and if you weren’t rich and smart and popular you were either strong or you were nothing.

This is the school.  Her school.  Sunnydale High.  Not ruined yet, not rubble and debris, but whole and unbroken.

She’s in the library.  Both of them are.  It’s just the two of them, alone in all the world.  Sparring, the way they’d used to back then.  Wondering if the other girl felt the same tension in the air whenever one of them – usually not her, at least the way Faith remembers it – would end up on top of the other at the end of a fight, trying to wrestle the other girl into submission.  Trying to pretend she didn’t notice the way the other Slayer’s tank top would ride up her stomach when she worked out, or the way her skin shone like gold when she started to break a sweat.  Back to working up the courage to ask if, now that Blueberry Muffin Scott was out of the picture, the newly single Buffy Summers could be persuaded to let Faith tag along with her to that Homecoming thing she was so crazy about.

In real life, a part of her remembers, this isn’t exactly how this had played out.  It had been a school day for one thing, at least for everyone but her.  The middle of the afternoon, not hours after midnight.  There had been crowds of kids noisily swarming in the halls outside, talking and laughing and totally oblivious to how important this moment was.  This is different.  Quieter.  Better.  Just her and Buffy.  The Chosen Two.  The way it should have been.

It hurts, reliving this.  Hurts more than she thought it would. But maybe this is also what she deserves.  Maybe she deserves to be punished.

“We never did get to go to that stupid party together, did we?” she says sadly.  “Not really.”

She’d always meant to.ask Buffy, afterwards, when it was too late, if things might have been different if they had.  If Trick’s stupid scheme hadn’t spoiled things.  If Buffy had seen that Faith could get dressed up and sit quietly in a limo like a normal girl; that she could follow the rules and make smalltalk while she waited to be asked to dance.  If she’d seen her standing up for her and putting that asshole Scott in his place.  If Angel hadn’t been back from hell already, already Buffy’s little undead secret, her hidden rival for Buffy’s attention and affection somehow winning without ever realizing he was in a fight.

But she hadn’t really ever been good, had she?  Hadn’t followed the rules.  That’s why she’s rotting in the dark in North California tonight and dreaming empty dreams about the past, not wherever Buffy really is.  Why she’s not where Buffy needs her to be.  That’s why she doesn’t get to ask that kind of question.

And maybe it’s why this dream memory of Buffy doesn’t even deign to answer the question she did ask.  Just smiles at her, politely, slightly puzzled, like what she said didn’t make any sense but it’d be rude to spell that out.

Maybe it didn’t.  Maybe this is one of those nightmares where she can’t even speak.  Where she keeps begging for forgiveness but can’t even get through that that’s what she wants.

Her stomach hurts most of all: an old, familiar ache.  Just nerves, she thinks at first, until she touches the place the pain is worse and feels something wet and hot and sticky.  Sees the dark stain spreading over the library floor where she's been standing.

“Damn,” she says wonderingly, looking down at the blood.  “I thought it had stopped doing that.”

At least the bleeding gets Buffy’s attention.

“Can I…?”

Buffy crouches down in front of her while Faith takes a seat.  Pulls her shirt away from her skin, gingerly.   Runs a finger slowly across her scar.  Gently, thoughtfully, almost fondly.  She doesn’t seem to notice the blood, or the way it stains her.  The way it sticks to her, red and vital and indelible.  Maybe she just doesn’t care anymore.  She looks up at Faith, green eyes wide and trusting.

“Does it hurt?” she asks.

Faith hesitates, but not for long. The bleeding seems to be stopping again anyway.

“Yeah,” she admits, because this is only a dream,  “Sometimes.  A little.”

“That’s good,” Buffy says, voice still gentle.  Expression still calm and innocent.  “You deserved this.”

She says it simply, like it’s just a fact.  Without any malice or anger at all.  And it is a fact, isn’t it?  Faith nods.  She did.  She does.

“Besides,” Buffy says, fingers still resting on Faith’s stomach.  On the place she’d slid the knife in two years ago.  “I think the scar suits you.  Something to remember me by once I’ve moved on.”

There's an echo there, of something Faith had said once herself, a long time ago.  When she was lost and flailing and drowning.  When she thought she was going to … but no, she thinks.  She won’t let herself finish that thought.

“Yeah, well, as keepsakes go I’ve gotta say it’s pretty crappy,” she grumbles.  “You couldn’t leave me one of your old stakes or something?”

Buffy shakes her head, absently wiping her hands clean on one of the books spread out casually on the table her friends all used to pile around for their secret little meetings.  Faith glances around, nervously, half sure that Giles is going to loom out of the shadows and throw a fit when he sees what they’re up to.

“I don’t exactly think they’d let you keep something like that where you are, Faith,” the other Slayer says, a little reprovingly.  Just like she used to do whenever Faith said anything wrong. 

Why can’t you be different? that voice says, even if this Buffy doesn’t.  Why can’t you try harder?  Buffy isn’t like Faith.  Half the time she doesn’t even want to be a Slayer.  She likes listening to her Watcher and worrying about tests and doing what she’s told and she’s never, ever going to joke about giving Faith a weapon again.

“Right,” Faith says, properly abashed.  “I guess I forgot.”

She hadn’t, not really, but it’s easier to pretend.  Not that Buffy seems to care.  She frowns, glances at her stake, suddenly in her hand.  Faith’s sure it wasn’t there a moment ago.

“Besides,” she says, “This one isn’t really mine to give you.”

Faith nods.  It was hers, wasn’t it?  The other one.  The girl who died.  The Slayer who she never met; the one who was supposed to exist between them.  Something had passed from Buffy to her, and then been passed back from her to Buffy.  Leaving Faith cut off, isolated.  A neglected offshoot.  A mistake.

“You never told me about her,” she says.

It’s not quite an accusation.  Not quite a simple statement of fact either.  She only remembers hearing her name said out loud once, in all the time she’d spent in Sunnydale.  Kendra.  Kendra the Vampire Slayer, who’d died less than a year after being Called.  

“You never asked,” Buffy answers quietly, a little uncertainly.  “And it was too …”

“... painful,” Faith finishes for her.  “Yeah.  I get that, now.”

Put like that, she supposes she and Buffy have both had a pretty good run.  Almost a decade, between the two of them.  More than most Slayers get.  More than a lot of ordinary people who don’t even get to enjoy the whole superpowers side of things ever get.  But nothing lasts forever, does it?  All they can do is delay the inevitable.

She has another memory, suddenly.  A moment she’d almost forgotten.  Her first night at Buffy’s place.  Having dinner; the first home cooked meal she’d eaten in God knows how long.  Pretending she couldn’t hear Buffy and her Mom quietly arguing in the kitchen.  That her Slayer senses didn’t let her hear Joyce tell Buffy that she didn’t want her daughter to die, or Buffy’s unwitting admission that she already had.  Remembers locking eyes with Buffy’s kid sister – who hadn’t stopped staring at her with a kind of quiet awe all night – and hoping her ears weren’t so sharp.  Helping herself to some of Buffy’s spare fries and winking at the kid while she did it.  Like they were partners in crime now.  Co-conspirators.

She’s never going to talk to Joyce or Dawn again either, she supposes.  Can’t exactly blame them for that.  Not after what she did.  She hopes they’re both doing okay though, back in Sunnydale.  Hopes that the world’s been kinder to them than she was.  But she guesses that that’s another sort of question she doesn’t have the right to ask Buffy.  Still, she–

A sudden noise surprises her.  A bell ringing, somewhere outside.  Shrill, demanding.  A summoning.  Not for her, of course – hell, Faith doesn’t even go to this school – but for the real Slayer.  For Buffy.

“I have to go,” Buffy tells her, almost like an apology.

Faith has a feeling she’s missing something important.

“To class?” she asks.

It’s the wrong question.  She knows that, even before the other girl shakes her head.  They’re both a little too old for high school, aren’t they?  Neither of them are kids anymore.  And somehow, without Faith noticing, Buffy’s changed out of the clothes she was wearing while they sparred.  Now she’s dressed in white; in an outfit that changes every time Faith looks at it.  First a dress, the sort Faith can imagine her wearing to Prom or to some other kind of high school dance, then a soft white cardigan over comfortable light gray pants like her Mom might have worn once, then a long white jacket stained with dust and ash and soot.  

“If …” Buffy starts, frowns, corrects herself.  “When you meet the new girl,  tell her …” 

The older Slayer shrugs.  Smiles ruefully, a little bit embarrassed.

“I dunno.  I haven’t figured it all out yet.  Just make up something cool.  You were always good at that, right?”

Her tone is more playful than pointed, but Faith can’t help but flinch a little.  Yeah, she’d told all kinds of dumb, bullshit stories when they’d first met, hadn’t she?  Desperate to make everyone think she was fun and exciting and interesting; to make the infamous Buffy Summers think that maybe she was going to have a little competition now.  To make her think she was worthy.  That she deserved to be alive when her Watcher and everyone she’d ever been supposed to protect was dead.  To convince her – convince herself – that they could even begin to be equals.  Of course Buffy had seen through that.  Of course she’d known they weren’t.

“You know me, B,” she says weakly.

She does.  She always has.  That was at least half the problem, wasn’t it?  No matter how cunning she thought she was being, she could never fool Buffy for long.

Now Buffy looks at her, and she sees her – every aspect of her, even the broken and ugly parts, the rotting and wrong parts she’d always thought she was able to hide – and Faith thinks that, in the way she only ever will do in dreams, she accepts her.  The real Buffy would have judged her, again.  Found her wanting. Asked her why she couldn’t just be perfect like Sunndale’s own Little Miss Sunshine.  

But this Buffy is different.  She looks at her, considers. Decides.  Leans forward, slowly, and kisses her gently on the forehead, the way that the real Buffy never did and never would have done.  It’s not forgiveness, exactly.  Faith knows that she doesn’t deserve that; knows that she never will.  Not even from a memory.  Not even in a dream. 

It’s something close though.  Call it acknowledgment, maybe.  Call it recognition.  Understanding.  An admission, finally, that Faith wasn’t crazy to think that they could be the same.  That they could have been the same, if only Faith had–

The bell rings again.  Louder, this time.  More insistent.  Buffy touches Faith’s shoulder, gently, just once.  A parting gesture.  Takes a step back, eyes never leaving hers.

“Be brave, Faith,” she tells her.  “Be better.”

Then she’s gone.  Slipping through the twin library doors like a pale ghost before Faith can respond.  They swing shut behind her, somehow locking closed again as they do.  The sound they make echoes throughout the library, hard and heavy and forever.

When Faith manages to force the doors open and stagger outside – before she even has time to wonder if the library doors always led right to the front of the school like this – she can tell at once that Buffy is gone.  No matter how hard she looks, there’s no sign of the other Slayer.  No flash of blonde hair or white clothing in the distance.  No sign of anybody else at all.  Just clear sidewalks and abandoned cars as far as the eye can see.  Deserted houses and abandoned playgrounds and other quiet, empty places. For the first time in nearly three whole years – for the first time since she was Called – she’s completely and totally alone.  But the sun is creeping over the horizon and the sky is full of birds.

[jxngs]

FUUBUTSUSHI | 風物詩 — 2

· . ༄࿔ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: Snow whispers softly, Blind eyes in winter's embrace, Curse king's frozen game.

⤿ or in which a blind girl is forced to play shogi with the king of curses.

Sukuna / Ryomen Sukuna | Original Female Character(s)

Tags: Slow Burn × Size Difference × Heian Period × Romance × Violence × Enemies to Lovers × kind of lol × Canon-Typical Violence × Betrayal × Disabled Character

[Ch. 1] | [AO3]

"Let's make a wager today."

Yukina felt excited about the idea. She was already having fun with the King, and he somehow made it even more interesting. Perhaps it would motivate him to try harder to win. If that's the case, so be it! She and Sukuna have been playing shogi for a while, and he was never close to winning.

Outside of playing, the young female didn't do much. Eat, play, eat, sleep. At first, she needed to be escorted by Uraume every time. It took her almost three days to memorize the paths that led her to her room, the kitchen, and the room where she played with the King. It wasn't his chambers; that's what she knew for sure.

She also met a couple of the servants and even one of the concubines so far. They didn't engage in conversation with her that much unless they had to directly interact with her. Even the concubine didn't bother with her once she found out that her stay was temporary.

Well, it's temporary until Sukuna wins.

If you asked Yukina, she'd tell you that her stay is permanent, given the way things are going.

Loss after loss.

It didn't matter to her, though. She was having fun.

"Sure! That'll be fun," she responded to him.

"If you lose, you'll have to give me your eyes as a keepsake."

Oh.

That was definitely one of the weirder bets she had; why would someone want something so useless? It didn't make sense to her at all. Perhaps if she saw some value in it, she would be weirded out by the whole idea rather than being confused.

"You can just take them," Yukina said a few seconds later.

"You want me to take them now?" Sukuna asked incredulously.

Isn't that what he wanted...? Did she misunderstand his words?

"It's not like I use them." She giggled—as if that's the most normal thing to say. "I usually wager with my life."

"Why would you? Are you that confident in your skills?"

"Well, once a shogi master loses, they're considered to be a normal human. And I..." Yukina gripped her kimono and tilted her head down, hiding her face. "I can't live with that."

The King was silent.

This pathetic human managed to catch him off guard every single time.

In his eyes, she was already a 'normal human', yet to see her think so highly of one board game to the point of losing her life over it... It's truly pathetic. So pathetic that he wanted to laugh. Laugh at how she was going to lose her life whether she wagered on it or not.

Yet, the way that she was willing to give up her eyes without any reason made him feel puzzled. Weren't humans oddly attached to their things? Whether it was a limb, a house, a wisdom tooth, or even a teapot they had only recently bought, they would never let go of it.

Yukina, on the other hand, offered them with no hesitation. Her body was relaxed, and she had her usual small, guileless smile gracing her face. Her demeanour didn't change at that, but the idea of losing her status as a shogi master disrupted her features.

Was it because it was the only thing she found value in in herself?

Sukuna couldn't handle it.

He couldn't handle how she was getting him to overthink. He couldn't handle how a young, disabled woman like her was willing to lose her life over something she valued when most people didn't do half of that. Sorcerers of all kinds had their pride, and they would never admit to such a thing.

His own pride wouldn't allow him to be less than her.

With a hand movement, his lower set of eyes was sliced, splattering blood on her and the floor. 

"W-What?" Her timid voice stuttered.

Her slender fingers reached to her cheeks, trembling. Her seraphic smile no longer graced her face. She was scared. Terrified and confused.

And he loved it.

It made him think if she was the same when he attacked her hometown. Was she crying and trembling? Yelling for her father in broken words? Oh, she must've felt so lost and so confused.

Seeing her break like that reminded him of how human she is, after all. 

Yukina was not an angel.

"King S-Sukuna," her voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "What happened?"

"Let's start the game." The King shrugged her off, already picking up a piece.

A bloody hand suddenly covered the board, hovering over it to not dirty it. Her pale complexion made the crimson red on her fingers pop more, and it made him wonder if it'd look just as good if her entire body was covered in it.

"No!" Yukina protested. "I-I don't know why you hurt yourself, but— but we're not playing till you treat it."

Sukuna chuckled at her. She didn't know that he had healed himself to stop the bleeding. She was just so dumb that it was entertaining him beyond his expectations. 

Suddenly, she reached behind her head. Yukina started to untie her blindfold, though her movements were shaky. She then extended her hands with a thin, long piece of fabric resting on her palms.

"I don't w-want you to bleed more." She said.

His gaze flickered between her hands and face, his face blank and neutral. Did she really think that he was like her? It almost made him scoff.

Her eyes were shut, but he could see the concern and worry in her expression. It was as if she was pleading for him to take care of his self-inflicted wound. It had him pause for a second, but...

Sukuna took the blindfold from her; however, he held it in his lower left hand. He didn't take his eyes off her, and he could see her smile at him in relief.

"You're dismissed for today."

Yukina slowly nodded her head at him.

Was she upset?

It was painfully obvious how she wore her heart on her sleeve. Her lips were pouty while she started to tap the floor around, trying to find her white cane. The glowing halo around her dimmed, and she was mindlessly searching. He could hear how slow her heartbeat was compared to earlier. 

Sukuna found himself puzzled by her again. He knew he should've taken it as it is. Yukina was a simple-minded woman who was overly trusting. Her intentions were clear, and she lacked the deceit that people had.

So, why couldn't he think of her in a simple way?

He took the cane that rolled away a bit far and handed it to her silently. Her head snapped up toward him, and it suffocated him.

"Thank you," she breathed out, gently grabbing it from him with a small bow.

She stood up from her place, leaning on the wooden pole for support. Her thick, white lashes rested comfortably against her skin as she began to walk out. The soft tapping filled the silence in the room. It had a rhythm and a specific pace, and it swayed from left to right.

Honestly, Yukina was obviously upset about how their playtime was cut short. 

The only thing she looked forward to in her current days was her time with the King. She got to talk to him and explain sequences with ease, and over time, he began to indulge in her talks more and more.

Did she do something wrong? 

Just as her mind was about to convince her of that, his voice rang through the room.

"What did you want in case you won?" he asked her.

Her tapping came to a stop, and she turned around to face him.

"I wanted... to visit the gardens here."

The King didn't say anything in return, and thus, her tapping continued. 

Yukina walked through the halls with a quickened heart rate. The corners of her lips were tugging upwards, though it looked odd with the blood on her face. The King was an odd person in her eyes, but he was still kind nonetheless. She couldn't understand why he would injure himself so suddenly, or why he decided not to play with her for the day. She didn't sense any sort of negative emotions from his voice, so it wasn't like he was angry or upset, right?

Nonetheless, she hoped that things would be better tomorrow. Perhaps they'd wager on something again, but the consequences wouldn't end up like how it did today. Her request was tame in comparison to his: to visit the gardens or to lose her life. It didn't matter anyway. The outcome would always be the same.

She was so deep in her thoughts that she found herself already in front of her chambers. Sliding the door open, she stepped inside and closed it behind her. Since they didn't play a single match today, she had a lot of free time. The problem is she didn't know what to do. Yukina didn't have friends to chat with, and there wasn't really a hobby she could do while blind.

With a sigh, she sat down on her futon and placed her cane to the side. Her hands fiddled with her kimono sleeve in boredom as she thought of what she could do.

Back at her family's house, she would try to do embroidery in her free time since she could rely on her tactile senses for that. However, she didn't have anything to do so, and she'd need someone to sort out the colors for her first. It wasn't her place to ask the King for such a thing either.

Yukina decided to start braiding her hair. Normally, it'd be left down, reaching her mid-thigh, with her signature clip holding some pieces behind. Her hair was too heavy to be wrapped in a bun, so she would rather braid it instead.

Her nimble fingers were already threaded in her long locks, and she started to softly hum a tune to ease her boredom. From what she knew, no one lived in a room near her, so she didn't have to worry about being loud and annoying. It made her feel a lot more comfortable to do so.

Her fingers worked rhythmically, weaving strands of her hair together with practiced ease. The gentle hum of her voice filled the quiet room, a melody that echoed softly off the paper walls. It was an old tune, one her mother used to sing to her when she was a child. The notes carried a sense of nostalgia, a comfort that eased the restlessness in her heart.

As the braid grew longer, Yukina found herself lost in the repetitive motion, her thoughts drifting like leaves on a calm stream. She wondered what the gardens looked like. She had never seen them, but she imagined them in her mind: the flowers would be hidden beneath the white, the trees bare and skeletal, yet there was a serene beauty in that stillness. She could almost hear the soft crunch of snow underfoot, the crisp air filling her lungs as she wandered through the frozen landscape.

A quiet sigh escaped her lips as she tied off the end of her braid. Yukina still continued to sing and hum, deep in her thoughts. The King had been strange today, stranger than usual. She couldn't shake the image of him, the way his voice had wavered when he spoke to her.

The King was a mystery, one she had yet to fully understand. But there was something about him, something that drew her in.

The hum of her tune faded, leaving her in a silence that was almost too loud. She wished she could see his face, read the expressions that she could only imagine. But all she had were his words, his voice, and the emotions she could sense but not see. It wasn't enough, and yet, it was all she had.

Her train of thought was cut short when she heard a knock on her door.

"Come in," she said, pushing her hair back.

The door slid open, and they entered. The footsteps sounded heavier and different from usual. Uraume was the only person who would visit her, often to give her food or clothes, but it didn't sound like them.

"... Who is it?" Yukina asked.

There was a pause, then.

"Your playmate." A familiar deep voice rumbled through her ears, but it sounded unusually close now.

Oh?

The King never visited her before. She didn't expect to hear from him until tomorrow.

She turned her body to face him, head tilted upward. It was amusing to see her 'gaze' on his torso rather than his face, but she was blissfully unaware.

"King Sukuna," she greeted him, shocked. "Can I be of any help?"

A large, calloused hand touched her cheek, and it made her flinch from the sudden touch. It always surprised her whenever people touched her suddenly; deep down, she didn't like it. She didn't show any of that, though.

His thumb ran over the same spot many times before doing the same on her other cheek. Yukina was frozen in place—cheeks red and hands gripping her clothes. What is going on?

"You didn't clean your face well." The King finally clarified to her once he pulled away. You can hear the amusement in his voice.

It made her cheeks burn more in embarrassment, and she said, "I didn't know. Thank you."

If she was able to see, she would've averted her gaze.

"Follow me." He said after a round of silence.

Yukina couldn't even process it until she heard him already walking away. She scrambled around to find her cane to quickly go after him, not questioning where he was taking her.

The walk was fairly silent until a small sneeze escaped her, her nose scrunched up. Another one rang through the halls before she was able to apologize. God, she hated it whenever she sneezed. It was common, and she had done it in front of the King multiple times already. She simply didn't know why it happened so much, but it was a lot worse during spring.

"Sorry," she mumbled, her ears pink.

He didn't say anything in response and continued to walk. It was hard for her to figure out where he was walking. Sometimes, she would end up going the wrong way, and she wouldn't know till she heard his footsteps start to fade away. If it wasn't for her actively thinking about it, she would've ended up lost.

Just as she was going to turn to the right, something tugged on her clothes from behind, and she was stuck in place. 

"Huh—"

"Not that way." The King said with a flat tone.

"O-Oh!!"

Yukina stopped trying to walk forward and turned around to where he was. He still held on to the back of her kimono, and if he used a bit more strength, it would lift her up off her feet. It was similar to how a mother cat would hold her kitten. She felt too flustered and helpless to say anything. At least they didn't waste time because of her.

Soon enough, she heard him slide a door open and let go of her clothes. She smoothed it out the best she could, but her movements came to a stop when she felt cold air hit her face, blowing her hair away. Her hands came to a stop, and she gasped when she realized where they were.

"Woah~!" Yukina breathed out excitedly once she stepped out on the engawa¹.

In a second, she was already stepping off and walking around. Her steps were faster than normal, as she breathed in the crisp air. It was snowing, but she didn't care. All that mattered to her was how nice it was to feel it reach her body softly. The young woman was too mesmerized by the smells and sounds of nature to realize that he wasn't there with her.

Sukuna stood on the wooden porch, his face void of any emotion. His gaze rested on Yukina; he watched her from afar for a few seconds, then walked away. Humans were too boring and pathetic sometimes, and he couldn't bear to see it.

It was such a stupid request, and if it wasn't for her winning at a game of wits—unintentionally, he wouldn't have granted it.

If anything, his hatred for her grew more and more. And seeing her smile and blend in with the white-covered landscape further strengthened his hate. Sukuna hoped that she would accidentally die out there so the vow would be nullified. He would do anything to get her out of his face. To go and slaughter her village for binding him to a weak, dumb mortal.

Her innocence frustrated him beyond belief. How can someone be so ignorant and foolish to trust anything?

Despite being far from the garden now, he could hear her talking to herself. It took him a second to focus and realize that she thought he was still there, too.

Hah.

That made him laugh more than he had expected.

Yukina's mood was completely different from earlier—that was evident from how she excitedly talked about her surroundings. How she loved winter and its calmness. How the coldness in her lungs made her feel alive. How apparently everything was covered in white. She even asked him if that's true, but she was so into her rambling that she didn't think twice of his silence.

He heard her sit down and go quiet for a second.

Did she finally realize that she was alone? Oh, he would've loved to see her reaction to that.

Instead, she began to talk softly about how she wished she could see, and it made him stop in his tracks. Yukina had never brought that topic up before.

With curious ears, he listened.

She was so soft-spoken, but she didn't sound weak. It was as if she wasn't bothered by her disability as much as he thought she would be. She simply accepted it long ago, yet he could pick up on the yearning in her voice.

"I bet it's so pretty," she said. "I often long to see everything around me. The mountains and its rocks. The moon and its stars. Apparently, even the sun and its skies look pretty during sunset."

Sukuna couldn't recall the last time he paid attention to his surroundings. Or if he ever did.

"You know... My mother used to always say how she chose my name because I reminded her of the snow during winter."²

Yukina's words rang in his brain, and he remembered how she looked earlier. Her hair was braided this time, yet her front pieces fluttered and moved with the wind. Pink dusted her cheeks and nose, and her light blue kimono made her stand out even more. Her skin was so white it was a few shades away from matching the white fabric that covered her eyes.

For a second, it made him wonder what her eyes were like. Was it brown like the girls in their era? Or did it have that milkiness that some blind people have? Did they stand out with her white lashes?

The image of her twirling around under the falling snow kept relaying in his mind. It made his usually hot body drop in temperature, feeling the coldness grace his skin. Engulfing him and wrapping itself from behind.

She really did look like she was winter personified.

And he hated how he agreed with that. How he kept thinking of her.

With a sneer, Sukuna walked away. He was no longer interested in hearing her realize his absence.

Notes:

¹. Engawa: A covered corridor which runs around the outside perimeter of a building, similar to a porch.

². Yukina's name: The 雪 (yuki) in her name means snow.

[songbirdtales]

Keepsakes (AstarionxTav)

Author's note:

The more I'm writing the more this is turning into the slowest of burns. IDKY I'm eating up Astarion and Gale rivalry but its fueling me lol. Enjoy!

Tav sat by the fire with a ragged stuffed bear. The tattered toy had tears in several limbs and had been partially decapitated. Tav has some rags and a needle set aside as they examine the damage, mentally calculating their supplies. 

“You’ll kill your eyes like that.” Gale stood over their shoulder, his arms crossed behind his back as he surveyed the scene.

“Good thing I’ve darkvision, yeah?” They offered him a fanged smile, the levity of conversation welcomed.

“Still, if you’ve need of, you’re welcome to use my tent. I keep it well lit for late night reading.” He was doing it again, this dance they’d been at the last few days. This dance of over generosity met with deflection when Tav would probe at his intentions. Sure, perhaps it was simply friendly companionship, but the dissonance in his words and actions made Tav feel there was something Gale wasn’t telling them.

“I wouldn’t want to keep you awake, we need you fresh tomorrow.”

Gale held his hands up as if he’d been caught in a crime. “No need to worry, I’ll be sleeping by the fire tonight. It’ll be empty regardless of me.” An arm opened to gesture back towards his tent. “You’re welcome to it as you please.”

And again they went. “Thank you, Gale. I’ll keep it in mind.” He couldn’t say much to that. Tav looked to their rags, then back up to the wizard. “Gale, could you help me with something actually?”

“Of course!” He was so eager. “How can I help?” Tav almost found themself pitying him. He wanted them so bad, and although Tav couldn’t deny there was a physical attraction, they didn’t want him like that, and they respected him too much to play with his heart.

“Do you have any scrap cloth?” Tav held up the moth worn rags, some had holes in the center with very little usable fabric, it made for a rather limited stock.”I’m trying to mend this toy I found in the village we passed through.”

“The goblin infested one? I hadn’t even noticed.” That’s what he was growing to like about Tav. They were thoughtful, even if they weren’t exactly a hero. They were a chaotic neutral soul from everything he’d seen. He didn’t mind that, but he found it unfortunate how they seemed to attract the worst kinds of characters, himself included. “I think I have a few pieces I can spare.” He nodded towards his tent. “I didn’t know you liked dolls.”

“I’m not sure I do, but mending things like this is familiar, and I could use something familiar right now.” Their eyes had turned back to the toy in their hands. They grabbed their supplies and stood, ready to follow him back to his tent, which is exactly what they hadn’t wanted to do. Still, they could keep this from escalating in a direction they didn’t want. Everything was still fine.

“I understand. I’ve been grabbing every book we pass. It’s the most I’ve read in ages. It’s comforting.” Gale said as they walked side by side to his tent. His strides were longer and quicker than Tav’s, Gale actively having to alter his pace and path to keep at their side. His body language betrayed his excitement, and Tav felt nothing at the sight but anxiety. Tav paused beside his sitting cushion as Gale stepped forward, kneeling into the tent and gathering some slashed clothes. “There you are,” Gale beamed as he handed the cloth to Tav.

The cloth was good quality, heavy and strong, but it had been brutally cut up in battle to the point it wasn’t much worth repairing. The blood had been mostly washed out but the reminisce of stains lingered. All in all, there was more than enough good fabric for their bear.

“You really took a beating the other day…” Tav mused as they looked over the torn robe. They’d not really thought much about how brutal the Gnoll on the road had been.

“You should have seen the other guy.” He joked back, laughing a little until he noticed Tav wasn’t laughing back. He quickly tamped the laughter down to awkward silence.

Tav offered Gale a soft smile. “I’m glad you’re ok Gale. You’re a valued part of this party, and I don’t know how we’d fare without you. So, do try to be more careful, yeah?”

“Of course.” He said with a nod, his eyes struggling to keep contact with Tav’s demonic glow. His gaze only turned up when Tav spoke again.

“Well, I better get started if I want to get some sleep tonight.” Tav said as they switched spots with Gale, his body naturally following their movement as if they were both being pushed by opposite currents. Tav got down and crawled in, sitting in the pile of cushions Gale had amassed and formed into a reclined seat. They curled their legs up, propping their supplies on their thighs as they began to tear the gifted cloth into smaller segments.

Gale didn’t leave, sitting down on the cushion outside. He grabbed something nearby to seem as though he had a task himself, but it was truly just an excuse to watch Tav work. Tav didn’t mind, even if they saw his act for what it was. Eventually he actually did become fixated on his task, the two working silently, fueled by the other’s presence. It was peaceful, familiar, like working in a library. Gale had no idea how long they had been at this, but as he pulled himself from his work to speak to Tav, he paused.

Inside the tent Tav was passed out in his pillows. The bear had been noticeably mended in parts, but it was not yet done. Gale got up from his seat and kneeled into the tent. His hand reached for the blanket, pulling it across the tent to gently drape it over Tav. A warm smile bloomed on his lips as he let them sleep. Only then would Gale leave, heading back to the fire.

“There you are,” The annoyance in Astarion’s voice was palpable as he approached Gale at the fire. “Where have you been off to?”

Gale knew the smell of jealousy well, and Astarion was worse than he’d like at hiding it. “Just doing a little late night carving.” Gale reached in his pocket and produced a small wooden figurine. It was crudely carved, but even Astarion had to admit it vaguely resembled a cat in a cat’s most basic shape.

Astarion stared at the deformed wooden cat for a moment before looking up at Gale with the least amusement Gale had ever seen from him. “Do you know where Tav is?”

Gale had to actively resist smiling but the faintest glimmer of a triumphant grin couldn’t help but pull at his lips. He’d cross his arms over his chest. “I do.” He said simply and curt as if he had no intention of elaborating. Anger twitch to Astarion’s face, and just as he was just about to speak, Gale spoke again, cutting him off. “They’re already asleep for the night. Poor thing, utterly exhausted. I’d let them be.”

Astarion’s face had more warmth to it than Gale had ever seen, the heat of his anger barely contained. “I asked you a question. Do not make me repeat myself.” That normally beautiful face was twisted and sharp as Astarion glared daggers into the human wizard. 

The grin grew broader across Gales lips at Astarion’s posturing and he’d nod back over his shoulder. “I thought it best to leave them be.” He was so smug about it, as if he’d won some unspoken competition.

Astarion glanced over in the direction Gale had gestured quickly at first before realizing Gale had nodded to his tent. His gaze came back to Gale as a glare. “No need to make things weird, Gale. We’re all adults here.” If his tongue wasn’t so sharp, Gale might have noticed the projection in Astarion’s words, but both men were preoccupied with their egos. The condescension in his voice was cutting, leaving Gale speechless long enough for Astarion to turn sharply away and saunter off.

Gale sighed as the Elf departed, a wave of relief washed over him that his jugular was still intact. “Dramatic.” He finally scoffed.

Astarion was at Gale’s tent in a matter of strides. Still fuming, he knelt beside the opening of the tent and pulled the flap aside with his arm. The sight of Tav, fully clothed, dead asleep, with a partly repaired stuffed toy was not what Astarion had been expecting. Instantly the wind was knocked out of his anger and the fire of it died, leaving Astarion frozen. Any action he’d thought to take was now wildly dramatic if not inappropriate… for a moment he was almost aware of his jealousy, until Tav stirred.

A soft, sleepy sound came from Tav as one eye struggled to pull itself half open. Their arms were just about to start pushing themself up when Astarion reached out a hand. He didn’t touch them, but his hand hovered just overtop their back. They didn’t push up into the hand, they didn’t have the strength. They were exhausted from the near daily feeding.

“Hush, go back to sleep.” He urged in a sweet whisper as his eyes turned about the tent. Gale had this packed with all sorts of magic nonsense, but his eyes fell back to the stuffed bear. He was fascinated instantly, not because of the toy, but because of the magic radiating from it. They had pulled apart Gale’s bloodstained shirt for thread and stitched it in a way he’d seen before from the witches of Baldur's Gate, a way of hiding protections and curses in the stitch and weave of clothing. Though in this instance it was very rudimentary, Astarion couldn’t help but wonder how a tiefling bard knew such magic. 

“Are you hungry?” Even half asleep, Tav’s mind was preoccupied with the camp, making sure everyone was safe. He almost admired that about them, if only for the wrong reasons. He was impressed that someone could have the willpower to keep all of this together.

“Not tonight darling.” His hand reached for their hair, gently shifting some loose strands from their face. He’d lean over to their ear and whisper,  “Sweet dreams,” as Tav’s eye fell shut once more.

He lingered, hesitating, his eyes shifting back to the bear before deciding it was best to leave what questions it gave him till the morning. Astarion would wait until he’d gotten a few steps from the tent before letting his real thoughts catch up to him. He was hungry, but a boar would have to suffice. It would look bad on him to drink Tav’s blood while they’re passed out in another person’s tent, and he needed to keep appearances up if his very simple plan was to succeed.

The next morning Tav woke up early. Gale had aligned some objects in his tent to take the first light of dawn and amplify it and wake him, Gods did it work, Tav almost wished it hadn’t. They were groggy, vision fading in and out of focus as they crawled out into the sunlight. They sat on their knees and stared at the horizon in silent reverence for a time. Their thoughts swam with everything that had happened leading up to the blighted village; the abandoned temple, the grove. It all came back like recalling a vivid dream, surreal and fragmented, yet so clear. 

They let their eyes close as the still cool air washed over them. Tav’s breath fogged in the morning chill as they let out a deep, tired yawn. Their fangs snapped as they closed their mouth and rubbed the sleep from their eyes. As they crawled back in the tent to retrieve their craft, they noticed something shine in the morning light. A single white hair. Tav cocked a brow but gathered it with the rest of the fabric and the bear.

Everyone was still asleep as Tav ted lightly towards and past the fire. Even Astarion was still in his trance from what it seemed so Tav went towards the river. As soon as their back was turned, a sanguine eye popped open. Astarion was silent as he followed Tav towards the water. He watched as Tav washed their hands and face in the running water before settling on a rock and pulling their bear back out.

“Good morning, Darling.” He watched them closely, the breaking of the silence practically made Tav jump but they didn’t hide their work. They’d been threading their needle and paused, tucking the needle into the bear so as to not stab themself with it on accident.

“Good morning,” Tav sighed in relief, a soft smile pulling across their face before their hand twirled in a flourish towards him. “You dropped something in Gale’s tent.” They held out the single silver hair between two fingers, offering it back to him. “You should be more careful with a wizard.”

Astarion scoffed and looked between Tav and the hair. “How do you know that’s mine?” The two stared silently at each other for a long moment, Astarion set in his flimsy denial as Tav’s hair was much longer, much more yellow, and much less curly than the strand in question. He’d groan a little. “Fine, yes, it’s mine.” A hint of irritation simmered in his tone before shifting into that arrogant sarcasm. “I’m surprised you’re giving it back instead of using it in your little curse doll, make me fall in love with you.”

Tav choked on laughter, doubling over as their cheeks puffed before their lips burst open. Their hand clapped over their mouth to muffle the sound so as to not wake the others. “I don’t need magic to steal a heart.” 

They turned their hand down, ready to flick the hair away towards him but Astarion reached out to snatch it before they could. He didn’t keep it, brushing it off his hand on his trousers. Tav looked back down to the bear and held it up a little. 

“Besides, these are for protection. It’s something my mother taught me to do. When I saw this in the rubble, I thought I might give myself something familiar to do. This one’s for Gale, since it’s got his blood and all on the thread.” Those blue eyes turned up to Astarion curiously. “I can make one for you next time I find a stuffed animal.”

“Don’t expect me to give you my bloody drawers.” Astarion huffed.

“No need for that.” Tav was still chortling as they picked up their needle to resume work. “I'll be honest the blood was dramatic of him, but I’m thinking of making one for everyone. Give my hands something to do while we travel.”

“Really?” His tone shifted as he leaned just a little closer, that perfect, sly smile on his lips. Tav knew a performance when they saw one, and this was well rehearsed. “Nothing else to busy your hands with?”

Tav knew this game, bored flirtation. It was one of their favorites, and considering there was nothing else to do besides fixate on the imminent fear of death, why not play along? Their hair swayed as they tilted their head, strands still caught in their horns and loose down their back. Their hair was long, past their shoulders and with a hint of a wave. “Yet.” They hummed in response, a curious look on their face, studying his reaction.

Astarion recoiling as a very confused “What?” come from him before he’d clear his throat. He wasn’t used to someone flirting back, normally they were too intimidated. “I mean, What about your uh, violin? Or is it a Lute?”

Tav backed off, their smile growing wider at his stumbling words. “I’m fine playing classics by the fire, but I’m a bit reluctant to work on my own stuff around the fire with strangers. Besides, most of them want to sleep as soon as we get back to camp. I'm not gonna keep them up.”

“Oh come now,” He’d put the charm back on, gesturing to the camp. “I’m sure Gale would be thrilled.”

Tav’s face soured, their nose scrunching a little as their lips thinned. “Yeah…” They didn’t seem excited by the idea. “You… never heard me play in Baldur’s Gate, did you?”

Astarion laughed and found himself a seat on a nearby stone. “Darling, I have no idea who you are beyond our time together with the rest of our companions.” Tav squinted as they caught sight of a glimmer of honesty. When he didn’t care about something, he had no filter, and in that they could see just a hint of what hid behind the mask.

An easy smile grew across Tav’s lips. “What kind of music do you think I make?” They asked with pure amusement.

Astarion stared blankly at Tav for a moment, blinking a few times as the gears in his head turned. “What other kind of music do bards make besides adventure ballads?”

Tav instinctively covered their mouth as they laughed again, truly amused by his ignorance. It drew Astarion’s eye instantly. “I mostly sing about grief and death, heartbreak and vengeance. It’s not exactly the mood I want to bring to camp.”

“It can’t be that bad.” He said as he crossed his arms. “Come, let me hear some of this emotional music. It can’t be that much of a downer.”

Tav rose a brow, his challenge wordlessly accepted. They reached into their back for a small book where they worked out their lyrics. “Here’s something I’m still working on.” They cleared their throat and began reading the lines like poetry. It was an eloquent verse, and very clearly described having dreams of murdering their own father.

Astarion was thrown off in a completely new way. The longer they read for, the more his expression contorted as Astarion tried to mask his concern. They only got two lines in before Astarion held one hand out and averted his gaze. “Th-that’s enough. I get it.”

“Yeah,” Tav was holding back laughter. “I don’t need to be playing songs like that at a time like this. I’ll get my musical fix by playing their favorites by the fire, but I figure it’s better to save the heavy stuff.” Their eyes turned to the sky, the sun was just about to peek over the trees, the morning star fading as the sky lost its pastel hues. “Never gets old.” They sighed, as the sun came up and the warmth of its light washed over them both. 

Astarion flinched instinctively before letting out a deep sigh of relief. “No, it does not.”

They sat in the silence of the sunrise for a moment before Tav’s voice gently broke it. “I know everythings scary right now, but I truly believe that if we stick together, we can survive this. And if not, at least we’re free, for what it’s worth.”

“I think freedom’s worth everything.” His eyes were fixed on the water, watching the river glisten as it ran. The flashes reflected in his eyes, making them sparkle like rubies.

Tav let themself stare for longer than they should have, taking in the contours of his features, the shapes of his shadows, the lines in his skin. They didn’t care if he caught them, though he seemed too fixated on the water to notice. “So do I.” Tav’s voice melted into the sound of the river, so soft Astarion barely registered they’d said anything at all.

By the time he’d looked back to them, Tav was standing, holding the now fully mended bear in their hands. They tilted their head as they gazed at the bear, checking their work. They bit their lower lip in thought, as if trying to remember a forgotten step. Finally, they went to the river crouched beside the edge. With one finger, Tav reached to wet their nail, holding the drop in the carved point of their nail before bringing it to the forehead of the bear. The toy looked a little cleaner, Astarion could even feel the magic of it was more pure. The protection charm was complete. 

“I’ll try to find you a different animal. Maybe a goose?” They said with a joking smile.

Astarion clicked his tongue, squeezing his still folded arms as he pouted. “Take your time.” He had no desire for a hagcraft charm.

Tav shook their head as they left Astarion at the riverbank. The elf glanced back towards the fire to see Tav giving the now well awake Gale the bear. He seemed more fascinated with the magic than the bear itself and began to info dump about thread based magic.

Astarion’s face felt relatively hot as anger gathered in him. He covered his face with a hand as his mind still raced from that one word. He didn’t like this, whatever feeling this was. He didn’t recognize the feeling as it gathered in his core, this twisting in his guts, as if he’d eaten something rotten, yet still starved. Was it really hunger? He’d fed that night and this felt different. He’d already made them his mark, so why was he starting to panic?

It was then that a new thought came to Astarion, what if Tav can see through his game? How well could he really wrap them around his finger if they knew it was fake? And what did that mean for the security of his simple plan?