#but those things cannot get wet so I started looking for other options for like plant pots etc but I don't have an oven hah

[zelkam]

"can you use an air fryer for polymer clay ceramics" aka google searches that sound wild but once you think about it...

[lcriedlastnight]

coming home after a shitty day and napping with lando is all a girl needs. you both wake up at midnight rambling, barely even awake, then go straight back to sleep again cause god what i would DO to be wrapped up in his arms all cosy and warm mmfghds

ugh so true anon! i need me some of this pls. also i might've gotten carried away with this one teehee, she was only supposed to be a baby blurb!

tw: fem!reader, swears maybe, lmk if you want me to add anything.

w/c: 1.3k

this day was seriously one from hell, you were sure of it. throught no fault of his own, lando had made you late for work this morning. you were too busy admiring his sleeping face to realise that an hour had passed and you were not even out of bed yet. you had rushed around trying to get ready. your makeup was not sitting right on your face, so it took you twice as long to get ready because you had to take it off and start again.

then last night, when you had put your uniform into the dryer, you did not even notice that the machine was not even plugged in, so your clothes were still wet and you had no time to dry them. lando had told you not to go to work in wet clothes or you would end up with a cold but you had snapped at him, asking what he thought you should do seeing as you were already running late and had no other options.

lando knew about how stressed being late made you, he knew it made you freak out, even though you would be fine, so he offered to run your hairdryer over them to see if he could make it any better seeing as you told him you had no time to plug the actual dryer in. lando forced you to quickly eat some breakfast, so you do that then brush your teeth. by the time you pull your uniform on, it was still wet but it was a little bit better. you kiss lando goodbye and rush out the door.

you had called the cafe you worked in while you were driving there, explaining that you were on your way and how sorry you were for running late. you made up some bullshit excuse that your car would not start and they had believed it. the first good thing to happen today.

once you had actually gotten to work the place was swarming with people, you had never, ever seen it like this before. it was so difficult trying to force your way through the crowd to even get inside.

you saw your coworker and had asked what was going on and she just shrugged. the rush had lasted three hours. you and all the staff were rushed off your feet the whole time, and then for an hour afterwards because the place was a dump and it was a five man job to clean it up.

the one thing that you usually looked forward to on the days you were working and lando was with you was having lunch together, but of course today that hadn't gone to plan either. because of the rush you had completely missed your usual break time by hours and that had made you miss your usual meeting with your boyfriend. today was one of those days where you felt like you needed it the most too. you had taken a sneaky ten minutes to cry in the stockroom. whoever was watching the cameras then would have had a great laugh.

lando also usually brought your lunch to you so you never brought food with you to work when lando was at home so that caused you to have to go down the street and buy food, which you hated because it rubbed in the fact that you were not sitting with you boyfriend, laughing about something funny he had seen on instagram right now.

an hour before your shift had ended you had ended up with a hole in your trousers. you were so embarrassed because the sound of the fabric ripping apart was so loud you were sure they could hear it down the street. you had asked your manager if you could new ones but she had told you the new uniform shipment was not due for another three weeks, so you had to go the next three weeks with ripped trousers. 'this day cannot get any worse' you had thought to yourself. it did.

once your shift had finally ended, you jumped into your car and did not look back. turns out you had left your phone in your locker so you had to turn back.

walking through the doors of your shared flat with lando had felt like literal heaven. it was fleeting as seconds later, you heard laughs and shouts coming from lando's gaming room. he was busy. the only thing you wanted after your shift from hell was to come home in lay in lando's arms. you felt bad interrupting him and you did not even know if he was streaming or not so you left him to it. you peel your clothes off and jump in for the quickest shower you had probably ever been in.

you had no motivation to made dinner for yourself so you treat yourself to the leftovers from whatever lando had made himself and collapse onto the couch.

"hi honey! you're home?" lando asks. you did not know when he had came through but you mumble your reply into the couch pillow anyways. it does not take a genius to work out you were upset and lando being lando, well he did what he knew best. he saunters over and crawls up behind you, arms pulling you into his chest. it takes a little shuffling to make it work but once you were both comfortable and content wrapped in each others arms, you let out a content sigh.

"bad day, pretty?" lando mumbles into your neck, pressing light, innocent kisses in his wake. you groan as his words remind you about your nightmare of a day.

"just kept getting worse." you pout, reflecting on the worst parts of your day. lando coos against your skin, it tickles and brings a smile to your once moody face.

"my poor girl, you're so brave." lando jokes. "i think someone needs a little nap, hm?" lando suggests. usually you would protest, who goes for a nap at seven thirty at night but you knew that this time, there was not a bone in your body that was saying no. in lieu of answering you just move yourself so that lando's chin was resting on your head, and you were hiding in his chest. "just for a little bit." you mumble. lando hums then you are asleep minutes later.

when you come to it is dark in the living room. you had not slept for a little while, like what you had told lando. it seems that he had also fallen asleep. you barely feel like you have woken up, but you know you have because of the discomfort of the two of you falling asleep on the couch.

"lan, wake up." you grumble with a less than gentle tap to his cheek.

"lan, we need to go to bed." you try again.

"m'already in bed. go back to sleep." lando mutters as he tries to shush you by pulling your head back into his chest. your next words are muffled by lando's hoodie. you fight a little against the hand on the back of your head, keeping it where lando wants it, trying to get him to move to the bed.

lando groans, one hand moving to sling over the back of the couch to grab the throw cover you keep there. he then, in one quick move your half asleep brain cannot even begin to compute, he pulls you on top of him and wraps the fluffy cover over the top of you.

"there, y'comfy now so jus' go t'sleep please, baby." lando pleads, bringing a hand to move under your pyjama top to run across the plain of your back. you keen at his soft, warm touch.

"kay." lando grins and tangles his legs with yours, wanting to be as close to you as he possibly could be.

"don't bitch tomorrow when you have a sore back." you warn him, words slurred with the sleep that was seconds away.

lando huffs. "worth it."

[theretirementstory]

20/10/2024. Bonjour à tous, I hope I find you all well today and that wherever you are the day is calm and bright for you. Too many people have been fighting floods or excessive heat. Yes we have had a couple of bright sunny days as well as almighty downpours (testing my repaired roof I think), but at least I have still been able to get out and about.

On Wednesday, i went to Hôpital Tenon in Paris for my PET scan. Must be market day in Paris on a Wednesday as stalls were setting up on the pavements and everything looked wonderful. What a shame I had an appointment I would have liked to stroll around the 20th arrondissement looking at all the goods on the stalls. Well anyway, appointment is out of the way now so it’s Paris tomorrow for treatment and result of scan.

As I said, we have had some lovely bright sunny days and I managed to dry a lot of washing outside. On thé wet days I have stayed at home and been working on the new jigsaw I started. It was while working on the jigsaw that disaster struck. My crown (fitted in 2020) came off and due to low platelets a visit to the dentist is not an option (at the moment). I will have to speak to the doctor on Monday to see what she says about it.

Now I cannot chew on either side of my mouth, making my choice of food a little difficult. As they say, if it’s not one thing it’s another!

I finally got round to writing the letter to the knitting group plus a couple of cards for friends and family in the UK, my neighbour posted those for me. I emailed the doctor in Troyes saying I didn’t have an appointment for this week he messaged back within 20 minutes to say that the coordinator would ring me the following day to set up the appointment. So I went to Troyes for my transfusion on Thursday and I have also an appointment for next Thursday.

The 16 October was a memorable day, it was 10 years since I received the “all clear” following my first brush with lymphoma. As that was the date of my scan this week can I be hopeful of the same outcome on Monday, we will see. As I have said before, there is nothing I can do to influence a decision one way or the other so there is no sense worrying about it, what will be will be.

“The Photographer” has his children this weekend, I had a video call mainly with my grandson because his sister was engrossed in a puzzle book. I was sitting in the garden taking a break from laying more bark. It was fun talking to him and showing him what I was doing, he said there was a slug but honestly, I have never seen a slug in my garden. Yes I have seen snails and I move them to the composter, plenty of food for them in there. I did manage to say hello to my granddaughter but didn’t want to interrupt her concentration. I was sent some beautiful photos of the children which I love to receive.

“The Solicitor” nipped into work yesterday morning preparing for what I guess is an audit. It’s a busy weekend this weekend, he visited friends yesterday evening so I guess a “thick head” may be on the cards today. We had a great video call during the week and it’s good to hear him talking about the goals he is setting himself.

“The Recovery Coordinator” has had another busy week as staff have been off work with a nasty cold/flu which seems to be doing the rounds. She had started to feel a little under the weather on Friday and would have liked to have a rest this weekend, but as always when you work full-time there are jobs to be done at the weekend. So she is plodding on and hopefully will feel better by the end of today. She must have been feeling better yesterday evening because she decided to go with “The Solicitor” to visit friends.

There are no adventures on the cards for “The Jetsetter” maybe something will come along or maybe not.

I have been trying to get out for my walks and have succeeded (apart from the days when I have been to the hospital). I do believe it is doing me good, helps with my positivity as I am connected to all around me.

My garden is what had kept me going and I managed to do a little bit more work out there yesterday afternoon. I pulled up the moss and cut the lavender down a little. Plus I laid my last remaining cardboard and covered it really well with bark. It is so therapeutic working in the garden and the fresh air is good for you. Funnily, while sitting outside on the phone I decided if it’s nice today I will take a cup of tea out there.

Anie, Monique and Pauline have all been in touch this week. Here is a question for you…. Why do people who love cats/dogs/rabbits whatever, think that everyone else feels the same and would like to see videos of said animal? I have friends who have never been blessed with children and I am careful not to inundate them with photos of my grandchildren so why don’t people think before they send videos of animals. (Ok rant over).

The music slot this week has had my brain working overtime! The first song is by Dina Carroll “Why Did I Let You Go” from 1993. The second song took much longer for me to decide on and believe me the ones I left out are some cracking songs. The second song is by Fleetwood Mac, it’s “Seven Wonders” released in 1987, it’s an oldie but a goodie!

I have just read today that Sir Chris Hoy has terminal cancer, it’s so sad, he is 48 years old. Not content with that hitting him and his young family, his wife has been diagnosed with MS. It quite puts into context how precious life is and to “live your best life” everyday.

For me, although I maybe haven’t always made the best decisions with my life, I have used the paths I have chosen and I believe enriched my life. From taking early retirement at 50, then just working part-time, to realising my dream, living and loving my best life in France. Of course I never anticipated what the past 17 months have thrown at me and it would have been easier on my family if I had been in the UK, they could have seen me more often, have provided their support in person (if needed) however, I don’t think I would have had such excellent treatment and I know that my positivity has come about by remaining strong throughout it all.

Now on a happier note, I will take some time to see if these “fresh eyes” can add a few more pieces to the jigsaw, then it’s cooking, preparing my food for the trip to Paris tomorrow and “hitting the hay” early this evening as it’s a 4:30 wake up in the morning 😩.

Jusqu’à le semaine prochaine.

Photos are of the Square Édouard Vaillant and a tree lined boulevard in the 20th arrondissement.

[pbaintthetb]

For the author ask, your BTS commentary of your fav scene of Pour Some Memory Down :)

oooh an exciting one (and dangerous asking me for a commentary) It's the second (first full) scene of Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang on the pier. There were a few options but there's a lot of stuff inthis bit that I liked and also them on the pier is the core and inspo for this fic

Cut for length

Nie Huaisang is still floating calmly in the lake, his words about the Xuanwu rolling through Jiang Cheng’s head.

The Xuanwu! Simply put Nie Huaisang is a lying liar who lies- and more importantly it's about how Jiang Cheng doesn't pick up on it because his mind is sort of always stuck on Nie Huaisang being weaker or needing help. He's never considered how, if huaisang cana't swim, he got out of that cave. And he's starting to question that now- although there's a later paragraph where JC shows how he's trying to not think about that and how it means nhs is a liar. I tend to write JC as putting nhs on a pedestal while simultaneously having infinite gripes with him. THey're complicated boys.

Jiang Cheng is still standing on the pier, the rain is pelting but the worst of the storm is yet to come. The dry riverbed gasping it in, unaware-

Continuining as is the case with this whole fic, JC's mental/headspace is abysmal, like words cannot. Also lots of pathetic fallacy. It's kind of meant to be a metaphor for jc's trauma, I guess. It's bad and he's soaking the pain in and moping in it- but he's got a whole week of this and it's gonna get worse. Just like the riverbed- and JC doesn't want to think about that either

The ground surrounding the pier is wet and seems less like ash, the river a gaping mouth trying to swallow it up

Ash and burning vs wetness and rain were the two big things about this fic. Again, I'm a basic cheap ass bitch, pathetic fallacy. They're fighting each other just like Jiang Cheng's thoughts! The rain extinguishes the fire and washes away the ash! but it's dangerous and damaging in its own way. You have to be careful with it. They complement each other, just like sangcheng.

“Last time you were the one in the water and I was the one sitting on the edge of the lake.” A pause. “Different bit of lake I guess.” “It’s the same bit of lake.” 

This is probably one of my favourite exchanges in the whole fic tbh. Different but the same, many years and many changes but still them, maybe in some ways unrecognisable, but still them. There is also something in here about how JC is trying to cling to good things that have changed from him and while he feels like he needs it, it's not good for him. Jiang Cheng in his jc way, is trying to say a lot more to nhs than it just being the same bit of lake. NHS is unfortunatley not a mind reader, although today he really is trying. He's starting to realise that maybe JC is just of big a liar as NHS himself is, just in different ways.

For jc's part he's saying, we can be those carefree kids again, right? we can? Nothing has changed, right? We're still us, right? and he knows it's not but he wants it to be.

Then, Nie Huaisang’s eyes are so very, very close to Jiang Cheng’s own, staring at him unblinkingly. Water streams down his face, dripping off his nose- and it’s raining right now, sure, but Huaisang’s mouth looks so very wet and-

The first kiss fake out! I think this is actually the only one I intended to be a fake out, all the other ones were times I wanted them to kiss but decided it felt weird to have them have a big sloppy while one of them was like... dissassociating, or crying, or hitting the other

Also, Huaisang totes knows what he's going

“-did you want me to die? Did you want us to die? Did you want yourself to die?”

Jiang Cheng starting to realise that NHS might not be so alright- and JC starting to really properly break out of his fog. This is actually partly why nhs drags jc into the river he's starting to realise jc worries about him so he's, very very poorly, trying to get jc more in the moment but making him fuss about him. For his part, JC is doing his usual "break your legs bluster" but as he goes on he starts to wonder and worry about what NHS was doing

Some of the anger begins to turn to fear as his words catch up with him, but it’s still unbelievably, wonderfully, unbearably sharp . Had that been what Huai-

as I was saying above, the strategy might be sus, but NHS sort of flics JC out of his introspection and back into the now- and JC evens start to wonder if that's what NHS was doing before he gets distracted by nhs again and also his complte denial and inability to consider nhs outside his framework of the "weaker one" at this point in the story- until yanno, he starts wondering how come nhs copes with grief better (debateable) and if that makes nhs stronger

“I said that [killing JC/NHS} that would kind of defeat the whole point,” the other sect leader mutters, like a petulant child. (And Jiang Cheng knows some.)

Jin Ling is the petulant child. But yes, some more light on NHS' agenda! To make sure JC doesn't accidentally drown himself in his own grief, to help JC with the worst week of his life by distracting him- a tactic that uh, JC maybe doesn't appreciate but that's the fic. JC, of course, has no idea what NHS is talking about and just tries to ignore it. Also this is NHS so even when he's talking about pretty serious things (his fear that JC is heading towards his own destructive spiral leading to his grave) he's gotta be a little brat about it. Can't show real genuine emotion, let alone care, ot Jiang Cheng eh?

IDk I felt it was very them, they're both allergic to letting each other they care about the other becuase of the gulf between them, and the history, and the current circumstances of their life, and their own personal traumas. But they care, they do.

Oh also, if I'm talking about it, while NHS is somewhat concerned about JC being possibly suicidal he IS mostly being facetious- it's like, JC has dealt with this awful week for several years and he's still kicking. NHS is more worried that it's not sustainable and has also realised that maybe it's not fair that JC always has to deal with it alone. JC does not (in his own internal thoughst at least) consider himself suicidal or wanting to die. He just... isn't entirely emotionally connected to the phsycial plane at this point in time. Lastly something to note that never really comes up because NHS doesn't notice and JC doesn't say but um admittedly to an extent nHS being here has made jC worse- which is why nhs has weird fluctuating concern. JC can't completely disconnect in a way that he typically woud (Unhealthy coping behaviour all the same) because he needs to entertain/interact with Huaisang. This means that JC actually has to deal with all his emotions in this week for once (not that he does that either, all the cut off thoughts) as opposed to competely checking out for a week and coming back to himself surrounded by alcohol ocassionally

[leftistfeminista]

Red underwear hang across a memorial to victims of state violence, including women victimized by sexual violence, in downtown Santiago.

https://nacla.org/memory-chile-frontlines

It is so inspiring how today’s generation of young Chilean Feminist women have been able to reclaim all the symbols of humiliation from the Fascist Junta. And even reclaim their meaning from the oppressors. Communist, Socialist and Marxist women political prisoners under Pinochet, were forced to wear “Red Flag panties”. This was ostensibly for security reasons so that Communist Party and MIRista women could instantly be identified as the most militant and dangerous from their bright underwear. The intent was to demean and degrade their politics. To reduce the cause they believed in to the cloth over their vulvas. The Junta guards would mock that their red underwear was the only red flag of socialism left in Chile.

But today’s Chilean Leftist women refuse to be cowered by that. They have embraced Red Flag panties and made a protest out of it, putting the names of the victims on the red panties. A symbol of humiliation was turned into a genuine proletarian feminist Red Flag of revolution.

From a Juventudes Comunistas de Chile woman's memoirs- 

With a painful thud I once again crash into the floor of the cell. I try to count how many times this has happened, how long I've been in this place, but I honestly can't remember. It's hard to tell when it's just a constant sting of torture, taken away every day to get electrocuted until my screams fill the room, then thrown back into this god forsaken empty cell as the door locks shut yet again.

Sometimes I feel like it's not even right to call this a cell- It's just a square block filled with nothing but four women in their underwear and a pool of piss in the corner. My comrades and I were given the choice of wetting ourselves or getting groped and possibly raped by a guard, and the option many chose resulted in a very unpleasant cell. But the one other thing in the cell is a string hanging from the bars, containing a whole set of bright red lingerie. Enough sets for all of us. There used to be more, but then some of our other comrades decided that they'd take any way out of this constant hell.

After lying on the cold floor for a few moments, listening to the heavy breathing and crying of my friends, I start staring at that outfit. If you showed that to me a year ago I'd spit in your face- it's an outfit clearly designed by a man, marks in all the right places to show off a woman's body in a way that a man wants, regardless of how comfortable it is for the woman. Yet... I can't help but think anything is better than this.

I slowly get to my feet, shaking as I realise what I'm doing. As I walk towards the string, I'm alerted by the voice of our local chair, though it might as well be the voice of my conscious.

"Please, Comrade. Don't think that's the easy way out." She shouts over, clearly struggling to talk. "If you wear that, the fascists win. They own you. There will be nothing you can do to stop them." She declares, as she lies on the floor covered in even more bruises than the rest of us, in her dirty panties and the remains of a long-since torn bra. Her speeches were always inspiring- the kind of speeches that made you want to jump to your feet and fight any injustice you see. But those were speeches made when we met at the local party headquarters. When we all wore our uniforms and were rearing to fight the capitalists. Today we are lucky if we don't lose consciousness. Today we cannot fight injustice; injustice has won.

I simply stare at her for a few moments, as she seems to stare back with a hopeful and almost pleading look. I desperately want to agree, to run over to her and tell her that the revolution will come tomorrow. But I know it won't. I know that putting on the outfit won't let them win, because they already have. I turn away, unable to face her as I strip off.

I wait a few moments, before seeing two of the guards silently smirk at me from the other side of the bars. They might have seen all of us naked plenty of times before, but it never feels any better. To get it over with as quick as possible, and to get some decency, I pick up the outfit and quickly put it on. It feels like it takes an eternity to do, but within moments there I am, standing there in this disgusting outfit.

"Ah, there we are! Another slut finally gives in." One of them shouts, eagerly reaching for his pockets to find the key and open the door. You'd think I'd be ecstatic to be let out the cell, but I know this never ends well. "Oh, and look how incredible your tits look in that outfit. I can't wait to rape you over and over. That's what that outfit means, you know. That you're a communist who will moan with pleasure whenever men like us feel like you deserve a good rape." He declares, no doubt noticing how much I shake the moment he says that.

"Hey, do communist whores like you even need bras?" The other laughs, reaching out roughly to tug on the strap of my bra, to the point where I can almost feel the inevitable snap coming.

"Please!" I beg desperately, almost instinctively. "Please! Don't! I'll do anything!" I hate myself for begging like this, but I can't stop myself. As much as I hated this outfit, and still do, it's also all I have. There's a panicked look on my face that I doubt any of my comrades have ever seen before, but which the men take great pleasure in.

"Good, because we were going to whatever we wanted to you anyway!" The first guard yells, grabbing me and tugging me right into his grip. The man is easily in his thirties, maybe forties, but easily far older than me. Immediately has hands run over my body, caressing my stomach, squeezing my breasts, slapping my ass with all the force he can muster. And there's nothing I can do about it. I expect an imminent rape, but after he fondles me for a few moments, he seems to be happy already. "One of the communists has given in." The other one speaks into his radio, met by an affirmative beep.

"What did you do before all this? Something dignified I assume?" The guard asks, the answer being a university student. I'd worked so hard to get my scholarship, and I had worked even harder to get my grades to where they were. Now I'm here, where all my knowledge and skills mean nothing, where my only asset seems to be my sex. "Well, I've always said to my daughter that women only really have one purpose. And you look like you'll be excellent at it." He laughs, slapping ass harshly. I assume that he's playing some sort of mind game, one which is working like a charm. Suddenly, the two grab my arms and start pushing me along the corridors, clearly with some new fate for me in store.

[phoenixyfriend]

soulmate au: 2 or 27 for rexwalker? (or rexanidala)

soulmate au prompts

2. the one where you have your soulmate’s name written on your body.

27. the one where you can transfer any injuries/pain your soulmate has onto yourself.

Once again featuring Marginally Less Terrible Jango, Hopeless Romantic Anakin, and Significantly More Awkward Rex.

Word Count: 5.9k

-----

Anakin doesn’t have a soulmate until he’s ten years old.

He’s already been at the Temple for half a year by then, and heard enough about how not having a soul mark is a good thing, for a Jedi. It means fewer temptations away from the duties they’ve all agreed to take on. There are people with names on their bodies, including Obi-Wan, who has two, but everyone agrees that while friendship with one’s soulmate is fine, especially if that soulmate is a fellow Jedi, it cannot be allowed to become too deep.

“I don’t understand,” Anakin admits to Obi-Wan, one night when he finds Obi-Wan looking at the name that wraps around his upper thigh, the one in the unfamiliar alphabet and cultured, perfect strokes. It’s a few months after he arrives, long enough to think they won’t kick him out just for asking questions, but not quite long enough to know what’s normal yet. His own soul mark is several months away, not that he knows it. “Soulmates were one of the few things a mas--an owner couldn’t take away from a slave. They could get rid of the mark, but we still knew. They were important, something the universe gave us that we could keep, even if it was only in our memories. Why do Jedi try to make it not count?”

Obi-Wan gets a look on his face, the one he gets whenever Anakin has a question that’s more complicated and philosophical than what Obi-Wan was ready for, the questions about why that he has to think about because it’s all normal for Obi-Wan, who grew up here, in ways that it isn’t (and will never be) for Anakin with his Tatoo heart and slaveborn mind.

“It’s not about the depth of the relationship in and of itself,” Obi-Wan finally says. “It’s about how you go about it, how you let it affect you, and if you let it get in the way of your duties as a Jedi, or put yourself at risk of a fall. It’s... it’s not banned, exactly, to love someone the way one would expect to love a soulmate, but it’s discouraged for our own safety and health. Losing someone you love hurts everyone, but for a Force-user to lose someone they consider so dear to their heart, there’s always a risk of losing one’s stability and going Dark.”

Anakin doesn’t entirely understand, but he pretends he does.

Obi-Wan scratches at the stubble he’s trying to turn into a beard, and says, “Okay, let me finish getting dressed, and then I’m going to tell you a few stories. You said you like learning through stories, right?”

Anakin nods.

“Okay, so... Bandomeer, I think. Melida/Daan and Mandalore, definitely. And we can round it out with what happened a few days ago,” Obi-Wan mutters. “I--most of those are planets.”

“I’ve heard of Mandalore,” Anakin volunteers.

“Yes, most have,” Obi-Wan indulges him, but he looks a little nervous. “Anakin, I... these stories all have to do with some very painful times in my life, times when I almost left, or did leave, the Jedi Order. I think--”

“You left the Jedi?”

“For a year, when I was a little older than you, but I came back,” Obi-Wan says. “I’m... can you put on some tea? It’ll make this conversation easier.”

“Is it about your soulmates?” Anakin asks, clinging to the doorframe just before he exits.

“...one of them,” Obi-Wan says, passing a hand over the mark on his thigh. “It’s... she’s why Mandalore is on this list, but that story won’t make as much sense unless I tell you about Bandomeer and Melida/Daan first.”

“Because you left?”

“Because I already knew what leaving could cost me,” Obi-Wan corrects, gentle but oddly stern. “Go put on the tea, Anakin. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

-----

Three months after Anakin hears about the times Obi-Wan was forced to leave, did leave, almost left, and threatened to leave (for Anakin’s sake!), the name of his soulmate comes in.

“That’s not a name,” Anakin says.

“Anakin--”

“That’s not a name,” Anakin says, more upset than he’d like to admit. The soul mark sits neatly on one side of his lower abdomen, warm and precisely lettered and absolutely terrifying.

CT-7567, in a dark, desaturated blue.

“I don’t think your soulmate is a droid,” Obi-Wan tries to joke. It falls flat.

“They’re a born slave,” Anakin says, and watches Obi-Wan stiffen. “Droids don’t get soulmates. Slaves do, but sometimes ma--owners don’t let slaves have names. They just give ‘em a number and that’s it. Supposed to make us more pliant and keeps us from having thoughts of individuality.”

“Them, Anakin, not us. You’re free.”

Anakin looks up at him, lip wobbling, and he knows a Jedi shouldn’t cry, not when he’s already ten, but he wants to any way. “My soulmate isn’t.”

“O-oh, okay, we’re crying now,” Obi-Wan mutters, clearly overwhelmed, and pulls Anakin to his chest. “It’ll be alright, dear one. Your mark means you will meet one day, and when you do, you can free them. Alright?”

“Okay.”

-----

“Skywalker? Sounds like a slave name.”

It’s a refrain that CT-7567 hears almost every time one of the adults sees his mark. They mention Tatooine sometimes. One of the bounty hunters that covers their weapons training gets angry if people point out the slave thing, and CT-7567 isn’t the only person to get a slave for a soulmate. She doesn’t explain it often, but there’s an incident when Rex is three that gives him a little more information.

“That one’ll be angry,“ the bounty hunter mutters, her lip curling when she hears the cadets gossiping about their marks again, sees CT-7567 pulling up his shirt to show off his own. She’s always like that, about the clones who have slave soulmates. CC-1010, who knows everything about everyone, says that she used to be a slave before she killed her way out. She’s definitely scary enough. “Name like that... Tatooine, human, might be a slave or might be freeborn from a line of slaves. Either way, that one’s going to be angry about it.”

“How do you mean, sir?”

Her eyes flick to his, and then back to the slugthrower she’s cleaning. “Tatooine slave culture knows things. Your mark on this “Anakin” is going to be your number until you get a name, and they’re not going to make the mistake of thinking their soulmate is a droid. They’ll know you were born to a purpose.”

It takes another year for CT-7567 to learn that she means ‘you were born a slave.’

(It takes two more for him to pick a name.)

-----

Anakin is not the only one in the Temple to have this kind of soul mark popping up. He is not even the first. The Council is investigating it, apparently, but they don’t have much to go off of. It didn’t start until a year or two before Anakin came to Coruscant, but enough Jedi are affected by the CC and CT soul marks for it to be concerning. Anakin gets called in to provide some information on what he knows about slave-designations in these circumstances, which isn’t much, and is barely more than what they already know, but they assure him it’s helpful. Something about corroborating the information a raised slave is taught culturally with the information a Shadow can collect from a community that doesn’t trust them. Obi-Wan explains that it’s about how Anakin knows information that was collected and taught, instead of information that has to be gathered, bit by bit, and analyzed.

It’s a long way of saying that Anakin knows things that other people don’t, because he wasn’t raised in the safety of the Temple.

Anakin doesn’t know many of the others, but he does know one even before his soul mark comes in, because their Masters are friends. They talk about it, and three years after they first connect over this, something happens.

“It changed! Anakin, Ani, it changed!”

Anakin drops the datapad he’s been doing history homework on, and looks up as Aayla, already in the suite, grabs his shoulders and shakes him a little.

“Aayla?” Obi-Wan calls, coming out of the kitchen with a rag in one hand and a wet plate in the other. “What in the--what are you shouting about?”

Knight Vos follows Aayla in--it’s a bit early to call him a Master, given that Aayla’s still not knighted, but it’s getting close--and leans against the door, arms crossed. “Kid was right. The mark changes when the soulmate picks a name.”

Aayla pulls down the shoulder of one sleeve, and Anakin sees that the designation number has changed. It’s not a regimented CC-5052 anymore, but a short, sweet Bly, with a flourish at the end that probably means this person is always going to be excited to sign their name.

“We already knew that,” Obi-Wan says. “When people transition, their name changes on their soulmate as well. This is the same thing.”

“We didn’t know that it applied to born slaves the same way,” Knight Vos says. “All we had was anecdotal evidence from the kid. Trustworthy, yes, but no data to back it up. And now we know.”

“I wonder how it’s meant to be pronounced,” Aayla says, and obligingly lets Anakin poke at the name that swirls on her shoulder in a vivid yellow against the blue. It’s pretty, he thinks. The handwriting and the color and what it means that the soulmates they’ve all gotten are finding ways to be people.

“How long until mine changes?” Anakin asks, even though he knows that nobody here has that answer. “Do you think all of them are going to find names? Or...”

“If they don’t by the time we find them,” Aayla assures him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, “they will once they’re free.”

(In one life, the Jedi would have held their tongues and ducked their heads, hidden in denial and ‘we are their only option’ and ‘the Senate will use them regardless; we are a kinder fate than men like Tarkin’ and would never use the words ‘slave army’ to describe their men.)

(In this life, they are primed, from the moment a little freed boy explains exactly what a soul mark like this means to people like his, to see their army and say ‘we will free you.’)

-----

Rex

Anakin has his eyes fixed on the name from the moment his mark burns and twists and changes. He’s sixteen by then, and on a mission with Obi-Wan that prevents him from running to break into Knight Aayla’s room and show off to her the way she had to him. He’s not even on planet, but at least it’s not the middle of a fight. That could have been bad.

“Hey, Obi-Wan?”

“Hm?”

“I got a name.”

“For the assassin?” Obi-Wan asks, raising his head hopefully. “Did you get through to the guild?”

“...no, I meant, uh, my soulmate.” Anakin lifts his shirt, waits on that unfortunate dash of disappointment, and then Obi-Wan’s face lights up and the man practically scrambles over to get a better look. Anakin tries not to let himself read too much into it. It’s... nice, he thinks. That Obi-Wan is excited for him.

“I feel like half these individuals are picking names of exactly three letters,” Obi-Wan says, but he’s smiling as he almost touches the mark. He doesn’t, in the end, but Anakin wants to laugh at it anyway. “Rex, then. I look forward to meeting your young man.”

Anakin feels his face flare. “We don’t know that it’s a boy. I mean, there might be places where that’s a girl’s name. Or a species that doesn’t have our genders. Or--”

“I have a feeling,” Obi-Wan says, and laughs when Anakin pouts at him. “Oh, I wouldn’t bet my saber on it, but a few credits, at least. Nothing solid, but I was prone to visions as a youngling. Qui-Gon was never very good at dealing with the peculiarities of such a connection to the Unifying Force. He tried, admittedly, but he was very much a man of the present.”

Anakin spends the rest of the mission silently cheering on his soulmate for picking a name.

For taking that step to saying “I’m a person.”

-----

Someone tries to assassinate Senator Amidala. Anakin and Obi-Wan are assigned to protect her. There’s an incident with a robot, and Obi-Wan is... pulled aside.

(Anakin finds himself thinking, more than once, that he could have fallen in love with this woman if he wasn’t so attached to the idea inked into his skin.)

(Senator Amidala doesn’t have a soulmate. She’s free to choose, she claims. He doesn’t envy her, but he does respect this.)

(Anakin likes the security of the universe telling him that there’s someone he’s meant for.)

Obi-Wan disappears to investigate something, and returns just before Anakin and Padme are set to leave. He looks... grim.

“The assassination is more complicated than we thought,” Obi-Wan says. “As in, the main assassin was expecting this to fail, so we’d come find him after he killed the subcontractor.”

“So...”

“He wants to talk to us,” Obi-Wan says. “But, specifically, to the two of you.”

-----

“So, you’re Anakin Skywalker.”

Jango Fett is a shorter man than Anakin, shorter even than Obi-Wan, but he’s not small. The armor bulks him out further. There’s faint scars on his face, here and there, and he seems more amused than anything when Anakin slips in front of Padme to actually be the bodyguard he’s supposed to play.

“What’s it to you?” Anakin challenges, and pretends he doesn’t see the way Obi-Wan pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

Fett smirks. “One of my boys has your name on him.”

Anakin stops breathing for a moment.

“One of your boys?” Padme prompts, and Anakin tries to remember his job.

Fett’s smirk falls away and he palms his face. “Three million of them, and counting. I’ve had people cross-referencing soul marks as they pop up, in case anyone’s connected to someone... important. Special attention on the confirmed Jedi.”

“Three mill--you’re behind the ident number marks,” Anakin realizes. “The slave-born.”

Obi-Wan’s face looks carved from stone, and Anakin realizes that the mood he’s been in since he called Anakin and Padme was because he’d figured it out before he called.

“Yeah, Umiett said you’d be the one to make that connection,” Fett mutters. He shakes his head. “Listen, I’ve got three million clones that are more sentient than anyone told me they’d be, and I’ve spent the last few years trying to decide how to get myself out of this contract without abandoning them in the process. Tyranus gave me the job to assassinate Amidala, but I’d already had her shortlisted as one of the Republic members most like to help me get these boys citizenship and legal rights. Once I heard Skywalker and Kenobi were involved, turning this into a discreet way to get your attention seemed like the obvious solution.”

“You tried to kill me... to get my attention... so I’d help you.”

“I didn’t try to kill you. I subcontracted to a former acquaintance that I knew wasn’t good enough to get past two Jedi.”

“Right,” Padme says, seeming unimpressed. Anakin agrees. “Okay, three million sentients, all your children--”

“Clones.”

“--yes, something that’s very illegal in the Republic at that scale,” she says. “Unless--”

“Kamino’s in the Rishi maze. Dwarf galaxy, not actually part of the Republic. Isolated.”

“Okay, that’s... going to make this more difficult,” Padme says. “Where does your citizenship lie? Are you still Mandalorian? I’m not as familiar with your role in recent politics as I could be. I know there’s something about all violent dissenters being sent to Concordia, but you--”

“If I thought that hut’uunla Duchess would listen to me, I’d have already reached out,” Fett dismisses. “That’s part of why I focused on Kenobi and Skywalker when doing the research. Skywalker’s got the background to argue slavery, and Kenobi’s got connections in Mandalorian politics.”

“And I’m to be your voice in the Senate.”

“Not mine. The clones’.”

Anakin looks to Obi-Wan for guidance, because this man was involved with the attempted assassination, but...

“Who is Tyranus?” Obi-Wan asks.

“Oh, you’re going to enjoy this. The man calling himself Darth Tyranus is Count Dooku of Serreno.”

Anakin hasn’t heard Obi-Wan swear that colorfully since the last time he got stabbed.

-----

Things... progress. Quietly. Fett mentions there being a Sith in the Senate, something he picked up from a particularly ugly visit from the Count to Kamino, the kind of visit that involved veiled conversations intended as mocking, bragging monologues.

“He really is a villain,” Obi-Wan mutters, as if Anakin hasn’t seen him monologue to captured criminals on occasion, or get so caught up in The Banter that he lets something slip that he shouldn’t have.

Anakin and Padme go to Naboo to ‘keep her safe,’ and Obi-Wan hares off on a falsified investigation, keeping the Council updated the entire time. Anakin doesn’t like splitting up, not when so much is happening, but they have no idea who the Sith in the senate might be, if they even exist. Anakin doesn’t even have time to say goodbye to the Chancellor.

All this contributes, for Anakin is already stressed, and excited, anticipatory and afraid, and then the nightmares come. Padme’s more aware of his fears than she might have been, as much as they talk about slaves and freedom and how she makes things happen with words and legislation. Anakin’s a little in love with the idea of this woman, though he won’t act on anything until he meets his soulmate and figures out what they’re meant to be for each other, but... friends, at least. Padme is going to be a friend, possibly for life, and Anakin’s going to love her no matter what.

She coaxes out the truth, and then tells him, ‘well, your mother would know more about this than you, since you left at nine; it would be entirely reasonable to ask her for advice,’ and then smiles like they’re sharing a secret crush instead of plotting the violation of his orders.

They save Shmi.

(Barely.)

Padme doesn’t get the advice she was using an excuse from Shmi, but from a long, tired conversation with Beru Whitesun. As it turns out, when a family’s been freeing slaves for generations, they know what they’re talking about. Even Anakin remembers the Whitesun reputation. Padme’s notes are copious.

Anakin cares for his mother, and talks to his stepbrother, and gets an idea of who these people in his life are. He can’t imagine they’ll make contact often, but he’s glad to meet them. Cliegg--his stepfather, and isn’t that a thought--isn’t a particularly soft man, or a smooth one, but his gruffness has a different energy on Tatooine than it would on Coruscant. Anakin approves.

Obi-Wan calls. Padme explains. Anakin is shamed by his Master and then has to defend that particular title when Owen and Beru stare at him and the comm in matching horror.

“Master-Apprentice,” Anakin says, just a little panicked. “Not Master-Slave. He’s my teacher, practically family, not... you don’t need to worry. I promise.”

“I’ve seen them interact,” Padme says, and then shoots a small, smug smile at Beru. “Obi-Wan’s somewhere between father and brother to Anakin. It’s very sweet, when they’re together, and very entertaining.”

Beru, who’s had three days to get used to Padme, smiles and nods. “Alright then. I’ll take your words for it.”

Obi-Wan sputters a bit at the claim, in the background, and Anakin is... just a little upset by that.

“I think your mother would want to speak with him,” Cliegg claims, and Anakin hesitates, because this is a mission call, for all that gossip is happening, and he really shouldn’t break more rules after the big one he’s clearly, blatantly completely ignored to come to Tatooine in the first place. Cliegg holds out a hand, eyes on Obi-Wan. “As would I.”

“Well,” Obi-Wan says. “I suppose I do have a moment.”

-----

Anakin and Padme arrive on Kamino.

“Your mother,” Obi-Wan says, in lieu of a greeting, “is oddly terrifying, did you know?”

“She’s... still recovering,” Anakin says, brow furrowing. “She can’t leave the bed for anything other than the ‘fresher for weeks, probably. And she’s nice, how is any of that terrifying?”

“It’s her energy,” Obi-Wan notes. “Quietly intimidating, I’d say. Very odd, really.”

“What did you even talk about?” Anakin asks, and then blushes as Padme giggles at him, like she knows things that he doesn’t. She probably does. She’s older than him. Still.

“Ah, that,” Obi-Wan says, looking away for a moment and--blushing? Obi-Wan’s blushing? “She rather aggressively informed me of what is considered normal on Tatooine for a relationship that is, as Padme put it, ill-defined but close and familial.”

“Master, you--what?”

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes and steps forward, pulling Anakin into a hug. Oh. “I’ve been informed that the manner in which I show affection to you is rather understated and ambiguous, by Tatoo standards, and that leaving things unsaid isn’t enough.”

“...Obi-Wan?”

“I consider you my brother,” Obi-Wan says, into this hug that is stiff and uncomfortable, but sincere and full of effort. “And I do love you very much, dear one, even if I’m rather unpracticed in showing it in ways that would... translate, shall we say.”

“Oh,” Anakin says, because he can’t think of anything else. He hugs back.

There’s a moment there, where Obi-Wan relaxes and Anakin shifts, and everything feels just a tiny bit more right, and then someone coughs.

“If you two are done?” Fett drawls, and Anakin mourns as Obi-Wan huffs and pulls away, hands back to being tucked into his sleeves in front of him.

“Quite,” Obi-Wan says back, with the strained smirk of someone who’s been dealing with the same frustrating sentient for a solid week without the option of just bashing their face in.

Fett rolls his eyes, and gestures for them to follow him. “I’ve got a bunch of the Alphas and CCs waiting on you, along with anyone we know for sure has a Jedi soulmate. Kenobi’s already spoken with them all, got confirmation that we probably haven’t missed any connections.”

“I know the list of everyone who reported a CC or CT soul mark to the Council,” Obi-Wan huffs. “I have it memorized.”

“Because of Anakin?” Padme asks.

“His mark came in when he was ten,” Obi-Wan says. “I was his legal guardian until very recently. Given the circumstances, it was reasonable that most of the information on the ident-code marking situation be shared with me in the same way that his school reports and medical records were. He was a minor until a year ago, Senator, and as you so rightly pointed out, my role in his life is certainly that of the family member who raised him for the past decade.

“Master,” Anakin hisses, well aware of his blush. “You’re embarrassing me.”

Obi-Wan looks at him, amused. “I’m told that’s rather the point, dear one.”

Padme looks away, clearly fighting back a grin, and Fett’s expression is mocking, at best.

They enter the section of the facility where other people are a moment later, and Anakin is... not quite as ready for the sea of identical faces as he thought he’d be. One small boy in different tunics from the rest runs up to Fett with a call of ‘Buir!’ and falls into step with them, grabbing Fett’s hand and peering curiously at the rest of them.

“This is Boba,” Fett tells them. “He’s the only unaltered one.”

“The one you claimed at birth,” Padme clarifies.

“Decanting!” Boba pipes up, and then smiles winningly at Padme. “I wasn’t born. I was decanted. He claimed me at decanting.”

Fett looks like he wants to run a hand down his face. “Yes, Boba’s the clone that was provided to me as part of the payment I demanded when I first signed on to the project. He’s the only one I technically have legal claim to.”

“All the others are Kaminoan property until claimed by the Senate or Jedi,” Obi-Wan adds, and Fett nods in his direction. “Preferably the Jedi, of course.”

“The Nulls are with Kal Skirata,” Boba pipes up. “He adopted all of them and Kaminiise didn’t care that much because they thought the Nulls were all failed experiments anyway.”

Fett grimaces at the look that gets him from Padme. “They’re not mine. None of them would have wanted to be, anyway, but it stands that I haven’t spoken with them in years.”

“They’re precedent,” Padme corrects. “One I should have been made of aware of if you want this to work. Can you put me in contact with this Skirata individual? What’s his, and their, citizenship status?”

Anakin steps back to Obi-Wan as Padme drills Fett for information, and keeps his eyes wandering for threats--unlikely, if Fett is genuine, and Obi-Wan says he is--and trying to figure out the best way to keep track of which clone is which. They do feel different in the Force, but Anakin’s not as used to using that sense for identification as most Jedi. He sees a few scars and tattoos, but he thinks he’s going to have to--

Oh.

“Anakin? Why did you stop?”

Anakin ignores his master, because one of the clones, one he can’t even see, is glowing so strong and right and calling to him...

“Anakin, please answer me.”

“I can feel him,” Anakin breathes out. “My soulmate. I think I can feel him, in the Force.”

“Ah,” Obi-Wan says, relaxing. “Yes, that tends to happen, when we look. Fett assured us that he’d be at the meeting, dear. Just a few more hallways to go.”

Those hallways pass in a blur, because he’s there his soulmate is there and--

A room, full of clones that look older than Anakin, for all that they can’t be, and more clones that don’t.

There’s a clone in full kit, helmet included, but Anakin knows, just knows, that this one is his.

“Troopers!” Fett barks. “Kenobi’s brought some friends in. Senator Amidala’s going to be working on the citizenship bill with us. The other Jedi is Anakin Skywalker. You can guess why he’s--”

The fully-armored soldier takes a half-step forward.

Fett sighs. “By the ka’ra, Rex, you’re going to embarrass yourself and me. Take your bucket off, kid, let him see you.”

“Some tact, Fett,” Obi-Wan snaps, and for all that it’s quiet and intended to be subtle, the clones absolutely hear him.

They also seem amused. Apparently Obi-Wan’s been hanging about for long enough that he and Fett have a dynamic, one the clones have gotten used to and find hilarious.

Anakin only sort of notices this, because the clone in armor, still unpainted, pulls off his helmet and for all that it’s the exact same face as Anakin’s seen a thousand times over in the last fifteen minutes, there’s something uniquely beautiful that has nothing to do with the blonde hair or the nervous smile.

“You’re Rex?” Anakin asks, even though he’s sure, he’s absolutely convinced, that this young man is his soulmate.

“Yes,” the young clone says. He looks about Anakin’s age, and Fett’s told them time and again that the clones are basically the age they look, for the most part. Anakin’s going to take it slow anyway.

“Obi-Wan already said it, but, um, I’m Anakin,” he says, and tries to find something to do with his hands that isn’t just taking his soulmate and hugging him ‘til all the suns set. He looks down, and settles for mimicking Obi-Wan and just tucking them into his sleeves. He looks up at Rex, and tries to smile, but he’s so nervous about all of this that it probably doesn’t look like much. He thinks he hears someone snickering.

“Oh good,” someone mumbles. “They’re both hopeless.”

Anakin snaps his head around and glowers at the little group the comment came from, but he has no idea which one said it. All four look amused, and have varying degrees of shit-eating grin in place.

“If you didn’t outrank him, Rex would totally be shooting you right now,” little Boba says. “I think he’d deserve to do that.”

Anakin doesn’t have to strain at all to hear Fett’s groan.

“Alright,” one of the older clones says, and everyone stands a little straighter. An authority among the clones? Official, or more of an informal primus inter pares situation? “Rex’ika and his Jedi can go get to know one another, and none of us are going to make fun of them for it, because I know damn well how many of you have been mooning over the idea of your soulmates despite knowing literally nothing about them.”

“So’ve you, Alpha!”

“You want a boot up your ass, Wolffe? Because if you keep talking, that’s what you’re getting.”

“Boys,” Fett says, and they settle down. “Now, the Senator has some questions for you, and you’re going to comply when she asks, because it’s going to keep your little brothers alive. You understand?”

One clone raises a hand, and Fett sighs.

“Yes, and little sisters, Valierra,” he adds. He mutters something under his breath that sounds like “kriffing Basic.”

(Anakin later learns that Mando’a is not a gendered language, and Fett’s frustration is entirely about the fact that ‘brothers’ isn’t gender neutral. Anakin tries to ask why he doesn’t just say ‘sibling’ or use the Mando’a word, and there’s apparently a whole thing with some instructors wanting to encourage the clones to learn to be Mandalorian, and others wanting to cut them off from anything to do with the planet.)

(Anakin... tries to understand. He’s still confused about why ‘siblings’ isn’t on the table.)

“Go on, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, looking somewhere between amused and exasperated. “We can catch you up later.”

“I got enough from Beru,” Padme assures him. “You can pop in to help us fine-tune later.”

Anakin nods, just a short jerk of his head, and then looks to Rex. The man is glaring at a little at a little group of other clones, but when Anakin reaches out and takes his hand--takes his hand--Rex turns and stares at him with wide eyes and a flush that Anakin’s sure he’s mirroring.

“We should talk,“ he blurts out, and he can feel Obi-Wan’s despair at how completely inept Anakin is at this whole ‘personal interactions’ thing, but that’s fine, because Obi-Wan’s a bit of a slut, and Anakin doesn’t flirt with everyone he meets, and he’s been waiting for his soulmate like a sensible person.

(“Or a romantic,” Vos had pointed out, once. “Most people date at least a little if they don’t meet their soulmate by, like, fifteen. I mean, culturally I understand why you want to wait until you meet your soulmate, but it’s not really a matter of sensibility, just personal preference. Obi-Wan’s not less sensible for sleeping around.”)

(Anakin does not like this argument, and so he ignores it.)

(Well, no, he agrees that people should be allowed to flirt if they want, but he doesn’t like the implication he’s gotten from a few other padawans about how he’s ‘awkward’ for not knowing how to talk to people that he wants to impress somehow.)

(So, he’s going to claim it’s sensibility.)

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“Kriff off, Ponds!” Rex barks out, immediately pinging on the exact clone that said the words, and Anakin bites a lip to keep from laughing at them both.

“Out,” Fett orders. “We’ve got shit to do, stop being a distraction.”

“Being a distraction, my dear, is a skill that Anakin’s put far too much effort into developing just to drop it on your command,” Obi-Wan says, light and airy and not at all like he just dragged Anakin and Fett for no Force-damned reason.

“Come on,” Rex mutters, tugging Anakin to the door with a blush that only grows as the other clones catcall them on the way out of the room. Anakin hears at least one particularly dirty comment get cut off by a smacking noise and a reprimand from a clone he thinks is probably Alpha.

The second they’re out of sight, Rex slows down, and glances back at Anakin.

Anakin tries to smile in encouragement. He’s not sure it works, really, but Rex smiles back, so it can’t be that bad.

“Here, Alpha told me to use the mini conference room,” Rex tells him, when the get to a nondescript door with a number on it. “It’s not completely secure, but we can lock the door so it’s mostly private.”

“Can I kiss you?” Anakin asks, and then has to fight to not clap a hand over his mouth.

He was going to go slow. He was a moron who’d promised himself to go slow. Rex is mostly an adult but there are ways in which he isn’t, and Anakin might not be fully an adult either, but that’s not really an excuse, and--

“Yes, please,” Rex says, and oh Anakin really likes the shy grin on him. It’s pretty.

(This man, he thinks, could easily bench press Anakin a few times over, but he’s blushing like a storybook maiden, and he’s doing it for Anakin.)

Anakin moves slowly, because this isn’t something he has much practice with either, but he takes Rex’s face in his hands and leans in, pressing their lips together with only the slightest tilt of his head, just barely less than chaste, and a firework goes off inside his ribcage.

His soulmate! He’s kissing his soulmate!

There’s a ‘stop projecting’ nudge from Obi-Wan in the Force. Anakin tosses up a shield and focuses back on the kissing. He pulls away, and the goes to just... peck a bit. Just small, chaste, tiny kisses because he doesn’t want to stop. Because for all that they just met a few minutes ago, this feels right.

Warm hands, larger than his own and steady in a way he thinks he really likes, settle on his hips.

“We--mm--really should talk,” Rex manages, and Anakin... well, Anakin stops kissing him.

Rex apparently likes it as much as Anakin does, because he lifts up onto his toes to kiss Anakin again before fully breaking off. He grins, clearly sheepish, and shrugs. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Anakin says, and then Rex pulls him down to press their foreheads together, radiating warmth and hope and affection that Anakin hasn’t earned yet, but is definitely going to.

“This is a Keldabe kiss,” Rex says, and his nose brushes against Anakin’s as he shifts. His hands are still on Anakin’s waist, and Anakin decides to wrap his arms around Rex’s shoulders. It’s nice. “I like, um, I like the other kind of kissing too, but this means a lot to me, and it’s one of those Mandalorian things they actually let us pick up.”

“Fine by me,” Anakin says, and he, hells, he hasn’t even asked for proof of the soul marks, but he doesn’t need to, really, with the Force as insistent as it is. “So. Talk?”

“Yeah. Let’s talk.”

[kittyymew]

Threesome- Part 1 (Levi x Reader x Eren)

The content of this story might be uncomfortable for some readers.

Read at your own discretion

********

Levi asked you to meet him in his bedroom after dinner. You and Levi haven't had sex for almost three weeks now. He was out on a mission while your sprained ankle was healing. He specifically asked you, more like commanded you to wear his favourite pair of black lacey lingerie, with a garter belt, stockings, and all. You were so excited to see what he had in store for you as you changed into them, pulling a long coat before heading out towards his room.

You pause for a moment, nervously fixing your hair, and before knocking on his door. Levi swings open the door, smiling at you as he eyes you up and down, almost like he can see you naked even with your coat on.

"Hello..." you say blushing under his gaze. "Hello, sexy!" Levi says as he continues to stare at me.

"Are you just gonna eye-fuck me or are you gonna let me inside too?" You ask as you push past him, starting to unbutton your coat. "Urgh please let's just skip foreplay tonight, I just need you inside me so ba-..." you say turning around while you're slowly removing your coat, you stop dead in your tracks when you see Eren standing beside Levi. You scream, immediately pulling the coat back on and holding onto it tightly.

"WHAT THE FUCK? YOU COULDN'T HAVE WARNED ME?!" you yell, turning red.

"Y/N...." Levi says stepping closer to you as he pulls your hands away from your coat. You hesitate for a moment but let him. "Remember, about two months ago, you said you have fantasised about experiencing a threesome...?" Levi asks, slowly pushing the coat off your shoulder. You blush as the coat falls down your shoulders, although Levi's body covering your almost naked self from Eren's view.

You gulp looking up at Levi, your throat going dry. You glance over his shoulder to look at Eren, he was just intently staring at the both of you. "Y-yeah..." you manage to breathe out.

"So, after a lot of thinking, I thought why not? And I know you and Eren were close at one point, and he respects you enough to still be unbiased towards you no matter what happens... so I thought he'd be the best option for us to try this out..." You just stare up at Levi, not believing that that was his only reason to think of involving Eren.

"And also, if anything goes sideways, not only Captain Levi would kill me, but Mikasa would kill my already dead body too..." Eren adds and you cannot help but laugh. Levi just glares at him over his shoulder. "Don't make me kick you out right now Yeager!" Levi says. You laugh, "Yeah that's more like the actual reason..." you say giggling.

"Well, but it's totally up to you Y/N. If you want, Eren can join us this once, or I'll kick him out and then have my way with you all night long" Levi states as he holds your hands. You look between Levi and Eren, turning redder at all the thoughts of what might happen if you say yes.

"Use your words Y/N," Levi says, breaking your train of thoughts. "No pressure!" Eren chimes in from behind, smiling awkwardly.

"I-... wouldn't mind Levi...." You whisper as you look down at your feet blushing.

"I can't hear you Y/N," Levi says smirking. "Louder so even he can hear you..." Levi says as he moves sideways, Eren now being able to see you completely, a grin forming on his lips as he figures out your answer before you could even speak up.

"Y-yes... I want it..." You say a little louder, looking down at your feet, fiddling with your fingers.

Levi makes you look up at him, leaning down and whispering in your ear, "I want you to be just as freaky as you are when you are with me alone... understood?" Levi asks as he nips your earlobe teasingly. You gulp nodding. "Good girl," Levi says and motions Eren to come over.

"You're free to do whatever you want with Y/N tonight, but you're still going to listen to me if I give any sort of order. After that, if you even look at her with wrong intentions, I'm gonna kill you." Levi threatens him, Eren just nods and steps closer to you, "You look... uh- pretty Y/N" he says, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you in for a kiss. You're taken by surprise but kiss him back, Eren's other hand caressing your back and your butt.

"Tch" you hear Levi say as he moves behind you, "She looks sexy and you know it" Levi continues as he presses himself against your back and starts kissing your neck. You let out an involuntary moan, your hands pressing up against Eren's chest. You can feel how ripped he is underneath his shirt. You moan into the kiss and start unbuttoning his shirt hastily removing it.

You can feel both Levi's and Eren's hard-ons press against your lower back and your stomach, and without breaking the kiss you reach down grabbing both of their bulges and plaming it through their pants. Both of them grunt and you feel Levi grab your hips tightly.

Eren starts to sloppily kiss his way down your jaw to your neck and chest. Levi sees him move down to your chest and he reaches up sliding your bra straps off your shoulder. Eren reaches up grabbing your boobs over the fabric and gives them a firm squeeze before pulling your bra down to expose your chest. He doesn't even hesitate and quickly leans in taking your right boob in his mouth, sucking on your nipple. You moan, your hands reach up to grab Eren's hair.

"Tch, brat" Levi says as he grabs one of your hands and brings it back placing your palm on his hard-on again. Eren keeps switching from your right boob to your left, giving both of them equal attention as you moan. You rub your thighs together, getting more and more impatient, you tug on Eren's hair letting out a small whine.

Eren just smirks and gives your nipples one last lick before he trails his kisses down your stomach. He kneels down in front of you, admiring how pretty you look in those panties. He leans down placing a light kiss on your pussy over the thin layer of the fabric. "Already so wet..." Eren says as he pushes your panties to the side and runs a finger up and down your pussy. He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, leaning in and licking your clit while pushing a finger inside your pussy. Eren's other hand comes up to rest on your ass as he pulls you closer. You lean back on Levi, moaning and Levi wraps his arm around your waist holding you steady.

Levi's other hand comes up to your chin, making you turn your head to the side, kissing you. You moan against Levi's mouth as Eren starts to eat you out and finger you at the same time. Your hands reach up tugging on Eren's hair, pulling his face closer to your pussy. You pull away from Levi's kiss, out of breath, and moan out Levi's name.

Even though you were occupied with Eren's face between your legs, you can guarantee that Levi is gloating at the fact that you moaned his name instead of Eren's. Eren seemed to take offence at that and he pushes in a second finger, starting to finger you more vigorously.

Levi notices the change in your composure and moans. "Tch..." he says as he steps back with his arm still around your waist, pulling you away from Eren's mouth. "Not yet" Levi states and you whine in response. You see Eren, not even a hint of disappointment on his face as he stands up, complying with Levi. "That's not fair!" you say pouting and Levi just raises an eyebrow at you, and you stop whining immediately.

"On your knees brat" Levi commands and you quickly get down on your knees, looking up at him. Eren steps up beside you and Levi removes his shirt. "Do I need to tell you what to do, brat?" Levi says looking down at you caressing your cheek. "N-no!" you say as you reach up and start unbuttoning Levi's pants. "Good girl," Levi says running his fingers through your hair. Eren watches you and starts unbuttoning his own pants when Levi looks up at him and says, "Stop. She'll do it". Eren just nods in response.

You ignore the blush forming on your cheek and quickly undo Levi's pants pulling them down his legs, his cock right in front of your face and you cannot help reach up stroking his length. You stroke him for a few moments before turning to Eren and starting to undo his pants pulling it down, Eren's length right in front of your face. Both of them quickly discard their pants, and both Levi and Eren were almost the same sizes. You reach up grabbing both of their cocks in your hands as you start stroking him.

Eren lets out a grunt and you lean up taking his tip in your mouth sucking on it while continuing to stroke Levi's length. Eren grabs your hair and pushing your head down his shaft, forcing you to take almost all his length in your mouth. You let him and start sucking him harder.

"Did you forget about me?" Levi says with a hint of scoff. Even though Levi agreed to a threesome it was apparent that he is trying his best to not let jealously overtake him and kick Eren out. You pull away from Eren's length, his length covered in your saliva and you replace your mouth with your hand on his shaft.

"Patience..." you say giggling as you look up at Levi. "I'm not known for my patience..." Levi says and pushes your mouth down his length before you could say anything else. He starts mouth fucking you. You switch between sucking off Eren and Levi and you can feel Levi shift uncomfortably every time Eren moaned your name.

You can feel both of them getting worked up and you start sucking them harder and stroking them faster. When you're sucking off Levi, he grabs your hair and pulls you up to your feet.

"How would you like to fuck this little brat?" Levi asks turning to face Eren. "I- is this a trick question Captain?" Eren asks as he looks over at you, eyeing you up and down. You can only imagine what kind of things are going on inside Eren's head after that question.

"Does it look like I'm in a mood for trick questions? Do you or do you not want to fuck Y/N?" Levi says annoyed. "Tch don't be so mean captain!" You say as you lean in and kiss Levi's neck. Levi sucks in a breath, nothing beats neck kisses for Levi. "Brat" Levi says.

"Uh- I'd like Y/N to ride me, captain," Eren says gulping.

"Very well, you heard him Y/N. Do as he says" Levi says stepping back.

"You better moan my name this time Y/N," Eren says as he steps in closer to you, whispering in your ear. You blush, nodding as Eren gets on the bed, stroking his length.

Welp, it's going to be a long night.

********

[thebiscuiteternal]

“Paper Scraps”

Post-Canon, Angst, Hurt/Comfort...ish?, Reconciliation, Discussion of Suicidal Ideation, Ghosts, Implied Sangyu, Mo Xuanyu Gets To Be Mourned, Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang Are Going Through It

Series Link on Ao3

__________

"To what do I owe the surprise visit?'' Nie Huaisang asks, and his voice is so devoid of emotion that Wei Wuxian has to bite back a shudder, suddenly very much aware that he is treading in completely new and potentially dangerous territory.

Nie-xiong is as dead as his beloved elder brother, and the Headshaker was nothing more than a mask. All that's left now is Nie-zongzhu, whom he knows nothing about and threatened the last time they actually spoke to each other in person.

Still, he sucks up his nerve and plasters on one of his usual careless smiles. "We need to talk, you and I. Just you and I."

"Wei Ying-"

He holds up a hand to cut off Lan Zhan's protest. "How about it?"

"And what, exactly, do you think there is for us to discuss, Wei-xiansheng? Have I not been behaving well enough for your liking?"

Ouch.

"Okay, I deserved that," Wei Wuxian says as he waves off his defensive husband and friend a second time, suddenly wishing he'd just snuck out and come alone.

Then again, that probably wouldn't have gone well either, judging by the wary looks he keeps getting from the handful of Nie disciples who linger defensively near their sect leader.

Okay... okay. No more trying to joke around. He takes a deep breath and lets it out, then straightens his back. "I'm here about Mo Xuanyu."

Nie Huaisang’s face betrays nothing, but the fan in his hand snaps shut with enough force that it's audible throughout the room. “Everyone, please escort our other two guests to the main gardens so that we may speak privately.”

“Zongzhu-” one massive bear of a man starts to protest.

At the same time Lan Zhan moves in front of Wei Wuxian to growl “We are not going anywhere,” and the tension in the room ratchets sharply to hair-on-end levels as the situation threatens to turn into a standoff.

Wei Wuxian pinches the bridge of his nose to stave off a building headache, then reaches out in an attempt to tug his husband back. “Lan Zhan. I’m the one who requested a one-on-one meeting, remember? Literally just now?”

“He cannot be truste-”

“Wei-gongzi, he might-”

“Enough,” Nie Huaisang snaps, the unexpected whip-crack of his voice making them all, a few disciples included, jump. “Let me remind all three of you that you came here and none of you are required to stay. In fact, today would be much improved if you didn’t.”

“Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian hisses.

Lan Zhan doesn’t budge, hand still tight on the hilt of Bichen. “If you harm Wei Ying-”

“Yes, yes, you and the Ghost General will cut me open and hang me with my own entrails just to start with,” Nie Huaisang replies irritably, giving a dismissive wave of the closed fan. “I’m well aware.”

Judging by the startled and utterly appalled looks that cross Lan Zhan and Wen Ning’s faces, that had decidedly not been on the list of options of what they might potentially do. But the descriptive suggestion does work to knock them off guard, and Wei Wuxian bites his tongue hard to keep his expression neutral as the two of them are herded out without any more fuss after Nie Huaisang makes a short gesture to his disciples. “You did that on purpose.”

Nie Huaisang turns without responding to the jibe at all and walks off towards another door.

Ouch again.

He trots after the other man and falls into step beside him as they enter a hallway that’s clearly not for public use. Part of him wants to ask where they’re going, if just to break the uncomfortable silence, but he keeps his mouth shut.

They finally stop at a door that, when Nie Huaisang slides it open, leads to a tiny garden so deep in the sect's keep that the back wall of it is cut into the mountain itself.

And in that little carved out cave, shielded from wind and rain and snow, sits a funeral tablet on a table shrine.

Wei Wuxian involuntarily sucks a sharp breath through his teeth at the sight of it, his hand coming up to clutch at his chest. Guilt wells up hot and stinging and bitter in his stomach, then higher into his throat. Dizzy, he sways on his feet and is only vaguely aware of the hands that catch him.

Once his resurrection had been revealed, everyone simply accepted him as “Wei Wuxian”, not “Wei-Wuxian-In-Mo-Xuanyu’s-Body”, seemingly having just... forgotten that the face he has now once belonged to someone else. He had grown so settled into this body that until the dreams had begun, he had barely given Mo Xuanyu a second thought.

But right at this moment, staring at the name carved into that tablet, held up by the one person left who had remembered- had loved the original owner of this body enough to memorialize him, he has never felt more like an invader in it.

His vision, gone fuzzy from the sickening torrent of emotion, slowly begins to come back into focus and, for just a moment, he is staring through Mo Xuanyu’s eyes into the worried expression of Nie-xiong before the lingering memory clears to the more neutral face of Nie-zongzhu.

He is on the ground, his head in the man’s lap, and the sudden urge to cry hits him hard. “Do you hate me?” he asks without meaning to, voice coming out plaintive and half-strangled by his effort to hold back the tears.

“You were the one who decided there was nothing left between us worth salvaging.”

“I did. And it was stupid. But that’s not what I mean, and you know it. Do you hate me for having this face?”

There is a pause, then a quiet sigh. “No, I don’t.”

“Why?”

“If it wasn’t you, it would be someone else. Or something else. Yu-er was…”

Nie Huaisang turns his head away, expression softening into a complicated mix sadness and pain, and Wei Wuxian finds himself thinking that while ‘his’ Nie-xiong might be dead, Mo Xuanyu’s Nie-xiong might still exist somewhere deep under the protective layers of Nie-zongzhu.

He swallows hard, then makes himself sit up and looks again at the tablet and its small offerings.

“Determined,” he says quietly, finishing the sentence. A tiny wet laugh bubbles out of his throat. “I thought… I really did believe that you had forced him into it,” he continues, and in the edge of his vision, he sees Nie Huaisang flinch at the accusation. “But no. No. He... really was determined to see it out to the end.”

“How do you-”

“Ah.” He scratches his cheek, then scoots to face the other man. “That’s actually the reason I needed to talk to you. I’ve been seeing- fuck, dreaming his memories, I guess… though they were more like nightmares, considering what was in them-”

“Wait,” Nie Huaisang says, holding up a hand. “When did this start?”

“Mmh. Just a little over ten months ago, I think? Or maybe closer to eleven. The first one was of your visit right after his mother died.”

Nie Huaisang goes slightly pale at that, though whether it’s from the admission of the length of time or the contents of the memory, Wei Wuxian can’t tell.

He gets an answer when Nie Huaisang gets up and rushes to the table, returning with something carefully cradled in his hands.

It’s a spirit pouch.

His hands are shaking as he holds them out to accept the tiny burden, and he’s vaguely aware that he’s gaping like a fish. “Huaisang…” he chokes out when he finally manages to find his voice again, but that’s as far as he gets.

“I… have studied a lot of ways of finding and contacting the dead,” Nie Huaisang says, and Wei Wuxian nods along numbly because that makes a ridiculous amount of sense, given the circumstances. “I know what the ritual notes said, but seeing that there was still something left of Da-ge after everything that had been done to him…”

He reaches out and touches the pouch and Wei Wuxian finds himself thinking of a gentle hand ruffling his (but not his) hair.

“I’m just sorry it took me two years to get up the nerve to go looking.”

But you went, Wei Wuxian thinks. You went.

He’d never even considered it. It had never crossed his mind at all.

“Eleven months ago, right?” he asks, voice still a little squeaky.

“Mm-hmm. I should have written to you about this long before now, but it seemed like every time I’d prepared myself to send the letter, something would happen that would remind me that… well.”

That we’re not friends anymore.

That you want nothing to do with me.

Wei Wuxian closes his eyes and rests his hands in his lap, still holding the pouch as if it’s made of porcelain instead of cloth. “I probably wouldn’t have read it,” he confesses quietly. “Or I would have, but I wouldn’t have believed you. I would have thought it was a ruse, a setup-” A tiny, wounded laugh escapes his mouth and he tilts his head back to stare up at the sky. “Maybe that’s why I started having the dreams. His way of telling me I’m an idiot.”

“A little drastic on his part if it was.”

“Can’t say it wasn’t necessary.” The pouch gives a jangling, discordant little hum when he pets it, the fracturing of the soul within vastly different from what he’d felt from Xiao Xingchen. The pieces feel smaller and fewer, yet heavier. “Oh,” he murmurs when he realizes why.

“Oh?”

“The array was designed to consume the resentment of the caster based on negative memories of the person or persons they wanted to curse. That’s why the memories of you and the flashes of his mother were so vivid when the rest of them weren’t. That’s why you were able to find these pieces. He really did see you two as the only bright spots in his life, so those memories were spared.”

Nie Huaisang makes a choked noise in the back of his throat, and when Wei Wuxian turns his head, the other man is looking away in a clear attempt to hide his expression. “He was wrong.”

“A year ago, I would have agreed,” Wei Wuxian mumbles. “After everything he showed me, though… I don’t think he was. I get it.”

He takes a deep breath. He has never talked about this, not with Lan Zhan, not with Wen Ning, and certainly not with Jiang Cheng, even if they are taking tentative baby steps towards being less awkward around each other. He’s not sure he should be talking about it with Nie Huaisang either, but-

“I know what it’s like, just wanting everything to end. Deciding the whole world can go to hell. Maybe I didn’t intend for the backlash from breaking the seal to kill me, but I sure didn’t fucking care what it would do to me one way or another. Nothing and nobody could have saved me by that point. You couldn’t have saved him even if you’d dragged him home with you like Lan Zhan wanted to do to me.”

“Wei Wuxian-”

He ignores the little flutter in his chest that they’ve at least moved back to an address that feels less precarious than the icy ‘Wei-xiansheng’. “Let me finish, okay?”

“Okay.”

“So... So... Ah, fuck,” he mutters, gently shifting the pouch so he can scratch the back of his neck, trying to catch the lost trail of thought. “You know… I never questioned the clothing I woke up in when I was resurrected. As brutal and nasty as the Mo family were and as disgusting as that little shack was, it should have come off as weird that I was wearing such nice robes.”

There is a quiet sniffle, and Wei Wuxian pretends not to see Nie Huaisang wipe wet eyes with the edge of a sleeve as he continues talking. “He appreciated those. Appreciated that you tried to take care of him.”

He raises the pouch to eye level, and it gives another little crackly hum. “And clearly he still appreciates your efforts, considering his method of dragging me here to make me apologize for thinking the worst of your relationship. So, I’m sorry for that.”

Nie Huaisang gives a watery little chuckle and swipes at his eyes again. “Accepted. Is he… Is he alright? I only know how to contact souls, I don’t know anything about tending to them.”

“Honestly… I’m not sure what can be done,” Wei Wuxian admits as he begins another examination. “There’s really so little of him left, I don’t know what will happen if a purification ritual is attempted. He seems to be more stable as he is than Xiao Xingchen was, but there’s no guarantee he’ll stay like that. Still, I owe it to him to find some way to help him out, so I’ll do what I can.”

“If it would be easier for you to take him back to the Cloud Recesses for study, then… then you should,” Nie Huaisang says, and Wei Wuxian is a little bit impressed that he was able to make the offer despite how much it must have hurt.

“I think he’d be much happier staying here,” he says, then tentatively adds, “But that would mean visits, plural, and while I’m definitely going to have a very long talk with them about all this, I doubt I’ll be able to come without either Lan Zhan or Wen Ning… probably both at first.”

Nie Huaisang rubs his temples with his fingertips, his expression cycling through a complicated series of emotions too quickly for Wei Wuxian to follow, then he sighs. “We’ll figure something out,” he says as he reaches out and takes back the pouch.

Wei Wuxian can’t help smiling at the tender way he cradles it against his chest as he gets up to approach the funeral tablet and put it back in place. “Yeah. We’ll figure something out.”

[katsukikitten]

Time spent with Todoroki.

Warnings: This is a Pro Hero aged up AU, think late twenties. Adult themes such as sex are to follow. Please enjoy

Shoto was by far your favorite sugar daddy. He showered you in lavish gifts and gave you the pipe often. He checked your bank account and made sure it never fell below a certain amount and paraded you around town like the Princess you were. But most importantly he was stoic. Doing nothing more than wiping you up with a warm rag once the two of you were finished, never clinging to you with desperate hands like many other sugar daddies had. Hoping their money would make you giddy and buy your love. Maybe it would have, had you not already run out of love for people. Your heart broken one too many times by a long term relationship causing you to vow that money was your only love. 

People were just too disappointing. 

Your contracts with Shoto were medium in length, anywhere between three to five months mostly because he likes to keep his "options open." Which filled you with pure lust for him, knowing you could get away with your kinks without worrying over some man falling for you. 

Still, it was difficult for the Pro hero not to fall for you, at first he had no interest in love. Having sworn it off mostly for fear of failure thanks to his dysfunctional family. It was the main reason he started looking into sugar baby websites, he saw your profile picture and your bolded No strings attached. He liked the idea of that, loved it really and yet, he became tangled in you after the renewal of your second contract. He tried to suppress the warm feeling in his chest, he found it difficult more times than not. 

Especially now, with you on your knees with his guicci jacket spread out on the tile of the bathroom floor as your lipstick clad lips wrap around his cock. Your cheeks hollowed and your eyes looking up at him with enchanting lust. He fists your hair shoving you further on his cock. Your eyes water as you gag softly and Todoroki is just thankful your makeup is waterproof. 

The sight and the sounds make him groan while your manicured nails dig into his bare thigh. You rub your thighs for friction, moaning around his cock, it's enough to send Shoto over the edge. Hot ropes of cum hit the back of your throat as his grip on your styled hair tightens. 

"Fuck Princess…." He moans bucking into your mouth, sharp eyes look down at you. Seeing a powerful man come undone for you is enough to keep you content for now. 

"Sir will take care of you after the gala okay?" His cheeks are still a little red as he runs his hand over your hair. Lifting you off the floor before fixing himself. He gives you a light spin, making sure nothing scuffed your gorgeous designer dress before he exits the stall. Pushing back his long hair while you retouch your lipstick with a knowing smirk. 

The two of you waltz back to the party, sans his jacket, abandoning the designer garment without a second thought. The price of it was barely a drop in his bucket. It could have been half of his bucket for all he cared, his mind always swimming with thoughts of you.  He places his hand on the small of your back as he guides you back to the table, dinner half forgotten once your hand wandered towards his crotch for a tease. 

"F...find the bar okay?' Izuku asks as you take your seat, your sly hand going for your wine. Uraraka blushes when you give her a wink. 

"Just fine." Shoto says sipping his whisky. 

"So who's won awards so far?" You ask with gleaming eyes, Izuku smiles. 

"Kaachan for most villains caught. Kirishima for the safest feeling hero, myself for rescue ratio." He holds up his small little trophy, "And you, Shouto, for most mysterious." 

"What about the rankings? Did we miss that?" 

"No they are about to announce it!" Uraraka exclaims, eyes glittering with excitement and wine. Her chestnut eyes slide over to her emerald eye date, hoping for the best for him. 

The announcer steps to the stage, his sapphire blue suit catching everyone's eye as he takes the center. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, it has been a night filled with congratulations and cheer but now is the moment you've been waiting for, tonight we will reveal the top three heroes. Voted in by a strenuous board appointed by the fans, we finally present the BIG THREE!" 

Some tables erupt in cheers while the host takes his dramatic pause, when the sound dies down the host brandishes the golden envelope. 

As he announces your hand wanders again, playing with your favorite toy, Shouto's face gives way nothing as the host drags out the awards. Explaining how long the winner's speeches should be. Soon Shouto cannot ignore your hands creeping on his clothed cock that throbs beneath your fingers. He knows he can't wait through what's bound to be a half an hour. He rises excusing himself dragging you with him before you're being cornered against a wall in some random closet. 

"So impatient, princess." He bites out, kissing your throat, sliding down to your exposed collar bone while his hand ventures between your thighs. Calloused pads circling your puffy clit as you let out a loud moan that's swallowed by the cheering of the gala room. Impatient himself he undoes his pants, stroking himself with his free hand while you cum on his fingers. 

After the coil in your stomach snaps for a third time he's satisfied, kissing you as he aligns the tip of his dick to your quivering entrance.

"Fuck, Shouto. Fuck me please, sir!" You beg, making his head spin, alcohol mingling in the small dark space. 

"Be patient kitten. Sir will fuck you right baby." He grunts, sheathing himself into your soaking core.  You cry out, clawing at his back through his shirt. The smell of biting cold hair mingling with the hearty smoke of a bonfire engulfs you as you press your face into his chest. He lifts both of your legs, strong hands grabbing onto thick thighs as he fucks into you with a deadly pace. Slapping skin and lewd wet sounds echo back to the two of you, encouraging his pistoning hips. 

"Listen to those sounds Princess, your pussy sounds so pretty." He bites at your ear as you endlessly moan and whimper into his chest. Cunt clenching as he drives over your spongy spot, the head of his cock going deeper with each thrust. Soon it all becomes too much, your vision spots panting as you cry out in ecstasy, body ridged and arching to meet him. 

"Cumming on my cock already?" He coos, fucking you through your next orgasim as your legs shake around him. Toes pointed in your red bottoms as you attempt to hold onto him for dear life. 

"S..sir! You cry out, "I'm gonna...nnngghhh." 

He ruts into you, pressing you further into the wall as he frees up one hand to play with your throbbing clit. Rubbing harsh circles as he loses focus on his precise thrusts that turn sloppy. His eyes too focused on you as you cum, milking his cock. Your eyes flutter, desperately attempting to hold eye contact as one hand palms your breast and the other scratches at the skin at the nape of his neck. Your tongue lulls out just a bit as your mouth makes a sinful O shape, a few tears of over stimulation fall down your cheeks as he continues to fuck into your wet cunt. The sight makes him explode into you, warm spurts of cum causing you to whimper and clench in delight as he ruts until he is done.  He sets his sweaty forehead against yours, panting as words claw up his throat. 

"I love..." He whispers, catching himself just in time, "Your tight cunt." 

He kisses you, hoping you don't think anything more of it. 

After a few minutes, and Shouto's cock softens, he withdraws. Wiping you up with a wipe from your purse as the two of you check the other for fluids. A drunken cat smile plastered on your lips as you reapply your lipstick, wiping away the stains on his dark grey shirt and collar. 

The two of you step into the hall just in time as the doors start to open. Quickly and calmly you grab for your pack of cigarettes, your normal alabi, placing the stick in your mouth. Shouto, much like a gentleman, lights it as you inhale to keep the tip a burning ember. Gently blowing the smoke over his clothes, careful to avoid his face as you waft the burning stick around yourself as if it were an incense. Knowing good and well the smell of smoke always hides the salty smell of sex. Quickly you extinguish it on an ice cube that Todoroki provides, you toss the cube in the closet and the half of a smoke into your burkin slamming it shut just as a small group of sidekicks approach. 

"Shouto! Wow! I can't believe it was a three way tie this year! Congrats to you, Deku and Dynamight!" They drunkenly cheer, "It's crazy how that happened." 

"You're so secretive, your manager accepted the award on your behalf even though you were here tonight!"

A stream of people dot on your date as you cling to his muscular arm while you harbor a secret of your own. Cum dribbles between your thighs as you think of his sweaty head against yours. It feels good to be a Pro hero sugar baby. 

"You staying the night again?" Shouto asks as he presses a cold water bottle to your palm, your body covered in a sheen of post sex sweat from a week's worth of fun. You give him a small smile as you sit up, tits bouncing as you readjust entirely. You can feel his icy hot gaze as it rakes over your body, feeling the goose flesh prick along your skin as it does with the threat of an oncoming summer storm. 

"I wanna discuss the renewal of our contract. Plus we have a final date per the expiring one." He says as he rises, heading towards the luxurious ensuite to start a shower for you both. 

"Hmmm guess I could. How much longer do we have left?" You never really paid attention to this things, always being satisfied with whatever Shouto gave you. 

"Two weeks." He returns back from the bathroom, grabbing his wallet from his bedside table. Pulling out his onyx black card, he places it in your hand. His eyes holding yours, you give a devilish grin. 

"Sir has a lot of paperwork for the agency to do today. Buy a dress I want to fuck you in and anything else you want to match okay baby girl?" He leans down to give your forehead a kiss while you giggle. Unable to hide the giddy that bubbles beneath your skin, you wrap your arms around him. 

"Thank you sir!" You exclaim, pepper his cheeks with kisses as you pull back, "Do I get to pick the date again?"

"Mmhmm." He encourages, running his hand up your bare bare as you squeal with delight.  You rush to the bathroom before he slowly follows behind. While under the hot stream the two of you make out for far too long, tongues fighting as the two of you exchange laughs before you add a playful statement that stays with the two toned hair man as he sits in his boring home office. 

"I'm going to get a dress so classy and sinful you'll fuck me on the spot!" 

His eyes wander to the photo on his desk, the one of your first date. The one you insisted the two of you take after a month of late booty calls since he paid for the "girlfriend" package. The two of you are bundled in warm coats, you cling to his firey side as you laugh and he just barely smirks. 

Looking back he thinks this is when he started to fall for you. You had never been ice skating before and insisted on going while the two of you were in NYC for important PR interviews for the cold and mysterious hero. Because that's what people did in the movies while in NYC, put on their skates at the Rockefeller rink to glide along the ice beneath the sparkling lights of the giant Christmas tree. It was busy, he opted for no skates, as he did better without but he helped you lace yours. Being ginger for the first time in his life as he helped you onto the ice, after demanding a moment of independence you had fallen straight onto your ass. Giving Shouto second hand embarrassment but instead of yelling, crying out or giving up, you laughed. Genuinely laughed as you reached for his steady hand, captivating the whole rink for a moment. It felt like magic had washed over the ice, as snow slowly danced into your hair and the colorful lights danced across your eyes. Just like that the spell was broken with a flash of light. A stranger approached to give you a small tip on how to skate and the polaroid he had taken. You thanked them with a smile placing the photo into your coat pocket leaning into Shoto to share a secret. 

"Now we have our first 'date' immortalized!"  You had giggled, gliding across the ice as if you were ethereal, hands outstretched for Shoto to join you. 

He wonders how you're doing at the shops. He occasionally gets a text or two from you. Sexy pictures of you in the changing room as you obviously buy lingerie as well. 

He fists his cock enough times he gets no work done and by the time he convinces himself enough is enough you come home. 

Wearing that damned devilish smirk. 

And so another week passes in the four walls of his bedroom. Your bank account as stuffed as your pussy as you bounce on his heating and cooling cock. 

"Fuck, baby fuck." Is all Todoroki can say as you chase your own high. His blunt nails clawing at your thighs as your tits bounce. Your mouth opens into that gorgeous O as you seek out that delicious friction on your clit. The coil in your stomach snaps as your humping becomes erratic and sloppy but still enough for your tight cunt to spasm wonderfully over Todoroki. So nice is the sight, sound and smell of you that Todoroki pumps his hips up into you twice before he paints your velvety walls, his eyes focused on you. 

"Fuck." He presses his sweaty head into the silk of his pillow case. Two toned hair clinging to his forehead. You lean over and kiss his cheek. 

"Thanks for the ride Pro hero." You wink before you dismount. Stretching towards the sky once your feet hit the warmed hardwoods, you begin to make your way towards the bathroom. Phone in hand. 

"I wanted to talk about extending your contract." Todoroki says, staring after you, "At dinner tonight." 

"It expired tonight right?" You say, looking over your shoulder while your phone lights up with an alert, "No need for dinner." 

"What do you mean?" He calls to you as you start the shower. 

"I mean, I think we should let the contract expire. Keep things fresh you know? Keep our options open?" 

He jumps to his feet and begs the urgency to die in his step. Calmly with somber steps making his way to the ensuite. He finds you already in the shower, water washes away the smell of sweat. The smell of him as your phone glares up at him. He taps the screen and your recent notifications wave at him as he stares down. 

Reading one of them in horror. 

Todoroki isn't sure why he feels this way as he looks at your phone on his vanity. As if the world fell from beneath his feet. His throat burns as he stares at the illuminated glass, spiraling as steam clouds his vision that begins to blur. He knew what he signed up for, he wanted this. 

This detached, heart hidden exchange in hopes of choking down the loneliness 

But he never expected that when this ended it would feel as if his heart had been ripped out, stepped on and crushed beneath the heel of one of your red bottomed shoes. 

"Come on aren't you joining me for our last shower iced cutie?" 

"Uh yes I'm coming." He steps into the shower as the push alert on your phone burns into his brain. 

"Kirishima Eijirou has put in an offer." 

[ethanesimp]

SWEETHEART // D.D. - INTERACTIVE (BEGINNING)

Pairing: Damiano David x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: What started as an afternoot out shopping turns chaotic after it starts raining.  

Warnings: Fluff, smut written by a minor, swearing, unprotected sex (pls use protection <3) and yes you read it right, this is an interactive fic lmao (sorta?). You get to pick out the ending (this is a little experiment and if you like it maybe I can make more idk, I also hope this doesn’t suck)

A/N: Huge thanks to these beautiful people @slytherin--aesthetics​ @perfectlyunbiasedobservation​ for proof-reading and giving some of the best dialogue ideas. You’re both angels <3 Also if you guys wanna you can listen to Heartbreaker by Bee Gees because that’s what I listened to on repeat whule writing this lol.

Masterlist // Taglist link in bio

Taglist: @gretavanfleetlove @superchrystaldrug @reputationdamiano @ethaneskin @dont-let-me-drown-in-you @bidet-and-legolas @selenophiliaxx @tabi-toast @geklutst-ei @juststalking @ohtorchio @ethan-torchio-angelo @everythingisdefinitelynotfine @its-afucking-mess @goldenpeaxh @marriedwithmarktuan​ @vicsangel​ 

“I thought I told you to grab the umbrella before we left.” 

Those were the words that left Damiano’s lips as he stood next to you underneath the small roof of the store that was stopping the two of you from getting wet with rain water.

You’d been out for most of the day doing shopping for things you needed for your apartment, but at the end of the day, you hadn’t found anything you needed. You’d gotten caught up in a clothing area after you’d jokingly dared him to try and walk around the place in the highest heels you could find. At that point, you were bored beyond imagination so he jumped at the chance to do something remotely fun and entertaining.

By the time you were ready to leave, it had started pouring heavily. You were both stupid and had deemed it unnecessary to take the car since the store was only a few minutes away and you weren’t planning on buying things you couldn’t carry in your hands. 

On top of that, however, you’d both forgotten to grab the umbrella on the way out. So there you were, squished together with your backs to the wall underneath the tiny roof as you meditated on what to do next.

“No, I told you to get it because I was looking for my shoes,” You shouted over the rain. “It doesn’t matter either way. The issue is we have no umbrella.”

You shivered when the cold wind hit you once again. You were wearing a hoodie and a pair of jeans, but it still wasn’t enough to protect you from the chilly wind. Damiano noticed as you tried to hide yourself deeper into your hoodie. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into his body so your back was pressed against his chest. 

Damiano slid your hands into the pockets of your hoodie and placed his over yours in an attempt to warm them. He rested his head against yours as he did so and softly hummed quietly, deep in thought.

“I mean, we could make a run for it,” He suggested. “Realistically, it isn’t that far away. Maybe once the rain settles down a bit we can just go and shower once we get back home.”

“Or we could just make a run for it, right now,” You shrugged and felt his chest vibrate as he chuckled at the suggestion, “Amore, you’re already freezing and you want to walk all the way home when it’s raining like this?”

You shrugged and turned to look at him, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head on his shoulder, “I mean, we’ve been standing here for a while and it’s way easier to get a cold with this wind if we wait for it to stop raining so aggressively instead of just… you know? I know that makes no sense, but the sooner the better, right?”

Damiano sighed and removed the jacket he was wearing over his hoodie because, unlike you, he’d come prepared after seeing how cold it’d been the past few days. He draped it over your shoulders and grabbed your hand in his, “Let’s go then.”

A surprised yelp fell from your lips when he started running and pulled you along. You laughed in surprise as you felt the raindrops fall on your hair as you rain behind your boyfriend. He was laughing too as he ignored people’s stares and kept moving. You both felt like little children as you ran and purposefully stepped on all the puddles you encountered on the way home. 

He stopped after a few minutes, once you were standing right outside of the apartment complex, so you could both catch your breath. In that short time span, rain started falling less and you’d both warmed yourselves up after those few minutes of running. 

Damiano grabbed your hand in his once more. You thought he was about to start walking up the stairs so you could get into the warmth and safety of your apartment, but instead, he slowly pulled you close and let his other hand rest on your hip, “What the hell are you doing?” You chuckled as he started swaying the two of you side to side. He hushed you with a quick kiss and started singing quietly, barely loud enough for you to hear.

“My love is stronger than the universe,” He sang and twirled you around. Almost as if it were magic, you seemed to forget about everything else, the rain, the cold, and just let yourself enjoy the moment with your lover, “My soul is cryin' for you and cannot be reversed.”

“You’re such a sap, Damià,” You said, but he ignored it and kept singing as he twirled the two of you around, “C’mon now, let’s go inside and we can keep dancing over there.”

He reluctantly agreed and pulled away to search for the key to your apartment as you rushed into the elevator, not in the mood to use the stairs.

You walked into the apartment, both of you a cold yet giggling mess. Your clothes were dripping water all over the entrance, but neither seemed to mind as you pulled him into a kiss. You ran your hands through his wet and tangled hair as you giggled into the kiss, which made him start laughing so hard you had to pull away.

A bright smile illuminated your face at the sound. You were convinced there wasn’t a more beautiful sound than him laughing. It had always filled you with so much joy to see a smile on his face and hear a laugh escape from his lips. Those were two of the things you found yourself missing the most while he was away on tour or you had to leave on work trips. 

You dropped the keys on a bowl you kept by the entrance and turned to look at him, "So, do you want to shower first or should I?"

Damiano smirked teasingly as he walked close to you and his hands started massaging your shoulders, "I'm not sure there's enough warm water for the both of us to take a shower," He whispered and slowly kissed down your neck and pulled at the neck of your hoodie to press kisses to your collarbone.

You smiled, he looked up at you  and you placed a sweet kiss on his forehead, "Is that so?" He nodded, "Seems like we have to share, huh?"

"Really? How unfortunate," You giggled before he lifted you up bridal style and carried you all the way to your bathroom.

Option A: You have sex in the shower. 

Option B: You have sex in the bathtub.

[notaninterest]

Carnal *2* (Hisoka x Reader)

[A/N]: sorry for not updating on this passing Thursday! I had a major life event occur so i had to break away for a week. here's chapter 2!

also i know it says [Y/N]'s POV, but it doesn't tread all the way back to the first few scenes. It's a continuation from where you left back last time :)

enjoy!

Warnings: graphic smut, heavy sexual themes, Hisoka becoming tired.

‘Well at least he’s handsome.’ You had thought to yourself when you first spotted him in the corner of the bar, almost completely hidden by the shadows. You had to avert your eyes quickly so he didn’t notice that you noticed him, focusing back on your pole work. You have to attract him to you somehow. But how?

You can feel his gaze on you and you swallow, deciding to switch up your routine. You clench both hands on the pole, keeping your arms straight. You make sure your ass is in full view before you start gyrating your hips to imitate the act of doggy style. You could feel your nervousness bringing your nen out so you quickly use Zetsu and switch to In to keep any traces of aura away. It was only for a split second. No one could’ve noticed it. You stand back up, hands still on the pole as you walk up to it, beginning to try to climb up it. The atmosphere was the same, rambunctious one it’s always been, but a clean sense of tension easily struck your body. You stumble a bit as you attempt to further climb up the pole. Damn! He noticed. You stuck out like a sore thumb to him. You could tell by the way his gaze bore into your face rather than your body. He wasn’t interested in what you had to offer, like the rest of the people here. He was instead interested in figuring you out. Fuck. You desperately try to focus on your dance, but as you’re sliding down the pole, your crotch rubs against it and you gasp. Touches like these were a stranger to you. You never had the time to form any sexual relationships, so you never experienced something like this before. You let up, feeling embarrassed but quickly continuing on with your dance. The music ends soon and you walk as calmly as possible back into the dressing room before beginning to panic. Your cover was blown and there was a limited amount of time you had before Hisoka approached you. You decided you were done with dances for the night and you would refuse any lap dance requests. Sex was a service you didn’t provide so you didn’t have to worry about that.

Until the boss that had hired you waltzed into the dressing room a few minutes later, connecting his slimy eyes with your clearly panicked ones. You came to him four months ago asking for a job after you had set your sights on hunting the magician after passing the Hunter exam. You had found out he frequents this specific joint once a year to “blow off some steam” according to your informant. You planned to catch him off guard while he went to the back rooms with one of the dancers and, hopefully, end his reign of fear amongst the people. The owner of the strip club allowed you in and you worked your way up to becoming one of the better dancers there, despite not having any previous dancing or sexual experience. You were impressed with yourself. Plus you made bank, so it wasn’t a bad profession.

Your boss walks up to you, pulling you aside. “The man you’re looking for has requested a room with you.” You flinch. “What? I thought I told you--” “Cut the shit. I already tried to explain to him that it’s a service you don’t provide, but he was rather...persuasive.” You could immediately tell by the way the man’s eyes shined that there was money involved. Must be a hefty amount too judging by the way he was talking to you. “Anyway, go please him. I’m not giving you a choice. It’s either that or you lose your job.” The boss says before turning around. You swallow your pride. You couldn’t afford to lose this job. You kind of enjoyed it. “For how long?” You ask. “The rest of the night.” The man replies before slinking off into his office. “What?! You expect me to stay holed up in this room for twelve hours?!” You angrily spit, but the boss was already long gone. Your hands clenched into fists. This bastard! He requested you for twelve hours?! You were going to give this asshole a piece of your mind.

_______

You squeak as your weak body is flipped onto your stomach. He intended to use the rest of the time on you?! You turn to look at him over your shoulder. “Wait just a damn minute! You’re crazy if you think for another second that I’ll- ah!” You expel a noise of surprise as Hisoka bites your left asscheek, a sultry look settling in those damned yellow eyes of his. He licks over the area to soothe it and you grit your teeth, looking at him with eyes full of anger. You flip back over to face him in all of his...naked glory. You blush at the sight before you. He’s certainly what those others call well-built. He’s bulky, but the perfect amount for his frame. The magician sits up on his knees, watching your dilemma. Your eyes trail down his body, following his ripped chest, the eight-pack that lays on his abdomen and then to his still hard cock, which makes your eyes bug out of your head. How did that thing fit inside of you?! Your face is a scarlet red as you stare at it, seeing it covered in your juices. “Do you like what you see, [Y/N]?~” Hisoka husks, smirking at your reaction. He knows he’s well-endowed, the cocky bastard. You clench your teeth, shooting a glare his way. “Listen here you son of a-” “Ah ah.” He silences you quickly, flipping you back onto your stomach. “While that little exchange was certainly entertaining, I’m not finished with you yet.” His voice grows more serious and you find yourself swallowing in nervousness. “Now, how long have you been here, scouting me out?” He asks, a claw trailing up your sensitive back. You can’t help but react, arching your back as the sharp finger rolls up your spine. “L-Like I’ll tell you anything more.” You huff, glaring at him over your shoulder. Hisoka stares back at you before smirking that trademark smug smirk, returning his hand back to his side. “Very well…” He seductively drawls, grabbing your ankle and dragging you towards him. You squeak at the sudden movement, feeling his heat behind you instantly. You let out yet another noise of surprise as your lower half is lifted into the air, stopping at a certain height. You look over your shoulder to see that your pussy is once again level with his mouth. You blush even more. “N-No. Not again.” You whimper, looking helplessly into his dominant yellow gaze. Hisoka chuckles. “Then tell me what I want to hear.” He deadpans, an unamused look on his face. You can’t reveal the statistics of your mission, so you lower your head in defeat. “I cannot tell you…” You whisper. “Then I will continue until you do.” He remarks lowly. You feel his talented tongue descend on your lower lips once again, and you can’t help the moan that spills from your mouth.

Damn. He’s really got the upper hand on you. There’s no escaping him as he has an iron grip on your hips. You cry out when he sucks on your sensitive clit, wiggling a little in his grasp. He chuckles, simply tightening his grip. You squirm fruitlessly, letting out obscene noises as he relentlessly snacks on your leaking pussy, leaving you no room to escape. You eventually hit your peak again and spill all over Hisoka’s mouth. He greedily laps up all you have to offer, moan slightly while doing so. After he’s finished, he drops you on your stomach, allowing you to recover from your orgasm. You flip into a sitting position, sighing and angling your head downwards a little. Hisoka suddenly shifts behind you, whispering, “Did you enjoy yourself?”

Your expression hardens into one of anger. “You...You asshole!” You snap, swinging your fist into his smug face, which materializes into a cloud of dust that dissipates as soon as your punch is thrown. “Oh [Y/N].~ Your continued attempts to hurt me only serve to turn me on further.” He purrs into your left ear. In your anger, you’ve failed to notice that he’s broken a sweat. You sneer, throwing back your left elbow in another attempt to hit him. You’re met again with thin air. All of a sudden, you’re picked up by your shoulders and thrown face first into the bed. Before you can even lift yourself back up, a powerful hand pushes you down by the shoulder blades, pushing your front down and leaving your backside up. One of your flushed cheeks presses into the mattress and you get a peripheral view of Hisoka admiring the position he’s put you in, his yellow eyes dark with desire. “This one is my favorite.~” He rasps, placing his cock at your entrance. Your eyes widen. You squirm a bit, trying to maneuver away from him but he holds you there by your scratched up hips, not letting you escape. “Anything you have to tell me before I start again, [Y/N]?~” He murmurs. He runs his dick up your wet slit. You mull over your options, finding that there’s only one you can make. With your silence as his answer, he slowly enters you again with a shaky breath. You open your mouth in a silent scream as he splits you open yet again. “O-Oh fuuuck.” You wail into the bed sheets as he fully seats himself in, clenching within your fists tightly. Hisoka chuckles and begins thrusting, the pace hard and punishing. His hips smack against your ass, the sound of skin smacking into skin filling up the gaps between your moans and his. He digs his claws into your hips, cutting deeply into them. You yelp in pain, but it’s soon overshadowed by the pleasure of him thrusting into you. You faintly notice the blood running down your legs, but you pay no mind to it. “Ah!” You scream in a higher octave as he hits into you rather harshly, brushing a rather sensitive spot within your pussy. Hisoka pauses, stopping all motion. “Oh?” He murmurs to himself. You can feel the devilish smile radiating off of him. Your eyes are closed so you don’t start crying from how unbelievably good it feels. Your body is shaking from the immense pleasure and you can’t stop the desperate whimper that leaves your throat from the lack of friction. “Hmm…” Hisoka hums, a delighted chuckle leaving his mouth at an apparent discovery he’s made. Just what was this clown up to?

You let out an obscene cry as he resumes his thrusting, aiming for that sensitive spot deep within you...and he hits it every single time. “H-Holy- AAAA- !!!” You scream as loud as you possibly can as this man hits this point every single time with each well-timed stroke. Tears prick your eyes as the pleasure is immense. You can feel your orgasm coming, but it feels different from the others. “Wai- S-Stop! I don’t-” Your cries fall on deaf ears as he lifts you up by the hair, pressing your back against his chiseled chest as he fucks you upright against him. You can hear him panting heavily in your ear, an occasional sound coming up. He wraps his pale, brawny arms tightly around your midsection, fucking you as hard as he can. He continuously hits that point deep with you, making you scream an ungodly amount. “His-Hisoka! S-Stop! I won’t-” You shake your head from left to right, reduced to an incoherent, blubbering mess. Hisoka, however, seems to be riled up by the fact that you said his name, thrusting into you with more fervor. With one last thrust up into that sensitive spot, you cum. But as you cum this time, you squirt. Hisoka holds you upright as you make a mess of him, the pillows, front-end of the sheets and fluffy throw-over. You convulse around him as you spray the bed, your body jolting each time you squirt. Your mouth is agape the entire time in an airless wail, drool dripping down your chin. He lets go of you when you finish your spectacle and you fall limply onto your cum, unable to move. You listen as he takes a deep breath, shakily exhaling. “Oh wonderful.~” He moans, moving into your recovering vision. The black spots eventually fade from view and your face to face with the smiling, sweaty magician. He holds an expression of happiness, one that contrasts drastically to your defeated one. “What could you possibly be smiling about now?” You grumble, your extremities feeling numb. “I haven’t had one that can squirt in so long. You’re going to be so much more fun.~” He lustifully drawls, backing out of your view soon after. So that’s what that was? It sure is intense. You feel him petting your head, laying on the other side of you. He’s waiting for you to recover. How...nice? The silence that overtakes you two is comfortable. It prods a stem of information out of you. “Four…” You say, breaking the silence. “Four what?” “Four months. I’ve been stationed here to scout you out for four months now.” You whisper, shakily raising yourself up to a sitting position. Hisoka looks pleased. “That’s all I’m going to tell you.” You firmly say, refusing to spill anymore vital information.

“Mm...I don’t think it is.” The transmuter frowns, grabbing you by the neck. He gives your throat a light, warning squeeze. “Eh?! But you used me already! You’re done!” You exclaim, your two nimble hands wrapping around his wrist in an attempt to retch his hand off of your neck. Hisoka simply smiles, pointing downwards. “I haven’t even cum yet.” His point is emphasized by his still hard cock, which is absolutely drenched in your juices at this point. “And we’ve still got nine hours left.” He smiles, letting go of your throat. You swallow. Just what have you gotten yourself into? You lean into your hands, using the support to keep you upright. You look down at him as he rests against the semi-soaked pillows with his hands tucked beneath his shoulders, his eyes closed and that same signature, lazy smug smirk written all over his face. You decide to run your gaze over his bare body, taking it all in. This is the first and most likely last time you’ll ever be able to see it, so you take advantage of it.

So...this is what the body of a trained mass murderer looks like. There’s only muscle, not a single ounce of excess skin being apparent on him. You look up at his angular face. All points of his face were sharp. Not a plane untouched. It’s then you notice his hair sticking to his sweaty pale forehead. His makeup appears smudged as well, making it apparent that he’s wiped his face from the amount he sweat. He still holds a formidable amount of stamina, but he can sweat. At least he’s not invincible to normal human woes, unlike many others claim. He’s not nearly as sweaty as you though. You look over the muscled plane of his chest. His two pectorals jut out intimidatingly. He’s certainly ripped, judging by his eight-pack that follows suit. You wonder what intense training he had to undergo to obtain abdominals of that capacity. You shiver. Nothing good. You know that’s for sure. Then comes his erection, which is resting against his stomach, hard as ever. It twitches, surely unhappy that it hasn’t released yet. You swallow. You have no idea how you’re going to get him to achieve his peak after you’ve reached your own around a total of four times now, each more intense than the last. You shift your gaze, moving to his toned legs. He had some killer thighs. You can only dream that your plushy thighs will reach that amount of muscle and definition. His calves were just as strong. His feet were clawed just like his hands. You realize that the more you stare at him, the more you lust for him. Damn your carnal desires. Yet...you have him for another nine hours. You can take your fill...and surely you wouldn’t want to be near him again, right? Yeah. That has to be right. You decide that it’s your turn to become the predator, smoothing a hand over his abs. The hard muscle contracts at your touch and you see him open one yellow eye in the corner of your left eye. Perfect. Let him watch you enjoy his body. You trace the dips in between each muscle, watching intently as the abdominal muscle contracts under each of your touches. It’s kind of beautiful in its own sinister way. You continue this until you reach your face down, running your tongue over each one instead. You hear him grunt under his breath, a smile forming on your lips as you proceed, licking all the way down to his member. As soon as you reach it, you stare down at it as if you’re starving, craving the taste of it. And at the current moment, you were. You stand his dick up with your hand, gazing at the length and thickness of it. This monstrosity has been inside you twice and you didn’t have much time to explore it with your mouth earlier. You peek over at his face. Both of Hisoka’s yellow eyes are open, watching you closely. He remains in his restful position, seeming to encourage you to discover on your own. You smile to yourself.

You move your hand up and down his dick softly, watching and feeling as it twitches in your hand, excited to have some attention. You smirk, moving so you’re in between Hisoka’s legs this time. He moves to accommodate you and you get yourself comfortable between them, staring up into his dark gaze as you hold his hard cock. He’s not smiling. You keep eye contact with him as you kiss the tip of his dick, kitten licking it. His upper lip twitches, but he remains impassive otherwise. You smile, accepting the unspoken challenge. Keeping your eyes trained on his, you suck his tip into your mouth, running your tongue around it. It appears to be sensitive, telling by the way he hisses and the way his body shivers. His eyes narrow a bit and yours remain open, wanting to see his raw reaction. He doesn’t break eye contact with you. You suck him further into your mouth, slowly of course. He grits his teeth, sucking in a breath. You run your tongue on his sensitive underside, drawing a shaky exhale from him. You keep going down, relaxing your throat when he reaches that point. His yellow eyes alight in surprise as you keep slurping him down all the way to the bottom. As he cock fills up your narrow throat, he throws his head back, strain apparent in the muscles of his neck. A choked moan leaves his lips and you cheer victoriously in your head. Your lips eventually touch the base of his dick. You’ve successfully swallowed him whole. You pause for a moment. Then, you swallow around the mass in your throat, listening as a laboured breath exhales into a deep, breathy moan. With your newfound skill, you lurch back all the way, sucking yourself back to the bottom quicker now. A heated hiss reaches your ears and you watch as his head raises back up, his eyes reconnecting with yours, alight with a fiery desire. You smile in your head, looking at him with an innocence that drives him utterly crazy. You continue your ministrations, drinking in all the noises the magician makes. “S-Such a - uhhn! - ggggood girl!” He pants, a strained smirk reaching his face. Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the sound of his praise. This must’ve turned him on more than anything because you hear a loud, “Ohhh fuuuck!” You smile to yourself, continuing to suck him off before he eventually spills into your mouth, which you swallow. You pull back and look down at Hisoka, who’s panting heavily. Sweat adheres to his whole body. His usual slicked back hair is now all over the place and his usual calm demeanor is replaced with that of a mess. You look down at him in shock. You caused...this? You smile. You’re proud of yourself. It must be one of the rarest things to see Hisoka Morrow looking like this. And damn if you didn’t deserve it!

“Tch.” Hisoka tuts, looking away in...shame?! “Eh?! What?!” You exclaim in confusion. One of the most feared people in the world? Shame?

“Not very many people get to see me like this…much less a sex worker like you…” He sighs, an aura of utter shame surrounding him. Your left eye twitches. “Excuse me! I’ll have you know I’m more than just a sex worker!” You yell at him, smacking his shoulder for added effect. You grit your teeth, crossing your arms before you get too rough with it. “It’s just…,” He continues, piquing your interest. “None of them have made me do this before.” And he scoots up, tucking his legs into his body and sitting up in them, turning so his back is facing you. You gasp as you see deep scratch marks lining up both of his shoulder blades. They lined up perfectly with Hisoka’s own hands. “You...did this to yourself?” You ask softly, reaching out to prod around the wound. He covers it with his hand though, turning around to face you once more. Your hand then lands on his pale cheek instead. Hisoka pauses for just a brief moment, stunned. He enraptures your right hand in his left one, moving your hand closer to his mouth. You yelp in surprise when he bites your palm, throwing your hand away from his face. He smirks. You shake your hand in an attempt to will away the pain, glaring at him. You shove him with a Nen-powered blow. It clearly doesn’t do anything and he slowly falls backwards, dramatically plopping on his back. You roll your eyes. A lazy smile makes way to his face. “Say [Y/N]...Would you be willing to do more work this time? I’m feeling a bit tired.~'' It's only then you notice he’s erect again.

You bristle. “What?! Hisoka, you horndog!”

Hisoka chuckles deeply. “Sorry, I can’t help it staring at you.”

You blush heavily from that comment, crossing your arms again and turning away. You hear him move too late before you can evade and he grabs you, pulling you atop of him. You have to place your hands on his chest to stop yourself from falling forward. You first look down at him in some sort of surprise, then one of anger. “I’m not just a sex worker, Hisoka.” You snidely comment, sitting up straight and crossing your arms. He frowns. “I know you’re not, [Y/N].” He replies honestly, nothing giving way to any form of deception whatsoever. You look at him again and sigh. “I can’t.” You mumble. Hisoka pauses. “Come again?” “I can’t.” You say louder, looking away bashfully. Hisoka tilts his head. “Why not?” “Because I’m not turned on.” You say flatly, looking him dead in the eye. His yellow eyes grow dark with lust. “I can change that.” He rasps. “Yeah but you don’t want to do any-“

“Come sit on my face.”

You blink.

“What.”

“Come sit on my face.” He repeats in that same seductive voice of his, the same mischievous grin on his face, the same sultry look in his yellow eyes.

Your face shines a brilliant shade of red. “What’s wrong, [Y/N]? You’re looking a bit...flustered.” Hisoka chuckles. You swallow your pride. Hisoka knows what he’s doing. “Okay. I will.” He smiles deviously at your consent, watching your crawl up and over his face. He places his hands at the tops on your thighs, willing you to sit on his face. As soon as his mouth connects with your pussy, he sets straight to work, claiming every inch with his mouth. Your body convulses in surprise and you let out a choked moan. His eyes haven’t disconnected from yours, watching you intently. His tongue manages to slip inside you and you gasp, letting out a wail of pleasure. His grips tightens on your thighs and his hips raise slightly. He quickly settles back down, continuing to feast on you. You grab the top of the headboard for balance, subconsciously beginning to grind against his face. Hisoka’s breathing changes instantly and he’s quick to move out from beneath you. You pant, sitting on his navel. He wipes his mouth, licking his lips. He still wears his signature smirk, albeit lazily. “You can’t do that, [Y/N].~ You almost made me skip the main course.” Hisoka murmurs huskily, getting comfortable. You position yourself over his dick, looking down at him nervously. He smiles up at you, easing your anxiety. You slowly begin to sit down on his hard cock, gasping as he fills you up yet again. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the feeling. You struggle to get the rest of him inside of you, but you manage at your own pace, fully sitting down on him now. You whine at the feeling of being so full. Hisoka shakily exhales, gripping the sheets below him. “Don’t be afraid to move, [Y/N].” He growls and you get the point, pushing yourself up and back down. You whimper as Hisoka grunts. You place your hands on his toned chest for leverage, pressing down as you push yourself up again, pulling yourself up to his tip before sinking back down. You set a steady rhythm, moaning up a storm. Hisoka lets his own pleasure be known through deep groans and shudders. It felt different in this position. His cock seems to be going deeper within you. Your moans end on a higher octave because of this. Hisoka seems to be enjoying this just as much, thrusting up to meet you in the middle. His hand creeps up your body, starting by rubbing your clit a few times, making you squeal. He then rubs his hand over your stomach, enjoying the beauty of it. You grow flustered at his actions, feeling shy. He eventually slides up your body to reach his goal: your boob. You squeak at his light squeeze on your right breast, slightly messing up the rhythm of your bouncing. Hisoka smirks with gritted teeth and flips you on your back, effectively taking over. He speeds up the pace, causing you to raise your voice. “Ahn- fuck! Hi-Hisoka!” You moan loudly, your toes curling as your orgasm approaches fast. “Are you -pant- gonna cum again, [Y/N]?” Hisoka groans, fucking you as fast as he can. You nod your head vigorously, too caught up in the feeling of your body almost breaking with the pressure building up. Hisoka smiles at your response, moving his hand down your beautiful stomach and reaching your clit. With just a few more circular motions on it, you snap, arching your back with a cry. Just like that, he sends you flying into the realm of ecstasy once again. You’re blinded by a white light before you finally come crashing down, back landing flat on the bed.

You were breathing hard, your arm laying over your eyes as you calm down. You hear Hisoka lay beside you, panting as well. When you feel calm enough, you lower your arm from your face, looking over at Hisoka, who’s resting peacefully beside you. His hair was disheveled from his usual slicked back style. It now rests over his sweaty forehead and the pieces that aren’t resting on his forehead are slicked back behind his ears and the back of his neck. He looks like quite the specimen right about now. He glances over to you as well, feeling you examining his face. It boosts his ego. He smiles lazily, running his eyes over your face. He really appreciates your features. They were so gorgeous to him, especially those [e/c] eyes. He’s too worn out to do anything more, so he rests his eyes, falling asleep.

You decide to take a nap as well, tired from all the activity.

You soon pass out for an undetermined amount of time.

*******

Word count: 4700+

Next chapter should be expected next Saturday, May 15th. I will hold to it this time!

[okay-klepto]

I just need to get my horny thoughts about August Walker out

we all know this is going to be nsfw, and idk how long this will be, so everything will be under the cut. Also, probably none of this is close to original thought. I'm just sick of this stuff being suck in my head all day.

Spoiler: it's angry!August, jealous!August, possessive!August, like-to-play-with-your-pussy-whenever-he-wants!August, torturous!August (then maybe a little bit of semi-soft!August)

so

It's a given that August is the one who is going to be in control in the bedroom, but I think about how that actually manifests.

The first option is that it comes out in the form of hard, rough sex. This is very August to me, but only after an incident, and there are two types of "incidents" that occur the most often

He's frustrated from work. Where it's just a day when no one did or said anything of value or coming home from a long, hard mission, he needs a way to let off steam. And you're perfect for doing that. When he does get back he wants things to happen pretty much right away. Sure, he can maybe wait until after dinner, but he'd prefer to blend you over the dining table and give you a good fucking right there. And you can always tell when he's gonna want it rough. He's quiet and pushes just a little. He's not worried about being neat, and he doesn't care about whether clothes are still half on or not. Once you're both exposed enough to get the deed done, he's in full force. No amount of crying and moaning is going to stop him from plowing you deep into whichever surface was closest (tho he does prefer the bed). He's rough and grunts and hold you hard enough to leave dark red marks on your skin. There are very few words spoken, most often the occasional "fuck" grunted out through gritted teeth. Sometimes he cums instead; sometimes he doesn't. Once everything is done, he has usually calmed down enough for you to cuddle up next to him and ask about his day. His head is clear enough by then that he can vent to you about how stupid he thinks his coworkers are or how much a shitshow a mission was.

He's jealous. You CANNOT tell me that August isn't the jealous and possessive type. What's his is his and he isn't sharing (sharing is for a different post). So I can just picture August catching you talking to some other man and he's making you smile more than August would like, or he catches too many wandering eyes while you're out and about on a date. Or those comments you get on the photos you post online. It makes his blood boil. He tries to keep his cool until you're in a private place or back home, but he'd really love to just sucker punch those assholes in the nose. He tries to not think about it too much, but those feelings are hard for him to repress. That angry sex starts in a similar way as the previous, but he typically waits until you're both in the bedroom. Rough kisses to start, and he is more likely to strip you all the way down. He goes just as hard, but he's more vocal. He tells and shows you that you are his. He reminds you who you belong to. He tells you that he's never gonna let another man come near you. He emphasized each of his points by slamming into you over and over again, teeth gritted and brow furrowed the entire time. He cums inside of you every time. He leaves more marks, too, and tries to put them in the most obvious spots in case someone tries to take a look at you again. There are more cuddles afterward, too - more kisses and rubs and whispers of sweet nothings.

The second option is that it comes out in torture. Torture with a side of dependency.

See, we know August has an animalistic side. He likes the hunt. He likes being a predator and you're the perfect prey. He likes knowing that you are at his disposal. He likes to stalk you around the house, watching your every move before deciding when to pounce. This could be as simple as being able to come up behind you and put his hand down your panties whenever he wants to. He likes what you squirm as he plays with your pussy just for s minute. He likes making you a little wet before leaving you with no way to help yourself. He likes giving you deep kissing and putting his tongue in your mouth before going out. He likes whispering filthy things in your ear while you're out in public. Anything to get you a little excited. He likes that you're his. But you give him some playing back, and that drives him nuts.

And then there's when he dedicates some time to put his fingers instead of you just to make you cry. For you, coming is not an option at these times. He's sitting on the bed and you're kneeling on the bend over his lap, hands gripping his shoulders as he plays with your pussy. He likes to watch your face twist and relax as he moves his fingers in and out of you. He likes that he can make you whimper and whine with such simple actions. He likes getting you against a wall and your panties around your knees. He likes telling you dirty things in a way that sounds so sweet. He especially likes stopping right before you're going to climax because you always whine about it. He likes to know that he is the only means you have to finish.

And there's when he ties you to the bed and really goes in on you. The more toys the better. He'll strap your wrists (and sometimes) ankles to the bed so you can be perfectly spread out. You're completely nude while August wears nice pants and a dress shirt. He loves putting things inside of you: big things, little things, things that vibrate, things with texture. He does so slowly and thoughtfully, always feeling a careful eye on your face to watch how you react. Sometimes he'll give you a little bit of love by using his mouth on your pussy, but that's only if you are really crying. And oh he loves to hear you cry. He loves the tears that single you have given up - that you have nothing left. He knows then that you are completely bare. But he also loves the tears you shed out of fear. Knives are his favorite tool. He usually uses a big one with a sharp tip, and he runs it over your skin, leaving a little red trail. He never pushes hard enough to draw blood, but he does know exactly how much force to give it to make you think it will break your skin. He likes how your body tenses whenever you get scared, and he likes how your voice shakes when he runs the tip of his knife over your sensitive areas. You may think that August wouldn't let you come, but that isn't the whole truth. He does deny you orgasm over and over, but then he forces them out. He goes in on your hard with toys and doesn't let up until your a writhing on the bed. Then he does it a little longer. He shows you he is in control over everything about you.

August's favorite part is when that's all done. Who do you go to have he's done making you his little plaything? Him. You go back to him. Why? Because you are dependent on him. He is your everything. August is just as happy fucking you with a dildo as he is kissing your cheeks as you all asleep. He loves to slowly pull you apart and he loves to put you back together because it means he'll get to do it all over again

all done

[sidespromptblog]

The Goodbye Letter

Warnings: Crying (Logan), Hurt/Comfort, goodbye letter, talk of fading (past tense- Logan), and general angst. 

Summary: After months of planning and thinking, Logan decides to finally leave the light sides for good. Through a letter.

AO3 LINK

Word Count: 2188

The desk lamp next to Logan clicked on, illuminating a corner of the logical side’s room on pale yellow light as the figure of the logical side sat hunched over his desk a pen clasped tight between cramping fingers. 

It was late, so late that even Virgil would have been asleep by now. 

Which meant that it was the perfect time to do this.  

“I can do it...” Logan softly chanted to himself, as he rubbed his temples only giving the clock on his desk a wayward glance. It was late, way too late for the emotions he was trying to wrangle right now. But it had to be done now, or else he wasn’t going to get it done at all. “We talked about this ahead of time, and we know that I can do this…” 

All things considered, Logan started his letter off pretty eloquently given the state of his emotions. 

“I hope, that when you finally notice that I am no longer around. That the silence where I once stood is deafening.” He began, finding that once he started it was almost impossible to stop. “I hope that you try to fill it in whatever ways you can possibly think of, be it your singing, dancing, or probably more accurately… the arguing that never seems to go away whether I’m there or not. Whatever way you try, I hope that they all fail and I hope that you remember the time where the silence wasn’t there. I hope that you remember that it was once me, and I hope that you remember how I once was.” 

Logan didn’t feel at all angry, despite how his letter may make him seem towards those it was directed towards… he wasn’t angry about any of it. He hadn’t been angry about it in such a long time, he was more…

Comfortably numb at this point, despite what the words scrawled on the page spelled out. It was easy to default to this past anger he’d felt, rather than attempted to write out how they’d made him this way and how’d they’d made him so empty, to begin with.  

He’d need longer than a few hours to explain that, it would take days… days that he didn’t have right now. 

He had long since passed the stage of being angry or even being sad, he’d shed so many tears that it had hurt to cry and it had hurt even more to just be sad without being able to cry. He had tried trashing things, burning all of his notecards, and just ripping everything that he had once worked on to shreds. Now there was just… nothing. He was just tired at this point, and that was left was that tiredness that made him feel as if that was all that there was at this point. He couldn’t recall a single morning where he woke up not feeling this constant tiredness. And not feeling like it would be better off to not leave his bed, let alone his bedroom. 

It was just easier to write this letter, rather than having to go through the struggle of having to explain himself without being interrupted or argued with. 

“I hope it hurts,” He added without much malice left inside of him. “I hope it hurts to realize how far you’ve pushed me. I could have gone an eternity existing beside all of you, had it not been for the belittling. I’m sad to say that I probably would have stayed a little longer even if that was the case, I loved all of you so much. But after recent events… something inside of me is broken now, and I don’t think that it will ever be fixed properly.” 

Much to Logan’s surprise, he felt a stripe of wetness streak down his face at his next words dotting the page that he was writing on. 

At the admission of weakness that he now felt.

But even so, that didn’t stop him.  

If anything it only spurred him on now, even as it became hard to see throughout all of the tears.

“I am far too damaged now to come back to you all. I don’t remember when I wasn’t.” 

Taking in a shaky breath, a whimper crawled up the logical side’s throat at the finalization that settled in his chest. He loved them… truly he did. He loved Roman’s energy, and how he put everything he had into every project he took. He had always given his whole heart to them regardless of how he felt. He loved Virgil’s mellowness and the way that he thought about things as realistically as he could despite how the world scared him. He loved Patton and his cheeriness, and his drive to keep going and to see the best in things… even if it wasn’t for the best in himself. 

“When did you first break me? And when could I no longer put myself back together?” 

But right now… it was so hard to love them. So hard that it felt almost impossible at this point. It was possible he knew… but not necessarily healthy. 

It was so hard to love them when they saw him as something optional, as something that was so boring that they couldn’t be bothered to even try to listen to him. Every single time they made a comment, every time they rolled their eyes, and every time attempted to ignore him once again…

It hurt. 

Every time it hurt more and more. 

“Logan?” 

The said logical side felt his shoulders stiffen at the hand that rested on his shoulder, gently cradling him as he went through wave after wave of tears that threatened to choke him if he didn’t let them out all at once.

It most certainly didn’t stop the shaking of his shoulders as he felt the tears that he had thought were once gone and dried up, rise up again with a vengeance. They ran down like a rainstorm, dripping onto the page and smudging the ink that hadn’t even begun to dry yet. Not that it mattered to him much anyways, it wasn’t the neatness he cared about now, but rather what the words had meant to him. What the emotions that had been locked away inside of him had tried to say after all of these years, and… what he had convinced himself that he had been alright with for years upon years. 

He wasn’t okay. 

Burying his face in his hands Logan tried to choke out an apology. “S..Sorry.. Sorry.” He mumbled out behind his mess of tears, “I thought that I was okay enough to write this. I thought.. I thought that it wouldn’t hurt as much… I’m sorry.” The apology was constant, despite the hand that released his shoulder instead curled around him, pulling him into a warm hug. 

A part of him wanted to pull against it, to finish his letter and everything that it entailed. Part of him wanted to rebel against the warmth from the other side, and from the hand gingerly petting his hair as his breathing hitched and a near-silent sob bubbled out of him. But…

He didn’t, as much as that part of him wanted to… he sank back into the comfort that was so freely given to him.

Why did kindness hurt just as much as cruelness? 

“It’s okay,” That gentle voice murmured again, “We both knew that this wouldn’t be easy, writing a goodbye letter is… very hard to do. It involves a lot of digging up old emotions and putting them on display for others to see, and that’s scary and hurtful for you. You’ve been hurt, and you have a lot to say.” A soft kiss pressed against the top of his head. “It’s okay Logan, you’re doing good.” 

Taking in a deep breath he nodded before leaning his head back enough to look back at the side that had come at the sign of his smallest discomfort. Janus’ mismatched eyes stared down at him with a sad kind of understanding, it was the kind of look that anytime before he understood would have made Logan very confused. But now… now he reached up, gingerly taking the hand that had resumed the petting of his hair and placed a tiny kiss on the palm. The tears on his cheeks hadn’t even dried as Janus swiped them away, the softness was unbelievably evident in just about everything that he did for Logan. 

“Thank you,” Logan whispered, his voice cracking with each word. “I’m okay, it’ll be tough to finally finish this… but I’ll be okay.” 

Janus’ eyes searched his for a long terse moment, before finally nodding.

Leaning down the dishonest side placed a simple kiss on the logical side’s forehead, the smell of his cologne lingering. “Okay,” He slowly began. “Be sure to take a break if you need to. Call me or Remus if necessary. He’s almost done completing your space in the imagination, just a few more hours and it’ll be fully complete.” A tiny smile lit up the serpentine side’s face, “He’s very excited to show it to you…” 

Oh, Logan was sure about that. Remus had spent the past few months creating blueprints for Logan’s new home ever since the logical side had brought up his idea of just leaving. At first… Logan had brought up the idea of leaving as a last resort, as in leaving the other sides as well as Thomas. Of just leaving the mindspace and never looking back, of finding his place in the real world even if he technically wouldn’t be able to survive as anything more than a phantom of a man. He had been prepared to make that sacrifice, even if it had meant that he could begin to feel better about where he was. 

It had really scared Remus and Janus when he had talked about it…

Apparently, he had been almost manic about the idea of it.

He wasn’t exactly in the best place back then, so their fear wasn’t exactly unwarranted.   

He’d even contemplated fading into the subconscious, and just becoming one of Thomas’ baser instincts. Still acting as logic, without being present and visible for him to be summoned at will. It had been a very tempting idea back then, but now… he had better plans, with a future that wouldn’t be nearly so painful as the past. 

“Yeah,” Logan smiled, his hand reaching up to card through Janus’ loose hair. “I can’t wait.” 

“This is goodbye, I am certain that I will miss all of you. It would be impossible for me not to miss any of you, I’ve grown up with you all and seen how you’ve all changed throughout the years. I will always hold a bit of fondness for you all. Patton, Virgil, and Roman. I love you all dearly so, but… I cannot continue. I cannot last how I have been, so this will likely be the last you ever hear of me. I will not show myself to Thomas, in fact, I will not be capable of being summoned. So for all intents and purposes… this is a final goodbye. So finally… Goodbye. Sincerely and with love, Logan ‘Logic’ Sanders. For the last time.” 

With a sigh of relief, Logan neatly folded the letter that he had spent the better part of the week writing. Sealing it with a glob of hot wax, that Roman would most certainly find ironic, Logan sealed the letter before finally rising to take it to its final resting place where it would be found by the others in the morning. Rising up in the living room, he moved silently and quickly, he placed it on the kitchen counter that connected to the dining room. 

Most certain Patton would come in the morning and find it, he’d be the first to read it and thus the information would spread to the others as well. They would all know well before the morning had even begun.  

“Janus?” Logan softly called out as he rose back up into his bedroom, “Do you think it’s ready yet?” 

The excitement on the other side’s face told him everything that he needed to know as he extended his hand to the logical side. “Yeah,” Janus murmured softly, the warm smile on his face growing. “Are you ready to see your new home?” 

With a nod, Logan sank down with Janus.

Just to rise up to feel the warm sunshine on his face, and the sight of a homely cottage that had been made just for him well within in his sight. Remus had really outdone himself this time. The long grass tickled his feet, and the smell of wildflowers graced his nose, letting him know right away that place was safe for him and not a single thing would hurt him here. The babbling of the stream in the distance, and the swaying of the windchimes in the distance almost made Logan want to weep from the pure joy of it all.  

He was home. 

He was safe. 

[otp-holic]

Will this be the night? (ALSO IN A03)

A random piece of online advertising unleashes some movie memories of a Summer afternoon in 1932

1.5 Ks Fanfic + Pictures Inside. Part of the Never let us lose what we have gained series (AO3) Silly drabble born from my love of classic movies... that ended up not having anything to do with classic movies.

BROOKLYN'S KING'S THEATRE

Poster for Cary Grant's Retrospective. Printed paper 2025.

A poster for the upcoming month long celebration of the movies of Cary Grant to be held in Brooklyn.

Bucky is not expecting a vivid memory of the past to jump at him from a piece of online location-targeted promotion popping on his phone as he and Steve are wandering around the neighborhood on a random Friday.

But the 21st century works in mysterious ways and Google is kindly inviting him to check “Cary Grant: A Celebration”, a month-long chronological retrospective of all his movies taking place at a nearby hipster cinema starting… in half an hour.

He beams as a long string of memories of the both of them in different afternoons and movies plays in his head; how they counted the cents for the admission price, and how Bucky learned to sneak into the movie every time that did not add up to two full tickets.

“Buck, you’ve been smiling at your phone in silence for a whole minute,” Steve interrupts his daydreaming. “Should I be jealous? Worried?”

“Sorry,” he answers, still smiling about the memories. “I think I’m leaving you for Google, they see inside my one hundred years old soul; But I might give you another chance if you don’t mind a change of plans for the afternoon.”

“Lead the way, but can you give me some heads up?” Steve chuckles, more than used to Bucky’s ways.

He takes Steve’s hand to direct them towards the movie theatre and thinks about how much information he wants to share.

Although he is the one who still relies on the comfort of 30s and 40s movies whereas Steve keeps getting bolder with his options, Steve has always loved Cary Grant and Bucky thinks he’s going to appreciate his choice since this particular movie has a history (sad history, maybe) for them, so he debates on whether to tell him or not.

“We are going to the movies. But the real ones, not that shit on Netflix you keep choosing,” he settles for half-disclosure.

“Damn, mister life in black and white strikes again. Embrace the 21st century, Barnes, I think you’ll like it!”, Steve laughs.

“Hey, I embrace it more than you do! At least I look the part of a mid-thirties man from it instead of a fifty-year-old hiding in fucking khakis. Albeit a very hot one, I’ll give you that.”

They both laugh. It’s not the first time these remarks fly between them and having a routine, running jokes, and running pet peeves is very soothing after everything they have gone through.

They’re getting closer to the cinema now, and Bucky can already see the Billboard announcing the retrospective and a small queue forming upfront. He takes a side look at Steve to see if he has noticed and he can certainly tell that his curiosity has peaked.

“Surprise! Call it a win-win, it might be up my alley, but you used to love Cary Grant movies,” Bucky smiles as they reach their place in the queue and glance at the program for the afternoon.

‘This is the Night (1932)’, the poster says, ‘Cary Grant's feature film debut on the big screen’

Bucky is deep in nostalgia, remembering a summer day of 32 when they were waiting in line for the same film and how the evening turned out, but when he looks in search of his partner’s reaction, it’s not what he expected at all.

“Steve, you ok?” he asks, worried at seeing Steve frozen in place.

Steve nods. His whole face is deep red, but at least he is responsive. He looks ashamed and Bucky is shifting from worried to curious.

“Jesus, this movie,…” he chuckles now.

“You seem to remember, then. I thought you might.”

It was not a happy memory: Steve had felt really ill halfway through, looking white as a sheet of paper and about to die on Bucky. They had to leave the unfinished movie and run home, as per Steve’s request. But as far as Bucky remembers, nothing to be ashamed of.

“Why are you acting weird? Oh my god, Steven, are you allergic to this movie?”

The silence before Steve answers is a little too long and the queue moves forward.

“Shit, this is not easy to say and I’m sorry in advance.”

“Duly noted, but could you try to explain? I’m lost and I didn’t expect a full-on confession of something to be sorry about when I decided to follow Google’s intelligent advice to an unfinished movie. I just thought it was a good excuse for a change of plans. And kind of closure.”

Steve takes a breath and starts talking.

“I wasn’t honest with you, Buck. Back then…” he stops, searching for words, nervously musing on his beard. “Ah, I cannot believe this hasn’t come up at some point, but there it goes. I absolutely lied to you that day: I wasn’t sick or half dying and I am very very guilty of using my poor health to run away from that place and that movie, but I did the only thingI could think of.”

Bucky is at a loss for words, he’s still deciding if he is angry, curious, or somewhere in between.

“But… but you were feverish and white as a ghost and you said you had palpitations!”

Steve seems to think for a moment again and the bastard laughs so loud they get a curious look from the people behind. And taking advantage of the queue moving up again, he gets really really close to Bucky who honestly thinks he’s going to try to kiss himself out of the situation since it’s a bulletproof strategy.

But he doesn’t: He goes for Bucky’s ear instead, and whispers.

“I had a boner like you wouldn’t believe.”

Bucky gasps loudly totally taken aback while Steve takes a step back and looks at him in the eye more amused and hungry than ashamed, but still blushing.

“But hey, not all lies! I was somehow sick. And pale since my blood was… otherwise occupied. And I was barely 14!”

Bucky laughs at the dork. His dork. But the information is still making its way into his brain.

“Oh my God,” he exclaims as it starts to settle, “You piece of shit, you pulled the poor sick child card when you were just plain horny. I was worried to my bones as we run to your home. Shame on you Rogers!”

“Me? It was your fucking fault! Yours and Cary Grant’s and your stupid grins and stupid chins, those clefts!” he’s screaming in whispers so Steve Rogers’ teenage boner doesn’t make it to the news, but he’s talking as if he was pronouncing an important speech to the UN, “What was a 14-year-old in the fucking 30s popping one upon seeing an actor who kind of looked like a very tall version of his very male best friend to do?”

He is about to say something, but Steve literally covers his mouth with one hand giving Bucky no other option but to stick his tongue and lick the palm.

“Gross, Buck. I’m not done!”, he dries his hand on Buckys’ shirt before he goes on. “I’m not done because as I was still processing all that, you kept brushing your goddamned hand with mine when you went for popcorn! Over and over and over. It was torture. I have palpitations now just thinking about it.”

Bucky full-on laughs. One of those real ones that come more and more lately and that he honestly thought he would never get to experience again.

They have reached the box office, so he doesn’t push it further. For now.

“Two tickets for `This is the Night´, please.” Bucky smiles at the box-office guy. “He is paying, tho. I paid last time we tried to see this one and he didn’t have the decency to stay until the end.”

He actually feels like a teen as Steve takes his hand into the theatre, as he very intentionally buys popcorn to share, and as they start full-on making out on their seats during the commercials once the lights are out.

“Wanna know another secret, Buck?” Steve whispers a few minutes later, eyes on the starting movie as he brushes Bucky’s hand with intention over the popcorn bucket. His flustered face and recently kissed lips bathed by dancing lights and shadows coming from the screen. “It’s a good thing we were already together in ‘38 when “Bringing up baby” came out because I was able to plan ahead and lure you into that memorable window fuck at our old apartment before the show, or we would have totally missed one of our favorite movies, too.”

Bucky hates Steve with the force of the universe. Or maybe not, but he’s not playing clean.

“Raincheck on the movie?” he manages to whisper back as he drives Steve’s hand to his already noticeable hard-on. Two can play this game.

“Oh, poor Buck. Do you have palpitations” Steve chuckles, lips wet on Bucky’s ear and gripping harder on his bulge instead of letting go. “Was that the memory of the window fuck? Or all the making out? Tell me so I don’t do it again.”

“You are a punk, Steve Rogers,” Bucky answers before standing up to leave, closely followed by a smiling Steve.

Argh, sorry for deleting and uploading again, but i had technical issues with this.... so here it goes again. I need to free myself from this one!

[nagito-kissmaeda]

Yandere Komaeda Headcanons submitted by Chaos under the cut (y) Warnings: Slight nsfw, yandere behavior, stalking, mention of suicide, masturbation (not very explicit.)

Yandere Nagito probably wasn't very Yandere before you came along. The unlucky boy was probably still the funky little creep to his classmates as always but as soon as you step through the doorway of 77-B's classroom then he kind of just thought, "Oh, they're pretty." And continued with his day. He didn't think too much of you.

If you were an ultimate who walked into the classroom, he wouldn't have thought much of it besides the idea that "YoU wErE sPrEaDiNg HoPe 😩"

If you were a reserve course student, on the other hand, he would think he is slightly superior. So, if you talk to him he'll feel like he's better than you but won't say anything except under certain circumstances (ex: You ask him for his opinion of you, his opinion on reserve course, that kind of stuff. At least, he's honest :/) But keep in mind, he only really acts like this when you two first meet.

After getting to form a friendship with you (however that happened, I'll leave that up to you), his crush on you takes shape quickly.

He mostly just did small stuff that made it obvious that he liked you (whether he realized it or not.) If you weren't around he'd be asking everyone in sight if they knew where you were. He'd linger uncomfortably close to you whenever you two were together. The unlucky boy also tended to...✨follow✨ you.

Bestie, run while you still can 🏃‍♀️💨 because after he kidnaps you you're gonna be more like ♿

(I guess that's assuming you can run at all...sorry if I offended someone ._.)

When you two are hanging out, he eventually opens up to you about his illnesses and past. All of what he told you would probably be a lot to process so the only thing you can think of besides, "I'm so sorry that happened to you," is that you just hug him. Now he's shocked. You're both shocked. wOAH! Nagito doesn't move at all during the hug and probably forgot to breathe because c'mon...homie hasn't received any form of physical affection for God knows how long. He's drawing a total blank and the first words that spring to his mind are, "I'm going to marry them."

You cannot tell me this man doesn't want to get married one day. Yes, his luck sucks fat juicy butt but it's just something he craves and can be selfish about. Nagito's opinion on his want for having a spouse goes back and forth, like how the fitness gram pacer test works (I bet some of you don't even know that this is something outside of a meme lol.) He probably got this desire from seeing how bad his parents' relationship was.

Nerdy headcanon stuff you don't have to read: So, it isn't canon that his parents had a bad relationship but I imagine that they did because Nagito mentions that his mom had never complimented him and he gained a massive inheritance after his family's death. Let me explain my logic on those. Nagito's mom probably never complimented him because she didn't like or want him. I also headcanon that his parents were in an arranged marriage which is why they were so rich and why I think they had a bad relationship, because let's be honest, not all arranged couples are comfortable with one another. The arranged marriage also could've been the reason why his family was wealthy, it could have had to do with business and work. So to wrap it all up, Nagito's parents are rich because of an arranged marriage and they don't really like each other and they had a kid that neither of them wanted so now it's a broken family with a fucked up kid. I know that sounds like a stretch but that's why it's a headcanon and not actually canon lol.

After that one hug, that's when he truly sees you as some sort of ethereal Deity that he was sure he was going to wed in the future (Hell, he'd probably settle for right there, right now.) He no longer cared if you were an ultimate or not because now he saw you as something even greater. Of course, he still views himself as scum but even scum has desires that they are willing to do anything for.

After Nagito had come back to his dorm, the realization hit him that if he was going to marry you, he would have to be worthy of your hand in marriage. So, he prepares. By that I mean he starts stalking you a lot.

You two were already friends on social media so you probably didn’t dwell too much on it when you found him accidentally liking old posts. He’d go on your socials and scroll through it looking for every little bit of information he could find on you. Sometimes he'd strike gold and other times he'd dig up dirt. Nagito began talking to you a lot more so he could gain some information on your likes and dislikes. You only assumed that he was more comfortable with talking to you now because he confided his troubles in you but in reality he was planning your future life with him. Once in a while you'd invite to your dorm whether it was for hangouts, study sessions, or just sleepovers (he absolutely LOVED it when you brought those up.) The only opening he had to steal stuff is when you went to the bathroom and when that happened all he'd do every single time is go to the closet, grab another one of the pillow cases that the dorm provides, and switch them out with your current ones. When the pillowcase stops smelling like you then he just sticks it in the school's laundry basket where things like bed sheets, pillow cases, and blankets that belong to the school go.

After weeks after weeks of obtaining bits and pieces of information on you such as food you like and dislike, what your family is like (If you/your oc has one), your favorite movies, music genres, and clothing, etc., He eventually realized that he lacked three more things. Romance, experience, and…"performance."

The one thing he absolutely needed to learn first was "How to kiss." Even though no one sees his search history besides him, it was still very  embarrassing to put those words on his computer. He typed those three letters into the google machine and ta-da! A wikihow page and a YouTube video were apparently his best options. He opted for the latter and watched as a lady and her boyfriend demonstrated how to perform different types of kisses. Intimate and sexual. He feels awkward just watching this and he feels like he should practice but...on what? Luckily for him, there is a perfectly good pillow lying on his bed.

...This was definitely weird. His chapped lips were pressed against the plush pillow as he imagined he was french kissing you. This doesn't seem like the greatest method but Nagito doesn't seem to have any other choice.

The pillow in front of me was wrinkled and slightly wet from where I had last kissed it. It felt beyond awkward to kiss a pillow and imagine it was your future partner. I couldn't imagine them walking in on me as my face was buried in a pillow while moaning out muffled noises. It would be far too embarrassing but, I've faced worse. Practice should continue or else my mouth will never come as even a fraction of pleasure to my love. I approach the pillow and lay, stomach down, on my bed again. While this has been an awkward situation, my insides are starting to feel like they're on fire! It's probably just the thought of Y/N floating around in my brain. I take a deep breath before cupping my hands at the corners of the pillow and diving my mouth towards the pillow once more. I start off with a short kiss but continuously start moving my lips against, what I imagine to be, their lips. I move my bottom lip more often than my top. Imagining I'm trapping their lips against mine. Just the thought of trapping them makes me grind my hips against the mattress a little. Even though I'm soft I still let out a little whimper. Does Y/N even like it when their partner makes noise? I wasn't able to find any information on what she likes in bed so...with my luck, I'll just leave it to chance. My kisses get more sloppy and desperate. I begin swiping and swirling my tongue against the pillow thinking about just what it might feel like to make out with them. Their hot, wet mouth pressing up against mine while our tongues rub against one another in an attempt to touch each other. I moan seemingly too loud at that thought and start humping the bed. Everything feels so hot.

Maybe combining kissing practice and "performance" practice would be a good idea.

Once he starts performance practice, his browser is constantly on sex related websites. But more on the education side...he wants to know how to make you feel good and how to make himself last longer. Once in a while, he does go on the hub though so he can pretend it's you and him having sex on the screen. He tries his best to look for ones where it sounds like you or looks like you. He prefers the ones where it sounds like you so that way he could just close his eyes and imagine you and him are together. 

Just a random bonus I thought I'd add in: He got a boner during class once and sat there for like ten minutes just waiting for it to go away. So he just ended up palming himself through his pants and struggled to not make any noise. He liked to imagine you were under the desk pressing your face against his clothed crotch and just rubbing your face around that area. Luckily, he came without letting a single noise slip past his lips. Unluckily, Nagito cums a lot. So everyone could see the enormous wet spot on the crotch of his pants when class was dismissed.

He happens to have a weird habit of doing domestic and soft things with a hint of creepy. For example, one of his favorite things to do as of recently is print out a picture that has your face in it, tape it to his pillow, and fall asleep cuddling it. This sounds fine if you two were dating but… you aren't. He'll give it kisses, cuddle with it, fall asleep with it, and, of course, it's what he uses during his performance practice. He also enjoys eating meals with it and watching movies while cuddling it too. He perceives it all as practice for when you two are wed.

I'm going to assume you aren't an oblivious idiot and just say that you probably began to notice how weird he'd get around you. You tried distancing yourself a little bit but enough to still stay friends. He noticed the change in how often you'd hang out with him and his anxiety skyrocketed. Nagito would feel he had only a couple choices left. And that was to kidnap you, get rid of any obstacles that didn't allow him to spend every waking moment with you, or just flat out kill you so that way no one could have you. He already knew he wouldn't be able to even breathe without you so he'd likely kill himself as well in the process.

Author's Note: I'll probably be discontinuing that one Nagito x reader chapter 2 because I wasn't able to finish it before the school year started and I was just dissatisfied with the chapters BUT! I do have plenty of headcanons on yandere Komaeda! Message me if you want some far more nsfw headcanons because I have a lot for this guy.  I'm also very open to crackfic oneshots.

[danihow]

Flower love

Legolas x human!reader

Lord of the rings

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: While crossing through the forest, our dear Y/N decided to help Legolas to braid his hair back.

Warnings: Fluff, that’s it. 

A/N: I actually thought of this after learning the meaning of some flowers. Im so sorry ittook me a month to finish this and I’m not even please with it.

The sun was half an hour away to be hidden by the tall mountains that surrounded the valley when Frodo and Aragorn came to the agreement of staying the night in a forest opening near a stream.

The girl nodded with a little smile just before leaving the bag she helped Sam carry beside an oak near them. She could still feel her back tense after carrying a hobbit for what seemed like hours while crossing some really high grass a couple of days before, when horses were not available to use. Those little men could be short but all the food they could eat a day really weighted on them.

Then, she looked at her surroundings, her gaze danced over the men who she shared her everyday with for the last couple of months, her gaze went from the four hobbits that gathered in a small circle talking over what should Sam cook for supper before going to sleep, Frodo being the center of the debate that Sam was arbitrating. Next to them, sat against the log of probably the eldest oak in the bunch that circled the fellowship was Boromir, his long legs stretched in front of him while his head was abutting the log, a small smile spread on his relaxed face as he overheard the hobbits’ chatter, almost closed eyes staring at nothing but a yellow hyacinth a few feet from him. 

Then, she spotted Gimli arguing with Legolas for who may take the second best place near the fireplace Aragorn was building up, the woman could see how Gimli scrunched his nose in disgust when seeing the other option perfectly placed near the fire was over some wet mud, mentally determining himself to win over the elf, who looked with a playful smirk at the dwarf getting angrier, even Frodo knew that the elf was bothering the dwarf for mere fun, he did not need a fire to keep him warm.

Lastly, there was Gandalf, sitting with his pipe in what seemed to be the perfect place, not too close yet no too far, a place where he could watch over each member of the fellowship during what was left of the evening without getting cold.

“Who’s turn it is to check the surroundings?” Frodo asked once their little gathering agreed with Sam to prepare some rabbit soup.

“It is mine.” The lady told she took her bow and quiver from her champagne horse and he nodded, looking up from the fireplace as he finished. 

“Be careful young Y/N, this woods are not to be trusted.” Gandalf warned in his wise voice, looking at the young woman with kindness, receiving the same smile back as she waited for Aragorn’s permission to leave.

“Be back before the sun is out, if not, Legolas will go and search for you.” The ranger said without looking at her, knowing well she was more than capable of handling any inconvenience by herself.

“Of course I will be back before darkness arrives, there will be no need to search for me.” She told with a smirk just before leaving the little safe place they have established themselves for the night.

With light steps she jogged through the woods, taking in the smell of wet dirt mixing up with some wild flowers, probably some dragon flowers. Her warm eyes wandered in between trees and looked up the branches, noticing hints of the bronze highlights making their way throughout the branches, giving the woods a special feeling. The thin golden brims of light could be seen shining down to the ground covered in either moss or clovers.

Her cheeks caught the whisper of nature that summer was in its way in the warm breeze that blew around as her ears could catch a distant chirping, oh, how much did she wished to have the hearing of an elf to listen better to the beautiful melodies birds gifted in this season.

Time went by as she enjoyed the peace the woods carried as her eye caught nothing irregular that deserved extraordinary attention. Now, in a slower pace she walked alone to the opening just when the sun finally sat below the horizon and nothing but darkness could be seen, taking her time to arrive as she spotted the warm light of the fire not too far from her.

“Just in time, young Y/N. We were about to search for you.” The old wizard muttered at her returning with the pipe placed in between his lips. Making her notice how the silver-haired elf left his own bow aside and sat back down in the place he was before, it appeared the elf have granted the log to Gimli since the dwarf was proudly sat on it at the contrary side of the fireplace. 

“There are no signs of orcs in the near paths, they seem not to like these ways.” As the words fell from her mouth relief seemed to take over the hobbits a bit once she finally took off her quiver and bow and placed it near where her loyal horse, Dagros, rested. 

With much grace a human could have, she sat in the free place next to Legolas, reaching for a little notebook she kept in a little bag attached to her cloak

“Miss Y/N.” Pippin called, getting the woman and the elf’s attention. “What is that notebook you write in each night?” The curiosity in his voice make her chuckle as Merry elbowed him in the ribs.

“Pip, you cannot ask people things like that.” He scolded with a frown in his features.

“It is okay Merry.” She smiled warmly at them as Pip smile got back to his face in pride as he did not actual wrong. “Well, Pip, I just like to write what happens each day so when I get old, I can read and remind it in case I ever forgot any of the crazy things we do now. Is like a journal.” She said, opening the notebook to a random page, just to find a sketch of the mountains and a dry blue flower, which she carefully took in between her fingers. “I also keep the flowers we recollect, so I can frame them and treasure them in some years as I do now.” And with that, she had gained the attention of the four hobbits, who stared at the blue poppy and the acacia blossom the elf at her side had collected for her around a week ago.

“That is an amazing idea, Miss Y/N.” Samwise spoke as he stirred the rabbit soup he had in the fire and Frodo nodded by his side, staring directly to the soup with hunger.

Then, everyone returned to their usual chatter, Merry and Pippin chattering their mischievous plans someone should worry about later, Frodo talked with Sam as he cooked, Aragorn seemed to be talking with Gandalf in their own voice level, Boromir was resting with his eyes closed for some minutes as the dwarf sharpened his axe a few feet away with total concentration; the elf, sat at the other side of the fireplace, looked at the orange flames without attention while his ears searched for any strange sound near them and the woman by his side scribbled something in her notebook, knowing that the elf would not betray her trust and look over the pages she transcribed her life in.

Minutes passed by and the elf bit his inner cheek, his hand playing with some flowers he found earlier and kept in his pocket. “Y/N.” He called to get her attention, once her gaze was placed on his and he got a kind smile, he talked. “I found these near the stream before sunset, thought you would like them.”

His hand grabbed the flowers and revealed to her two pink peonies just blooming, one smaller than the other one but still with a far more vivid pink tainting her petals. “Legolas, thank you, they are beautiful.” Her delicate hands grabbed the flowers from his, touching for enough seconds to make his heart twirl in his chest with joy.

A few feet away, the wizard and the ranger looked the scene with a little smile on their own, knowing farewell what the elf was doing and how oblivious they both were to it in their own minds.

“I will keep them as long as I can.” Her words were sweet and warm, making his chest warm at her as she placed the flowers in between the two pages she wrote in a few moments ago. “I have not seen these type of peonies in a long time, back home we only grew tree peonies.” Her smile may not have been wide, but in her smallness all Legolas saw was comfort and happiness, making himself happy.

He smiled at her one more time and guided his gaze to the fire in front of him, losing itself in there. Gears in his head started to spin, taking himself down memory lane for some long minutes. Thinking about everything and nothing, like the trip they had ahead, the woods and its creatures, thinking about the fellowship and more; then, he started to remember, all kind of memories striking their own way back in his mind, the last months, his mother and father, anything his mind could get access into, he remembered.

“Legolas.” A distant voice talked to him, but he was still lost in his mind.

“Legolas?” A voice and a squeeze in his forearm took him out of his own mind, looking up he found Sam with a bowl of soup standing in front of him with a concerned look on his face, the elf, concerned by himself on what was happening look to his side to find Y/N with the same concerned look in her facial features while one of her hands slowly let go of his arm. “Sam is asking if you want a bowl of the soup, its rabbit.” Her words were slow for him to understand why they were calling him. 

“Oh, sure, thank you.” With a small nod the bowl was taken out of Sam little hands into Legolas’, careful to not spill any food in the ground. Once Samwise had walked away to serve Aragorn’s and Gandalf’s soup, the pair sat in silence, enjoying quietly their own soup.

“What has you so troubled? If I may ask.” Her voice asked in a mutter some moments later. There was no way in the world she had not noticed how he was lost in his own thought to the point his keened ears were shut from the world, something not so typical in any elf.

“Nothing, lady Y/N, just some memories from the past.” He answers, leaving the empty bowl of soup aside as looking at her, finally noticing the bits of worry in her eyes. “Seriously, there is no need to worry Y/N.”

“I cannot help but to when you wear such a look on your face Legolas. It almost depresses me too.” The young woman joked with a knowing smile on her face. “But is okay you don’t want to tell, just let me know if I can help.” She muttered, making the elf smile at her, how could she be so sweet?

“Thank you, Y/N.” He said with the sincerest smile he could give her. 

“And what happened to your hair?” She asked, just now noticing how the braids he wore were more undone than done.

"The orcs in the morning probably messed it up.” He mutters while his hands passed over the thin braids on the side of his head, remembering how in the last village they visited the woman in front of him braided a bunch of young girls’ hair. “Would you like to braid them for me?”

“Are you sure you want me to?” Her voice was pure concern, she knew about the traditions of the elves and the dwarves, she knew what the hair meant to them. “Is not that I don’t want to, I do, is just... I mean- It is your hair what we are talking about and I am... me.” She tried to make him understand her point because of her fear of disrespecting other culture, yet, deep inside she yearned to braid his hair for a long time now.

“I know you are you.” He chuckled, reassuring her. “And that is why I am sure, do not worry about that.” He nodded in her direction and make himself comfortable in the ground in front of the log they were sitting in, right in between her legs so she could have it easier. “You said you would want to help me how you could, believe this would help me a lot. You can braid whatever you want in there.”

“Alright, if you say so.” She whispered, untangling his soft blonde hair with her fingers, it felt even better than silk or velvet. Soon, she started braiding his hair, taking two thin braids from each side of his face to the back of his head, forming a big braid in the middle with both of them and tying it. Then, with her delicate fingers she soothed the hair that was left down, smiling to herself as the soft strands of his hair ran through her fingers with such ease. Through the process, the elf whose hair was being braided was smiling wide as he felt her fingers brush again his hair and in some occasions, against his ears, causing him goosebumps. 

Meanwhile, both Aragorn and Gandalf stared at the scene with a small smile in their faces, both of them could see at bare sight the special bond the elf and the human had together now and the eldest could predict how it would evolve in both of them, still, that was not ought to be said now.

“And... I’m done.” She muttered once she fully finished, making the elf to raise his hand and carefully touch the braids. 

“Thank you so much, I love them.” He said, getting up from the ground to sit back again in the log. 

“Next time an orc messes up your hair, make sure to pick up more flowers so I can braid them in your hair, maybe some more acacia blossoms.” She smiled while a blush covered her cheeks as he turned to face her.

And while the woman played with the pages of her notebook and the new peonies inside, rethinking if the braids and flowers meant what she thought they could mean; the elf smiled back with gratefulness as he may or may not try in a future to mess his hair more if it meant she would be the one braiding it. And then maybe, just maybe he could ask to court her.  

Yellow hyacinth: Jealousy.  Dragon flowers: Grace, strenght.  Blue poppies: Oblivion, imagination. Acacia blossoms: Concealed and chaste love Pink peonies: Romance, love at first sight.