#embers a sleepy little thing

[plasticbabyart]

Said I would post these so here they are !! I don’t have a finished Cynder but I shall finish her some day !!

Ember is a DreamWeaver and Flame is a PeaceKeeper !!

[untilhiseyeheals]

Naughty Assistant - Arcane Silco x fem!reader Oneshot

For Lilith :)

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Summary: You're Silco's assistant. During a boring meeting you let your thoughts wander, leading to you bent over a desk.

MDNI! Warning: Teasing, smut, p in v, rough sex, fingering

It wasn’t your fault, really. It was just such a boring meeting and you could hardly sit still listening to the chembarons each try to play themselves up as the most important and powerful. You had to try hard not to scoff at some of the things they dared to say in his presence. This should have alerted you to the fact that he was not to be messed with, especially not in a tense meeting situation.

You were Silco’s assistant. Most of the time. What started as a job as a simple courrier had quickly turned into something much more serious. For whatever reason he took a liking to you and started assigning you more and more important, personal tasks. Sooner or later you had naturally assumed the position as his assistant, taking notes, worrying about paperwork and still running on one or the other occasional courier job. Until one fateful night, overworked and tired you fell asleep in his office, just wanting to take a quick nap on the comfortable plush sofa in the corner that seemed to smile at you so invitingly. He found you hours later, returning from his own work and almost locking you in the office. It was pure luck that he decided to pop in before he locked up and found you there. As he tried to wake you, in your delirium you pulled him in by his neck and whispered all sorts of things to him, not awake enough to realise the consequences. Your little sleepy slip-up had since led to many nights spent in his office, on his desk, on the couch, in his private rooms, in the bar after everyone went home… Over time you grew more comfortable around him, even though you still respected his position and never dared to argue against any of his strategic concerns, in private matters he had evidently formed a soft spot for you.

That’s how you found yourself in the present, at the table in one of the meeting rooms above The Last Drop, sitting right beside him as he addressed the chembarons. Notepad on the desk, pen in hand, you kept meticulous notes of important details in conversation but also paid attention to their body language, facial expressions, anything they didn’t express through words. Your notes and intel had a big significance and Silco had been able to use your findings to his advantage multiple times. Usually the meetings were a little more interesting, pressing matters being discussed, everyone arguing and spitting insults at one another. This time it was going boringly well. They all seemed to agree on the task at hand and you had delved into doodling on the notepad in front of you instead of paying attention.

Then you started diverting your attention to him, starting to observe the way he sat in his chair beside you. The way his nose obscured the good eye, black and ember over charred skin all you can see from your angle. Still, you admired him and you found inextricable beauty in any of his features. Before you knew it, your hand started doodling what had captivated you on the notepad. Little sketches of the way his drawn-in brow furrowed, the way his eye focused on each person that raised their voice. It made you think of the way it locked onto you when you were lying underneath him, fixing you even when his blue eye is closed in ecstasy, never letting you out of its sight.

Gradually, your drawings get more and more obscene, just ever so slight hints of pleasure on the faces you sketched, eye rolled back, lip caught between teeth. Soon your mind was clouded with all those beautiful images and you had completely lost focus. “Am I right?” said Finn, staring at you. A beat. “Silco, is your little assistant here with us? I asked if you noted that down!?” he spat at you over the table, raising his voice and waving an arm in hopes of snapping you out of your trance. "Shit. Sorry, yeah I got it. Don’t hassle me”, you shook your head and quickly turned a fresh page on your notebook, trying to hide your little drabbles in imagination and act as if you had just run out of space. Silco raised an eyebrow and turned to you, eyes falling on the page of the notebook as you hastily turned it over. Before you could do anything against it, he grabbed the page, tore it from the notebook and put it in his lap, obscuring it from the others. You could see something flashing through his eyes as they scanned the page.

He kept it in his lap and looked back up at the others. “Perfectly orderly notes, as always. Don’t you worry, Finn, my eyes and ears notice everything”, he retorted, voice low and steady, lacing each word with a hidden sense of threat that made Finn instantly sit back down and nod his head. Keen on moving on from this tension, the conversation instantly moved to the next topic and everyone went back to paying you no mind. Everyone but Silco. You could feel it now, his steady gaze fixed on you while he listened to the others talking. He didn’t let it shine through at all, walls up, sitting there calm and collected as ever. To nobody in this room did he seem anything other than his usual, broody, dangerously focused self. You knew better. You had become more attuned to the way his mood showed through the way he kept himself and as you let your eyes wander once more over his figure in the chair next to you you could clearly see the way his hands fidgeted with the piece of paper still in his hands.

That gave you an idea. Softly putting down your pen, you acted as if you had to readjust your necklace, letting your hands roam slowly over your neck and collarbone. Dropping them to your chest, you adjusted the way your bra was sitting, carefully opening just one more button on your blouse. You picked the pen back up and started noting down some points, taking the cold metallic end of it between your hot lips every now and then. Gently grazing it with your teeth, letting your tongue feel the cold metal of the clicker at the end. Your eyes flicked over to Silco as he readjusted his position, leaning on the desk, resting his head on the back of his hands. He still looked calm and collected as ever, but you could see his resolve crackling, eyes flicking over to you more and more often.

It was entertaining, but clearly not enough since he just carried on conversing with the other chembarons as if nothing was happening at all. So you decided to turn it up a notch. You looked over at him and let your gaze drop to his lap, discarded sheet of notepad paper still laying on his crotch. A very fortunate position. You kept scribbling on the notepad, eyes flicking to the paper, fixing it, thinking, plotting, scheming. How lucky for you that he was sitting right to the side of your weak hand. Your eyes still on the paper, noting down whatever it was they had just discussed, your other hand slowly slid off the table. Landing first on your own leg, you let it snake its way over to his seat, finding his leg, trailing sneaky fingers up its side. Slowly, carefully your nimble fingers danced their way over the material of his pants, dragging nails across, inching closer and closer to his crotch. You gently toyed with the fabric of his pants moving closer and closer to your destination. Faking a grab for the paper, your hand slid underneath it, tracing the outline of his length through his pants.

Suddenly, his hand grabbed your wrist, holding it down. Trying not to make a scene, you carefully looked up from your paper and saw him still sitting upright, head leaned onto one of his hands, elbow on the table as he talked to the others as if nothing was wrong. You tried to retract your hand but his grip only grew stronger, almost bruising your wrist. You winced, dropping the pen in the other hand at the sudden sting of pain around your wrist. Silco looked over to you, stone-cold expression, and simply said “If you’re not feeling well, you may leave early. I believe we are about finished here, I will require your assistance in my office. Wait for me there, so we can go over your notes”. Something flashed through his eyes as he put special emphasis on the last words. You nodded obediently and as his grip around your wrist finally let go, you took a second to collect your notes and got up. As you turned to leave, you realised you forgot one very important piece of paper. Turning back around for a glance, you see Silco still had his hand on his lap, not giving you a chance to retrieve the paper. So you decided it was as safe with him as it got and turned on your heel to leave the room.

As you made your way to his office, you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. Slipping into his office, you settled your notes on his desk and undid another few buttons of your blouse. You had just contemplated what else to do and whether to spread yourself on the couch or wait sitting on his desk as you heard a set of footsteps approaching the door. As the door opened, you saw Silco step into the room, letting out an exaggerated sigh as he saw you in front of his desk, blouse undone and contemplating your next move. “What exactly did you think this was going to be out there, hm?” he started, voice low but with a considerable edge. He was pissed. “What if someone caught on to your little games under the table, your lewd scribbles, let alone who they were about?” he kept scolding as he took slow, menacing steps closer to you. “I don’t need you undermining my position in important meetings. Your behavior reflects on me. What would they think if they-”, he couldn’t say any more before you interrupted him. “If they what? Found out you fuck your little assistant? Oh please, as if they don’t already think as far as that” you spat back at him.

That made him stop dead in his tracks. Eyes locked onto you, a fire blazing in those mismatched irises. “Watch your mouth”, he threatened. “Or what? You’ll fire me? Kill me, even? Go ahead! Apparently that leaves one less mess you have to care about” you started raising your voice before it cracked, betraying you in your emotions seeping through in your every word. That’s when he realised. His scowl turned into a smirk, furrowed brows relaxing as his eyes scanned your agitated form. He let out a low chuckle. “Oh so that’s what this is all about? You don’t just want to be my little assistant anymore, hm?” he teased, having seen right through you, he once again assumed the upper hand as he closed the distance between you. He stopped in front of you, leaning onto the desk, trapping you between his arms. He looked you up and down, drinking you in, the way you so desperately wanted to be his, submitting to him entirely making it hard for him to hold back. He slowly leaned closer, bringing his lips almost to yours before turning away and placing his lips at your ear. “Then say it”, he whispered into your ear. He didn’t have to ask twice. “Silco, I want to be yours” you whispered back, breathing heavily at the tension building between the two of you.

“Good girl”, he growled before his lips were crashing into yours in a hungry kiss. All that pent up anger and tension started to release in the form of a fiery kiss. There was nothing delicate about the way he was trying to devour you, pressing his body against yours and pushing you against the desk. You let your hands snake around his waist as he lifted his hands from the desk instantly finding your sides as they started to roam up and down your body, tugging at your blouse. You understood without a word and opened the last buttons of your blouse, exposing the lacy bra underneath that cupped your breasts in a perfect way, nipples peeking through the lace.

He stopped the assault on your mouth to take in the sight before him and instantly brought a hand to one of your hardened nipples, flicking it through the thin lace of your bra. You winced in pain as he twisted it just enough to send a jolt of pleasure through your body that turned the wince into a moan halfway through. “Look at you. Dirty girl. So eager to please me, to submit to me, to be mine” he growled against your neck as his mouth started sucking and biting on the skin along your jaw and down your neck. That made you throw your head back as one of your hands found his head, digging your nails into his scalp, urging him to go lower, slightly pushing his head. He got the hint and without lifting his head from your neck, he slid the strap of your bra down your shoulder, pulling it until the thin bit of lace was dragged underneath your breast, fully exposing your boob to him. He continued sucking your neck, dropping his head lower, kissing your collar bone, teasing and stalling until he finally wrapped his mouth around your nipple. You sucked in a breath at the sensation, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud of your nipple, chipped teeth grazing it ever so slightly. You dug your nails into his scalp as a wave of pleasure streamed through your body, sweet moans and pants spilling from your lips. “Silco, please”, you moaned out as he gently sucked on your nipple.

He stopped, tilting his head to look up at you. “Please, what?” he purred against your skin, blowing cold air over your wet nipple making the skin tingle. You let out a desperate moan. “Please fuck me already.” you practically sob out. That earned a low chuckle from him as he stepped back, straightened up in front of you and nodded towards your hips. “Pants off.” he ordered, watching with a smirk as your hands quickly found the button of your pants, sliding them off and discarding them onto the floor. He hummed contently, hands starting to grab onto your hips, sliding down your waist before settling on your ass, cupping each cheek and giving them a gentle squeeze. He brought his hands around, tracing the hem of your panties, thumb trailing agonisingly close to where you needed him most. Finally his thumb starts running along the front of your panties, pressing into your soft flesh, feeling your wetness through the fabric. “My, my… Look what you got yourself into with those depraved thoughts of yours” he said scoldingly, a humorous tone in his voice.Suddenly, his thumb slid down and pushed the soaked fabric of your panties to the side, running his fingers directly through your wet folds and gathering your slick on his fingers. You inhaled sharply and tried grabbing the desk you still leaned against for support as you instinctively bucked your hips against his hand. “Please, please, please” you muttered out, desperate to feel him finally inside you.

He gave you one low chuckle before pushing two fingers into you, making you involuntarily let go of the desk and grab onto him. “Oh, how greedy you are. That’s what you thought about when looking over at me during that meeting, no? You just couldn’t stop imagining those fingers fucking into you”, he said while relentlessly pushing his fingers deep into you, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot that made your eyes water. Instinctively you started bucking your hips, grinding back against the motions of his hands, chasing the high.

As he felt your walls starting to clench around his fingers, he retracted them, leaving you whining and grinding against nothing. Before you could protest, he grabbed your waist with both hands, spinning you around and pushing you against the desk. “Bend over”, he ordered as you heard the buckle of his belt clink. You obeyed just as eagerly as before, bending your body forwards, resting your arms on the desk, slightly parting your legs to give him a good view of the mess he made with his fingers. He laid his hands on your ass again, letting them roam over your skin and panties, spreading your cheeks. “That’s what I like to see” he purred before pulling your panties to the side. With his free hand he grabbed his cock he had finally freed from the confinement of his pants and lined the tip up with your entrance. Keeping it there for a second, he dragged it up and down through your folds, coating it with your wetness. “So eager and ready for me”, he growled as he slid into you without any resistance, bottoming out instantly. You let out an ungodly moan as you felt him fill you up completely, his hips on your ass, staying there to relish in the feeling of how much he stretched you out.

Wasting no time, he started ramming into you, hands gripping your hips, leaving you unable to move as he fucked you against the desk. Between quick ragged breaths his hands left your hips and grabbed your arms, bringing them together at the wrists and holding them uncomfortably over your back. You had to flop forward, planting your chest completely onto the desk, turning your head to the side to be able to breath. He gripped your wrists together and with one strong pull lifted your torso from the desk, the angle leaving you screaming and cursing his name as it hurt so good. “That’s my good girl. Don’t hold back. Let them hear you scream my name. That’s what you wanted, no?” he gritted out between thrusts. It was evident in his voice how close he was himself, gathering all his strength to hold himself together and ‘punish’ you a bit longer. You had no choice but to oblige, the sensation of his cock consistently stretching you, pushing deep inside you to places only he could reach. You moaned and muttered his name, sometimes more sometimes less intelligible, between gasps and whines as you let yourself go completely.

Every plunge of his cock sent jolts of arousal through your entire body until one very clear mention of his name announced your impending release. “That’s it love, cum for me. Show me who you belong to.” You couldn’t hold back anymore, eyes rolling back as you approached your climax. Silco’s thrusts started to become sloppy and the rhythm got more and more irregular. Sweet moans and grunts leaving his lips which sent you over the edge, clenching your walls around him as he fucked you through your orgasm. He managed a few more sloppy thrusts before spilling his hot ropes of cum into you, unable to hold himself back at the feeling of your own climax around him. He continued slowly thrusting, letting go of your hands and leaving you to steady yourself up by propping your elbows onto the desk. He groaned as he slowly pulled out of you, dragging one string of cum between his cock and your cunt. He took a handkerchief out of his vest pocket and cleaned himself up, discarding it to the side before turning his attention to you, grinning as he used the ruined fabric of your panties to cover you up again. Running his fingers along the mess he made your ruined panties soon looked even worse mixed with your and his release.

After you had calmed down your breathing again you attempted to push yourself off the desk and stand up straight, legs wobbling and betraying you as your hips ached from being thrusted into the harsh edge of the wooden desk. His strong arms quickly swooped around your waist, holding you close to him as he admired your flushed face with a grin on his own. “I think they got it. Now, shall we finish this meeting?”

[ruewrote]

𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑤𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑤.

PAIRING: josh washington x fem!reader WARNINGS: suggestive, no use of y/n GENRE: best friends to lovers SONG INSPIRATION: DIE FOR ME by chase atlantic WORD COUNT: 1.4k REQUESTED: yes NOTE: got a little carried away . . .

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the cabin was quiet. the flickering flames in the fireplace cast small shadows across the room as the last embers of the night begin to fade into darkness. you were stretched out on your bed, the warmth of the fire still lingering in the air, even as the chill from the mountain outside crept through the windows.

everyone else had long gone to their rooms. the day had been packed with hiking, teasing jokes, and way too much food, now the others were all passed out, getting some much needed rest for whatever was going to come tomorrow. you should have been tired too, but here you were laid in your bed wide awake, staring at the wall beside you.

the soft creak of your door opening broke the stillness. you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“hey,” josh’s familiar voice whispered from behind you. he was always the last one up too, unable to sleep when it got too quiet.

“hey,” you answered, glancing over your shoulder to see him standing in the doorway, his hair disheveled, looking sleepy and tousled. he had that half grin on his face that made you feel warm inside. 

“can’t sleep again?” you teased, already knowing the answer.

josh shrugged, padding barefoot across the hardwood floor, making his way to you. “nah, i tried. it’s freezing in my room, and, y’know, it’s weird without you there.”

this had been a thing between the two of you for as long as you could remember. whenever you were on trips with the group, josh would find his way to your room after everyone else had gone to bed.

it started as something simple as after late night movie marathons or study sessions that turned into sleepovers, but over the years. it just became your thing. sleeping alone felt strange now, especially for josh. he always needed you close.

“come on then,” you mumbled, lifting the corner of the blanket without a second thought. there was no need for words. he was already climbing under the covers with you, fitting his body against yours.

he slipped his arms around you, pulling you back against his chest, the warmth of his body immediately chasing away the chill from the mountain air. his breath was soft against your neck, and you felt him relax instantly, his head resting on the pillow just behind yours.

this was normal. it had always been normal. the two of you had shared beds, couches, even floors when crashing at friends’ places after parties. josh had always been touchy, needing to feel you, as if that contact helped him settle. you never questioned it. after all, you felt the same.

his presence was grounding, the one constant you needed in your life.

his hand found its way to your waist, his fingers casually slipping under the hem of your shirt, resting against your bare skin like it was the most natural thing. it sent a shiver up your spine, but not because you were cold.

you were used to this, he always did it. he always wanted that skin to skin contact, as if the barrier of clothing was too much separation between you. and you let him, because it didn’t feel strange. it just felt like josh.

“you’re warm,” he murmured sleepily, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your lower back. he said it every time, but the way his voice softened whenever he said it always made your heart flutter.

you hummed in response, pressing back into him just slightly, the lines of your bodies fitting perfectly together under the thick blanket. his fingers continued their slow, lazy path across your skin, drawing shapes you couldn’t quite decipher but made you relax into him even more.

the room was quiet except for the faint crackle of the dying fire and the soft sounds of josh’s breathing behind you. this was your rhythm. an intimacy that had never been questioned. 

josh had always been more than just your best friend, but you’d never dared to label it as anything else. the touches, the closeness, it was just how the two of you operated. you were comfortable, safe with each other. 

but tonight, something felt… different. 

maybe it was the calm of the cabin, or the way the mountain’s isolation made everything feel sharper, more intense. or maybe it was just the fact that your heartbeat picked up whenever his fingers slipped a little higher, his hand resting now against your ribs, dangerously close to the swell of your chest.

you wondered if he noticed the way your breathing hitched when he moved, the way your body tensed ever so slightly.

“josh…” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the quiet of the room.

“hmm?” his response was a soft hum, his lips brushing the back of your neck now, almost absentmindedly.

for a second, you considered pulling away, setting up those boundaries that were supposed to exist between best friends. but the truth was, you didn’t want to. you never had.

the truth of it settled deep in your chest, an acknowledgment of something you’d both danced around for years.

instead, you turned your head just enough to see him from the corner of your eye. his face was so close, eyes half lidded in the dim light, his lips parted slightly in that relaxed way that made him look vulnerable.

your heart did that little stutter it always did when he was this close, and suddenly, the unspoken feelings that had always been lurking just beneath the surface felt impossible to ignore.

“josh,” you said again, this time turning fully in his arms to face him.

he blinked, eyes clearer now as he studied your face. his hand didn’t move from where it was resting on your skin, but his expression shifted, like he could feel the shift in the air too. “yeah?”

the weight of the moment hung between you, the closeness suddenly more intense than it had ever been. you opened your mouth to say something. anything, but the words died on your lips as josh’s gaze flickered down to your mouth, then back to your eyes.

you weren’t imagining it. the way his hand moved a little more deliberately now, fingers tracing the curve of your waist, skimming just beneath your shirt. the way his body pressed a little closer to yours, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with your own.

this was no longer just about comfort. something had changed.

“i–” you started to speak, but before you could say anything more, josh’s hand slid a little higher, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast so lightly you almost thought you imagined it. but you didn’t. the look in his eyes, now more awake and intense, confirmed that.

his breath hitched, the same way yours had, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was the shared rhythm of your breathing, matching and uneven at the same time.

“we… we’ve always been like this,” he murmured, his voice rougher now, as if he was trying to remind himself of what this had always been. “right?”

you nodded, not trusting your voice to stay steady. “yeah. always.”

but it wasn’t always like this. not with the way his lips hovered just inches from yours now, the way his hand slipped further under your shirt like he was testing a boundary you weren’t sure existed anymore.

“maybe…” he whispered, his forehead now resting against yours, his voice so soft it was barely more than a breath, “maybe we’ve been fooling ourselves.”

his words hung between you, heavy and raw. and just like that, the unspoken tension between you, years of shared beds, lingering touches, and blurred boundaries, came crashing to the surface.

you didn’t pull away. you couldn’t. because deep down, you’d known it too. this was never just about needing to be close. it had always been more. you just hadn’t wanted to admit it.

“josh,” you breathed, your heart pounding in your chest as his hand slid up to your shoulder, his fingers gently tilting your chin so you were looking directly at him.

and then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, his lips brushed against yours. soft, tentative at first, a question hanging in the space between. when you didn’t pull away, he kissed you again, deeper this time, the heat between you building until the air felt thick with everything you’d kept hidden for so long.

you didn’t know where this was going to lead, but in that moment, with josh’s hands on your skin and his lips on yours, you knew one thing for sure.

there was no going back to the way things were.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

© ruewrote 2024.

[scribs-dibs]

Japanese Denim

spoilers for 2.1 (aventurine's real name), gn reader, soft aventurine hours <33

wc; 944

You don't miss the breath that blows over your face, relief lifting the weight off of his chest. It's you. He's safe. He can slumber for just a moment longer.

Sunlight is unfamiliar with the planes of his face. It dances across it; gold tracing the curves of his jaw, running playfully in and out of the dip and curve of his nose, contrasting the shadows of his bottom lip. It highlights his lashes, blonde and long and casting dainty streaks on top of his cheek bones. Aventurine —no, Kakavasha— is beautiful even in sleep. He feels ethereal beside you, blurred along the edges, you are just barely able to believe him to be tangible, with the way the morning clouds part to shine down upon him. But he's real, and the both of you no longer reside in the opalescent bubbles of Penacony. You're home. He’s home.

There's a strand of hair that coils over the dip of his cheek. Slowly, like approaching a stray, your hand moves to tuck it behind his ear.

His eyes flicker open before you're halfway there.

Kakavasha is a light sleeper. There isn't time for long rests, what with danger shadowing his every step, coiling around his lungs in the form of fear, deadly memories taking the form of nightmares every time he dares to drift off. You mourn the loss of his comfortable sleep, an apology hot on the tip of your tongue, searing it the longer it stays tucked behind your lips, but his eyes flutter shut again before you get the chance. The embers disperse.

You don't miss the breath that blows over your face, relief lifting the weight off of his chest. It's you. He's safe. He can slumber for just a moment longer.

You cross the remainder of the distance between you, fingers brushing over the fullness of his cheek. There is magic in his returned affections, his bare palms holding you there against him, honeyed skin nuzzling into you. He kisses the heel of your palm, sweet and simple, like it's the easiest thing in the world.

“...Good morning,” his voice is weighed down by his drowsiness, nearly gravely from disuse. You realize that this is the latest he's slept in months, without the buzz of his phone interrupting what little time he lends himself to the vulnerability of rest. His words slur together, a change to the steady, calculated speech he uses normally— at the poker table, at the IPC Headquarters, at all times. Like this, though, exposed and sleepy, he's a bit more upfront. A bit less guarded.

“...‘S so earlyyyy…”

And a lot more whiny.

You've become acquainted with Kakavasha’s greed by now. It is his twin, his shadow, mimicking his every movement and curling around him like smoke ; all-consuming and burning through his flesh. So you aren't surprised when the beast bares its fangs, arms entangling around your middle and holding. It's fair— the pair of you are accustomed to loss, to the feeling of holding someone for the last time before the feeling of them fades away like a faraway memory, your own hands move down to hold him, too. For a sweet, blissful moment it is just the two of you. Your breathing rises and falls in tandem with his, blonde locks tickling the crook of your neck and greedy, greedy hands shifting at your back to tug you even closer. There is a void in Kakavasha’s chest, one that yearned for so long —an open wound— for someone to hold onto, completely and freely, only to have its wants go unanswered. But you are here now, wrapped up tight in his arms, peacefully. He'll be damned if he lets go now.

You sigh, and it blows past his ear, “Clingy today, huh?”

How could he not be? When the gods spited him, when everyone in sight turned his back on him, you still stood firmly at his side, unrelenting. You are more than he will ever deserve, but selfishly he still holds you.

Kakavasha stretches, cat-like, and you can see an expanse of pale skin when the silk of his nightshirt shifts with the movement. He settles right back against you, your legs entangled thoroughly.

“You're comfortable. It's nowhere near my fault.”

To make a point, Kakavasha pulls you impossibly closer. He even makes a point to huff, as if offended you even asked.

“Right, right,” your hand is absentmindedly twirling the ends of his hair with your pointer finger— you don't remember when it got there, but doing it feels so natural you don't question it for another second.

“Unfortunately, I’ll have to cut this time short. I need to get up—”

“Why?”

He says it so quickly you can see he even surprises himself —eyes wide and mouth agape— but he recovers, clearing his throat:

“What's the rush? We have a day off for once, remember?”

He’s pouting. He tries to hide it under the weight of his glare, but his bottom lip, chapped from a deep slumber, betrays him. Kakavasha does not beg, and you are the last person to ever get him to try, after all he’s been through, but his bright eyes seem to plead with you.

“Right,” you agree, nodding simply, “But one of us needs to make breakfast,” you see it, the way his brows furrow further and he opens his mouth to protest immediately, “No, it cannot wait. I’m hungry.”

At that, he scoffs.

“Fine.”

Kakavasha swings his legs over the plush of your mattress, getting up in one smooth motion. You don’t have time to ponder what he’s doing– his hand latches onto your arm and pulls you up with him. Your face breaks into a smile– he cannot bear to part with you for even a moment.

“If you insist, we’ll do it together.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

rbs w/ comments appreciated !!! ty for reading <33

[didhewinkback]

on my way to buy some flowers for you

as if i was going to resist THIS. little blurb from the something old universe.

word count: 1ishk; warnings: zero this is fluff city baby.

---

It was the type of September day you fantasize about in the dead of the frigid cold winter months or during a heat wave in July - the sun was shining but the air was crisp, the breeze creating a slight chill. The dewy grass smell walloping him with nostalgia for the first day of school - how he would fiddle with his new backpack while also trying to make sure his curls fell just right for the 800th time.

It’s his favorite time of year in London, something he only realized recently, having spent his first decade or so living here either on tour or in America doing talk shows and photoshoots and meet and greets and interviews and dinners with executives and feeling himself slowly slip away bit by bit. 

There’s none of that now, as he leans up into the sun, the jazz album playing through his airpods adding an extra pep in his step as he turns down his street. This city has never felt more like home and he’s never felt more like himself. He’s gotten to be a real friends and family man this year, a standard he set for himself in the aftermath of tour. He’s someone who shows up, now - birthday parties, concerts, major work events. He’s there. 

He’s also set strict standards for relaxation - yes, he is the type of person that requires a routine in order to actually feel at ease but it’s worked out great so far. Nothing too crazy, just living in the familiar, building a life through habits. Like this one - how he’s gotten to wake up before you for a year and a half straight, rather than just a few weeks at a time, kissing you on the head before quietly slipping out of the house to head off for a cold swim or bike ride or walk through the neighborhood. Coming home to find you blinking sleepily over a cuppa or getting ready for the work day or, his favorite, still in bed, waiting for him.

It’s his favorite thing, waking up next to you. His stomach swoops at the memory of how good you looked this morning, your arm wrapped around his waist, the sunlight glowing golden embers across your skin. 

He adjusts the bouquet in his hands to enter the gate code once he gets to the house, the surprise gift making him so giddy he has to laugh at himself, barely able to contain his grin. It’s not elaborate, it's just flowers, but it will make you smile and that’s enough for him. 

He unlocks the front door, taking his airpods out of his ears and putting them away, taking in the sounds of the house. He quickly toes off his sneakers when he hears the sound of pages turning, can close his eyes and picture you sprawled out on the couch, book in hand. He feels buoyant as he walks down the hall towards the living room, hiding the flowers behind his back. 

Yeah, this is his city, he thinks, this is his home. And this, he thinks as he lays his eyes on you - still wearing that shirt of his you love to sleep in, bare legs stretched along the couch, fully engrossed in what’s unfolding on the page in front of you - this is his person.

You look up as he enters the room, placing the book down on your chest as you look at him, sleepy smile growing wider as he shuffles over to you, bending over with his hands still behind his back to steal a kiss. 

“Good morning,” you mumble against his mouth as he ducks in to steal another, humming into it. 

“Didn’t know if you’d be awake.” he says.

“It’s half past 10!” you squawk indignantly. “I’m not a heathen.”

“Feel like last night would say differently.” he says, laughing when you smack him, living for the way your face flushes. 

“Didn’t hear any complaints.”

“And you never will.” he says seriously, poker face lasting all of two seconds when you honk out a surprised laugh, your grins growing as you look at each other. 

You shake your head, stretching your arms over your head before squinting at him, the way he’s standing awkwardly, hands still behind his back. He feels a bit like a novice magician, heat blooming behind his cheeks as he pulls the bouquet from behind him and holds them out in front of you. You gape at him for a second, eyes darting between the flowers and his face, before pressing yourself up into a sitting position. 

“Who are those for?”

“What do y’ mean who are they for? A man can’t get his wife flowers?” he says, loving the way the word feels leaving his mouth. 

It’s been about three months but he never tires of saying it, never tires of knowing it's you. A flash of heat flows through him as he remembers the late hours after the reception, being unable to stop muttering the word into your neck as his hands desperately clamored to hold you impossibly closer. My wife, my wife, my wife. 

Your mouth opens and closes a few times, the loss of words apparent as you take the bouquet from him, biting at your lip as you look over the bloom. Eyes lighting up when you see your favorites. You huff a laugh and he swears he can see a blush blooming along your cheeks. You look back up at him, grin wide on your face and you look better than he imagined. You’re better than he imagined. You’re everything.

You wrap your hand around the back of his neck to pull him into a kiss, thumb brushing along his skin, causing goosebumps in its wake, your lips pressing against his just the way he likes. It’s a shit angle for his back, hunched over the couch, one arm on the back of it to support his weight but he really doesn’t give a shit, pulling away to press kisses all along your face until you giggle and push him away. 

“They’re beautiful. They’re fucking massive,” you say and he huffs a laugh against your skin, playfully biting at the apple of your cheek before pressing a kiss there and flopping down on the couch next to you. “I love them. Thank you.”

You lean over to kiss him again, he wraps an arm around your shoulder to hold you closer, kissing you softly. It’s the sound of the kettle that makes you pull apart, the kettle that takes absolute ages but he got it for you when he was twelve and you’ve never gotten rid of it. 

“Fancy a cuppa?” you ask softly and he nods, heart skipping a beat when you press your lips to his again before getting up off the couch. “I’m gonna put these in some water.”

You head into the kitchen and he settles back onto the couch, smile never leaving his face as he listens to you putter around. He pulls his cardigan off, smirking before doing the same with his trousers. 

“‘M taking my trousers off,” he announces, kicking them off his legs and staring at them on the ground for a moment before quickly folding them and placing them on the chair next to him. “We’re going full lazy Sunday, baby.”

“Now you’re speaking my language,” you call back and he laughs, reaching for your ipad on the coffee table before laying down on the couch. 

“Will y’ do the crossword with me?” he asks, opening the app up on the ipad, eyes poring over the clues. “The wordle kicked my arse this morning.”

“That’s because you suck,” you say, heading back into the living room with two steaming mugs, placing them on the coasters on the table. “You’re also the only person on the planet still doing the wordle.”

“‘M a man of commitment, what can I say.” he says and you hum, pressing a kiss to his forehead before shuffling back to the kitchen. “And the guy who made it, made it as a gift for his wife, so from one wife guy to another, I’ve got to support.”

He hears you snort at that as he gets a bit lost in the crossword, pausing only when he feels your eyes on him. He looks up, sees you leaning against the doorframe, the vase of flowers in your hand as you look at him with such love in your eyes he swears he stops breathing.

“What’s that look for?” he asks, voice a little breathless.

“My husband got me flowers. And now he’s laying on our couch without any trousers on,” you say with a shrug, taking a deep breath, the way the word husband leaves your lips causes goosebumps to bloom along his skin. That’s him, he’s yours. He’s got a ring on his hand to prove it. “And I’m just feeling really lucky. Because I really love him.” 

His breath catches in his throat as he smiles over at you, the two of you just looking at each other for a moment, both a little in awe of this life of yours, this marriage. This family. 

“Even if he’s really shit at the crossword.” you say, cheeky smile on your face that only grows when he honks out a laugh. 

“Then get over here and help me,” he whines and you quickly shuffle over, placing the vase in the middle of the table before crawling on the couch over him.

It takes some rearranging but you’re squished together, you halfway on top of him, the ipad in between you as you start to go through the clues together, legs intertwined, his arm around your back, holding you close. He presses a kiss to your temple and takes a deep breath, feeling so much gratitude for this moment he may just explode.

There’s just nothing else like it, is there. Nothing like you. No place like home.

--

a/n: if youre reading this and are like bitch theyre married?! canonically, yes. i promise some writing about the wedding will be coming but its taking forever and this inspo hit me like a truck so i had to work with it. also so fun bc grapejuice always reminds me of this fic anyway w the lyric "give me something old".

hope u like it, let me know what u think. shoutout to the random girl on twitter who tweeted my username asking for more writing last summer sorry its taking so long but wow u made me feel special. i missed them!!

taglist:@tobesolovelysstuff, @louyoursins, @daydreamingofmatilda, @jojo-blog53, @marzhshaim, @devilsqueen722, @just-happiness-only,@lomlhstyles, @feestyles, @spock4presidnet, @sunshinemoonsposts, @indierockgirrl, @jerseygirlinca, @kissitnhekitchen, @goldnrry,

[moralesluvr]

FABLE AND TRUTH 4 | billie eilish

୧ ‧₊˚ love was the law & religion was taught…. ↳ summary: you had always been raised on being poise, feminine, classy. but what was most important to your family was your religion— and it had embroidered itself into your daily life. but when it’s time to pick between feelings and faith, which will you choose? pairings & aus. billie eilish x fem!reader warnings. religious backgrounds & guilt | mature language | sexual content | substance use author's note. CHAP 4 IS HERE! i'm so sorry my loves this lowkey took forever but here ya go <3 wc. 12k (my god)

✧ 3:07 am, wednesday ✧

sleep felt like a distant relative right about now. 

it would come, and then it would quickly vanish— leaving you absolutely worn, but never enough to where you could slip into a slumber. you were wired yet exhausted, fueled yet so sleepy, and it was driving you borderline insane. 

you wrestled with yourself all night. it was too hot, and then too cold— and the constant back and forth of temperature seemed to line up with your tangled emotions. you were certain, and then confused again, and then more certain that you were even more confused. but you knew one thing, though— you were stressed out of your mind. 

billie asking you to hang out shouldn’t have been the issue. the issue was that your heart twinged with nerves when you read the message, and you couldn’t seem to calm yourself down no matter how hard you tried. she was a friend now— yes, but she felt much closer than, and it was all too much for you. this girl was making you feel things you’ve never felt before. safe, secure— like you didn’t have to have everything figured out right now. 

but that’s what infuriated you. not having everything all sorted out and linear made you feel like you were a mess. you’d tidy up one area of your life, and the next would become deranged, off of your path. you had finally figured out your life, and here billie comes, sweeping you off your feet. 

it wasn’t comfortable to feel like this, and you were sure it never could be. you didn’t like how she made your skin feel when she stared at you too long— and how easy it was to stare back. you didn’t like that when she touched you, it made your nerves light on fire, half out of annoyance at yourself and half out of anxiety. 

it wasn’t a crime to appreciate beauty, you knew this. but what was a crime (or so it felt) was appreciating it to the extent of wanting to be the only one to see it. to be the only one who could talk with her the way you do, to smile and laugh at her jokes the way you do, to keep your skin pressed against hers the way you do. 

your dilemma was what to do with yourself now. everything felt a little blurry, so unclear, like everything you’d kept so dear to your heart was now just a distant memory. it felt out of the question, when you really should be considering it most. 

well, what did you value most? feelings, or faith? truth, or temptation? 

you weren’t sure now. and that’s what made pesky and hot tears bubble in the corner of your eyes, what made you slip further underneath your sheets, wishing you could just disintegrate into them, your thoughts and feelings following. 

your bed was suffocatingly warm now. it felt like you were burning alive— and you weren’t sure if it was because it was actually hot or because of the thoughts swirling in your mind. it was as if the mattress had turned into a bed of coals, each fiery ember igniting the guilt and shame festering inside you. you tossed and turned, trying to escape the unbearable heat, but it clung to you like sin.

it felt too fitting, in a way. the warmth reminded you of every sermon you’d ever heard about fire and brimstone, about straying too far from the path and finding yourself engulfed in flames. was this what it felt like to drift? to teeter on the edge of everything you believed in?

you couldn’t shake the thought that this heat was deserved, that it was your punishment for letting your feelings spiral out of control. the suffocating warmth of your bed felt like a taste of the consequences you feared, and no amount of shifting or turning could make you feel any lighter.

but you knew yourself better than that, you knew your faith all too well. you knew you’d find yourself back on your path one way or another— because you always have. you’ve always figured it out, no matter how hard you tried, no matter how many late nights you laid awake, fingers tucked against your Bible and praying until your voice croaked and your eyes wept. 

but tonight felt different. heavier. your faith was the foundation that had carried you through so many storms, but now, it felt like it was shaking under the weight of everything you couldn’t even say out loud. you could barely even think about them without feeling sick to your stomach— much less speak them into existence, because then that made them real. 

thoughts weren’t a sin, but actions were. and as much as you could imagine what it would be like to run your fingers through her hair, to kiss her, to hold her— it’d better not weave itself into how you acted. it’d better not become habitual. 

your thoughts swirled like a storm until you felt sick of tossing and turning. they were crashing into each other, leaving you stuck in this cycle of confusion and guilt, and you longed for sleep to undertake you, to leave you with peace for just a few mere moments, if your anxiety allowed it. 

you loved God, you lived for God— but it felt oddly strange that you were souled out for something you couldn’t see, couldn’t touch. you knew that deep down it was what you believed, and nothing was wrong with it, but doubts crept in. everyone had doubts— whether or not they’re with the right person, whether or not they should eat this or that for lunch, but this was so much bigger than that.

you felt like a spider in a cage. though you could easily slip through the cracks, though you could easily set yourself free, you remained captive. the illusion of being trapped in this confinement, this box that you allowed yourself to be shoved in— that’s what kept you stuck. and you hated it. 

could you not do both? could you lean on faith and feelings? how could something so minuscule dictate your life? 

things seemed so black and white. there was no mix— there was no gray with God, it was always either this or that. if you choose these feelings above Him, was it eternal damnation? would He still love you after all your faults, selfish desires, your confused prayers at night? 

it wasn’t just about billie. it was about you —the parts of yourself you’d spent years trying to bury, trying to pray away, hoping they’d dissolve into nothingness. but they never did. not really. and now, with billie here, with her laugh and her eyes and the way she made you feel so seen, those parts were louder than ever.

you finally rolled onto your side, staring at the dim glow of your phone screen across the room. ignoring her text wasn’t going to make the feelings go away. you could block her number, avoid her altogether, but what would that really change? the problem wasn’t her, no— it was you.

billie wasn’t confused about who she was. she didn’t spend her nights tossed within her bedsheets, hoping and praying that her feelings would melt. you could envision her laid on her back, limbs outstretched on her mattress, dreaming peacefully about any and everything. 

oh, how you longed to feel that way. how you longed to be content with who you were, even if it wasn’t perfect. even if you did mess up, if you were wrong— or even if you were right. but fear encapsulated you. it strangled you until you lost your breath, it had wrapped itself around your soul, coiled itself around your thoughts, made you beaten and broken until your limbs felt weak.

living in fear was preferred by no one. but it kept you in line, kept you on a straight path. and if that was what it took to make you as seemingly perfect as possible, you couldn’t complain. 

it’s four in the morning when you almost fall asleep. you were so close— almost in that temporary paradise, your body nearly collapsing in the soft velvet of your sheets. but then you feel your heart groan and your eyes water, and your mind takes you to places that you hadn’t been in so long, old feelings and memories collecting dust in the back of your conscious. 

you’d known since you were younger, even before you could put words to it, that something about you didn’t fit neatly into the boxes everyone else seemed to fit into. you felt like the black sheep of your community, even though it was a secret that you kept so dear, so quiet that you couldn’t even write it down. 

you remembered being twelve, sitting in the back of a church service, gripping your knees tightly as the pastor spoke about sin, about purity, about love. you remembered how the words cut deeper than they should have, how they made you feel like something about you was broken and beyond fixable. 

“a man and a woman,” the pastor had spoken firmly, like any deviation from those words was an abomination. “that’s what love is. anything outside of that is frowned upon by God.” 

and so, that’s what you believed. that’s what you practiced. 

boys had never appealed to you before, but they did now. if it was favored by God, it was favored by you, too— and you let yourself grow wild. you liked almost every boy that you were around, and they always had interest in you back. you’d playfully flirt, go out on as many dates as you could— but the second they found something deeper, the second they’d tell you how badly they wanted to be with you, you ran. 

you ran because you knew it wasn’t real. it wasn’t fair to them, and it wasn’t fair to you, but it felt like the only way to survive. you weren’t looking for love; you were looking for approval. boys were safe, primitive, easy to explain. no one questioned you when you smiled too wide at their compliments or leaned too close during conversations. no one doubted your intentions because they were what they were supposed to be.

and for a while, you convinced yourself it was enough. you let the feeble attention fill the empty spaces, let the fleeting thrill of being wanted make you feel whole. but it never lasted. no matter how many boys you flirted with, no matter how many dates you went on, there was always that hollow feeling waiting for you afterward. that gnawing sense that you were playing a role you didn’t quite fit into.

because deep down, you knew the truth. boys didn’t set your heart racing. they didn’t make your palms sweat or your stomach flip. they didn’t leave you staring at your ceiling at 3 a.m., questioning everything you thought you knew about yourself.

but girls did.

you tried to ignore it, to push it down, to tell yourself it was a phase or a test of faith or something you could overcome with enough prayer and discipline. but no matter how hard you tried, the feelings were still there, simmering just beneath the surface. and now, with billie in the picture, they were impossible to ignore.

she wasn’t like anyone you’d ever met before— bold and unapologetic, with a laugh that made you feel lighter even when you didn’t want to be. she made you feel seen in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying, and you hated how much you craved it. how bad you wanted it. 

because craving it meant admitting something you weren’t ready to admit. it meant acknowledging that the life you’d carefully constructed for yourself might not be the life you were meant to live. it meant stepping into uncharted territory, where nothing was certain and everything felt like a risk.

and you weren’t sure you were brave enough for that.

so you kept running. from the boys who wanted more than you could give, from the girls who made you feel too much, and from yourself most of all. you ran because staying still meant facing the truth, and the truth was messy and complicated and scary as ever.

and now, years later, those same feelings had crept back in, wrapping themselves around your chest and making it hard to breathe. was it wrong to feel this way? to feel drawn to someone who made you laugh so easily, who made the world seem a little less daunting? to want something more than the lines of scripture could explain?

your faith was supposed to be unshakable, unwavering. but right now, it felt like it was cracking under the weight of your heart, and you hated yourself for it. you wanted to be better. stronger. you wanted to want the right things, the things you were supposed to want. but billie made it so hard.

you pressed your hands to your face, letting out a shaky breath as tears slipped down your warmed cheeks. you didn’t want to be this version of yourself— the one who questioned, who doubted, who couldn’t find clarity no matter how hard she tried.

and yet, a small voice in the back of your mind whispered, soft and persistent: what if it’s not wrong?

but you couldn’t listen to that voice, not right now. not when everything you’d ever been taught, everything you believed, told you otherwise.

by the time your thoughts fall dead and slumber almost captivates you, your alarm clock jolts against your nightstand, making a groan slip between your teeth. it was five, and that meant it was time for morning Bible study. 

you felt your whole body ached as you sat up, running a tired hand through your untamed hair. your steps feel hallow and slow as you reach for the light, flicking it on gently and squinting at the sudden glare. 

you had to focus. it was a new day, with new opportunities to grow, with new possibilities and endless outcomes. you couldn’t keep letting your fears trap you, prevent you from making your days exponentially better than the last. 

‘This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.’ is what pushed you to pad across the cool floor of your dorm room, plopping into your desk chair with your tired eyes fixated on your Bible. 

the cover was worn and beaten, little sticky notes and page markers flooded between the sheets of the book, nearly every line highlighted in specific and special colors. 

you used to find peace in that. and you knew that you could find it again, as long as you stopped being so hard on yourself. you just needed to relax, to fall back in habit, to let yourself breathe a fresh wind. 

so you flipped your Bible open, landing in Psalms— a place you often went when your heart felt too tangled to sort out on its own. “Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.” you whispered the words aloud to yourself, the quiet atmosphere of your room soaking the sound up, your throat dry and scratchy. 

but as you read, the usual familiar comfort didn’t come. instead, the words seemed to blur together, their meaning slipping through your fingers like water. it was like they had no weight to them— like you were just reading to read. nothing made sense anymore. 

you let out a heavy, frustrated breath, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip so hard that you were sure you’d draw blood. your mind wandered back to the night before, to billie’s text, to the way her laugh lingered in your memory, warm and inviting. you hated how easily she crept into your thoughts, how she made you question things you never thought you’d have to question, how bad she made your inability to focus. 

you shook your head, trying to regain your thoughts and start over. you placed your finger on the next line of scripture, your head aching from concentration. 

“Cast me not away from thy presence; and take not thy holy spirit from me.” is what comes next. the verse was supposed to reassure you, like it usually does— but instead, it felt like a plea, a desperate attempt to cling to something solid while your world felt like it was tilting off of its axis.

what if you were being cast away? what if your feelings for billie, these things you couldn’t control, were pulling you further and further from God? the thought made your chest tighten, guilt curling in your stomach like it was alive.

your hand froze on the page, your breath hitching. these thoughts felt like a betrayal, like a crack in the foundation of everything you believed in, everything your entire life had clung to. but all your questions and skeptics remained, undeniable and persistent, and no amount of prayer or scripture seemed to silence it.

you closed your Bible gently, resting your hands on the cover as you leaned back in your chair. your eyes drifted to the window, where the first hints of sunrise painted the sky in soft hues of pink and gold. it was beautiful, serene— a stark contrast to the living chaos inside your head.

you wanted to cry again, to let the frustration and confusion pour out of you until there was nothing left. but the tears didn’t come this time. instead, there was just a deep, aching exhaustion that settled over you like a heavy blanket.

you couldn’t think, so you prayed. it was like second nature to you, and you had your hands clasped so hard that your knuckles popped. 

the silence stretched on, and for a moment, you thought you might get an answer. but none came, just the quiet hum of the world waking up around you.

eventually, you stood, stretching your stiff limbs before heading to the bathroom to splash cold water on your face. the chill jolted you awake, chasing away the last remnants of sleep.

you glanced at your reflection in the mirror, taking in the dark circles under your eyes, the redness clinging to the edges of them. you barely recognized yourself, and that realization stung. you let out a thick sigh before heading back to your dorm, peeking into emma’s ajar door, hoping she’d be awake and willing to talk. but she was dead asleep. 

you sighed and pulled your phone off the nightstand as you walked back to your own space, billie’s message still sitting unread in your notifications. you stared at it for a long moment, your thumb hovering over the lit screen, but you didn’t respond. you couldn’t. 

your heart felt like it was waging a war against your mind, one side pulling you toward her, the other screaming for you to stay away, and draw to what was true. 

but before you could make a decision, to text back or to not— your alarm buzzed again, pulling you out of your thoughts. you sighed, setting the phone back down and grabbing your notebook instead. if you couldn’t sort out your feelings, maybe you could at least start your day right.

you sat back at your desk, pen in hand, and wrote the only thing you could think to write: God, I don’t know what to do. I need You to guide me. Please, show me what’s right.

it wasn’t the answer you wanted, but it was all you had. and for now, it would have to be enough.

✧ 8:50 am ✧

you weren’t really sure how you managed to stay awake this long. 

it’s almost nine when emma emerges from her bedroom, dolled up head to toe, her red hair pressed straight and resting gently against her shoulders. it was such a huge contrast from your gray leggings, pink hoodie, and bare face, but you still smiled when she walks into your dorm, grinning from ear to ear, “morning, sunshine. you sleep good?” 

you nearly tell a lie just to keep the peace, but it wasn’t worth the immense guilt that you’d feel later. so you shrugged, “i didn’t sleep.”

“why not?” emma questions, twirling the ends of her hair around a freshly painted fingernail, “what’s going on with you? you’re being awfully weird.” 

you shake your head at her defensively, “i’m not being weird?” 

emma squinted at you, her grin faltering as she studied your face. she didn’t speak for a second, but when she was done reading you, she cocked a brow, “you can’t lie to me, y/n. we’ve been best friends for years. and plus, you’ve got that look on your face.” 

“what look?” you asked, trying to play dumb as you picked at a loose thread on your hoodie, trying to avoid eye contact. 

you had really had enough of the pestering with her. was it so hard to leave you alone?

as much as you want her to shut up, though— she continues, her eyes narrowing. 

“the look you get when you’re overthinking really bad or you’re hiding something and you won’t tell me. is this about class? or—” she paused, narrowing her eyes even further, “hold the fuck up, is this about billie? again?”

your heart stuttered in your chest, and you immediately busied yourself with your phone, pretending to be scrolling aimlessly through apps you weren’t even paying attention to. all you could really pay attention to was the unanswered text on your phone. but you still shrugged her off, “not everything is about billie, okay? you’re like, obsessed with talking about her.” 

emma tilted her head at you with such slit eyes, you really didn’t know if she was actually looking at you. you knew deep down that you were projecting, but it seemed like the only way to push your feelings aside and be content for once. 

your best friend took a shaky breath, leaning against the edge of your desk like she was gearing up for an interrogation, “dude, what’s your issue? i mean, i ask you genuine questions to try to understand your situation, and you talk to me like i’m a fucking idiot, or like i’m the one that’s being all cold and sarcastic. fine, whatever— i’m done asking you questions. i’ll leave you alone, since that’s what you want so bad.” 

the room felt thick and heavy after emma’s outburst, her words hanging in the air like a hazy fog. you opened your mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. your throat croaked and cracked and you almost shed a tear, but instead, you sat there, frozen, clutching your side as guilt started to gnaw at the edges of your chest.

it’s one thing to be going through something alone, but it’s another to drag someone else into you— especially emma. you felt horrible because through any and everything, no matter the degree, she was always there for you. and this is how you repay her? with mistrust and secrecy? 

“emma, wait—” you started, but she waved you off, pushing herself up and grabbing her purse, slinging it over her shoulder with little to no care. 

“nah, it’s fine. really. i get it,” she said, her voice tight as she turned toward the door. she doesn’t face you when she speaks, she just shrugs, “you don’t want to talk about it? cool. i won’t bring it up again. ever.” 

she wasn’t yelling, not at all— but the calmness in her voice made you feel even more sick. it was the kind of tone that meant she was hurt but refusing to show it, and it made your stomach twist. you felt like your body was caving in on itself, all this stuff with billie was bad, but now emma’s mad at you, too? you felt like you were losing your grip and there was nothing you could do to stop. 

“em, i didn’t mean to—”

“save it,” she cut you off rapidly, her back still turned as she opened the door. 

and then she left. 

she didn’t wait for you to get up and run to her, to throw yourself in her arms and cry to her about how much pain you were in— she just…left. 

you rose a cold hand to wipe your watery eyes before lifting yourself off of your mattress, grabbing your belongings before heading out, starting your walk to your 9 a.m. 

it was a cold and companionless one, too. jules wasn’t there to humor you with her dry wit and dark toned jokes, no naomi to offer up her sweet spirits and constant laughter, no oliver to make you feel safe and included, even though he never talked much. 

but what killed you— what hurt you the most, is that there was no emma to tease and poke fun at you, even though you always claimed that you hated it. there was no emma to always ask you ‘are you okay?’— and not just to fill a silence, but because she actually cared. 

there was none of that. you were alone, the opposite of what you wanted to be, but it was like you couldn’t help it. you couldn’t stop yourself from being pushed into isolation, it was snowballing and squeezing you so tight with no opportunity to escape. 

emma’s absence felt louder than anything else. you replayed her words to you in your head, her sharp tone even more spiked than you had experienced beforehand, the way she didn’t even look back at you  before shutting the door making your lips curl downward. 

save it.

two words that cut deeper than she probably intended, though you couldn’t really blame her. not entirely, anyway. you had pushed her away. you’d been cold, defensive, and for what? to protect a secret you weren’t even sure you could define?

your steps felt faltered as you reached a quiet path lined with trees, the golden light filtering through their branches. it was a place you usually loved, a rare pocket of peace on a campus that always seemed to escape the loud, the too crowded. but today, it only reminded you only of how isolated you felt.

you pulled your phone out of your pocket, your thumb hovering over the screen. you choked up when you saw a picture of you and emma at your high school graduation— she was making bunny ears behind your navy blue cap, both of you smiling as you held her side tightly. 

you let out a quiet sniffle, unlocking the device and clicking on your messages to keep yourself from crying, especially right before class. but there it was again— billie’s text. the one you still hadn’t answered.

it was such a simple question— if you wanted to hang out or not, but it held so much weight. you thought about emma’s accusations, about the way your chest tightened whenever you thought about billie. she was right— you were being cold and sarcastic, and insanely secretive, even though she was only trying to help you, like a good best friend would. 

you thought about how easy it would be to type out a response, to say yes, to meet her and let yourself drown in whatever this was. whatever little thing you had going on— to let yourself bask in it, to enjoy it, because that’s what you deserved. 

but you didn’t. you didn’t respond to her text. instead, you locked your phone and shoved it back into your pocket, quickening your pace as you approached your building, pushing the doors open and heading to your class. 

when you reached the hallway to your classroom, the familiar smell of coffee and old books hit you, and you tried to let it ground you. the lecture hall was already half-full, students chatting, scrolling through their phones, or flipping through notes quickly, preparing for tests and quizzes. you walked into your psych class and found an empty seat near the back, sinking into it as you unpacked your things.

your professor’s voice droned on as the class began, but you couldn’t focus. your notebook remained blank, your pen hovering uselessly over the page. your mind kept wandering back to the morning, to emma’s disappointed face, to billie’s unanswered text, to the gnawing uncertainty that had taken root in your chest.

you thought about how easy it had been to run from boys. to shut them out when they got too close, when they wanted more than you could give. it was almost second nature, a defense mechanism you’d perfected over the years.

but with billie, it was different. you didn’t want to run. you wanted to stay, to see where this could go, even if it terrified you. even if it meant confronting parts of yourself you weren’t ready to face.

your pen pressed into the paper, the ink smudging messily as you scribbled aimlessly, trying to distract yourself. but the more you tried to focus, the more your thoughts spiraled.

is this what it feels like to lose yourself?

the thought came unbidden, sharp and cold. you stared down at your notebook, the words and lines blurring together as your vision swam.

you clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to take a deep breath. you couldn’t fall apart here, not now. not in class, and not when the day had only just begun.

the lecture dragged on, each minute feeling like an eternity. you were completely lost, missing virtually everything that your teacher was saying. you tried to hold out as long as you could, but to no avail, you were just…confused. 

when class finally ended, you packed up your things quickly, keeping your head down as you made your way out.

the hallway was crowded, voices and footsteps blending into a chaotic hum. you slipped through the throng of students, little ‘excuse me’s and ‘i’m sorry’s slipping through your lips as you bumped into shoulders and bags. your mind was still tangled in a mess of feelings you couldn’t untangle, and it felt just like this hallway was— a blurry sea, a messy mix, a path almost impassable. 

and as you stepped out into the sunlight, the weight in your chest felt heavier than ever, pressing down with every step you took, every move that you made. 

you contemplated on skipping class, but the fear of your grades slipping was what kept you pushing down the sidewalk, and you were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t realize emma was perched on a stone hedge, chatting with some guy from her class. 

she gives you a glance, and then she sighs, looking back at the brunette with sparkling eyes, completely unaware of your presence as you kept walking. 

it made you feel horrible that she was upset with you. she was doing just what she said— dropping it. just like you wanted, right? 

but deep down, you wished she just pushed one more time. asked you how you were feeling again, and you’d finally tell her— you’d break down in her arms and hold her, letting all your confusion and doubts fall at her shoulders. but it was too late now. 

your next class is math, and it’s definitely your easiest, so you don’t stress about being attentive. you find another seat in the back and pull your phone out, lost in recent texts and instagram posts that you had ignored from the night before. 

you really needed to make a solid decision. this constant confusion wasn’t in your favor, and living in constant fear and frustration wasn’t ideal. but everytime you think you’re set on something, it fades into gray, and doubts began to creep in. 

it was driving you absolutely crazy. 

you sniffle quietly, slumping further into your seat that you’re comfortable, but not enough to make it seem like you’re not paying attention. though your teacher can sense otherwise. 

“y/n?” 

“hm?” you hum back, and your professor gives you a cocked brow, her eyes beaming into your own. 

“the answer?” she asks you, and the class’ mumbles fall silent, “are you paying attention?” 

“uhm…” is all you say, your eyes welling up. she just offers you a look of disappointment, “we have a quiz friday. please pay attention.” 

you give your teacher a slow nod, and that was your breaking point. you slumped your head into the desk, tears flowing silently down your face as you tried to keep your sniffling to a minimum. a frown meets your lips as you hope and pray this class goes by quicker than it feels. 

when it finally does end, professor walkins meets you at your desk as you grab your things, her hand resting on the wooden surface, “is everything okay, honey?” 

she can see right through your teary eyes, even though you nod your head at her. the last thing you needed was to appear seemingly off to everyone around you— especially people that didn’t even know you at all. 

“i’m sorry that i embarrassed you,” mrs. walkins apologized, “i understand now. but whatever it is, it’ll pass. have a good day, sweetie.” 

and then she’s off, her heels clacking against the floor with her briefcase in hand, slipping through the door. you follow her after a second, down the hall with your earbuds tucked in your ears, thinking about her words longingly. 

whatever it is, it’ll pass. 

you wish it just would already. 

the hallways are still just as crowded as they were after your first class, but you thanked God that you only had two classes today, because you didn’t really think you could hold it together much longer. 

you’re walking out the building when you see a figure slumped against a brick wall, a cigarette in hand and long, black hair flowing in the autumn wind. it’s billie. 

you hadn’t expected to see her all day, and you thought you were doing a good job at avoiding her. but of course, her being her— she finds a way to pop up randomly, right when you don’t need her to. 

she’s effortlessly beautiful as always. her hair is braided on the sides, though some loose strands find themselves engulfed in the wind, curling around her face. her eyelashes look long even from a distance, and she’s clad in a pair of baggy jeans paired with a navy blue sweater, a white tee underneath. a tote bag slouches on her shoulders as she takes another drag of her cigarette, and you try your hardest to go unnoticed by her, your eyes captivated by her. 

you want to look at her forever. she’s so pretty that it feels like it’ll hurt if you take your eyes off her, but you feel your heart squeeze with guilt as you blink, debating whether or not you should go up to her and say something. 

but you couldn’t push everyone in your life away. she was the only person who wasn’t upset with you or pestering you with a bunch of questions, and you longed for peace, even if it was just for a moment. 

you looked down at your phone, and nothing but a Bible app notification waited for you. no calls or texts from emma, naomi, oliver, jules— you literally had nothing from anyone in your entire friend group. 

“hey, little drummer girl.” 

your eyes travel to billie’s figure that’s still slumped against the wall behind her, her head now turned to look at you. her cheeks are red due to the harsh winds that float through the air, her eyes blinking rapidly to keep the cool breeze from making tears form in her pretty, blue orbs. 

you bit your lip, really hoping that you could’ve stayed out of her view for just a second longer. you only liked looking at her when she didn’t notice— because then, she couldn’t look at you back. and you could stare as long as you wanted. but now that she had noticed you, she’d offer that eye contact that she always did— the kind that made your heart flutter, made your mind wander, made your pupils grow. 

neither of you move for a second. and then you step forward before you can really think, your nikes scuffing the pavement as you find your own spot on the wall next to billie. you flash her a weak smile, “hi, billie.” 

she seems to elate in the way you say her name, or maybe it’s the way you dragged over to her so quickly— whatever it is, it’s enough to soften her edges. she just shakes her head at you, “your class just end?” 

“yeah,” you nod, shoving your hands into your hoodie, “math. not eventful at all.” 

billie hums, and you expect her to tell you about how her class was, but she doesn’t. she’s quieter than usual, and you can infer that it’s probably about the message that she sent you, which was still…unanswered. 

and now that you were standing in front of her, it made things a little more awkward. you tried to muster up an excuse to brush things over with, but you came up with absolutely nothing. 

the air between you felt hot, like tension was raining on the both of you. you just stayed silent for a moment, watching as billie took another hit of her cigarette, her lips pursing like she was thinking really hard about something. 

your heart was pounding in your chest. you couldn’t think straight— if billie was upset at you, that was pretty much it. you’d have virtually nothing left, and even though the two of you were only beginning to get close, she was a good friend, and had a caring spirit. 

you take initiative to speak, and you’re honest when you do so, “i saw your text.” 

billie pauses for a second. she takes another slow drag of her cigarette, the smoking curling around her face and fading into the wind as her eyes flicker to yours, “yeah? and?”

you can’t mess this up. you can’t keep running, avoiding everyone who actually cared about you, and you definitely couldn’t keep pushing everyone off just because you were going through…whatever this was. so you take a deep breath, shifting on your feet, your fingers curling into fists in your pocket.

“and… um, i didn’t know what to say. or—” you hesitate, the words catching in your throat. was it too soon to be so honest? 

you take a deep breath.

“i just didn’t want to say the…wrong thing.”

billie’s brows knit together slightly at your words, her expression almost unreadable as she watches you. she takes you in— your somber eyes, your withdrawn body language— she studies you, like she always does. her cigarette lingers between her fingers, smoke curling up into the air like a question mark. you feel your chest tighten under her gaze, her silence pressing into you harder than any words she could ever say.

“why would you think you’d say the wrong thing, y/n?” she asks finally, her voice softer than you expected. there’s no edge to it, no sharpness— just genuine curiosity. it’s almost worse because it means she’s taking you seriously, she called you by your name, and that’s almost unheard of. 

you glance down at your shoes, scuffing the toe of one against the pavement as you search for words, but they’re somewhere in the back of your mind, buried beneath layers of doubt and second-guessing.

“i don’t know,” you mumble, your voice hardly even audible, “i just… i guess i didn’t want to mess things up. billie…i’m…i’m confused.”

there. you said it. the truth hangs in the air between you, raw and vulnerable, and you can’t bring yourself to look at her. not yet.

billie lets out a small sigh, one that sounds more thoughtful than frustrated, and it makes you glance up at her, just for a second. her lips are pressed into a faint line, her head tilted slightly as if she’s trying to figure you out.

“you’re not gonna mess things up,” she reassures you, and there’s a certainty in her tone that makes your chest ache. “at least, not with me. i don’t know what’s been up with you, but… i don’t scare off that easy.”

you want to believe her, but the knot in your stomach tightens anyway. it’s not just about billie— it’s about everything. your friends, your classes, your entire life feeling like it’s slipping out of your hands faster than you can hold on. faith was the only anchor you had, and even that felt like it was fleeting— like you really had nothing left.

nothing but these jangled emotions that you couldn’t figure out.

“it’s not you,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly. it was kind of untruthful, but you didn’t care. it was already a blessing that billie was listening to you right now, so you tried to get at least some of your emotions out, practically begging for advice.

“it’s… everything. i feel like i’m messing up all over the place, and i don’t know how to fix it. i don’t even know where to start. i’m a wreck.”

the confession spills out of you before you can stop it, and you bite down hard on the soft inside of your cheek, trying to keep the tears at bay. the last thing you need is to cry in front of billie, but the lump in your throat is making it harder and harder to breathe.

billie doesn’t say anything right away, and for a second, you think you’ve said too much. you think she’s going to brush you off or change the subject, but instead, she shifts her weight, her shoulder bumping yours lightly.

“start small,” she says, her voice low and steady, “you don’t have to figure everything out all at once. just… take it one step at a time. one thing at a time. you seem like the type of person to drive yourself batshit until you’re bruised and beaten. yeah, don’t do that. don’t do it to yourself.”

her words aren’t groundbreaking or revolutionary, but something about the way she says them— the calm certainty in her voice— makes you feel like maybe she’s right. maybe you don’t have to have all the answers right now, and that’s okay. 

your problem was that you never let yourself feel for too long. it wasn’t like you were numb, but you weren’t always present, either. you always thought that you were running out of time, and every mess-up or mishap was cutting it shorter and shorter. but you couldn’t do that anymore. these aren’t the types of feelings that you solve just within a few days, no— they linger, they sting, and getting rid of them or making sense of them altogether wasn’t something that would just happen overnight. 

you strived for perfection, and it wasn’t really your fault. it was all you had ever known.

growing up, your best wasn’t enough— because you could always be better. you could always make better grades, say long prayers, memorize more scriptures. and you worked at it everyday, fixing and molding yourself into a box that even you were too small to fit into. 

you aimed for perfection, but it was never enough— because better always lingered just out of reach, whispering that you were still falling short, but looking back to make sure that you were still chasing it. 

you feel your chest tighten.

you glance at billie, and she’s looking at you, her blue eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them. it’s almost too much, the way she looks at you like she actually cares, like she’s not just saying this to make you feel better but because she means it.

“i’m serious,” she adds, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “you’re tougher than you think, saint. you’ve just gotta give yourself a break.”

you let out a shaky breath, her words settling over you like a warm, heated blanket. it doesn’t fix everything— it honestly doesn’t even fix most things— but it makes the weight on your chest feel just a little bit lighter.

“thanks,” you say softly, and it’s not enough, but it’s all you can manage.

billie shrugs, taking another drag of her cigarette before flicking it to the ground and stamping it out with the heel of her sneakers, “anytime,” she says, and you know she means it.

the two of you stand there for a while, the silence between you no longer heavy but something closer to comforting. the wind picks up, tugging at your hoodie and billie’s loose strands of hair, and for the first time all day, you felt safer. more secure. 

“so…” billie starts, “what’s this little secret that’s making you like this, anyways?”

it hurts not to tell her. after everything that she’s said, after she went all soft on you, you almost feel inclined to tell her, but you hold your tongue, avoiding words that even you yourself haven’t admitted. 

her voice is light, teasing, but her eyes are locked on you, blue and piercing, like they’re sifting through every layer you’ve built carefully to keep the truth hidden. you feel the weight of her question settle in your chest, pressing hard against the fragile walls you’ve tried so desperately to reinforce.

you swallow, your throat tight. the words are there— just barely formed, barely coherent— but you can’t let them out. not here. not right now.

“it’s nothing,” you mumble, your hands fidgeting in the pocket of your hoodie, fingers finding loose threads to pull at anxiously, “just… stuff.”

billie raises an eyebrow, unconvinced at your statement, “stuff?” she repeats, leaning her shoulder against the wall further, wrapping her arms around her body, “you’ve been walking around like a fucking zombie, and you expect me to buy ‘stuff’? come on, virgin mary. try harder.”

you wince at her words— not because they’re harsh, but because they’re not. she’s right. and her tone is steady, patient, even playful, and that makes it so much harder to hold back. you almost feel inclined to confide in her, but you hold your tongue.

“i’m fine, billie,” you say, forcing a smile that feels heavy, “really.”

“you’re such a bad liar.” she says after a beat, her lips quirking up in a small, but sad smile.

your stomach twists, and for a moment, you think about spilling everything— about the guilt that weighs you down, the doubt that claws at your insides, the way your heart aches and your mind won’t stop spinning. you think about telling her how you feel like you’re falling apart, how you’re scared that if you let anyone see the mess inside you, they’ll walk away like everyone else seems to.

but you can’t. so you lie. 

and for the first time, you don’t really feel guilty about it.

“guess i’ll have to work on that,” you say instead, your voice quieter than you mean it to be, “but it's still nothing.”

billie’s done fighting it. she sighs when she looks at you, though you can tell it’s full of understanding. she leans in closer to you, her hand lightly brushing your own as gives you eyes that are scribbled with words that you can decipher, even though she doesn’t say them. you just know. 

you had to get out of this headspace, out of this environment. it wasn’t good for you. 

you felt sick, yet numb all at once. your heart was aching like none other, every nerve in your body felt like they were dying on you, like you were frozen. 

but you can’t go on like that. you can’t keep pretending like isolation is preferred by you, like being alone is your remedy for the exhaustion you were feeling. 

you don’t move away from billie’s light touch. you bask in it for a second, “billie?”

she hums at you, her eyebrows quirking at the sound of her name. it falls sweetly off of your tongue, and you let your eyes bore into hers for a second before speaking lowly, quietly. 

“can we still hang out?” 

the smile that creeps onto her face is priceless, and she tries to keep her composure as she nods fervently, “i’d thought you’d never ask, sunday school. yeah. let’s go.”

you nod at her, walking beside her as you make your way to the student parking lot. billie doesn’t say much when you leave the building together, her steps slow and deliberate. you follow close behind her in silence, her tote bag slung lazily over one shoulder, the faint scent of cigarette smoke still clinging to her sweater. it’s not uncomfortable, the quiet between you two— billie has a way of filling silences without saying a word. but it still makes your stomach churn because you know she’s waiting for you to speak first, like she always does. 

“so… where are we going?” you finally ask, your voice a little louder now as you trail a step behind her.

“you’ll see.”

the walk to her old, black mustang isn’t far. you can tell it’s one of those vintage cars that people go crazy about, and the model makes you examine the vehicle with curiosity as she unlocks the door. it smells faintly of lavender air freshener and leather, mixed with a little smoke, and the mix of scents makes your nose flair. 

you climb into the passenger seat, pulling your hoodie tighter around you as billie starts the engine, reaching to flicker on the heat before looking at the road intently, pulling off into it. the soft hum of the radio fills the space, some indie song playing faintly in the background.

the drive is honestly not that long, but it feels like forever. you don’t ask where you’re going again, too caught up in your own thoughts to care. you’re just happy that you’re finally going out, happy that you’re giving yourself the chance to escape yourself and relax a little bit.

“i’m gonna take us somewhere that’ll calm you down a little,” is what billie says as she pulls off an exit of the highway and onto the main road again. that gets you a little bit more giddy.

you’re hoping that she’ll take you somewhere that you’ll find a little peace— a bookstore, church, maybe even to God himself, but the smile that has found its way onto your face quickly fades when you pull into a huge brick building, with red lighting that looks like your absolute worst nightmare.

it’s a rage room. 

as billie pulls into a parking spot, you let out a vulnerable whine, “billie, really? a rage room?”

“you’ve never experienced real peace until your throwing shit against the wall and screaming your heart out,” she giggles, putting the car in park and pausing the music, “you’ll like it. i promise.”

you feel cool air wisp against your face as you open the passenger door, circling back around billie’s car as you both start to walk in the building, “i’m gonna hate this.” 

she just giggles at you, her laugh strong and reassuring, though you’re face doesn’t even flinch. this wasn’t what you had in mind at all, but you’re here now— so you might as well make the most of it, you think. 

as you both step inside the building, the cold air from the outside seems to follow you in, hitting you with a rush of discomfort as you glance around. the walls are lined with shelves of broken, donated items, but the most expensive ones are locked up, probably just for display. there’s a pool table in a separate room to your left, and to your right is a bar with people sitting on red and black stools, listening to soft jazz and laughing as they take sips from their drinks. it's loud, chaotic, and everything inside your mind is screaming to leave, but you try to hold it together as you and billie step up to the front.

a clerk behind the counter, with a bored expression on their face, glances up at you both before clicking some button on the register, “do y’all want the couple deal?” they ask, with a rehearsed tone and very tired, droopy eyes.

billie glances at you before answering, her eyes glinting with mischief. and then she shrugs, “yeah, sure, why not?”

you blink, slightly taken aback by her quick agreement. the words settle in your mind, making you think for a second. it’s not the kind of thing you’d expect someone to do in the heat of the moment— but then again, billie was always the type to go with the flow, to not think twice, especially if it meant saving a few bucks.

but still, couple deal? that’s what this place calls it? you can't help but wonder for a second, what does it mean for her? does it feel like something meaningful? was it just about saving some money? you glance sideways at her as she hands the clerk her card, and the thought quickly slips away. she’s too calm about this— she honestly doesn’t seem to care, so why should you?

the clerk nods and hands billie her card back, muttering a slow ‘follow me.’ as billie leads the way further into the chaos of the establishment. you can feel the weight of uncertainty creeping up on you, the buzzing fluorescent lights overhead seeming to hum louder as you pass the racks of broken, smashed objects, and your stomach flips in a way you can’t ignore. what kind of place is this, really? the air smells faintly of old dust and something metallic, mixed with alcohol and smoke, and your nerves feel like they’re tightening with each step that you take.

billie’s excitement is almost tangible. she’s practically bouncing on her heels, eyes glinting with that spark she always has when she’s onto something she’s sure you’ll hate, yet she knows you’ll secretly love. secretly, because you haven’t fully let go yet. you haven’t let yourself give in to the absolute absurdity of this place.

the clerk motions for you both to follow, guiding you over to a corner of the room where various protective gear is lined up— thick plastic helmets, gloves, goggles, and heavy jackets that look like they belong to someone working with power tools. you pick up the jacket, feeling its weight in your hands before sliding it on. it’s heavy, and as you zip it up, it feels more like a costume than something that’ll actually protect you from the wreckage of sharp objects and whatever else this place had for you to throw around.

you glance at billie as she straps a helmet over her two dutch braids. she’s grinning like a kid in a candy store, and for a moment, you almost wish you could share her enthusiasm. but you don’t. the look on your face has ‘i want to go home’ written all over it as she looks at you, giving a playful wink that’s so contrast from how you’re feeling underneath this gigantic jacket and helmet.

“you ready to break some shit?” she asks, her voice practically bouncing with energy as she shook out her arms, watching you slide on a pair of thick goggles to protect your eyes. you swallow, tightening the straps of your gloves as your heart pounds in your chest. you’ve never felt so out of place, so off-kilter. there’s something wrong about all of this, something about the whole idea that makes your insides twist. what is this even supposed to fix?

but you keep your mouth shut, not wanting to be the buzzkill— not wanting to ruin this for billie, who’s already bouncing on her heels, waiting to see you finally let loose and throw something across the room. you sigh and force a smile for her, though you’re hardly feeling it.

“i mean, i guess,” you mumble, “let’s do it.”

billie’s grin widens at your answer, and you wish you could feel it too— that spark, that joy she gets from the chaos of whatever you could call this place. but right now, all you feel is the weight of the unknown, the tension in your shoulders, the knot of anxiety that wraps around your throat.

the clerk leads you both into the actual rage room. it's a huge space, walls lined with thick, cushioned coverings, and in the center is a table stacked high with glass bottles, plates, mugs, and other objects begging to be destroyed. it’s all there for the taking— for the throwing, the smashing, the shattering. your feet feel impossibly heavy as you step inside, like you're walking into a trap that you led yourself into. you can feel the weight of your own breath underneath the thick jacket that swallowed your whole frame whole, shallow and quick, as if your body knows that something’s about to happen.

the clerk gestures to the pile of objects, “pick what you want,” they say with a shrug. “nothing’s off-limits. have fun.”

and then they’re off. 

billie wastes no time to get active. she picks up a wine bottle and taps it against her palm, eyes shining with mischievous excitement, “you pick something too,” she says, tossing the bottle lightly in the air before catching it again, “we’ll throw it at the same time.”

you look at the pile of objects, feeling strangely detached from every single one of them. there’s a weird sense of distance between you and everything in this room. what’s the point of this again?

but then, you reach for a plate. it’s small and unassuming, a simple ceramic dish that’s decorated with an intricate pink and blue lining, painted on the perimeter. you hold it in your hand, turning it over, weighing the weight of it in your palm. it’s just a plate— just a thing that could be easily replaced, something that’s meant to hold food, to be useful.

but right now, it’s in your hands, and the urge to throw it across the room— to hear the crash, to watch it break into pieces— suddenly seems strangely satisfying. you glance over at billie, “let’s do it.”

she cheers at you, her stance becoming heftier as she readies herself to hurl the bottle against the wall.

“ready? she asks you, and when you nod reassuringly, she’s ready, too. 

“one, two, three!”

you raise your hand and swing it as hard as you can, your ears splitting as you hear glass and plastic crack against the wall. your plate and billie’s bottle crash all at once, and at first, you feel a little guilty. 

billie lets out a laugh, her leg raising as she claps at you, “fuck yeah! do it again!”

you’re trying to collect your thoughts, looking at billie, who’s already swung another bottle against the wall, the shattering sound ringing out like a loud cheer. she’s laughing, loud and free, picking up things and smashing them onto the ground like there’s no tomorrow.

can you let go, too?

the question lingers in your mind as you reach across the table to pick up another plate. billie’s looking at you now, waiting for you to throw it. she knows you’re hesitating, knows that you’re struggling with this whole thing just by the look on your face. but she doesn’t push you. instead, she just stands there, the light of anticipation still burning in her eyes.

you take a deep breath, a shaky one, as your fingers tighten around the plate.

“you sure you’re okay?” billie asks, her voice softer now, sensing the tension that’s still there. you nod, though it’s half-hearted, because you’re not really sure if you are. but she smiles again, a little softer this time, and for a moment, you forget all about the chaos, all about the fear of breaking.

maybe it’s just about the release.

you throw the plate. it doesn’t fly the way you imagine it would this time, but it hits the wall hard enough, sending shards flying across the room in a messy explosion. the sound of it is loud, harsh, and something inside of you shudders, but it’s not bad— it’s not as bad as you thought it would be.

billie cheers, clapping her hands, her smile wide and unguarded, “hey, see? i told you you’d like it!”

you don’t know if you liked it, but the rush of breaking something— of letting it go, just for a moment— does something to you. you’re usually much more reserved, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the way the plate had laid victim to your throw, how it crumbled so quickly against the wall. something cracks open in your chest, just enough to let the air in. you feel lighter, in a way. still unsettled, still unsure, but alas, lighter.

billie picks up a plate that’s a little bigger than yours, ready to throw it herself. you can’t help but watch her, the way she seems so in tune with this whole mess. she doesn’t care about the mess, the chaos. she just wants the release.

you wonder what it would be like, to let go that easily. to not care about what comes after. to just be.

you want it too.

as billie throws the porcelain— the sound of it smashing against the wall echoing through the room— you can’t help but feel a flicker of something inside of you. it’s not peace. nothing of that sort. but it’s something. and maybe that’s enough for now.

the next few minutes pass in a blur of noise, motion, and broken things. billie and you are tossing objects back and forth, laughing manically as you throw things across the room, your arms feeling lighter with each smash. the tension in your body begins to ebb away, and for the first time in what feels like forever, your mind is completely empty— just the satisfying sound of glass shattering and the feeling of letting go.

billie’s face lights up with each throw, and she grins at you after each object breaks into a thousand pieces. “you’re getting the hang of it!” she shouts over the noise, her voice half-laugh, half-scream. her eyes are wild, her hair falling out of her braids as she throws another bottle, the force enough to send it flying across the room. it crashes against the wall with a satisfying thud, and she jumps, her laugh echoing.

you can’t help but laugh too, the sound a little less guarded now, a little more free. your body moves on autopilot as you pick up the next object— a ceramic mug, its chipped edges jagged in your hand. you feel the rush of adrenaline again, the beat of your heart quickening as you swing it towards the wall, flinging it as hard as you can.

crash!

the mug shatters, and for a second, you stand there, your breath coming faster than it should. the world around you is loud, but you’re starting to feel lighter, like all that tension you’ve been carrying is slowly starting to fade. billie’s right there beside you, giggling, grabbing more stuff to toss. you both keep going, throwing, screaming, until your arm aches and your throat is sore from all the yelling.

then, in the middle of a particularly wild throw, your hand brushes against a jagged piece of glass. the sharp sting of pain lances through your palm, and you gasp, pulling your hand back instinctively. the glass shard had sliced across your skin, leaving a thin but pretty deep cut.

“oh my gosh!” you scream, clutching your hand as blood starts to trickle down your fingers, crimson red dripping onto your leggings.

billie notices immediately that you’re hurt, her eyes flicking to your hand, “whoa, hey— are you okay?” she says, her voice immediately serious, her playful demeanor melting away like snow in the beaming sun as she takes a step toward you.

you nod, gritting your teeth. “y-yeah, it’s just a cut. i’ll be…i’ll be fine.”

she frowns, shaking her head, “no, c’mere and let me see.” 

before you can protest, she gently grabs your injured hand, inspecting it with a mix of concern and attentive focus. her touch is soft, and for some reason, it makes your heart race in a way that feels entirely out of place.

this wasn’t the time for that.

you take a sharp breath, the intensity of the moment settling in your chest. “it’s not that bad,” you say, trying to downplay how hurt you were, but there’s something in the way billie’s holding your hand— tender and careful— that makes the air between you two suddenly shift.

"you're really hurt," billie murmurs, her voice quieter now, and the seriousness of it hits you harder than it should. you swallow hard, your pulse picking up again, but this time it’s different—slower, deeper.

“it's just a cut,” you say again, but it comes out softer this time. billie’s gaze flickers down to your hand, then up to your face, and before you can say another word, she’s pulling herself out of the gear and tossing it onto the ground. you’re unable to even move your arm without it aching, and billie seems to understand that, so she pulls your jacket and goggles off for you, adding to the pile of her own discarded protection. 

she then pulls you out of the rage room, guiding you towards the door with her hand on your arm, another on your shoulder. you follow mindlessly feeling strangely disoriented by how close you’re standing and with the mix of pain that won’t stop shooting up your arm. 

once you’re outside, the cool night air hits you, a sharp contrast to the heat that’s inside. billie leads you over to her car, her fingers still lightly brushing against yours as she pulls open the door and motions for you to sit. you get in, still slightly stunned by how everything literally just shifted in the span of a few minutes.

billie opens the glove compartment and pulls out a first aid kit, all business now, her eyes focused as she looks at your hand, “I’m gonna patch it up, okay?” 

“okay.” you nod, feeling a strange wave of warmth flood your chest despite the discomfort in your palm. you whine as billie grabs a wipe, tearing it open with her teeth before giving you soft eyes. 

“i’m so sorry, but this shit is gonna burn.” she whispers before gently cleaning the cut, and the alcohol content makes you feel like your whole hand is splitting open. 

“i know, i know, i’m sorry.” she apologizes, wrapping a bandage around your palm slowly, sweetly, like she doesn’t want to hurt you any further. her touch is soft, her movements careful and steady, and every now and then, her fingers brush against your skin in a way that feels intentional, like she’s lingering, even if just for a second.

you’re still caught in the aftershock of the moment— of the rage room, of throwing things back and both, of the way her touch feels, of the wild energy between you. you try to focus on the sting of the cut, but your mind keeps drifting back to her, to how close you are, to the way her eyes meet yours with that subtle, knowing look.

she finishes wrapping your hand, her fingers lingering on your wrist as she looks up at you, her expression softer than you expected. “better?” she asks with a small smile, but there’s something in her gaze that makes you pause. 

“yeah…a little better…thanks.” you whisper, your voice unexpectedly shaky as you try to keep your cool, ignoring the throbbing pain that has slithered its way up your wrist. 

billie’s smile deepens as she leans closer to finish the wrap tightly, her breath warm against your cheek, “you sure you’re okay, for real?” 

you want to say yes. you want to pretend like everything’s fine, like you’re not feeling that strange flutter in your chest, the one that’s completely at odds with the chaos of previous events. but the way she’s looking at you makes it impossible to ignore. there’s an energy between you, a spark that’s been there all along, but now it’s real— too real to deny.

and then, before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning in, closing the distance between you and her, your lips finding hers in a kiss that’s sudden and full of heat. her lips are soft, and for a second, everything around you goes quiet—just the feel of her, the pressure of her mouth against yours, the warmth of her body close to yours as she presses against you. 

when the kiss breaks, your heart is racing, your skin flushed and hot. 

shit. you’re in trouble. 

billie pulls away, her eyes dark, her lips slightly parted as she looks at you, “y/n?” 

you sit up abruptly, the energy shifting immediately as you run a finger over your lips, and tears are already forming. your mind is spinning, your chest is pounding, and you can’t deal with this right now— can’t deal with the weight of it all, the electricity between you that’s starting to feel way too heavy for you to bear. without another word, you grab your things and storm out of the car, slamming the door behind you, your breath coming fast and uneven as you walk quickly, walking to somewhere, anywhere that can get you out of this situation. 

billie watches you go, calling after you, but you keep walking. your breaths come shallow and uneven as you pull out your phone. there’s only one person that can help you fix this, one person that can make a good enough cover up after the horrible thing that just took place.

you click on your contacts and hold the phone up to your ear, hoping and praying that they pick up.

you hear the line connect on the other side, and your breath hitches as you hear a deeper voice sound through the device, “hello?”

“oliver,” you breathe out, “i need your help.”

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[xo-cod]

omg more soft Simon pls😭💗 maybe sth with a highly sensitive reader sfw or nsfw whatever works for u... luv ur blog💖

thank you sm lovie :") this is sfw! sorry i got to this so late 😩🤍

dangerous love

"don't make me say it. i can't say the words"

rolling your eyes, you sit on the lap of your beloved lieutenant. the usual firm and stoic ghost has been left at the door, here he's become so affectionate and clingy, the way you adored it. here, he's simon. his calloused hands are wandering, trying to memorise every part on your skin. even though every nook and cranny is burned into his memory, mapped out exactly where and how to caress your body to get you into a whimpering mess.

"i think that's a lie, i think you can say those words simon riley" accentuating his name elicits a small groan from his lips, how he adores it when you take charge and command him. it brings a side of him he doesn't usually feel safe to show others. but you're so different. so warm and comforting, it just naturally comes out, spilling everywhere before he can even comprehend

you're so close to him, your fingers running though his blonde soft hair scratching gently on his scalp. and he relishes in it, his eyes closing out of habit. he can't help but rock underneath you, hoping you'd forget and immerse yourself in pleasure only he can provide you

but tonight, you were on a mission. and certainly not one to settle for any less so you move back but he grumbles a little, his hold on your waist tightening so that you're back close to him. he can't help but breathe in your sweet smell, practically trembling underneath you. like you're simultaneously not enough but yet overriding his senses.

"iloveyou" he mumbles in your neck, breath tickling your chest. it makes you giggle softly, gently pushing him back. your hands lace with his bigger ones, shaking your head as you gaze down at your half sleepy man

"try again, sir" you whisper, your arms around his neck. his eyes darken with lust at the word, instantly thinking about how many ways he could have you. but you don't relent. he knows what you want and maybe it's the fact that he's so tired that all his walls are down or the fact that he's so in love with you, he can't help but give you what you want

simon leans his forehead against your own, the sweetest of smiles pulling on his lips. his hands come to hold yours, his thumb rubbing comforting circles around your knuckles. he breathes you in a little, not used to being so open and vulnerable about his feelings like this. not used to having someone care for him so deeply, not thinking that he could've ever received such a thing in this painful life.

"i love you, with everything in me. i never thought i could feel this way, that it was even bloody possible..." he breaks off, gently chuckling at the predicament he was in. how for years he swore of love, swore off from ever pursuing a relationship in this life. he didn't grow up with adoring parents that showed him what love meant, he couldn't possibly drag someone else deep down in the depths of his pain and misery of his past. the same thing he was running from.

how nobody could hold a candle to him but you managed to light a whole fire deep in his soul. the embers burning more bright and intense than he could've ever imagined. you truly tilted his world on its axis but he didn't care. for once in his life, he was reckless. and he loved it, for it landed him you.

"but there you were, you little minx. and i've fallen for you y/n l/n, more than you think. more than i even bloody know" his voice is soft as he nears the end of his confession, kissing the tip of your nose. there's really nothing more he could think of, he was a man of few words so action was always his number one thing. no words could do it justice. but he'd show you, again and again. so that even if you had a sliver of doubt all of was expelled, he'd make sure of that

"i love you too si..." you whisper, tenderly holding his stubbled face between your palms. your thumbs rub soft circles on the apples of his cheeks, giving into him. you couldn't help it, he was so addicting. your arms go behind his neck, pulling him towards you desperately. and he did the same, his arms tightening around your waist as if you'd disappear right before him. like he couldn't handle the fact that there could possibly be any sort of distance between you both, he pulls you with his strong arms close to his front.

as you got lost in the feeling of him, a surety had rose, lodged deep in his throat. his hands hold you as if you'll slip through his fingers, deepening the kiss as though your lips were the sweetest of drugs. that it'll be you always, for as long as you will let him. for as long as you'll have him

[auspicioustidings]

Firewatch Part 14

Summary: You visit a grave as our story comes to an end.

Words: 1.9k

You wondered if Johnny had snuck into bed with you. He had done it the last time Simon was on watch and it had been admittedly sort of nice waking up bundled in him. He was pretty cute when he was sleepy. 

He hadn't, the warmth was from Dosia which was strange because these days she usually was either outside or cuddled up with Price if Simon wasn't around like the little traitor she was.

This was not Simon's bed.

–

“You've been through quite the ordeal! Can't believe you were in the forest all this time. Surprised you never came across our Firewatch, they live out there. Or they did I suppose.”

“I- sorry, what do you mean?”

“Didn't you ever notice that tower from your old place? It was a watchtower for wildfires, the men who ran it had a cabin out there as well. Shame about what happened.”

“The fire…”

“Ah last I heard between air support and the trucks coming in to help from all over it's looking like they have it contained, but these things tend to burn for days or weeks before we can really relax.”

“What about the men in the forest? What happened to them?”

The sheriff blinked at you.

“How exactly did you survive out there all this time?”

–

It wasn't as bad as it could have been was what people kept saying. The tower was gone, but the fire had never ripped through the town thanks to quick detection and action to contain it. 

In the span of six months you had lost your home to fire twice over. You were living out of the little bed and breakfast while paperwork was sorted. There was a lot of red tape involved in bringing someone back from the dead, although it was curious how much easier it was made by the sheriff having not properly filed the death certificate in the first place. You weren't as officially dead as you should have been. 

Everything would be wrapped up soon and then you didn't really know what you would do. You had money from the Insurance claim on your cottage (that had been a wild series of phone calls to increasingly senior people as you tried to explain that you were the owner who had perished in the fire), but you had no clue what to do with it. 

You knew you had been putting it off, but it was time to go visit the grave. Maybe then you'd figure it out.

–

It wasn't anything fancy, just a rustic headstone set in the ashes. Dosia wasn't super interested, instead going to rub up against your visitor. Wonders never ceased.

“Knew she'd come around eventually.”

“They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

“Does it?”

You glanced over at Kyle and your heart thumped. The last time you had seen him had been weeks ago when he was disappearing into smoke and embers.

“Yeah, yeah I think it does.”

You both stood and stared at the gravestone, Dosia's ears pricking before she took off towards the treeline. You weren't worried, you were pretty sure you knew who she was in a rush to see. She completely ignored the man walking towards you and Kyle on her way. 

“Ouch.”

“She still hasn't forgiven you for saying I should've got a dog you know.”

“Still think ye should swap her for one.”

“He cried when we thought she didn't make it out.”

“Away and biel yer heid Gaz.”

You had missed them. You had really, truly missed them. It was overwhelming being on your own after always having them around. You were angry a lot at little things like how difficult you found a busy shop now. They had done that to you. It didn't make your stupid feelings any less complicated. It didn't make you feel any less like kissing the new scar on Johnny's arm or the bruises healing on Gaz.

“So you buried your girl in the end huh?”

“A few weeks before the fire. We were planning on bringing you to see it.”

“This close to town? Bit risky no?”

“Aye, reckoned ye were worth the risk.”

You took a deep breath to calm yourself. It was a strange thing looking at your own grave. Why put it here to bring you to see it? To prove that they weren't holding you to some impossible dream girl standard anymore?

“Was supposed to be a birthday present, but we're a bit late now aren't we little bird?”

Price looked tired as he emerged from the treeline. It must have been an awful few weeks for him. There was still the remnants of the fire to be looked after incase it blazed up again. It had taken out the cabin and the tower, nothing left but smouldering wrecks and a nasty looking burn creeping up his neck. All of those drawings in Simon's room gone. You don't know why that was one of the things that made you the saddest.

“Didn't feel much like celebrating anyway” you answered truthfully. 

Your birthday had been 5 days after the fire and you had spent it for the most part staring into the void and napping. You hadn't felt like celebrating your new found freedom at all. 

“We did actually get you something. Still have it, if you'd like.”

You wondered what it was. As far as you knew nothing survived the fire. But they were just things and things didn't seem all that important anymore. Not when Simon finally joined you, a purring Dosia in his arms. He was slow due to a bad left leg it seemed like. 

“OK.”

Simon let Dosia down even though she was very reluctant to go so he could take something from around his neck. He handed you the corded necklace. It had a key on the end.

“Happy birthday sweetheart.”

“What's it for?”

“Havnae given it a name yet, thought we'd leave that for you tae do.”

“It's a 20 minute drive out the other side of town, just on the treeline.”

You stared at them. You knew what they were talking about. There was a crumbling cottage out there, you knew because you had considered buying it when you had first moved here but it was more expensive than the one you had went with and you couldn't afford it. You had completely forgotten it was there.

“Hope you don't mind sweetheart, but we took the liberty of getting the electrical work done.”

“And the roof, sorry luv I know you're a good roofer but my heart cannot take watching you do that again.”

“Tae be fully honest the whole thing is already done. Got a wee bit carried away.”

All those trips into town. The way they'd come back looking tired. They had been building you a home. 

“But… no wait, that's not… you were going to let me go?”

��Couldn't keep you in a cage forever little bird.”

“You'd have gotten arrested!”

“Would we aye? For what?”

“For kidnapping me!”

“Funny thing sweetheart, nobody in town is talking about the fire because they're too busy talking about the miracle girl. Apparently survived months in the forest on her own, told the sheriff she was quite the survivalist.”

“Yeah well! You! I!” you huffed, trying to come up with any reason that you had lied that didn't sound like “I love you”. “It was a cooler story.”

They laughed and it made you smile. You couldn't do it in the end. They were not bad men, you couldn't tell the truth knowing it would see them punished and put away. When you didn't know if they were dead or alive it had brought your feelings a stunning clarity. You had fallen stupidly in love with them. 

“So what's next?”

“Don't know honestly. We're camping out and keeping an eye on things. Once the danger has passed we rebuild” Price said, hand massaging at his shoulder.

“I'm pretty handy with a hammer.”

“Yeah?”

“Suppose I could help out” you offered, fighting to keep the stupid grin off of your face as you held up the key  “after all my cottage is pretty nearby right? And this guy is going to be useless with that leg.”

“Watch it sweetheart, my teeth are still intact.”

–

John liked to joke that you would combust if you didn't have a project. Once the cabin was rebuilt (5 bedrooms, incase they had visitors obviously) you helped where you could with the tower, once that was done you wanted to redo the kitchen in the cottage, after that you talked him into taking in an abandoned dog (honestly very easy what with you and Kyle both giving your best puppy dog eyes). Dosia surprisingly seemed to enjoy the new addition, bullying the german shepherd into doing whatever she wanted. The pair of them mostly came and went as they wanted between the cottage and the cabin, thriving running wild in the forest in between. 

Simon tried to get you into football which you sort of did. You had no interest in the big games, but you'd both go and cheer on the local team when they had home games. Inevitably you both looked a mess having gotten into a bit of a paint fight when you had insisted Simon have a little flag on his cheek. You threatened to de-fang him at least once a week. Both Dosia and Riley were absolutely in love with him which both you and Johnny sulked about. You thought maybe, for Riley at least, that Simon felt safe. His leg never quite healed right so he was more cautious and slow moving now, something you thought she might find comforting. 

When Johnny wasn’t grumbling about the animals wanting nothing to do with him, he was whining at you to not get out of bed. You had never met a lazier creature than John MacTavish on a duvet day, he just wanted to cuddle and watch movies. When he was on a hyper day he wanted to redecorate which almost always ended in a fight because you disagreed on what would look good. Everytime a big video game release rolled around the two of you (and sometimes Gaz depending on the game) would just hole up for a weekend and do nothing but play. Luckily Price indulged you and usually kept you fed and watered. 

Kyle had only been half kidding about making a fire fighter out of you. It started as therapy really, a way to try and control the nightmares. He took the lead in teaching you about all the equipment, letting you observe drills and even buying you custom fitted kit. While you never did want to be near a fire again, you learned to be less scared of the idea, you learned to believe that you would know what to do if anything happened. When you hadn't panicked at a little bin fire in your cottage and instead had just dealt with it, you had showed up at the cabin bursting with excitement to tell them. 

The Firewatch went from 4 to 5. You enjoyed it, the peace and quiet and the stars as you sipped hot chocolate and looked out onto the forest. You didn’t really know what the future held for you, but against all odds you had found a family and you were well and truly happy. And if sometimes you found yourself looking through the binoculars just to check on said family, you figured that was just karma.

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Yandere! Dragon x gn! royal! Reader

I told myself that i'm just going to write one for today, but the writing prompt was so good I just had to do a yandere version of it.

The Dragon has a human and humanoid form.

Also help this was so long and my mind was literally hazy from being sleepy while writing this.

TW: blood, massacre(?)

The Dragon was someone who was feared all in his life.

He was a symbol of greed, of death, of despair.

A symbol of a faith worse than dying when confronted with.

Yet despite being so infamous, he didn't give a second glance to the people who feared him. He only slept, hunted, ate, and occasionally roasted the humans and non-humans who dared to enter his palace.

He knew he will die alone, so he just awaited for his death.

That is, until he met you.

Sweet thing you are, walking around the forest outside his ruined palace looking for your lost dog who somehow got out of the castle grounds. You seriously didn't want to get out here in the forbidden woods but you loved your dog so much that you just had to.

The dragon was looking at you with a careless gaze, seemingly disinterested with your actions and was about to fly away when you suddenly stumbled into the trap he made to catch food for himself.

He sighed before transforming into his human form, jogging towards you.

But what he didn't expect to see is you going ham on the net, biting and gnawing on it like a feral little monkey.

The world was in a standstill.

Your face started to heat up and you let go of the net from your mouth. You cleared your throat and waved at him, embarrassed yet trying to sweep the incident under the rug.

The dragon's human body shook, a laughter bubbling in his throat threatening to escape. You looked away in shame and told him it was okay to laugh. And he let out the loudest laugh he had laughed after years upon years of living.

After laughing for what feels like an eternity, he freed your body who was dying of shame with a hidden blade near the tree.

You thanked him, still can't look straight as his face before running away. You tossed him a ruby before you ran though. It was also an off color. Giving the ruby an gradient of orange to red like a fire.

He smiled gently and picked the ruby up, caressing the cool feeling and bringing it up to his lips. With a kiss, the dragon kept it in his mouth, transformed, and flew away back to his palace.

The days go by and the dragon continued to watch you from the ruined palace. He loved watching you run around (with the dog that he found shivering close to a pile of rubble inside his territory) and do your royal duties. But he can tell that you prefer being active and was constantly being chased by your maids and servants.

Every night before he goes to sleep, he developed a new sleeping habit where he transforms into his humanoid form and just holding the off color ruby you gave him.

With this ruby, you gave him a new will in life.

It sounds superficial, but you made him look forward more to living.

He decided to secretly defend the kingdom by patrolling the territory, wanting to protect your smile that was brighter than the embers he blows.

Yet despite this, your father was a greedy, greedy man.

He wanted to tip the balance between other kingdoms that he considers his enemies.

So, the king offered your hand to the men who could kill the dragon in the ruined palace in search of a great swordsman.

The dragon was shocked, not because of the sudden manhunt, but the fact that the king placed wanted to give you away to some nobody.

He gritted his teeth.

Nobody was going to take you away from him.

He will make sure of it.

So he burned, massacred, and killed the men who tried to bring his head to the king, crunching their bones and spraying blood to the walls of his palace. The once ivory pillars with a little bit of char was now stained red, almost like the off color ruby he always safekept. The horrible stench of death wafted from the forbidden forest, warding off soldiers and warriors who wanted to be your spouse.

When nobody succeeded, the king gritted his teeth and tried to summon for the dragon. What he didn't know he would actually come.

"Sir dragon!" The king delightfully welcomed him. He was obviously afraid but was keeping his shivers intact. The dragon glared at him and sat down on the throne. The king gritted his teeth and yet he can't do anything.

The dragon glared down at him. The sun and mural at the back casting a fierce golden glow around him that reminded the king that he's not in charge anymore, but this fearsome Dragon.

"May I offer something priceless, sir Dragon. In exchange for your subordination with me!" The king boldly asked.

The dragon raised his eyebrow and burned holes with his stare at the king. "Speak, what is it?" His low, guttural growl emitted stray clouds of ember at the edges of his lips.

"My child!" The king yelled happily. "My only child will be your spouse. To heck with those who died trying to kill you in order to take them as their spouse. You can have them!"

The dragon's breath hitched, a heat bubbling on his stomach.

"Your child? You mean your one and only heir?"

"Yes! Them!"

The dragon leaned back and hid his smirk. This king, despite being so shitty, drives a hard bargain the dragon could not resist.

You sighed as the double doors opened. Your fate was already sealed when your father told you that you were a prize, a reward for the greatest swordsman out there who can kill the dragon.

You also thought you're free when the dragon lived with all the men who attempted to kill him die.

But why are you here, at the end of the church, walking towards the front in a wedding attire and a bouquet in your hand?

Instead, you were offered to the dragon as his spouse.

How cruel.

As you started getting close, you felt such an intense stare from the humanoid dragon, your groom, as he looked at you from afar.

You felt like he'll devour you alive.

Your father offered your hand to the dragon, and the dragon gripped your hand securely. As if when he'll try to loosen it, you'll run away like you always do.

"Look at me."

The guttural voice of the dragon made your hair stand on end so you looked up, your mouth letting out a gasp as his humanoid form transformed into one of a full human.

The human you met at the forbidden forest weeks ago.

The dragon was satisfied with how you looked at him in awe, fear, and familiarity.

As the ceremony went on, the exchange of rings took place. So he brought your hand up.

Your eyes widened when you saw your wedding band. It was made from a golden ring with a small off color ruby on it. Ruby that looked so familiar.

The dragon kissed your ring finger and looked at you with such an intense gaze once more.

"You're finally mine, love."

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter fifteen : two tea parties (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.4k

summary : reader and din have a tea party, just not with each other

warnings, etc. : language, angst

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

“What did you do to her?”

Her voice breaks through his sleepy haze as he sits up properly. 

“Excuse me?” He can’t seem to remember her name as he struggles to his feet. She pokes a finger into his chest, for someone staring down a bounty hunter she sure seemed to have a lot of confidence in her ability to intimidate him.

“The princess. What did you do to her? She’s got bruises, she’s hardly eating, and she’s all melancholy in there. And I think you’ve got something to do with it.” 

Shit, shit, shit.

He has several responses forming in his mind right now, all of which would make him appear guiltless. Then his stupidly tired brain decides he’s taking too long so instead he blurts out the first words to force their way out.  

“I didn’t mean to hurt her.” 

He couldn’t be more of an idiot.

The woman grabs his arm and starts dragging him away from your door. He could easily resist but he’s so embarrassed by his own fuck up he doesn’t bother as she pulls him towards an unfamiliar part of the castle, descending staircase after staircase until they reach the servants quarters and she shoves him into a room. It’s about the size of the cabin, a small kitchen in one corner, a sofa in the other, a fireplace with small burning embers dimly illuminating the stone walls, and a twin bed in the back. He recognizes the girl currently snoring softly under the blankets as your other servant. 

“Sit.” The Togruta girl snaps at him, pointing at the wooden table. 

Of course this is where he decides to finally take a stand and he crosses his arms, staring at her. 

Doesn’t last for long as she starts setting things up at the stove.

“Sit or I’m not giving you any caf.” She doesn’t bother turning around and he doesn’t bother resisting further at the promise of caffeine as he sits at the table.

He doesn’t speak as she puts a pot on the stove to boil. He feels a bit like a child who’s about to be scolded. For several minutes the only sounds are the other girl's soft snores and the crackle of the fire as he tries to keep his eyes open. 

He must have fallen asleep for a second because he jolts upright as she slams a mug down in front of him. 

“Drink. You look like shit.” 

“You have no idea what I look like.” He mutters as his hand grips the mug. 

“I do. You look like shit and you look like you haven’t slept in days. Drink.”

She says as she walks over to the bed, facing the wall and blocking his view of the other girl. “Be quick about it.” She takes a sip from her own mug. “Tell me when you’re done.”

In any other scenario he would refuse, or at the very least protest but he hasn’t had caf in a long time, he misses the bitter taste, and he should probably have his wits about him for the conversation they’re about to have. So he releases the airlock and lifts his helmet, quickly swallowing down the mug. 

The fact that he’s a little intimidated by the woman has nothing to do with his sudden obedience. At least that’s what he tells himself as he locks his helmet back in place. 

“I’m finished.” He can feel the familiar buzz of the caffeine as it flows through his system as he temporarily gets to feel a bit more conscious. 

“Good.” She turns and walks over, taking a seat across from him as she stares at him expectantly. 

His hands get clammy and he can feel his palms sticking to the insides of his gloves. 

This must be what his bounties feel like when he interrogates them. 

“What did you do to her?” She finally breaks the silence, continuing to glare at him. 

That’s a good question. 

He had loved you. 

There isn’t a doubt in his mind about that. 

He had been limited to only showing it to you physically, and when you had shown him a glimmer of something outside of that realm he had turned that love into something ugly. 

And now, mere days later he has to wonder if he made the wrong choice. 

He can’t exactly backtrack. He said terrible things to you. His own words from that night echo around in his helmet, taunting him. 

What did he do to you?

He was starting to get a little worried that he might have broken you.

You had spent all day scribbling in the library like a woman possessed. Truly that could have nothing to do with him though, he’s certain he couldn’t have possibly meant that much to you. Enough to drive you mad.

The Togruta girl snaps her fingers in front of the helmet.

“Hey, shiny, snap out of it. I know you had something to do with it so start talking.” 

Okay, maybe he did have something to do with it. 

No, what does she know about what had happened between the two of you? Well apparently she has wickedly good intuition, and he did basically already confess. 

“I’m not sure.” He wishes his voice didn’t tremble slightly but he can’t help it. 

“You aren’t sure…?” She grumbles as she finishes her mug. “Why don’t you start at the beginning. Tell me what happened.” 

And there’s no rational reason to. 

Or at the very least, there’s no rational reason to tell her the truth. 

And maybe it’s because he’s so tired. 

Or maybe it’s because this girl reminds him of someone he once knew, before he took this job.

But he tells her.

He leaves out a lot of the gorey details but he gives her the gist, she sits quietly the entire time as he whispers the things that transpired. And when he’s done he expects her to maybe tell him he did the right thing by ending it, or offer him words of comfort for what’s happened but instead she squints her eyes as she stares him down.

“You’re an idiot.” She says matter of factly as she leans back in her chair. 

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. You are dumb as shit.”

“I did what needed to be done. Things were getting out of hand.”

She scoffs.

“Out of hand? So you’re allowed to do nice things for her like buy her jewelry, and take her on little dates in the garden, but she isn’t allowed to do them for you? Seems pretty stupid to me. And your game is dumb, if you want to know things about her all you have to do is ask, the poor girl would talk to the walls if they’d talk back.” She takes the pot and pours herself another mug of caf, filling his as well. He doesn’t touch it. “And you say you don’t like her rules but it sounds to me like you’re the one who needed them, she didn’t break any rules you didn’t break first.” 

He crosses his arms in front of him, ready to retort but every response dies on his tongue.

She’s right. 

And he doesn’t want to have to ask her for advice but there’s no one else to ask.

“So what do I do? How do I fix this?” 

She chokes a bit on her caf.

“Fix it? Oh hon, you’ve done a lot of damage in a short amount of time.” 

If she could see through the steel she’d see the way his ears tinged pink in embarrassment. 

“So I shouldn’t do anything?” Even he knows he sounds way too sullen. 

She sighs and contemplates for a moment. 

“Look… normally I’d say yes. But I can’t deny that she seemed happier on days when things were okay with the two of you.”

“So what should I do?” He leans forward a bit in his seat. 

“I’d start with an apology, and you better make it good, especially after what you’ve put her through.” 

“Okay. Tomorrow I will try that.” 

He does, try, that is. The most he gets out is static, a crackle of his modulator before he shuts right up. He’s pretty sure you notice. 

“And then, no more lies. No more beating around the bush. If you’re going to put her through this again you need to be certain and you need to be honest. No more pretending it’s just physical, you tell her exactly what you want and exactly how you feel.”

He also tried that. After Kodo had struck you he had pulled together all of his resolve and told himself that he would just spit it out. Instead he had accidentally insulted you and threatened your husband. 

“Okay, I can do that. Umm… What about Kodo?” She takes another sip as he speaks.

“What about him?” 

“Should I not take into account the fact that she’s married?” 

She laughs, a genuine chuckle. 

“Have you seen them together? She looks at him like he’s some mud that she’s accidentally stepped in. Look, if they were happy together, or if I ever thought they could work it out then I might tell you to back off but trust me, those two will never make it work. He’s a pathetic excuse for a man.”

He’s a bit taken aback by her words. 

“Now go. I’m gonna get some shut-eye, I’d tell you to do the same but I know you won’t.” 

He stands, nodding at her. 

“And take the caf. You need it more than I do, if you’re gonna insist on not sleeping.” She sets hers down as she stretches her arms above her head. He takes his mug gratefully in his hands. 

“...Thank you.” 

She only nods in response, he opens the door of her quarters.

“Mandalorian.” 

His hand is on the doorknob as he turns to look back at the woman. 

“Don’t play with her. Either leave her alone or put in the effort.”

He hesitates for a moment before he leaves. 

✩

When your eyes flutter open the first thing you think is that your face should be hurting, your lip should be much more swollen. 

But when your fingers poke at your lip you find it to be mostly healed. 

You stand and leave the closet, walking over to the mirror and inspecting your wounds. There’s no trace of the red welt you would have thought you’d have. The only trace of the incident is a faint pink and white line through your lip. 

Finding the vial on the bed you carefully walk over to the mirror and apply another layer to the mark as Elaine and Lysa knock once as a warning before stepping into the room. You set the tube down on the vanity. 

It’s another hazy morning. 

They really are all blending together when you don’t have things to do. 

You’re dressed in a lacy orange gown. It’s flowy and cool, it seems like it would be perfect for a day in the gardens. Before you even realize what you’re doing you turn to Elaine. 

“Would you like to have tea with me today?” You have no idea what inspires you to ask such a question and you’re sure she’ll say no. That she’ll tell you it isn’t proper for a servant to do such a thing with you but instead she nods.

“That would be lovely, my lady. Where would you like to have it?” She wipes her hands on the front of her dress as she gives you a patient smile. 

“How about the gardens? There’s that gazebo by the water we could sit at.”

✩

You have no idea when she instructed someone to set it up but as the two of you walk towards the gardens there is miraculously already a table with chairs set up inside. A tray of tea steaming in the center of it all. 

You walk in silence, in all honestly it would probably be a comfortable silence if it weren’t for the looming presence of the Mandalorian behind you. Once the two of you step into the wooden structure, taking your seats you clear your throat, awkwardly, seeing him standing beside you in your peripherals. 

Elaine stares at him and the both of you sit, looking at each other uncomfortably until you finally turn and speak to him. 

“Can we have some privacy?” You shoot him a look as you say it and he takes a single, theatrical step back. 

Jackass. 

You’re about to just give up, he’s never wavered previously, why would he start now? But Elaine speaks up.

“I believe she asked for privacy.” 

You lean over towards her to tell her it’s useless, there’s no sense in arguing with him but your eyes go wide as he begins to walk away. You turn to stare at Elaine like she just performed an act of god. 

As the Mandalorian starts walking along the edge of the water you can’t seem to pick your jaw up off the floor, you have more questions than ever for her but none of them seem to flow, so she speaks first. 

“Do you want to talk about what happened at dinner last night?” She’s pouring tea into the mugs, mixing a generous amount of sugar and cream into yours. 

“You heard about that?” The nearly invisible mark on your face stings at the memory.

“Servants talk, I’m afraid it was inevitable that I would hear of it. Do you want to tell me what happened?” She hands you the mug and you take it in both your hands. 

She doesn’t ask if you’re okay. 

Like she knows you couldn’t possibly be. 

“Not really. There isn’t much to talk about, it all happened really fast.” You take a sip, it’s sweet just like the caf she makes you, it warms your tongue and puts you at ease. 

She hums softly, sipping her own, much darker tea. 

“He’s always had a temper that one, the king and queen did not keep a close enough eye on him growing up, and when no one ever says no it’s easy to quickly become a little monster.” She frowns as she speaks and you have to fight to keep the surprised look off your face, the servants never spoke ill of him.

You know this is probably a dangerous conversation but at this point you’re so lonely and things can’t possibly get worse. 

“Honestly, I’m just surprised it didn’t happen sooner. I knew with his pattern of behavior it was inevitable.” You mutter.

She has a breathy sad laugh. 

“Smart girl.” She raises her cup towards Mando. He looks like a kid being left out of a game on the playground as he kicks a stone into the lake. “He seems more upset about it than you.” She raises her eyebrows, now you’re really treading dangerous waters. 

“Mando? He doesn’t care, I think he just doesn’t want me getting banged up because it makes him look like he’s bad at his job.” Deep down you know that isn’t the case.

“Really? So he wasn’t the one who tore that book in half that I found in the hallway this morning?” She takes another sip as she stares at him out across the water, you choke on your tea.

“In half?” Your voice is a shocked whisper. It had been by no means a short book. It had been a hardcover, thick encyclopedia. 

“In half. Took Leo quite some time to pick up all that shredded paper.” She chuckles. Setting down her mug as she stares at you with an intensity you weren’t prepared for. 

She takes a deep breath that has you nervously tapping your nails against your cup. 

“I know that it’s hard, being in your position, to find people to confide in. But if you ever need to talk about something that’s bothering you, I am available, my lady. And I can be extremely discreet.” She folds her hands in her lap as you stare down at them. Unable to meet her gaze. 

What a breath of fresh air it would be, to have a friend, with no other complicated feelings. But you can’t just tell her what you’ve done. 

“I am not blind, princess. It’s my job to make sure you’re okay. And I know for a fact that you were doing more than okay for a few days and in an instant I saw all of that disappear.” She tilts her head down so she’s in your eyeline and you’re sure your face has a look of guilt on it. 

If it was just your life on the line you’d probably tell her everything. Just to get it out. But it’s not just your life, it’s his. You shudder as you imagine the things Kodo would do to him if he found out. 

But you could twist the truth. 

Tell her harmless details and maybe still find some comfort.

“He had been my friend. Briefly.” Your words are careful and deliberate. 

She nods, picking up her glass once more. Staying silent as an invitation for you to keep going. 

“At least… I thought he was my friend. Now I sort of think he might have just been messing with me.” You’re still being cautious with every detail you reveal. Keeping it simple and innocent. “And I guess he got bored. It’s confusing, I can’t keep up with him, it makes my head spin because he keeps changing.”

“Changing?”

She picks up the teapot, refilling your mugs. 

“It’s… hard to explain. It’s like, he’s a different person everyday. Some days he can’t stand me and some days he-“ You manage to catch yourself before you go one step too far. “Some days he cares for me. I’m starting to wonder if he just enjoys making me miserable.” You pour another spoonful of sugar into your mug. 

“I think he cares for you very much.” She says it so matter of factly that you almost roll your eyes at the notion.

“I doubt that. If that is the case he has a really fucked up way of showing it.”

“Look at him.” She nods out towards the lake and when you turn he’s crouched down next to the edge of the water. 

He’s deadly still for a moment and then he slowly reaches down and scoops something up from the surface of the water. Holding it close to his helmet as he stands. Completely focused on whatever is in his hand. 

He looks strangely domesticated. 

You watch as what you now realize is a frog, jumps out of his hand back into the lake. 

He stares at his empty palm for a long time. 

“He looks like a lost puppy without you. I have to wonder what he was doing before he took this job because it seems like he doesn't know what to do with himself when he isn’t wagging his tail and trailing behind you.” She chuckles and you can’t help but laugh softly with her. 

It feels good to laugh. 

It feels less good to blurt out your next question. 

“Have you ever, umm… talked to him?” You don’t want to ask it, it feels so childish but you can’t help it as you turn back to face her, hoping there isn’t any lingering jealousy in your tone. 

“A little bit. Enough to know that I’m right, he does care for you.” 

You cough awkwardly. 

“What did he say?”

You catch her smirk right before she takes another sip. 

“Mostly he seemed to have a lot of excuses. But I think his real issue is just that he’s scared.”

Huh. 

It’s difficult to picture him scared of anything. 

“Scared?”

“I think this is a conversation you should be having with him.”

“But he won’t talk to me, the first time he’s spoken to me all week was only because of what Kodo did.”

“It isn’t my place to tell you how to deal with him. I just know that you seemed happier when things were good between the two of you.” 

It’s quiet for a few minutes as the two if you drink and you come to terms with her words. She speaks first.

“He doesn’t sleep either.” 

“What?”

“The Mandalorian. He isn’t sleeping. He just sits in front of your door all night.”

You had suspected that to be the case but the confirmation makes your heart skip a beat. 

“He just sits there? What is he doing?”

“I only see him there in passing, I do a lot of my errands at night, I’m more productive when I’m the only one roaming the castle. It seems like he’s just waiting for you.” 

You frown. 

“Waiting for me to do what?”

She laughs. 

“He’s just waiting for you.”

There’s that ache in your chest. She leans forward to give you a sympathetic look, your pain must show on your face. 

“How about we talk about something else for a bit?” Her voice is soft and comforting as you nod. 

“What about you, do you have a special someone?” You laugh for a moment until you realize your slip up and the color drains from your face. “Like, a friend.”

Real smooth, dummy. 

She doesn’t seem fazed though as she grins. 

“Yeah, I’ve got a special friend.” She laughs to herself and you relax a bit. She looks towards the lake and back at you before raising her eyebrows. He’s walking back over as she changes the subject. “What are you planning on wearing tomorrow?”

You can’t help but laugh. 

“How should I know? You and Lysa always pick for me.” She rolls her eyes at your response. 

“I meant to the ball.”

The confusion must be apparent on your face because she sighs. 

“Of course no one told you. Maker, is anyone else in the castle capable of treating you like a person other than me?” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Kodo’s birthday is tomorrow. He makes a big deal of it every year, it’s a huge party, you of course will be expected to attend.”

You don’t bother stifling your groan.

“And I absolutely have to go to this?” 

She pats your knee as she leans back in her chair, eyeing the Mandalorian up and down as he walks into the gazebo, standing on the opposite side of it, away from the two of you. 

“I’m afraid you do, but don’t fret, he’s always so preoccupied during this thing that you won’t have to worry about staying for long. You’ll just need to make an appearance as his wife for a bit and you should be able to leave after a few hours if you'd like. It tends to get a bit rowdy as the night goes on so I suggest getting out once the opportunity presents itself.” 

You nod, this must be is what it feels like to have a friend. 

It makes you realize that you and the Mandalorian had never really been friends, that was completely different than what this was. With him there was always something more there, something demanding your attention that you always managed to ignore. With Elaine it’s easy to just talk without any other feelings lingering in the air. 

“I suppose I will wear whatever you decide is best.” You give her a grin.

“If that is what you wish.”

“But not blue.” She raises an eyebrow as you say that but she’s smirking.

“Excellent choice.”

Your eyes dart over to the Mandalorian, he’s facing away from the two of you, giving you a false sense of privacy as you look back to Elaine. 

“And not green.” 

“As you wish, my lady.” 

You don’t talk about much else of importance after that. She tells you that she wants to make dresses someday, and you tell her about some of the romance novels you’ve read. 

The Mandalorian stays in the gazebo, a reminder to keep things light. 

She tells you that Lysa is a rather talented piano player, and that Leodall dreams of one day becoming a lord or a duke. It’s nice, casual. You want to do it again at some point and when you tell her that, she happily agrees. 

Eventually she walks you back to the castle, he walks behind the two of you, always just out of reach until you make it back inside.

You can’t help it.

You hug her.

Mumbling a thank you, because you feel worlds better after having a conversation with someone with no tensions and no ulterior motives. 

She departs and you walk to the library, reading another cheesy romance novel at your drawing table until the sun has set. 

He still doesn’t speak, every so often he’ll pace the length of the room at one point you’re pretty sure he trips over nothing. How odd. You return to your quarters as always, ready to turn in for the night.

✩

Except you can’t.

You pace back and forth throughout your room. Your bare feet shuffling across the cool wood floors. 

He’s ruining your sleep again. 

Because now you can’t close your eyes without thinking about how he’s out there, waiting for you. 

You had wanted comfort and maybe even closure from Elaine but instead you’re more confused than ever. 

He wants you, he doesn’t want you, he hates you, he’s willing to die for you. None of it makes sense and he’s out there. 

Your chest hurts thinking about him all alone out there every night. Even if he hates you, and doesn’t want you. 

You’d feel better if he was at least sleeping out there. But no, he’s awake and aware and always there. 

Is he listening in? Has he turned up the helmet to listen to the soft patter of your footsteps? Why would he be doing that? He’s supposed to not care about you, to not want you. But according to Elaine that isn’t the case? Every single hour he gets more and more confusing, you want to scream at him. You want to punch him in his stupid Beskar face. (Mostly because you know it wouldn’t really hurt him all that bad.) You want to demand answers, demand he leave you alone, or demand he take it all back.

Could you forgive him?

You’re pretty sure you want to forgive him.

You just aren’t sure if you can. 

That is, of course, if he ever apologizes. 

Does he want to apologize?

Why would he have said all those things in the first place if he didn’t mean them?

You don’t remember opening the door. But right now you’re staring down at him and he’s staring up at you, so you must have at one point. He’s sitting with his legs out in front of him as you take a step back, leaving the door open. 

A silent invitation in. 

You’re worried for a moment that he isn’t going to accept it but he slowly gets to his feet. Stretching his arms back a bit with a groan as he takes a step in. 

You hadn’t seen it before but now you don’t know how you didn't realize how exhausted he looks. You don’t even know how he’s still standing as he stumbles into the room as you close the door, clicking the lock shut. 

His shoulders are slumped forward, his usual imposing posture is completely gone and his helmet keeps tilting downwards before jolting back up, like he’s barely keeping his eyes open. 

It’s torture, never being able to stay angry at him. 

You had no plan when you’d let him in. Maybe yell at him, demand answers, demand he free you of this curse that is wanting to be his. 

But you can’t do that. Not when he’s looking around like he doesn’t even know where he is. Maker, when was the last time he slept? 

Reaching forward you take his hand, leading him over to the bed and sitting him down. 

“Mando?” You say it like you’re speaking to a lost child who can’t find their parents. 

He hums softly in response, the helmet tilting up to look at you as you give his hand a gentle squeeze. 

“You’re gonna sleep here. The door is locked so you don’t have to worry about anyone taking off your helmet, okay?”

He nods and your heart stops as his hand comes up to your face. His thumb brushes over the nearly completely faded line on your lip. 

“M’sorry… ner sarad’ika. Bid ni ceta.” His voice is a warm sleepy drawl and you have to close your eyes so he doesn’t see the pained look you have when he starts speaking in that soft tone, the gentle one you feel like you haven’t heard in ages, the one that’s just for you. You can’t help but wonder if he’ll remember any of this tomorrow. 

“Don’t be sorry. You didn’t do this, remember? It was Kodo, not you.” You gingerly pull his hand from your face as you hold his arms, laying him down against the mattress. 

You shouldn’t, not when he’s clearly so vulnerable but you can’t help yourself as you run your knuckles against the cold steel of his helmet, trying to soothe him. 

“That’s not what I’m sorry about mesh’la.” His hands reach forward, asking for you, and you have to use all of your self control to not give in and just hold him. You settle for giving him your hands as you nod. 

You need this to end. It’s too much and you know it’ll be gone in the morning. Once he gets some sleep he’ll be gone again. Standing behind you, your shadow. Not like right now, where he’s in front of you, and needs you. You can’t lose this again, you won’t be able to take it so you start to walk away but he pulls you down so you’re sitting next to him and he’s so gentle about it. He’s so out of it right now, he should be in his default state right now, he’s a trained killer, he should naturally be rough and aggressive with you, but he isn’t. 

Even in this condition he makes a conscious choice to handle you like you might crumble to pieces if he isn’t careful. 

At this point you might. 

“I need to go to bed, Mando. I’ll be in the closet, right there if you need me.” 

His grip on your hands tightens ever so slightly. 

“Y’know that m’sorry, right? I need to know that you know.” His voice cracks on the last word and his voice is laced with a desperation you’ve never heard from him before. You even hear a little sniffle through the modulator.

Maker he must really be sleep deprived. 

It feels like drowning. He’s taking you out into open waters with these words and in the morning he’ll be gone and you’ll be left without a life jacket. 

“I know Mando.” His grip loosens enough for you to stand up. Your voice is strained. “I promise, I know, but I need you to get some sleep now, can you do that for me?”

He hesitates. Like he’s trying to make sure you understand. 

“Okay, sarad’ika.”

He nods as he releases your hands, his shoulders relax and he’s asleep in minutes. Once you’ve certain he’s out cold you go back to the closet, leaving the door cracked in case he needs something as you curl up in your blankets. 

Your hands fish around in the sheets and pillows until you find the book, pulling it out you open it and let the necklace he had given you fall out. Cradling it in your hands you trace the small charm with your fingers. 

Sarad’ika. 

He can’t do that to you. 

He can’t just call you that again after what he did. 

Bodyguard, rival, friend, protector, confidant, lover, nothing. 

He decided he wanted to be nothing. So why should he get to say sweet things in Mando’a to you with no repercussions? 

It makes your blood boil as you shove the necklace into one of the pillow cases, getting ready to go back out there and give him a piece of your mind but as you’re about to stand and pull yourself together you can hear rumbling, static snores from the other room.

And you can’t help but crack a smile. 

He sounds like a fucking Wookiee when he snores. 

Something about it makes you lay back down.

Like it reminds you that under all that perfect metal he is still only a man. 

He needs sleep.

So do you. 

Being angry with him can wait until tomorrow. 

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[writingrock]

the tale of two lovers [9]

pairing: barbarian! katsuki bakugou x reader (female) summary: a bard approaches a lone barbarian in search for a story to tell. Who could have known that the barbarian end up being such a romantic tale.

notes: fantasy au, fluff, strangers to lovers, slow burn, bakusquad, barbarian bakugou

word count: 8.5k

part list

part one: chapter list

a/n: this chapter was definitely on time... don't even..

The first thing you did upon waking wasn’t meditating but checking your map and compass, ensuring the route you’d scouted the night before was still clear in your mind. You couldn’t bear to mess up at this stage of the journey. There were no room for mistakes. You were all too close to the heart of the forest to fumble now. Just the thought of what lay ahead shook off the last remnants of sleep as you traced the lines of your map, reviewing each turn and landmark until you felt confident with your memory. Only once you felt certain did you allow yourself a moment of morning meditation. Not that you had long to. One by one, the others slowly woke up, stretching and yawning as they emerged from their bedrolls, the early morning light filtering softly through the trees.

The group shuffled around the embers of the campfire, sorting up the first meal of the day. Breakfast was simple— rations from the previous day, paired with leftovers from last night. To your surprise, there was little chatter this morning. No one sharing odd dreams or complaining about someone’s snoring. Instead, everyone finished up and moved quietly through the familiar routine of packing up. Mina and Denki moved groggily through their tasks, sharing sleepy smiles as they gathered their belongings. Sero meticulously checked the area, ensuring nothing was left behind. Kirishima was already rolling up his bedroll, efficiently finishing the job. Bakugou was already waiting with his arms crossed over his chest, glancing at the group with a lick of impatience in his eyes.  

“Everyone ready?” you asked, scanning the camp alongside Sero to ensure nothing had been left behind. Though subtle, a quiet sense of anticipation seemed to ripple through the group, sharpening everyone’s focus.

It took a moment for anyone to respond, as each person made a final check of their gear and belongings. Finally, Kirishima broke the silence, springing up with his usual enthusiasm.

“Ready!” he announced, his voice brimming with energy. The others nodded in agreement, echoing his sentiment with determined expressions. But beneath their steady resolve and excitement, there was a hint of anxiety. A trace of worry from awareness of what lay ahead, of the unknown at the heart of the forest.

With everything packed, you led the way, navigating by the route you’d planned. Today, the air felt different, tinged with a subtle magic that pulsed beneath the surface, guiding you toward your destination.The path wound through the woods, the undergrowth thick but manageable. As you pressed on, the landscape began to shift. The tree trunks were twisted and ancient, draped in glowing moss that shimmered in the sunlight. The air cooled, carrying the scent of fresh water and wildflowers, each breath filling you with a sense of purpose. Hours passed in focused silence as the group forged ahead. By midday, the forest thinned, and you stepped into a vast clearing that took your breath away.

The clearing was a perfect circle, surrounded by towering trees that seemed to stand guard. The grass was lush and vibrant, soft beneath your feet like a natural carpet. Scattered across the clearing were countless unopened buds, their petals tightly furled, as if waiting for the perfect moment to bloom. At the centre lay a large pond, its surface still as glass, reflecting the sky above. Around it, clusters of night flower buds, their closed blooms hinting at the luminescent display you had seen before.

“This is it,” you murmured, your voice barely more than a breath as you took in the serene beauty of the heart of Niniel’s Veil. The air was dense with magical energy, making every breath feel as if you’ve inhaled fumes of pixie dust. The group stepped forward with their mouths agape in wonder and disbelief. It was as if the forest had finally opened up. And now you were standing at its heart.

Kirishima let out a low whistle, his eyes wide as he took in the sight. “Woah… this place is incredible,” he said, admiring the panoramic scene before him.

Denki stood in rare, quiet admiration. His usual carefree spirit was replaced by genuine awe. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” he murmured, almost as if speaking too loudly would break the magical atmosphere.

Mina’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she spun slowly, taking in every detail of the clearing. “It’s like something out of a dream,” she said, her voice filled with childlike wonder. The flowers, still tightly furled, seemed to whisper of untold secrets, their vibrant colours muted in the dappled light.

Sero smiled softly, his gaze fixed on the large pond at the clearing’s centre. Its surface was perfectly still, reflecting the sky above like a mirror. “So this is the heart of the Veil,” he whispered to himself.

Bakugou stood a little apart from the rest, his silence not out of indifference but out of something deeper. As expected, Bakugou’s eyes have begun to sweep over the clearing, taking in every bit of detail. You could almost see the gears turning in his mind, already planning the next steps.

But the flowers, rows upon rows of unopened night blooms, created a natural barrier, making it clear that this was not a place to tread lightly. Their petals were still tightly closed, as if waiting for nightfall to reveal their true nature. You knew better than to disturb them, sensing that the heart of Niniel’s Veil was as delicate as it was powerful.

“We can’t set up camp here,” you said, your voice breaking the quiet spell. “These flowers… We should respect their space.”

You led the group a little farther from the clearing, finding a suitable spot where the ground was soft and the view of the pond remained unobstructed. “We’ll set up camp nearby,” you decided, dropping your pack onto the grass. “We need to be ready for whatever comes next.”

Without hesitation, everyone moved into familiar action, setting up tents and organising supplies with efficiency. It was calm among the group, but underneath there was an electric hum of anticipation thrummed through the gaps. 

Kirishima, who had been unrolling his bedroll, glanced up with a grin. “We made it,” he said, feeling rather relieved that they’ve made it this far. He was simply glad to finally be here to wrap up the final ends of the journey. “Now we just have to figure out what’s next.”

Denki, helping Mina build a fire, nodded in agreement. “Yeah, but whatever it is, we surely got it.” Denki sounded determined, also lightened up with relief that they’re a step closer to the end of this journey. “Seriously though, look at this place— it’s like we stepped into another world.” Mina gushed as she arranged the firewood, sparing a glance over to the clearing. 

A low and firm voice grumbled from the trees. “Don’t get too comfortable. The Veil’s not done with us yet. This place… it’s hiding something. We just have to find it.” Bakugou trudged into the conversation with more firewood.

You looked around, feeling the weight of his words. The heart of Niniel’s Veil was a place of mystery, where beauty and danger intertwined, and the sense that you were standing on the edge of something great filled the air. Whatever came next, you knew it would be unlike anything you had faced before. You could feel the Veil watching, waiting, and you were ready to meet whatever challenge it had in store. This place, with its untouched beauty and strange allure, was just the beginning. The pond, surrounded by those enigmatic night flowers, held the mystery of the artefact waiting to be solved.

As the group settled into the camp, Sero rummaged through his pack with a mischievous grin. “Hey, I’ve got something to kill some time,” he announced, pulling out a worn deck of cards. The edges were frayed, and the faces were slightly faded, but they were a treasured item that had seen many nights of banter and laughter on the road.

Mina’s eyes lit up, and she clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, yes! A card game is exactly what we need right now. What are we playing?”

Kirishima leaned over, curious. “I’m down for anything that doesn’t involve moving. All that trekking took a lot out of me.”

Denki glanced up from arranging the last of the supplies, a grin spreading across his face. “Deal me in. I could use a distraction.”

Sero shuffled the cards with a flourish, clearly proud of his impromptu idea. “Alright, how about we play ‘Dragon’s Bluff’? It’s simple: whoever has the best hand wins, but you’ve got to be a good liar to get away with it.”

Bakugou, who had been stoking the fire with a stick, gave them a questioning look. “Seriously? Sounds like a waste of time.”

You shrugged, already taking a seat around the makeshift table they’d created with a few flat rocks and logs. “Come on, Bakugou. It’s all in good fun. Besides, it’s been a long time since we’ve done something that doesn’t involve fighting for our lives.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes but eventually tossed the stick aside and joined the circle, reluctant to join in. “Fine. But don’t whine when I take all your rations as bets.”

The cards were dealt, and the game quickly turned into a lively affair. Mina tried her best to bluff her way through each round, throwing exaggerated expressions and wild gestures that had everyone laughing. Her exaggeration worsened especially when her hand was terrible. In contrast, Sero kept his cards close, playing strategically and throwing in just enough banter to keep everyone guessing.

Kirishima, honest to a fault, struggled to keep a straight face. Often bursting into laughter every time he tried to bluff, which often gave away his hand. “I’m terrible at this!” he admitted, cheeks flushed from laughing so much. “I swear I’m not lying, but you guys never believe me!”

You found yourself enjoying the game more than you expected, the chipper atmosphere a welcome change from the usual tension. Denki, meanwhile, was in his element, throwing wild accusations and daring bluffs, his animated storytelling a perfect distraction that often led to him winning rounds he had no business winning.

And then there was Bakugou, who played with a focused intensity that turned every move into a psychological game. His expression was impossible to read as he watched everyone’s tells with a predatory patience. He didn’t speak much, but when he did, it was with a smug confidence that had the others on edge. “Nice try,” he’d say, exposing a perfect hand after baiting his opponents into risky moves.

By the time the game had been going for a while, the circle around the makeshift table was filled with laughter, playful insults, and groans of defeat. Mina leaned back with a dramatic sigh, her latest bluff having just been called out by Sero. “You guys are ruthless. I swear I had that one!”

Kirishima shook his head, grinning as he tossed his cards onto the pile. “We should have known Sero had something up his sleeve when he suggested this.”

Sero only shrugged, shuffling the deck once more. “Hey, I just thought we could all use some fun. And besides, it’s not about winning or losing. It’s about the thrill, right?”

Bakugou smirked, gathering up his small pile of winnings— mostly rations and the occasional favour. “Speak for yourself. I’m winning.”

As the game continued, the sky above slowly darkened, stars beginning to twinkle faintly through the gaps in the tree canopy. The group’s laughter echoed softly in the clearing, mingling with the sounds of the forest. As the day faded into night, the sky deepened into a velvet blue. A strange and enchanting transformation began to unfold. From the darkness of the forest floor, delicate buds began to stir. One by one, luminescent night flowers emerged, their petals unfurling in a breathtaking display of ethereal beauty. They glowed with a soft, silvery light, casting an otherworldly luminescence over the landscape.

The flowers’ petals opened slowly, like the shy unveiling of a secret, revealing their inner glow to the world. Their light danced across the field, creating a mesmerising tapestry of shimmering colours that swayed gently in the breeze. In the centre of the nearby pond, a larger night flower began to rise. Its bloom was immense, its petals spreading wide like the canopy of a great tree, casting an even brighter glow that illuminated the entire area with a gentle, otherworldly light.

Kirishima’s eyes widened in amazement. “Whoa, look at that! It’s huge!”

Denki whistled softly, his usual energy replaced with awe. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like something out of a dream.”

Mina, her gaze fixed on the grand flower, added, “It’s beautiful. Almost surreal.”

Sero nodded, his eyes twinkling with the reflection of the luminescent scene before him. “It’s like the forest is putting on a show just for us.”

You took in the scene, a deep sense of nostalgia washing over you. The sight of the night flowers brought back memories of a time long past, when you had witnessed this same magical event with your father. The memory was bittersweet, a reminder of days spent exploring the wonders of nature with someone who was your father and mentor. It was a blissful memory, one you’d treasure for the rest of your days.

Shaking off the melancholy, you turned to the group, trying to keep your tone light yet firm. “Be careful, everyone. These night flowers are not just for show. They produce drowsy pollen. It’s best to cover your mouths with something, or you might find yourself dozing off unexpectedly.”

Kirishima’s eyes widened slightly, staring down at the innocent-looking flowers. “Seriously? Should we do anything else to stay alert?”

You nodded, pulling a scarf from your pack and wrapping it around your face. “Just be cautious. It’s a beautiful sight, but the pollen can be quite potent. Keep your distance if you start feeling drowsy.”

The group nodded in understanding, quickly following your lead. With their faces covered, they ventured towards the pond, their curiosity piqued by the grand night flower. Each step brings them closer to the heart of the forest's enchanting display. As they approached the pond, the grandeur of the enormous night flower dominated their view. Its petals unfurled in a delicate cascade of light, bathing the surroundings in a soft, ethereal glow. You were willing to bet that the artefact lay somewhere within this captivating bloom, but you needed a closer look.

You reached for your scarf, intending to remove it for a clearer view of the massive bloom before you. But as your fingers brushed the fabric, you hesitated, a sharp reminder flashing in your mind of the danger that the flower’s pollen posed. The air was thick with the faint, shimmering dust, barely visible but undoubtedly potent. Exposing yourself fully to it could prove reckless, and you knew better than to take that risk.

Instead, you tightened your grip on the scarf wrapped securely around your mouth and nose, feeling the familiar weave of fabric pressing against your skin. You considered your options carefully, the gears in your mind turning as you stared at the flower, its petals vibrant and impossibly large, each one curling delicately at the edges as though hiding a secret within.

An idea struck, and you extended your arm, calling forth your familiar, Kyrah, a majestic eagle with sharp, piercing eyes and feathers that shimmered in the light. With a flick of your wrist, Kyrah appeared, wings beating powerfully as it hovered beside you, sensing your intent even before you spoke.

“Kyrah,” you commanded, your voice steady as you kept the scarf over your nose and mouth. “Fly over the flower. Show me what’s inside.”

Kyrah’s keen eyes locked onto the target, understanding your request immediately. Kyrah soared upward, wings cutting through the air with silent grace. As the eagle approached the enormous flower, the view shifted, the petals growing larger, each vein and fleck of colour more distinct. You murmured a brief incantation, your words quiet and deliberate as you tapped into the bond between you. The spell took hold, and your vision blurred momentarily as it shifted, merging with Kyrah’s. In an instant, you were no longer seeing through your own eyes but through those of your familiar, the world transformed into crisp, vivid detail. You saw everything through Kyrah’s sight: the shimmering golden pollen dusting the petals, the delicate movements of the flower as if breathing in time with the forest around it.

Kyrah circled above, giving you a clear vantage point. As it hovered over the flower’s centre, you finally glimpsed what lay within: a cluster of glowing orbs, pulsating softly with a light that was almost otherworldly. The orbs were nestled deep among the petals, emitting a faint, rhythmic hum that resonated through the air, almost musical in its tone. They glowed with a faint, bluish light, each one connected by slender tendrils of translucent vines that seemed to pulse in harmony.

You focused, absorbing every detail, your heart racing at the sight. You had never been this close to this flower when you were here with your father. It was clear that it was no ordinary flower— the sheer size of it spoke volumes. Whatever it guarded was alive, charged with a strange, unfamiliar magic that tugged at your senses. You knew immediately that the orbs were an obstacle to whatever mystery the heart of Niniel’s Veil held. But their exact purpose remained elusive, cloaked in layers of enchantment that you could only begin to decipher. Based on the riddle, you could only assume the artefact would lay in there. 

Kyrah swooped lower, giving you a closer look, but the pollen grew thicker, swirling like a shimmering mist around the orbs. You watched as tiny sparks of energy danced within the pollen, flickering like fireflies trapped in amber. It was beautiful, mesmerising even, but there was also a danger to it— one wrong move and you could find yourself ensnared by the flower’s strange magic.

“Careful, Kyrah,” you whispered, even though you knew your familiar couldn’t hear you directly. The bond between you was strong enough that Kyrah sensed your caution, pulling back just slightly, maintaining a safe distance while still providing you with a view of the orbs.

With a final sweep, Kyrah flew back toward you, landing gracefully on your outstretched arm. The vision shifted back to your own eyes, leaving you momentarily disoriented but filled with the knowledge of what you had seen. The flower was a guardian of something precious and powerful, and whatever lay within those glowing orbs had to be the artefact Bakugou had been searching for. You lowered your arm, feeling the weight of the discovery settle in. 

You took a deep breath, your mind still reeling from what you had seen through Kyrah’s eyes. The glowing orbs nestled within the massive flower were unlike anything you had encountered before. They were humming with an ancient magic that seemed to pulse in rhythm with the forest itself. 

The group gathered around, curiosity etched on their faces as they waited for you to speak. Bakugou’s stares never left you, his arms crossed and posture tense, while Mina and Kirishima exchanged worried glances. Denki fidgeted nervously, clearly eager to hear what you had found, and Sero watched you with a cautious, measured calm.

“What’s in there?” Kirishima asked, a touch of concern in his voice. “You looked like you saw something big.”

You nodded, collecting your thoughts before you began. “I did. There’s a cluster of glowing orbs, unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. They’re nestled deep within the petals, and they’re… alive. Pulsating with some kind of magic.”

Mina leaned forward, absorbing your words as she puzzled with the implication of the magical orbs in the flower. What could those orbs do? “Orbs? What do you think they are? Are they dangerous?”

You glanced at her, then back to the rest of the group. “I’m not entirely sure what they are, but they’re not just decoration. There’s an ancient magic to them— one that’s tied to the Veil itself. I think the orbs are protecting whatever lies at the centre of the flower, and we need to be extremely careful. I suspect that the artefact we’re looking for is in there, hidden among those orbs.”

Denki’s brows furrowed as he tried to picture what you were describing. “So, you’re saying those glowy things are like… protective measures or something?”

You nodded, your expression serious. “Exactly. The orbs are like guardians, in a way. I felt it through Kyrah’s eyes. The magic is old, ancient even, and it’s designed to keep intruders out. If we make the wrong move or trigger them, there’s no telling what could happen. They could be traps, alarms, or worse.”

Bakugou’s eyes narrowed, his mind already racing with possibilities. “So what’s the plan? We just sit here and wait? Or are you saying we go in blind?”

“We can’t go in recklessly,” you cautioned, meeting Bakugou’s intense gaze. “If we disturb those orbs without understanding what they do, we could set off something catastrophic. They’re too sensitive, and this magic… it’s not something we’ve dealt with before. We need to find a way to disable or bypass them, but not until we know exactly what we’re up against.”

Sero rubbed the back of his neck, glancing toward the flower. “So, what’s our next move? Can we get a closer look without setting them off?”

You thought for a moment, weighing your options. “We’ll need to study them from a distance, carefully,” you began. “I can use Kyrah again to scout further, maybe find a pattern or a safe way through. But none of us should touch the flower or the orbs directly until we have a better idea of what we’re dealing with.”

Kirishima nodded, his usually cheerful expression now marked with caution. “Alright, so no poking the magic orbs. Got it. We’ll play this one smart.”

You hesitated for a moment, then decided to share another critical piece of information. “There’s something else you all need to know. The flower is emitting a potent pollen— similar to the night flowers in the clearing, but much stronger. If we get too close without proper protection, it could knock us out cold.”

Mina’s eyes widened with concern. “That bad, huh? How close do you think we can get before it affects us?”

“Not very,” you replied. “Even from a distance, I could feel its pull. It’s subtle, but powerful. The pollen in the night flowers was enough to make us drowsy, but this one… it’s on a whole different level. If we’re not careful, it could overwhelm us before we even get a chance to react.”

Mina stepped back instinctively, her expression shifting as she processed the information. “So it’s like a defence mechanism, right? The flower lulls you in, makes you drop your guard. If you get too close, you’re done for.”

“Exactly,” you confirmed, watching the swirling particles drift lazily in the air. “The pollen is meant to disarm anyone who gets too close. It’s subtle, but it’s powerful. If we breathe too much of it, we’ll be vulnerable, drowsy, and easy prey for whatever else this place has in store.”

Sero frowned, glancing toward the massive flower. “So, not only do we have to worry about those orbs, but we’ve got to deal with sleep-inducing pollen too? Sounds like a real party.”

“It’s going to be difficult,” you said. “We need to be fully aware of the risks. If anyone starts feeling lightheaded or sleepy, we back off immediately. The last thing we need is someone collapsing before we’ve even figured out how to approach this.”

Bakugou scowled, irritation flashing across his face. “This thing’s got traps on traps. Can’t we just blow it out of the way?”

You shook your head quickly, knowing that would only make things worse. “No. We can’t just force our way through. The flower and the orbs are connected. If we try to destroy it, there’s no telling what kind of reaction we’ll trigger. The pollen could spread, or worse, the orbs could activate.”

Denki, trying to keep the mood light, offered a small grin. “This isn’t going to be an easy one, huh?”

You gave a tight smile, appreciating his attempt to ease the tension. “Unfortunately. But we’re not rushing in blind. We’ll take our time, study the situation, and only make a move when we’re confident we can do it safely.”

The group nodded in agreement, the weight of the challenge before you settled in. The combination of the potent pollen and the ancient magic guarding the flower meant that this would be one of the most delicate operations you’d ever attempted. But you knew you could find a way through, especially with your party. 

“Let’s stay focused,” your resolute tone rings through the group. “We’ll figure this out, step by step. Kyrah will help us map a safe path, and we’ll keep our distance until we’re sure we can approach without triggering anything— or putting ourselves in danger.”

With that, the plan was set in motion. Caution would be your greatest ally in this final stage of the journey, and as you prepared to send Kyrah out once more, you steeled yourself for the challenge ahead. 

Kyrah took to the skies once more, her powerful wings cutting through the air with silent grace as she soared overhead. You focused on your familiar, your vision blurring and shifting until you were seeing through her sharp, keen eyes. The world below came into crystal-clear focus. Every petal, every swirl of pollen, and every faint glow of the orbs within the flower was laid bare before you.

Kyrah circled above the enormous bloom, her movements careful and deliberate, studying every detail of the flower’s structure. The petals were vast and slightly curled, creating layers that shielded the glowing orbs at the centre. The pollen drifted like a fine mist, shimmering faintly in the sunlight, thicker near the heart of the flower where the magic was most concentrated.

As Kyrah hovered, you scanned the area, searching for a path through the dense layers of petals and pollen that wouldn’t trigger the ancient magic protecting the orbs. It was like navigating a living maze— one wrong turn could unleash whatever power the flower was guarding. You watched closely, noting the way the petals shifted ever so slightly, almost as if responding to Kyrah’s presence.

There was a narrow gap between two of the larger petals, a space just wide enough for someone to pass through without touching the orbs directly. It led to a less concentrated pocket of pollen, a rare break in the flower’s defences. You traced the route mentally, marking each twist and turn in your mind, calculating the safest approach.

Kyrah swooped lower, getting a closer look at the pattern of the pollen’s movement. It swirled like a slow, deliberate dance, and you could see faint trails of energy sparking between the orbs, reacting to the shifts in the air. The path was tight and would require precise navigation, but it was there— a possible route to the heart of the flower.

“Good girl,” you whispered, guiding Kyrah back with a thought. She responded instantly, banking gracefully and returning to you. Her presence was a comforting weight as she perched on your shoulder. The vision snapped back to your own eyes, leaving you momentarily disoriented but at the very least, you know where to go now. 

Turning to the team, you relayed what you had seen. “There’s a way in,” you said, your voice steady but tightened with caution. “It’s not easy, but there’s a narrow path between the petals that avoids most of the pollen and the orbs. We’ll need to move slowly and carefully, but it’s possible.”

Kirishima listened intently, nodding as he visualised the route in his mind. “Alright, so we just need to stick to that path. No touching anything we don’t need to.”

Mina glanced at the flower, feeling her nerves buzzing under her skin. “And if we mess up? What happens if we trigger one of those orbs?”

You met her gaze, not sugarcoating the danger. “If we trigger them, there’s no telling what could happen. The magic is unpredictable— at best, we get a warning. At worst… it could be lethal. We have to be precise.”

Bakugou crossed his arms, his eyes fixed on the flower. Narrowing at them as if he had a personal grudge against the flower. “We can’t afford any mistakes. You lead the way. We’ll follow your instructions to the letter.”

Sero and Denki exchanged uneasy looks, but they nodded, their trust in you clear. “We’ve got this,” Sero said, his voice calm and reassuring. “Just show us where to go.”

You adjusted your scarf one last time, feeling the weight of the challenge ahead. The danger ahead is unnerving but there is no other way. “We move slowly. Keep covered, and follow the path exactly. No shortcuts, no rushing.”

With a final deep breath, you led the way, Kyrah perched on your shoulder as your guide. The flower loomed ahead, majestic and foreboding, but you moved with confidence, every step measured and deliberate. One by one, your team followed, navigating the twisting path through the petals, every motion precise.

You took the first step toward the massive flower, your heart beating steadily as you approached the narrow gap between the towering petals. The air was cool and tinged with the faint scent of the pollen, a fragrance that was deceptively pleasant but underlined by the subtle, magical potency that hummed in the atmosphere. Kyrah shifted slightly on your shoulder, her presence grounding you as you moved forward, guiding the team into the flower’s enigmatic embrace.

The gap between the petals was barely wide enough to slip through without touching the delicate surfaces. Each petal was a vibrant tapestry of swirling colours— deep purples, luminous blues, and shimmering golds that caught the light and refracted it in an enchanting display. As you slipped into the narrow passage, the walls of the petals seemed to close around you, like the mouth of a living labyrinth, pulsating faintly with the life force of the flower.

You moved slowly, each step deliberate, mindful of the swirling clouds of pollen that drifted lazily around you. The faint luminescence of the particles gave the air an ethereal glow, casting everything in a soft, dreamlike haze. You could feel the magic pressing in, testing your every move, waiting for the slightest mistake to entrap you.

Behind you, Kirishima followed, his large frame moving with surprising delicacy as he kept close, careful not to disturb the petals. His breath was steady, but you could sense his alertness, every muscle poised to react if things went wrong. “This place… it’s like walking through a living painting,” he murmured, voice hushed with a mix of awe and caution.

Mina was next, admiring the flower as she navigated the narrow path, her movements light and nimble. She reached out instinctively to steady herself but pulled back just in time, realising how close she’d come to brushing against a petal. “This is… unreal,” she whispered, barely daring to speak louder than a breath. “It’s like it’s alive.”

Sero and Denki moved carefully, their eyes darting around, taking in the strange beauty while keeping a wary eye on the pollen. Sero’s face was calm, but his brows were furrowed in concentration, every step taken with precision. Denki’s movements were slow as he mirrored your every action. 

Bakugou’s expression is locked in a fierce concentration. Scanning every detail for every possible threat. He moved with a predator’s grace, avoiding the pollen with sharp, deliberate motions. “Keep moving,” he said, more a reminder to himself than anyone else. “Eyes on the path.”

The air grew colder as you descended deeper into the flower’s core, the light dimming to a soft, bluish hue that emanated from the glowing orbs nestled at the centre. They pulsed with a quiet rhythm, each beat sending ripples of energy that made the pollen shiver and dance in response. You could feel the magic intensifying, a low hum that resonated in your bones, urging you forward and warning you all at once.

You glanced back, ensuring everyone was still on track. The team’s faces were set with persistence, shadows and light playing across their features as they moved with you. The narrow passage twisted slightly, curving inward as it led you closer to the flower’s heart. The walls tightened, forcing you to duck and weave to avoid brushing against the shimmering petals. It felt like walking through a tunnel made of silk and starlight, fragile and impossibly beautiful.

The path opened slightly as you reached the centre, the glowing orbs now directly in front of you, suspended in a delicate tangle of tendrils that pulsed with the flower’s lifeblood. They were mesmerising, each orb swirling with light and shadow, tiny storms of magic contained within translucent shells. The air around them was thick with power, and you could feel it brushing against your skin, prickling like static electricity.

You raised a hand, signalling the group to stop. Everyone froze, their breaths quiet, eyes locked on the orbs that guarded the artefact within. The atmosphere was charged, and the slightest disturbance could unleash whatever ancient force lay dormant in the flower’s core.

“We’re almost there,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. “Stay focused. We can’t make any mistakes.”

One by one, you led them closer, moving along the narrow path that wove between the orbs. Each step felt like navigating the edge of a knife, the tension almost palpable as you manoeuvred through the intricate web of petals and magic. The flower seemed to sense your presence, its petals fluttering faintly as if acknowledging your careful intrusion.

The centre of the flower opened up slightly, revealing a clear view of the artefact—a small, intricately carved steel sphere set within the web of glowing orbs. Its surface was etched with ancient symbols, each line glowing faintly as if whispering secrets from a long-forgotten age. You could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on you, the culmination of your journey so close and yet still wrapped in layers of magic and danger. With a deep breath, you steadied yourself, knowing that the next steps would determine the outcome of everything you had fought for.

“Alright,” you said softly, your voice carrying the gravity of the task ahead. “We need to take this slowly. No sudden moves. We retrieve the artefact, and we get out. Together.”

Kirishima nodded, his jaw set with determination as he followed your lead, every muscle taut with focus. Mina crept behind him, her gaze flickering between the glowing orbs and the artefact at the centre. Sero and Denki moved in tandem, their footsteps silent, their breathing shallow as they navigated the delicate path. Bakugou, at the rear, kept his eyes locked on every detail, ready to react at a moment’s notice.

The orbs pulsed softly, casting faint shadows that danced along the petals. As you inched closer, you noticed the orbs were not just suspended—they were subtly tethered to the artefact by thin, almost invisible strands of light. These connections pulsed in sync with the orbs, like a web of veins pumping magical energy directly into the artefact. Whatever magic protected it was still active, alive, and watching.

You paused just a few feet away from the artefact, signalling for the group to halt. “We can’t just take it,” you said, keeping your voice low. “It’s connected to the orbs. If we pull it free, we risk setting off whatever defences are still active.”

Mina’s brow furrowed as she stared at the thin strands of light connecting the orbs to the artefact. “So how do we get it without triggering… whatever this is?”

You considered the question, examining the web of light for any weaknesses or patterns. “We need to sever the connections,” you said thoughtfully. “But carefully—one wrong move, and we could set off a chain reaction.” It was a dangerous task but you saw no other option.

Denki looked uneasy, glancing at the shimmering web. “So, like detaching it? Do we even know what happens if we break those links?”

Bakugou’s eyes flicked over to you, his expression serious. “We’ve dealt with traps before. We just need to stay sharp. You got this,” he said, his confidence in you clear. 

You took a deep breath, steadying your nerves as you reached for a small, precise blade tucked at your side. “Kyrah, keep watch,” you whispered, sending your familiar to hover above, vigilant for any changes in the flower’s behaviour. You carefully moved closer, extending your hand to the nearest glowing strand. It vibrated faintly, humming with energy that prickled against your skin. 

The first cut was a slow, careful slice, the blade barely grazing the strand before it severed with a soft, almost musical twang. The orb shivered but remained stable, its light dimming only slightly. You let out a deep breath you had, the ache of fear pumping through your chest. 

“First one’s done,” you whispered. “No sudden changes.”

The team watched in tense silence as you continued to sever the strands, each cut deliberate and precise. With every connection you broke, the orbs pulsed more faintly, their light waning as the artefact’s glow grew stronger. You were making progress. Goosebumps prickled at your skin as you continued this arduous process.

Just as you were about to sever the final strand, the flower shuddered, its petals quivering as if sensing the impending loss of the artefact. The pollen in the air thickened, swirling around you in a shimmering cloud that pulsed in time with the remaining strands. You felt a tug at your consciousness, as though the flower itself was reaching out, testing your resolve.

“Almost there,” you said, your voice strained but steady. “Stay focused. We’re almost through.”

With one final, careful motion, you cut the last strand. The artefact glowed brightly, freed from its magical bonds, but the moment was bittersweet. The flower let out a soft, mournful hum, as you reached forward, gingerly lifting the artefact from its resting place. It was warm to the touch, thrumming with residual energy, and as you held it up, the symbols etched into its surface seemed to shift and shimmer, whispering secrets of a bygone era.

“We’ve got it,” you said, turning to the group, relief flooding through you. The team exhaled collectively, their tense postures easing as they realised the worst was over.

Kirishima clapped you on the shoulder, his grin wide and full of admiration. “You did it. We did it.”

Mina looked at the artefact, her eyes bright with wonder. “It’s beautiful… and we finally have now.”

Bakugou’s gaze lingered on the artefact. A satisfied smirk crossed his face. “Took you long enough,” he teased, though there was no mistaking the pride in his tone.

With the artefact in hand, you all began the careful retreat, retracing your steps through the flower’s pinched path. The journey out felt lighter, the tension of the unknown replaced by the exhilaration of success. 

As you emerged back into the clearing, the weight of the artefact in your hands felt like both an end and a beginning— a key that would unlock the next chapter of your journey. Emerging from the night flower’s cavernous interior, the group breathed in the fresher air of the night, the effects of the pollen gradually fading. The flower’s glow dimmed behind them as they made their way back to the camp, ready for much needed rest after the taxing climb and the encounter with the potent pollen.

The trek back to camp was subdued, each step heavy with exhaustion. It seemed even with some protection, the pollen still seeped through. Some are more affected than others. The effects of the potent pollen were clear: Denki and Mina, both more affected than the others, stumbled with a driftiness that made their movements lethargic. Kirishima and Bakugou lent their support, guiding them carefully through the forest paths. 

As the group arrived at camp, the firelight cast long shadows over the clearing. Mina and Denki were already half-asleep, their eyes struggling to stay open. You and the others gently helped them settle into their bedrolls, tucking them in with a soft touch to ensure they were comfortable and warm. The faint glow of the fire danced across their peaceful faces, a stark contrast to the earlier intensity of the night.

Once the two were settled, you joined the rest of the team around the fire, where the relic rested on a small cloth spread out for examination. The relic was a striking metal sphere, exquisitely crafted with intricate astral carvings that seemed to shimmer with their own inner light. The metal surface was etched with swirling patterns, delicate yet profound, and at its centre, a glowing purple light pulsed softly, casting an ethereal glow that flickered like stardust.

The team gathered around the fire, their faces illuminated by the gentle light of the relic. The warmth of the fire provided a welcome contrast to the chill of the night, and the group’s mood was one of both relief and contemplation.

Bakugou, still catching his breath from the climb, examined the relic with a mix of satisfaction and wariness. “So, this is it, huh?” He grunted, “It’s taken us this long, but we’ve finally got it.”

Kirishima nodded, his gaze fixed on the glowing relic. “I’m glad we got it, but I also can’t help but think of how much further we still have to go.”

Sero, who had been silent for most of the evening, finally spoke up. “This is a big step, though. We’ve managed to retrieve the third piece. There’s still more to do, but this is a solid victory. We can rest tonight, regroup, and then figure out our next move.”

As the fire crackled softly, Bakugou took another look at the relic, his expression thoughtful. “We did good tonight. But Sero’s right,” He looks to Sero as he speaks, agreeing with his words. “Let’s not forget that this is only the beginning. We’ve got more pieces to find, and more dangers to face. But for now, we rest.”

The team nodded in agreement, the weight of their journey momentarily lifted by the sight of their hard-earned prize. The fire’s warmth and the relic’s gentle glow provided a moment of tranquillity before the next phase of their adventure.

As the night deepened and the firelight flickered, the group settled into a relaxed quiet, each person lost in their own thoughts, contemplating the journey ahead. The relic, now a tangible symbol of their progress, glowed faintly in the firelight. Though exhaustion weighed on everyone, there was also a quiet feeling of accomplishment. Everyone had come so far. 

You quietly rose, slipping away from the camp and heading toward the clearing where the night flowers bloomed. Their soft, luminescent petals glowed under the moonlight, swaying gently in the cool breeze as if they were breathing along with the night. You wanted to pick them— gathering some of the pollen for future use. Last night’s collection with Bakugou hadn’t yielded anything as powerful as these, and you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to gather more. It was potent, and who knew when its properties might come in handy again? You moved carefully, taking care not to disturb the flowers too much as you began collecting the shimmering dust into small pouches.

As you focused on your task, the crunch of footsteps on the forest floor reached your ears, and you turned to see Bakugou making his way toward you. He approached with a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “You’re not sneaking off to get yourself into more trouble, are you?” he asked, his hands on his hips as he towered over your kneeled form. “Last thing we need is you knocked out cold from this crap.”

You smiled faintly, amused by his thinly veiled concern. “I’m just gathering some of the pollen. Figured it might be useful later on.” You gestured to the glowing flowers, their petals delicate and otherworldly. “Besides, someone has to make sure we’re prepared for whatever’s next.”

Bakugou raised an eyebrow. "Weren't the ones from last night enough?" He remembered the previous night's foray in the woods, the moonlight casting long shadows as you both carefully harvested the blooms.

You shook your head, focusing on the task at hand. "These are different; they're much more potent," you explained, emphasising the unique properties of the new flowers. Your hands worked deftly, ensuring not a speck of the valuable pollen was wasted.

Bakugou huffed, his expression softening as he stepped closer, inspecting the night flowers. “These damn things… I’ve never seen anything like it.” He hesitated for a moment before reaching out to help, carefully holding open one of the pouches as you brushed the pollen into it. The task was simple, but the quiet between you was easy, almost comforting.

As you and Bakugou worked under the glowing canopy of night flowers, a gentle silence enveloped the clearing. The delicate pollen sifted into the bags you had brought, each grain shimmering like stardust in the moonlight, tiny flecks of magic that seemed to hold the secrets of the Veil itself. 

“You’re pretty damn meticulous about this,” he remarked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “Guess that’s what makes you good at what you do.”

You shrugged, the corners of your lips curling into a small smile. “It’s just part of the job. But it helps to be thorough… ”

As you finished filling the pouch, Bakugou glanced up at the night flowers above, their glow softening his usually sharp features. “You know, this whole thing… it’s not how I pictured it. Working with you, I mean. Thought you’d be more of a pain.”

You laughed softly, tying off the pouch and meeting his gaze. “And here I thought you’d be impossible to work with. Turns out we’re both stubborn, just in different ways.”

Bakugou smirked, shaking his head. “Guess that’s why it works. Anyway, don’t go hoarding all this crap. I don’t want to find out it’s toxic the hard way.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that slipped onto your lips. “I promise I won’t poison anyone. But thanks for the help.”

The serenity of the moment made you reflective, memories tugging at your thoughts as you worked. You watched the delicate night flowers sway gently in the breeze, their glowing petals casting a soft, ethereal light. “You know,” you began, breaking the comfortable silence, “the first time I saw these night flowers bloom was with my father. We were on a similar trek through a magical forest. He said these flowers were special, that there were countless wonders like this in the world.”

Bakugou’s eyes remained fixed on the task, but his quiet attentiveness encouraged you to continue. “What else did he say?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, tinged with genuine curiosity.

You smiled faintly, letting the memory wash over you like a warm breeze. “He told me that there’s so much more out there, beyond what we can see. He hoped seeing things like this would inspire me to travel, to explore as much as I could. It was his way of encouraging me to never settle, to always seek out new experiences, no matter how far or dangerous.”

Bakugou’s fingers paused for a moment, and you could see the weight of your words reflected in his expression. He didn’t often speak of his own past, but you knew there was something about your story that resonated with him. “Sounds like he knew what he was talking about,” he said, almost begrudgingly, as if admitting a truth he rarely voiced. “There’s a lot out there, and it’s easy to forget that when you’re stuck in one place, dealing with the same old crap.”

The quiet moment between you was soon interrupted by the sound of footsteps crunching on the forest floor. Sero and Kirishima emerged from the shadows, drawn by the glow of the flowers and the hushed conversation. They hesitated briefly, not wanting to intrude, but curiosity got the better of them.

“Hey, what are you two doing out here?” Kirishima asked, trying to sound casual but clearly intrigued by the sight of you and Bakugou working together under the glowing canopy.

You glanced up, a bit surprised but not displeased to see them. “Just collecting pollen. It’s valuable, and we could use it for all kinds of things. Might come in handy later.”

Sero shot Bakugou a sly grin. “Looks like you’re having a heart-to-heart. We figured we’d crash the party and lend a hand.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes but didn’t bother arguing, instead handing Sero an empty pouch with a gruff nod. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. You’re here now, so don’t just stand around. Grab some pollen. We need all the help we can get.”

Kirishima joined in, his broad smile contagious as he took his place beside you. “So, what’s the story with these flowers? They really bring back memories, don’t they?”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you continued your careful work. “They do. My father had this way of making everything seem magical. These flowers... they always look the same, every time I see them, but somehow they never lose that sense of wonder.”

Sero glanced over at you, peering at the pollen you've collected. “Sounds like your dad was a pretty inspiring guy. No wonder you’ve got such a sense of adventure, always looking for the next big thing.”

The four of you worked together, gathering the reflective pollen in a rhythm that felt natural, the task transforming into a shared experience. The gentle glow of the night flowers illuminated your small gathering, casting a warm, soft light over the clearing. Kirishima’s voice broke the quiet, his tone lighter, more playful. “So, what’s next after this? Another adventure waiting around the corner?”

You laughed, glancing over at Bakugou, who gave a small, begrudging nod, his usual stoic expression tinged with a hint of anticipation. “We’ll see,” you replied, your smile genuine. “For now, we’ve got a good haul of pollen and a bit more of the night’s magic to savour.”

As you continued to work, the atmosphere was filled with an easy companionship, the earlier tensions of the journey momentarily forgotten in the gentle glow of the night flowers. The night flowers, which had once been a reminder of your past, now symbolised the experiences you were all gathering together. Under their glowing canopy, your bonds strengthened. The journey and friendships were growing, day by day, moment by moment.

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a/n: one more chapter oh my god oh my god @chocogoldie @devils-adversary @l0kisbitch @miikii0 @onlyisaa @sleepisfortheweakpooh @helena-way07 @enzstr @kitsunetori

border credits: @/enchanthings & @/adornedwithlight

© writingrock 2024 do not copy, translate or repost.

[bahbzxxx]

Serenitea pot shenanigans 4: Snuggling Venti in his archon form 🦋🕊️🌌

"Theres my little warrior..."

The archon purrs as he lays down, kicking back his plumes and exposing the glowing turquoise tattoo embedded into his skin slightly. Naturally…this doesn’t go unnoticed by your adorably wide and sparkling eyes.

His skin is probably so smooth and soft…it probably feels just like satin…or even softer.

You tremble, just thinking about it.

“Hmm…what’s that look for?”

He exposes a little bit more of his skin, just to get a reaction out of you. Your blush of humiliation is priceless to him.

“Well, come on…you can tell me…”

He’s so beautiful. He’s ethereal. You really don’t know what to do. Are you going to speak? Even dare to utter out a simple greeting? Or will you just remain here…frozen in time…resisting the urge…to shove your face in his plumes…

The archon groans playfully. Clearly you’re overthinking his gestures, so he might as well put it plainly.

He opens his arms to you, his eyes glowing with warmth and the embers of lust.

Your legs move for you at that single gesture. You’re almost hypnotized as you look into his eyes, him being able to lure you in like a siren, even without a song.

As he pulls you down into his arms, he hums lowly, and sighs and moans softly as he lets you make yourself comfortable. It seems to take you a little bit…not because you’re uncomfy, Per say…simply because there’s so much of him that you want to, to put it simply, shove your face into all at once. Not to mention all that kissing too.

“Mmm…hm…you’re so…sooo, ngh~ hm!”

Almost every inch of skin on his body is fair game for you to plant little kisses on. You’re so eager…it melts his heart. He feels so loved…

He feels your head on his chest, and how you nuzzle in as much as physically possible. You're simply the cutest…like a little lamb wanting to be held.

He snorts when he feels your nose pressed dangerously close to your armpit, and light-heartedly considers to himself that maybe he’s a bit too loved…

He laughs, lifting his hand to your hair.

“My Windblume…is my armpit truly where you’d like your nose to be?”

His chest rises and falls with his laughter. “I can’t promise it will smell like fresh cecelias if you go any deeper…”

As he expected, you leave a kiss there.

“You truly are something else, my darling…”

He can't stop his laughter as you keep going, making sure you've gotten everywhere…the squishier the better. You kiss his arms, his chest, his tummy, and even down to his thighs.

“Ahh…you're so-ngh~ thorough…”

He arches his back and moans softly. His wings begin to shake, spreading out as much as possible. He could get used to this, letting you burn off that last bit of energy on him…doing your thing…

He lets you have free range until he feels that you're getting tired. You did have a long day after all, and he doesn't want to exhaust his windblume too much.

He envelops you in his wings gently, hiding you in his plumes much to your pleasure.

“Here…lay here…there you go…I've got you…”

He pulls you back up to his chest, not before rubbing his nose with yours and giving you a little kiss, cooing against your cheek. The noise you make is the sweetest melody to his ears.

He sets you down, but you immediately bury your face into the crook of his neck. Venti puts up no fuss at all. Rather, it's a groan of satisfaction.

He sighs, deflating in bliss.

“Oh, my warrior…you’re so good to me…so loving…and you're all mine…and I'm all yours…”

His voice and touch soothes every cell in your body, and you feel your little world fading to black. He feels how heavy you're becoming on top of him, and how snugly your arms tighten around him… it's making him sleepy himself.

And when he's sleepy, hes gonna keep you all to himself all night, that's for sure…

[underforeversgrace]

Savant par!

From this ask game. (Send me a pairing/group of characters and I'll write a short little scene!)

I hope you wanted fluff because this is a pure 900 words of fucking fluff.

~~

Danny groaned and he reached outside of the warm cocoon of blankets he was enclosed in, swatting blindly until his hand finally connected with the alarm clock blaring beside his bed.

He knew he should get up, he had classes today… but Tucker’s slow breaths lulled him back into his dreams, curling up at Tucker’s side. It was college, no teacher expected everyone to show up every single day. Besides that, it was him. Their teachers were always more surprised when he showed up than when he didn’t.

Oh well. He was fairly certain none of them were quite able to handle the fact they were teaching a semi-dead teenager who had saved all of them a time or two. Despite his secret having been known for six years by now amongst the Amity population and many of these teachers the same ones he’d had multiple times in the past four years of college, it seemed people still struggled to understand Danny was just a normal kid (most of the time).

The next time Danny awoke, it was to a gentle pressure on his forehead. Danny peeked open one eye, smiling at Tucker’s sleepy face.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Tucker yawned. “You skipped class, did you know that?”

“Mmmm,” Danny hummed noncommittally. “Had better things to do.”

“You should probably get up, you can still make your afternoon physics class,” Tucker said, though he began running his fingers through Danny’s tangled black hair.

Danny made a sound somewhere between a whine and yawn and buried his head into the hollow of Tucker’s throat, listening to the rhythmic beats of his boyfriend’s heart and the blood rushing in his veins. Danny looped one arm over Tucker’s waist, hooking his ankle behind one of Tucker’s legs.

“I thought I was dating a ghost, not a koala,” Tucker laughed, though he didn’t protest. Tucker snaked his one arm under Danny’s neck and let the other lay lazily over Danny’s hip.

“I’m the ghost of a koala,” Danny answered matter of factly.

Tucker laughed, pulling Danny closer. “You’re cold,” he whined, even though his actions showed he clearly didn’t mind.

Danny grinned mischievously and slid his hand under the hem of Tuck’s shirt and against the small of his back. He might have triggered his ice powers just an eensie  weensie bit and Tucker yelped in protest as Danny cackled.

“That’s cheating!” Tucker laughed, squirming to get away from Danny.

“No, mine!” Danny said, playfully tightening his grip on Tucker. “You’re warm and I’m cold!”

Tucker gasped, clearly deeply offended. “Am I just a space heater to you?”

Danny snorted. “Duh. What else would you be - the man I love?”

Tucker chuckled, pressing another kiss to Danny’s forehead. “See, that’s what I thought I was. Are you telling me I’m not?”

“Obviously not,” Danny said with an over exaggerated eye roll. “You’re just the space heater and I’m the devilishly handsome superhero.”

“Oh come on, I’m not even the damsel in distress love interest in this fantasy of yours?”

“Fiiiiine,” Danny said, looking up at Tuck’s smiling face as they poked fun at each other. “I suppose you can be the damsel I save from the monsters.”

“Actually,” Tucker said, pulling away slightly, a thoughtful look on his face, “I have a better idea for my role.”

“Oh? And what’s that?”

A smile crossed Tucker’s face and his eyes glinted, playfully, lovingly. “I was thinking I could be the man you marry,” he said.

Danny’s mouth dropped and he nodded ferociously, various sounds of agreement escaped his mouth as he failed to remember the word ‘yes’ in his excitement, when his ghost sense went off, and suddenly Ember and Skulker were there. Danny leapt from the bed, crouching defensively in front of Tucker (and being relieved he had actually pulled on pajamas after his shower last night).

“Ha, take that!” Ember said as Skulker pouted, crossing his arms in defeat. “Told you four eyes would be the one to propose!”

Danny glanced behind him, he and Tucker sharing confused looks.

“The whelp can take me on, but he’s too afraid to ask his boyfriend to marry him?” Skulker demanded. “I’m the Ghost Zone’s greatest hunter! If he’s brave enough to face me, he should fear nothing!”

Ember cackled. “You owe me five bucks!”

“Wait, hold up,” Tuck said, sitting up. “Did you two have a bet about mine and Danny’s relationship?”

“Duh. Half the Zone has some sort of wager! We better be invited to the wedding, pipsqueak.” Ember said, glaring at Danny, who was wondering how it was possible this was the actual life he lived, where semi-enemies made bets on love life.

“I haven’t actually answered yet, y’know,” Danny pointed out, turning back to Tucker, whose face went impressively pale.

Ember and Skulker both went silent behind him, Tucker just staring at him wide-eyed.

Danny grinned and shoved his hand intangibly into the apartment wall, pulling out a small box. “Was there any doubt my answer is yes?” He asked, opening the box to reveal a plain silver ring on the inside.

Tucker laughed and reached for the bedside table, moving aside a bunch of tech manuals and pulling out his own small box. He opened it and moved to show Danny the black band he’d bought. “No. No, I guess there really wasn’t.”

[syringesyrup]

More tummy worship? Please? 👀

CAN YOU PEOPLE LEAVE ME ALONE!!!

nsfw below cut. Get the fuckoutofmyface. TRANSDEW FOREEVERRRR (like scotland forever).

“You want the last of it?” Swiss asks as he twirls the dying joint in his clawed fingers. It’s ember is dwindling now, almost touching the tips of Swiss’ fingers as he holds it carefully in his claws. Dew hums with a shake of his head as he lays his head on Swiss’ stomach. He hooks a claw under the multi ghoul’s white tank top and folds it up to his chest to expose his warm tummy. He presses his face into it immediately and groans as he breathes in Swiss’ intoxicating scent of ash and whatever that new cologne is. Swiss’ stomach shakes as he laughs, glazed eyes peering down at Dew. Dew only draws his hands up lazily and squeezes Swiss’ stomach, suffocating himself in the pudge of the multi ghoul’s stomach. He tries not to think of the way it slightly folds over Swiss’ waist band now and fails. He breathes heavy onto Swiss’ skin and sighs, turning his head up again to the multi ghoul to try and distract himself from the bizarre thoughts he has about Swiss’ body.

Dew watches through lidded eyes as Swiss inhales sharply, smoke seeping into his parted lips. He tosses the stub of a joint into the ashtray on the nightstand and looks down at Dew, smiling at the red of Dew’s eyes and his sleepy face. “C’mon.” Swiss huffs through smoke, patting rhythmically on Dew’s shoulders as he lays unmoving on Swiss. “You’re breathing all hot on me down there.”

Dew hums against his bare stomach as he exhales a hot breath onto his skin. He’s in the mood as well, as per usual, but is far too comfortable with his face pressed to Swiss’ body. It’s warm and surprisingly soft and he just smells so nice. Dew wishes he could move and get things started, he really does. If Swiss’ tummy didn’t make his brain fog over every time he got his hands on it, they wouldn’t be in this position. Literally and figuratively.

Swiss adjusts his hips under Dew, gliding along the fire ghoul’s chest with a wince. It’s way too easy to get him going when Dew pays attention to his stomach. As if its Dew’s fault that Swiss’ body is impossible to ignore. The soft pudge of his stomach and the handful of raised scars that Dew has left behind with his own teeth many times. He’s glad that they left a mark. Maybe he did it on purpose each and every time.

What really drives Dew up the wall about his multi ghoul’s stomach is the tattoo marked just above Swiss’ waistband. How could he not stare at it? It’s Dew’s fucking name. Dew recalls fucking Swiss within an inch of his life after he got it done, outlining the fresh ink with his own little marks to compliment it. He still couldn’t believe Swiss was crazy enough to do that. He even made a passing comment about getting their favorite water ghoul’s name as a tramp stamp. Dew couldn’t save Swiss from Rain’s bizarre reaction if he tried.

“Helloooo? Earth to Dewdrop?” Swiss asks as he runs a hand through Dew’s pulled back hair, ruffling his bangs. Dew looks up from where his eyes were glued to the ink and squints at Swiss through glazed eyes. Swiss huffs a laugh at him before he leans forward and runs a claw down Dew’s spine, making the ghoul bite his lip and adjust his legs to arch his back. Swiss watches with a hazed smile as Dew lifts his ass in the air before pushing his face back down into Swiss’ exposed tummy.

“You gonna stay like that?” Swiss asks through a smirk. Dew only gives a grunt in response. Swiss sighs before he hooks his claws under his shirt and pulls it off, exposing his chest as well. Dew peeks up at him and stares. He doesn’t know how he’s shocked each time he sees Swiss’ body. His broad chest and wide shoulders and each scar and blemish and his chest hair and his fucking tits-

“Damn, you’re stoned.” Swiss laughs as he watches Dew stare. Dew glares up at him before lowering his face back into Swiss’ tummy, flicking his tail at Swiss. The multi ghoul watches his spiked tail flick with a hum before he lays back, lip pursed in thought. Dew knows that look. It’s when Swiss has something absolutely evil planned that usually leaves Dew wrecked with the best aftercare of his life. It makes him throb and draws a whine out of him. It’s not exactly intentional on his behalf but at least it lets Swiss know that he needs him badly right now.

Of course Swiss knows. When do they not need each other?

Swiss stares down at him with the same evil look and glazed eyes before he tilts his head at Dew with a droop of his ears, innocent and dangerous for Dew. He folds his arms over his chest, blocking the sight before he hums and pouts his lip at Dew.

“Wanna fuck?” Swiss asks, plain and simple. Dew moves his head up and sneers at Swiss.

“How romantic of you.” Dew says with a roll of his eyes. Before he can even shoot another glare at Swiss, he’s pushing Dew’s head back down into his stomach as he yanks his hair. Dew winces loudly and scrambles for a moment before settling. It’s Swiss. He’s safe.

“Do you even deserve it?” Swiss asks with venom dripping from his tongue. Dew moans into the heat of his skin, knees shaking against the mattress as he looks up at Swiss with pathetic eyes. Swiss hums, pleased with his reaction before he releases the grip on his hair and his face softens. He pats Dew’s head with a frown and a shift in his brows.

“Can I try something, baby?” He asks kindly. Dew knows it’s not a front. He switches like this often to make a mush of Dew’s brains when he fucks him. But this is different. It’s genuine and void of any malice. Dew hates that he feels like he has to ask. Why would Dew say so no when Swiss leaves him in the stars with each touch, no matter how devastatingly haunting on his skin or how ironically heavenly it is?

“Yes, please, anything.” Dew shakes, the tips of his claws poking ever so slightly into Swiss’ waist as he stares up at him with blown pupils. Swiss whines at the sight of Dew and his sweet yes before the grip on his hair returns and he’s yanking Dew up into a hard kiss, clanking their teeth together hard enough to make Dew’s lip bleed. And fuck if it doesn’t make Dew’s eyes roll back into his head and thrust his hips hard into Swiss’ own as he kisses him brainless.

Then it’s over. Dew doesn’t even register that his lips aren’t on Swiss’ anymore until the multi ghoul is pushing his face back into his stomach and placing a hand under Dew’s body, making him arch his back again. Dew groans into Swiss’ skin, trailing his hands back up to palm at Swiss’ stomach again as he buries his face into the now healed ink that screams his name.

He feels Swiss’ tail wrap up around his thigh, slipping under his boxers and out again above the waist band. He curls it there, gripping Dew’s boxers with the limb before he drags them down slowly but desperately. Dew moans when the air hits him, cold against his red hot thighs that are already coated with slick. He adjusts his knees, preparing himself for Swiss to slide under him and eat him out like it’s his last meal on Earth.

Swiss’ hands move down to Dew’s head again, grabbing him by his horns and shoving his face lower. Dew feels his heart skip when he breathes in Swiss’ scent, strong and sickening in this area. He desperately grabs at Swiss’ waistband and fuck him for wearing these gray sweatpants again. He hooks a claw under the waistband with his mouth already watering at the thought of having Swiss in his mouth in mere seconds. Maybe Swiss was thinking of something different. He wouldn’t mind having his throat fucked in this position. The weed dried his mouth out anyways.

Before he can even drag Swiss’ pants down an inch, he feels something hot press against his cunt. Dew tries to register it and turn to see but is swallowed whole by the burn in Swiss’ eyes. He’s staring down at Dew, his massive hands still wrapped around the nubs of Dew’s horns. His eyes are burning red, a sign of his fire element raging through his body. Dew stills as he watches the multi ghoul’s face turn in a way he’s never seen before. It’s new and horrifying. Dew can never ever guess his next move.

Swiss leans down ever so slightly, his pupils sharp as he watches Dew. There’s still something pressing against Dew in between his legs. He’s so high he can’t even think of what it could possibly be. Was Swiss’ knee always so warm? He doesn’t get to dwell on it before Swiss grips his horns and bares his fangs, a threatening look on his face as he stares through Dew’s contrasting eyes and opens his lips to speak.

“Stay.”

Dew can’t even say a word as he feels something push inside him, hot and curled and ridged. It slips inside of Dew and there’s something sliding against his clit with it. Dew’s mouth falls open and his head twitches as his mind urges him to bury his face back into Swiss’ skin and scream. He can’t. Swiss is so locked onto him and holding his gaze prisoner in the palm of his hand. All he can do is let out a moan that doesn’t even register in his own ears. Swiss’ pupils go wide as he does it, expanding so far in his eyes that Dew can barely see the red glow of them anymore.

It’s when whatever is inside of Dew digs deeper and opens him up that Dew can’t take it anymore. He tears his hands away from Swiss’ stomach and grabs his arms, clawing at them as he arches back and slams his face down into Swiss’ body, shouting again as he’s filled.

“Swiss!” Dew cries, squirming under his grasp. Swiss moves his hands to Dew’s own, intertwining them and holding them against Swiss’ chest. The multi ghoul’s heart is beating heavy against his chest as he places Dew’s hands there. Dew whines at it, staring up at Swiss’ with his eyes lidded and almost rolled back in his head.

“Wha-“

“Don’t move.” Swiss whines. “Oh, please don’t fucking move. You’re perfect.” Swiss groans as he bucks his hips up and Dew can feel himself gush slick. It drips down his body and begins to pool onto the sheets, soaking them under Dew.

“Wha-what are you-“ Dew tries again before he feels something thrust inside of him, drawing another cry out of Dew. Swiss reaches down and tugs his pants down, freeing himself at last. His cock slaps against Dew’s face, leaking onto his cheek as the fire ghoul winces at the heat of it against his face.

“It’s-oh fuck-“ Swiss gasps when Dew breathes against him, hot breath circling around his cock. “It’s my tail.” Swiss chokes out.

Dew pauses.

What.

“What?” Dew asks, suddenly not as high as he thought he was.

“Well you were waving yours around and I thought ‘Wouldn’t it be funny?’” Swiss cries as Dew moves against him, making his eyes flutter. “But now I’m just fucking realizing how very much connected my nerve endings on my tail are to my dick.”

Did Mountain fucking lace them? There’s no way a simple joint could pull this thought from Swiss’ mind. Swiss did a lot of crazy shit when he was high but this has to take the fucking cake.

“If you don’t fucking touch me I’m going to just fuck your face myself.” Swiss growls through a moan as he pumps his tail inside of Dew. The twin rings pierced through the spade of his tail slide against Dew from the inside, making his knees shake and almost give in. The so called threat of Swiss face fucking him makes his mind go so blank that he forgets to even answer Swiss.

“Dew, baby.” Swiss whines. “C’mon, give me something.”

Dew can’t even think any comprehensive thoughts right now. He can only bury his face into Swiss’ stomach and weakly wrap his hand around his cock, jerking him with a shaky hand. It’s enough for Swiss. He rolls his head back with a loud curse as he grabs at Dew’s horns again and twists his hands around them. Dew moans weakly at the sensation. This weed is kicking his ass right now. He can feel every twist and curl of Swiss’ tail inside of him. Each slide of the twin rings, the ridges where the length of his tail meets the spade, the slide of the rough skin against his clit as his slick leaks down the thing. It’s somehow worse than Swiss’ stupidly useful piercing on his cock.

“Faster, fuck.” Swiss chokes on his own drool. “Faster, Dew.”

Dew tries. He swears he’s trying to give Swiss more relief but his entire body is quaking as he’s rocked forward by the surprising strength of Swiss’ tail inside of him. He lets his hand fall away from Swiss’ cock and rest on his hip, whining as he buries his face back into the comfortable pudge of Swiss’ tummy. He just wants to lay here until he cums or wakes up or sobers up or just dies.

That’s a bit dramatic. But at this point?

“No, baby, no.” Swiss curses. “Mother fucker.”

“I’m sorry, I-I-“ Dew tries to speak as Swiss thrusts faster in him. “I can’t think.” Dew admits shamefully. He’s never been fucked this stupid so fast. Rain has his way of dumbing him down into a puddle in almost record time but this? Dew just can’t even believe it’s real.

“You’re okay.” Swiss reassures. “Fuck, baby, you’re doing so good.” He coos, running his hands down to cup Dew’s tear stained cheeks. Dew doesn’t even remember when he started crying. It’s all a fog.

“Can I fuck your face?” Swiss asks through a gulp. “Fuck, you’re so pretty like this.”

Dew whines, gripping Swiss’ wrists and nodding. Swiss brings his head up immediately, grabbing his cock and slapping it against Dew’s lips. Dew opens his mouth weakly, taking Swiss in and stretching out his tongue. He unglamoures it as it slides it, long and forked at the end. Swiss moans low in his throat as Dew wraps his tongue around him and gives him a small but reassuring jerk. He shoves himself inside of Dew’s mouth and back into his throat. Satan bless this little ghoul and his lack of a gag reflex. Who would Swiss be without it?

Dew moans as he tastes Swiss, hot in his throat and surprisingly sweet. Dew thinks of cranberries before Swiss’ hands are grabbing his face again and shoving him down to the base of his cock. Dew’s eyes water for a moment as his nose presses into the tuft of curls swirling at the base. Swiss leans up to get a better angle and Dew almost loses the last bit of his sanity as Swiss’ stomach presses against the base of his nose. He’s not sure Swiss’ even realizes how fucking hot that is.

“So fucking good.” Swiss babbles as he begins to fuck into Dew’s throat at a quick pace to match the one he’s set with his tail. His tail is now wrapped around Dew’s thigh, squeezing as he fucks into him with it. Every slide of it inside of Dew makes him want to scream. The slide of Swiss’ tail against his clit doesn’t do him much good either. The sound of Swiss’ tail pulsing in and out of him is what really does it for Dew. It sounds wet and filthy and Dew can’t wait until Swiss does this again in an angle where Dew can watch it slide in and out of him.

Swiss picks up his thrusts, digging himself deeper inside of Dew’s cunt and his throat. He’s close, Dew can tell. The way his nose scrunches up, his labored breathing, the way his left ear keeps flicking with each strangled moan Dew lets out that vibrates against his cock. And, oh fuck, the way his stomach is flexing as he fights it off.

“Gonna cum.” Swiss warns. Dew whines high in his throat as Swiss thrusts faster inside of his cunt and presses harder against his clit. Dew was ready to cum the moment Swiss was inside of him. He moves his arms back and wraps them around Swiss’ thighs, gripping hard at them as he lets Swiss abuse his mouth.

“Fuck, please say you’re close too.” Swiss hisses as his rhythm goes sloppy and fast. He’s losing his composure, clearly seconds away from shooting down Dew’s throat. Dew moves his own tail up, wrapping it around Swiss’ own and squeezing it. His eyes flicker at Swiss and it’s all the multi ghoul needs.

He yanks Dew down into a final thrust, spilling down his throat as he yells Dew’s name like it’s a sin. It’s scorching hot and startles Dew for a moment before he hollows his cheeks around Swiss, yanking his orgasm out of him and drinking it greedily. When his tail digs just an inch deeper inside of Dew, the fire ghoul yanks himself down onto it and buries his face into Swiss’ stomach with a choked cry as his eyes slam shut. He tightens around Swiss’ tail and gushes around him, spraying his tail and Dew’s thighs with cum as it soaks the mattress.

After a second longer, Dew’s knees give in and he falls stomach first onto the wet mattress. Swiss pulls his face away from his stomach, yanking him up into his arms as his tail slides out of Dew. It makes Dew wince and flail, still so overwhelmed by it all. Swiss is kissing him immediately, gentle and warm with the taste of weed still on his tongue. Dew’s hands land on Swiss’ chest, patting him weakly as he tries to breathe.

“Fuck.” Swiss breathes. “Are you okay, baby?” Swiss asks as he adjusts Dew in his arms, cradling him against his chest. “You did so good.” He praises, running a hand down Dew’s spiked back. “You’re so fucking perfect, Dew.”

“What-“ Dew gulps. “the fuck?”

“Are you okay?” Swiss asks again, nudging his nose into Dew’s neck. “Did I hurt you?”

Dew shakes his head. “What the fuck.” He says again.

Swiss kisses his neck, leaving a small little purple glow that seeps into Dew’s skin. It’s his favorite way of transferring quintessence and healing. With gentle little kisses that warm someone up like hot coco.

“Fine, ‘m fine.” Dew breathes. “I’m okay.”

Swiss nuzzles his neck again, purring loud enough for Dew to feel it. He kisses his skin senselessly, pouring quintessence into him. He grabs one of Dew’s hands and drags it down to his stomach, pressing Dew’s warm palm into his skin.

Dew preens at it, feeling his own purr jump to life as he squeezes Swiss’ tummy. Swiss begins to kitten lick Dew’s face, placing warm kisses against his cheeks. “So sweet.” Swiss hums, kissing the corner of his eye before he rubs their cheeks together with a chuff.

“Stop that.” Dew scolds. Swiss pauses before he pushes Dew back, climbing over him as he presses his head into Dew’s stomach and blows raspberries. Dew shrieks, kicking at him with a laugh as he yanks on Swiss’ horns.

“Swiss!” Dew laughs, breathless again.

[cels-not-so-secret-love-affair]

required reading (sirius/remus)

a/n: this is just a fluffy few words of wolfstar, really. they’re a little bit in love.

‘Tired yet, Moons?’ Sirius skipped the last two steps of the staircase down to the common room, and flopped down next to his friend, hair swinging behind him.

‘Only a tad,’ mused Remus, flipping a page with his wand. Books floated effortlessly in the air before him, and a little distance away a candle sat on the coffee table, flaring in time with each inhale and exhale of his breath. Outside, the sun had sunk into its usual slumber, and time had begun to pass in the liquid, dreamy kind of way it often does at night.

‘D’you really have to be reading this late? What’s it even for anyways?’

‘Charms.’ Remus’ eyes were vague and far away as he answered.

‘Mate, Flitwick won’t care if you miss a deadline for a reading. Come to bed?’

‘Absolutely not.’ Sirius elbowed him gently in the ribs and sighed when he was batted away.

‘Rem, I’m serious. You’re his favourite student, besides Evans - you could be stood over a dead body with a smoking gun and he still wouldn’t believe you murdered someone. He’ll let you off this once.’

Remus snorted.

‘I’m well aware of who you are, Sirius. And I don’t fucking care if Flitwick will give me an extension, I’m finishing this book on time.’

Sirius paused to regard his friend more closely, taking in his ink-stained fingertips, his messy curls. His eyes were tired, but his jaw was set with a firm and quiet determination and something told Sirius not to push it.

‘Fine. But give your brain a break, and let me read.’

‘I don’t want you pitying me, Padfoot,’ came the reply, as the book in question was vehemently yanked out of Sirius’ reach by an invisible string.

‘I’m not pitying you, you self obsessed fuck. I can’t sleep, and I reckon reading’ll help take my mind off things. Now give over, and swap places with me.’ A resigned grunt of agreement, and the two rearranged themselves, attempting to accommodate for Remus’ lanky legs and Sirius’ tendency to sprawl. Eventually, they settled down comfortably, with Remus leant sleepily against Sirius’ shoulder.

‘Christ Moony, have you read all of this since dinner?’

‘Mm.’

‘You’ve done well.’

Remus laughed a little, and averted his gaze so that he was staring into the embers nestled in the fireplace.

‘I do my best,’ he replied quietly.

Sirius felt a sudden wave of admiration for his friend in that moment. His friend, who worked himself to the bone trying to make up for the days he spent in bed each month, trying to prove he was worth looking at as something that deserved a future. His friend, who, even on the brink of exhaustion, would still entertain the Marauders’ antics with a smile and a sarcastic comment and a suggestion or two. His friend, who would attend every single Quidditch practice without fail, despite having very little interest in it, just to watch the people he loved succeed. His gorgeous, gorgeous friend with those deep, kind eyes that smiled even when his mouth didn’t and his pretty, lilting accent and- this was not the time. Sirius turned his attention back to the book, trying not to think about the warm weight of Remus’ body against his own, or how he smelled so pleasantly of parchment and chocolate and cologne.

‘Where am I picking up from then, Rem?’

‘Top of the right hand page.’

‘Gotcha.’

An hour or so passed, and the book drew to a dull close with a final chapter on the Proteo Charm. The darkness outside had deepened, and thickened, becoming viscous and heavy. It pressed against the windows, making the common room seem even cosier in contrast. The air was warm and sleepy, the fire completely entrancing, and for a moment after Sirius finished speaking the two of them sat in silence to let the last of the consonant softly fade away.

‘Thanks, Padfoot.’

‘Anytime, Remus. Anything for our Moony.’

[bvtbxtch]

Jack O'Lantern Kiss | Eddie Munson

Day One of Kinktober

Summary: Carving pumpkins with your best friend Eddie leads to confessions you may or may not have always wanted to hear.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, brief mention of Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham

wc: ~2k

Content Warnings: fluffy fluff fluff, unrequited love, allusions to smut, hickies. This story takes place in an au where the upside down is not a thing. Although this is a pretty tame story, my blog is 18+ so Minors DNI.

A special thank you to my love and collab partner @darknesseddiem. I am so thankful to know you. Here's to an amazing October!

It was your favorite time of the year. The unforgiving Hawkins summer had ended its assault and the fiery leaves crunch underneath your boots and you can finally have an excuse to curl up with your favorite metalhead and read books all day. You had been best friends with Eddie Munson since 10th grade math (when he was in 11th grade) where you helped him figure out how to find x in beginner algebra equations. You immediately fell head over heels for him, but when he began dating Chrissy Cunningham, you learned how to stoke the fire in your heart to embers. Eddie and you continued to get closer throughout high school. Chrissy never made a fuss and you felt like a constant plus one in their little universe. Eddie was the first one to give you a swooping hug after walking the stage (about 20 minutes after he did). You both had dreams to leave sleepy Hawkins and find yourselves in some big city where you could cheer each other on from your shared apartment. You never imagined Eddie not being in your life; you knew he was your soulmate. It wasn’t until this past August that you considered it might be as more than friends.

-

Eddie called you at 3 in the morning on August 12th. You jolted up, body dusted in a light sheen of sweat from the near 30 degree night. You reached for the receiver and held it to your ear with a groggy hello. You were met with a small sniffle. You knew it was your Eddie. 

“Ed? What’s wrong?” You immediately were shaken from your sleepy daze.

“She… she-” Eddie cut himself off with a pitiful sob. You let out a long sigh and hung up the phone with a soft ‘I’ll be right there, Eddie’. 

The drive to Forest Hills Trailer Park was usually 15 minutes. You were there in 5. You had never heard Eddie cry before, and never expected to hear him cry that hard. You spent the night petting his head and hearing him weep into your body. Three years he had spent loving Chrissy Cunningam, when she had fallen out of love with him a while ago (if she had ever truly loved him at all). 

Since that night, you and Eddie had been inseparable - the impossibly close bond getting closer. You barely knew what your own bedroom looked like as you were almost constantly sleeping at Eddie’s trailer, him being too upset to sleep alone. You watched movies, went to hellfire ‘alumni’ meetings (Eddie called them that but you knew it was just a way for him to make sure that Mike and Dustin were running the club properly), and watched any and all Corroded Coffin gigs you could get to. Hugs became more frequent and Eddie would use any excuse to hold your hand. He was touch starved, and you could tell he was taking this out on you. But why would he not, you were his best friend, and even though you knew that’s where your relationship drew a line, you liked melting into Eddie’s arms or smiling at his forehead kisses. 

-

October brought more scary movies and smoke sessions around the bonfire in Steve Harrington’s backyard. As the month wrapped up, like the weather, Eddie got colder. You knew that Halloween was going to be the first holiday without Chrissy and he was feeling it. You still grabbed his hand and gave him small smiles, but you often got glassy brown puppy dog eyes matched with a small smile. You wanted to take this pain away for him and had just the idea. 

You fiddled with the old lock on Eddie’s trailer door, fumbling the grocery bag in your hands and careful not to step on the two bright orange pumpkins that stand on the concrete steps. You knew you had minimal time to prepare this surprise until Eddie was back from the body shop. You wiggle the knob one more time before it gives and you spill inside the homey space. You drop the bag on the kitchen counter and hastily grab the pumpkins from the step. 15 minutes later, you had flyers sprawled across the counter, the pumpkins sitting neatly on them, adorned with different carving tools and sharpies around them. In small bowls on the stove, Eddie’s favorite snacks: cheese balls, M&Ms, skittles and a bag of cool ranch Doritos. You startle at the door slamming open and stomps of Eddie's feet on the linoleum. You get up from the couch and greet him at the door.

“Hey sweetheart… what’s this??” Eddie’s frown turns upwards when he lays his eyes on your set up in his kitchen. He wraps you in a tight hug.

“Just something that I thought would cheer you up” you muffle your words into his chest. You look up at his chocolate eyes. “I know Halloween is your favorite, so thought we could start the festivities.” His eyes glass over, tears threatening to spill. “No, no Eddie, please don’t cry” You reach your hands up to cup his face. 

“No, sweetheart. These are good tears. Thank you for thinking of me.” He grabs your wrists to lower your hands and he kisses you on the cheek. “I’m gonna go change out of these dirty coveralls and then we can get this party started” The boy’s lopsided smile returned before he pushed away from you and trotted down the small hallway to his room. You made your way back into the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a dumbstruck smile on your face and butterflies threatening to erupt in your stomach. Your cheek burned where Eddie had kissed you and you raised your hand to trace over the spot. You wanted this feeling to last forever. You are pulled out of your trance when Eddie meets you in the kitchen, his hands trapping you against the counter. You smile up at the boy and your heart takes a tumble. Eddie had put his hair back in a low bun and you thought you were going to pass out from how good he looked, how close he was. His lips look so plump and his cheeks a perfect blush to give his alabaster skin some color. Your best friend was perfect. You smile back up at him.

“Well, since you set all of this up, the least I can do is make us some hot chocolate.” The boy quips. When you nod and smile in agreement, he grabs your hips and sits you up on the counter. You watch him in content while he putters around his kitchen. He passes you your favorite tomato soup mug full of steaming hot chocolate. He sips at his mug, eyes never leaving yours. You could feel tension growing so thick it could be cut with a knife - but what kind of tension? You were unsure. 

-

You spent the next two hours throwing pumpkin seeds at each other across the kitchen while Eddie’s new Black Sabbath cassette played in the background. Two faces full of shy adoration and a room full of giggles. You finally turned your pumpkin towards Eddie to show him your final design - a simple outline of a black cat and a bat stares back at Eddie. Eddie reveals his own pumpkin to show two skeletons holding hands. 

“Well that doesn’t look like a scary pumpkin at all” you tease. Eddie throws a handful of skittles at you. Both of you Erupt into a fit of giggles as you both grab handfuls of snacks that you can find and toss them at each other. Eddie lunges at you in an attempt to halt the food war. His hands wrap tightly around your waist and your laughter gets caught in your throat. Your smile falls as the tension finally feels like it is going to snap. You can see Eddie studying your eyes for any sort of discomfort. Although he finds some hesitation, he knows you feel safe - that you want him to be there with you. It’s the most devotion he has honestly felt in almost a year. Chrissy never looked at him the way you do; but if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t look at Chrissy the way he looks at you either. His eyes flicker to your lips as he licks his.

“Eddie,” you whisper. You feel as if all of the air around you has become thick, unable to breathe it in. The curly haired boy inches his face closer to yours, foreheads resting on each other. His breath fans lightly at your face and you can tell Eddie is feeling the same way as you. You nudge your nose against his as a silent plea for him to come closer. He obliges and presses his lips softly to yours. 

You felt electricity jolt down your spine, goosebumps riddled your body. This is what you have wanted for longer than you would like to admit. Eddie’s hands migrate up your back to cradle your face. His long fingers find purchase in your hair while his thumbs rub circles onto your cheeks. You pull yourself away to look at the boy.

“Eddie… please don’t do this because you miss her…” you whimpered. You couldn’t handle this being a one and done situation. You had gotten a taste of what it would be like to have Eddie as yours and you would rather die than give that up now. 

“Sweetheart… I… I have been so stupid. I should have broken up with Chrissy long before she broke up with me…” Your eyes search Eddie’s and all you can feel is warmth. He’s telling the truth.

“Eddie, why??”

“Because I’m in love with you… and I have been for a while” Eddie lets out a chuckle while tears threaten to spill over his lashes again. Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest and you couldn’t help the ear splitting grin growing on your face. “I thought that being with Chrissy was supposed to be… right. But it way you all along. I tried to forget my feelings for you because I fooled myself into thinking that I was in love with her… But these past few months…” Eddie trailed as he studies every detail of your face; waiting for you to tell him to fuck off, or to push him away, but you keep him pleasantly waiting.

“I’ve been in love with you for a long time, Eddie. I just tried to push it down, I wanted you to be happy” 

You barely have time to finish your sentence and Eddie’s lips are back on yours. His move in sync with yours like you were made for each other. You lift your chin up to grant Eddie access to deepen the kiss. His tongue swipes over your bottom lip and you let out a content moan as his tongue enters your mouth. He pushes you backwards so you are again trapped between his body and the counter, pushing you up to resume your previous position. Eddie moves his kisses to the side of your mouth, then trails them down your jawbone to the pulsepoint behind your ear. He can feel your breath hitch when he sucks down to form a beautiful indigo bruise on your neck. He can’t help but smile against your body. He wants to devour you whole, leave you nothing but a gasping mess underneath him. His hands run up your sides, desperate to feel more of you. You break the kiss to help Eddie discard your shirt. His hands were magnetic - they now needed to be a permanent fixture on your body. His eyes fixed on your skin with such adoration your head spun. your own hands track up his torso to his neck to pull him back into you. As your lips reconnect, Eddie’s hands move south to the tops of your thighs. His hands find purchase at the apex of your hips and he feels you shudder against his mouth. The anticipation of feeling him where you want him the most was killing you. But Eddie pulls away from you suddenly, his eyes lower and he grabs for your shirt that had been discarded on the floor haphazardly.

Your brows furrow in confusion while you search his face for hesitation. Your heart begins to beat wildly… Was this just a joke? A heat of the moment type deal? You could feel beads of salty tears dot your waterline. 

“Eddie… Did I do something wrong?” Eddie looked at you with golden eyes full of passion. He wriggles your T-shirt over your head and holds your cheek in his hand.

“No, but I did something wrong. I don’t want this to feel like just a stupid hook up. I want to do this right because you deserve it. I love you, doll, and I want you to be my girl. I want to take you on dates and buy you flowers. I want to make you laugh and dress up nice for you because you deserve it.” You can feel your smile growing wickedly across your face.

“Okay, Eddie. I like the sound of that” you giggle.

“So what do you say? Wanna be my girl and make this official so we can take this to the bedroom?”

“Eddie… I thought you’d never ask.”

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