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nostalgicamerica · 2 years ago

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True story:

It doesn't take an Einstein to see that things are different today than they were in the middle of the last century. Not better or worse - just different.

The last time my wife and I visited our daughter she had to order her kids from their technology and come out of their rooms to say, "Hi." to Grandma and Gramps. Wait until they see their Christmas presents next December. Socks and underwear. That'll teach 'em.

My grandkids have choices that weren't available to me when I was a teenager; computers, streaming, smart phones, etc. Don't misunderstand - I would have been all over those things, too, were they available when I was growing up. I absolutely believe kids today are no different than when I was a kid. There is nothing 'wrong' with the up and coming generation that wasn't 'wrong' with those who came of age in the 50s.

There may be something wrong with the education system, or the culture, or with present day parenting, but not with the kids. The kids today will rise or fall to meet expectations, just as we did, and they would likely behave precisely the same as my friends and I did, if they were raised in the mid-fifties.

When I was a boy, we didn't have the options kids have today, so we had to make our own entertainment.

Throwing rocks at trees was always good healthy fun; we had plenty of rocks and more trees than rocks.

Standing on the trestle as trains from the mines or the sawmills rolled by underneath and pouring buckets of water down into the smokestack was great entertainment - that could keep us entertained for hours.

On occasion, If we were really feeling frisky, we would traipse over to the local golf course where the more affluent people rubbed elbows. We'd furtively sneak onto the greens and poop in the cups, smear it around with a stick, and then hide in the rough between the fairways. We learned many new and exotic words from the hackers. As an aside, it is my belief that the ladies were far more vocal and profane than their male counterparts.

But we all had individual hobbies. My real 'hobbies' were fishing in summer and hockey in winter, and every spare moment in between would find me reading. My younger brother and partner in crime was (and is) a talented musician and was all about his guitar and banjo year-round.

Some friends dabbled in shooting sports, some worked on cars or motorcycles, some joined me on the rivers, and some were engrossed with the arts in one form or another. We were as varied in our interests as we could be, given our options.

My friend Jussi was all about things aeronautic and aviation. He was always building World War II era model airplanes, both plastic and balsa, flying and static, which all hung from the ceiling in his room. He had rockets, and kites, and all the tools he would ever need to construct the models. He was the 'scientist' of our group and was always tinkering with anything mechanical. The family toaster malfunctioned; Jussi can fix it. The radio blew a tube; where's Jussi.

Jussi's room always smelled of modeling glue and model aircraft dope, even though his window was always open.

So often during the summer months, if the weather was right, we'd all gather in a field to watch the launch of his latest rocket, or first flight of whatever plane he had just finished. It was always great fun and I could always see Jussi's pride as his rockets arched skyward, a trail of smoke following behind, before seeming to pause at it's apogee and then begin falling. At that moment, the nose cone would pop off and a fabric parachute would eject and gently lower the rocket to where we waited below.

Unless, of course, the wind happened to be blowing aloft and carried the rocket downwind. Then we'd have to go on a hunt. There was more than one occasion when we couldn't find the rocket at all.

The summer we turned 14, Jussi happened to read an article in one of his many science magazines (Popular Science , maybe, or Science and Mechanics, or the ubiquitous Popular Mechanics and Science and Physics and Knitting) on a new sport; hang gliding. At least the sport was new to us.

More precisely, the article was about how to build a hang glider. It was complete with schematics and a supply list. It was detailed. It was easy to understand, even to young teenagers. It was obviously written for somebody with more scratch than we had.

When Jussi first suggested building the glider to the group of four friends who were enjoying homemade Popsicles on his back porch, we all enthusiastically agreed. Why not? What else did we have to do on a hot July afternoon?

We pooled our financial resources and discovered we collectively had $1.73. We weren't going to be able to buy the materials we'd need.

I'm a bit ashamed that I came up with the idea to use our mother's sheets. I suggested the five of us go to our respective homes and steal one from their mother's linen closet. King-sized, if they were available. My brother and I would swipe two, if we could.

Afterwards, we'd hike to Pelki's Junkyard to see if we could pinch something with which we could construct a frame and cross pieces.

We were all starting to get excited, especially Jussi. I could see the gleam in his eyes at the thought of soaring high above our town, waving at pedestrians, and dropping water balloon bombs.

At the time it didn't cross my mind that, other than gently sloped hills, which, by the way, were covered in pine and maple and oak trees, our town was surrounded by pretty flat terrain. I vaguely recall Skunk pointing it out, but that wasn't important at the time.

An hour or so later, we all met in Jussi's backyard and stowed the sheets in a Nehi box and set out for the junk yard.

Pelki's Junkyard was, just as the name might imply, a junkyard. But not just any junkyard. It was a junkyard's junkyard. The Pelki family had been in the junk business since before World War I. It had been filled with abandoned automobiles and household appliances from several surrounding communities over several decades.

If you needed a windshield for a 1925 Ford Model T, chances are Pelki's would be able to help you out. Need a door for a 1934 GE Monitor Top Refrigerator? Check with Pelki's.

An arial view of Pelki's Junkyard, a mile south of town, would have shown mountains of bed frames, barrels, engine blocks, tangles of wire, and stoves. It also had piles of pipes of all lengths and diameters, which is what we were after.

We weren't worried about security at the yard, as there was none. No junk yard dogs or even locked fences. More importantly, Elmer Pelki, the proprietor of the establishment, 80+ years-old with about four yellowed teeth in his head, knew us kids all by name and was always happy to let take whatever junk we might need so long as we didn't mess up his piles too badly.

We always treated Elmer with genuine respect and let him know if we took anything. He was a poor boy's supplier.

I'm sure the Popular Mechanics and Science and Physics and Knitting article didn't anticipate putting together a hang glider using the components we had available to us. It listed nylon and aluminum and brackets and specific nuts, bolts, and washers in it's assembly instructions.

We had none of those.

When we headed back to Jussi's place, we were hauling eight, fifteen- to twenty-foot lengths of conduit (not aluminum) of slightly varying diameters, several shorter pieces, and some leather straps we thought we might be able to use. We had no nuts, bolts, or washers, and Pelki's had apparently had experienced a run and was sold out of nylon of any sort.

The slog back to Jussi's seemed much longer, loaded down as we were. By the time we offloaded the components of our flying machine behind Jussi's barn, it was dinner time and we were done in.

Confident the hard part was in the rearview mirror, we all agreed to meet back at Jussi's the next day after our chores were done to construct our aerodynamic masterpiece.

'Masterpiece,' it would seem, is a relative term.

The following day, just before noon, all five us were in back of Jussi's place, laying out the rough frame of our glider and trying to map out the best approach in the assembly.

Immediately, those of us not completely brain dead (namely Jussi and Spud) pointed out that we had a problem. Configured as it was with two similar-sized pipes in a straight line, and two at an angle that met in the center, our kite was going to have a wingspan roughly 35 feet from tip to tip. We would have needed to empty our mother's linen closets, plus some of our neighbor's clotheslines to obtain enough fabric to cover the wings.

To solve the problem, we cut the pipes in half (a job that was back-breaking given that the Jussi's dad's hacksaw was dull and chewed up and the blade had a tendency to pop off every so often). The result was a much smaller, tighter wingspan.

We were still doubtful at the massive size of the beginnings of our hang glider, but Spud was confident. He and Jussi attacked the task of fastening the members of the wings together while the rest of us were given the job of sewing our sheet wing coverings together.

We spread our stolen bedding on the ground and I just shook my head. We had two, snow-white and pristine sheets (one king- and one queen-sized), a fitted queen that had once been lavender in hue, another sheet that might have once been king-sized that was a striped blue and white and full of holes and completely frayed at the bottom, and a small fitted sheet that not only seemed like it was designed for a toddler's bed, but also looked as if it had been urinated on. Often and recently.

As it was, there was no way we could cover the mammoth glider's wings. Jussi solved the problem and told my brother to get the tarp that was under his dad's workbench. When my brother came out of the garage he was staggering under the weight of a huge, folded, 20 by 20 canvas tarpaulin that he could barely carry. Jussi nodded and assured us his father wouldn't mind as he continued his task of drilling holes in the pipes.

We folded the tarp in half and cut it down the middle. We folded the halves in half and cut them on a diagonal to approximate the shape of our wings. With two boys punching holes every six inches with an awl, and me tying the edges with a spool of heavy jute we fashioned two enormous envelopes that would cover the frame wings completely, if not exactly neatly.

By the time we were done sewing the covering, Jussi and Spud were finishing up fastening the frame. They had sewn the pipes together using baling wire and, using a similar technique, inserted four crosspieces to provide stability. The center was a rough square with two wobbly handles the 'pilot' could hang onto during flight.

They used baling wire to fasten leather straps on the top and bottoms of the wings from one side to the other to provide wing stability.

Whatever else it was, the structure was sturdy. Jussi and I lifted it by the wing tips and gave the frame a vigorous shake. Only one piece came loose. I remember thinking that it seemed heavy for something that was going to soar through the air.

We then slid our canvas skin onto the frame, one side at a time and 'sewed' the two wide sides together. Spud and my brother cut slots in the fabric and threaded a twelve foot leather strap in a loop that met beneath the monstrosity.

Several hours after we started, the group lounged on the porch mouthing the ersatz Popsicles and 'admiring' our 'handiwork.' it was clear to all of us that the sprawling hirviö wasn't anything like the photos in the magazine.

It looked like a drunken and slovenly pterodactyl that had passed out. One side was longer than the other, and it listed to the left. To say I was dubious would be greatly overstating what I thought, but it was still awesome.

After the frozen treats were gone and the brain freeze had waned, four of us lifted the glider over our heads and gently pushed it off into the wind. I have to admit my surprise when it actually caught the breeze and 'sailed' about six feet before landing relatively softly in the weeds.

The next task we faced was trying to figure out from where we could launch our craft.

The highest point in our neck of the woods were The Cliffs overlooking Cutoff Road. The Cliffs were six miles away as the crow flies, and about half again as far if we manhandled the brown bomber by road.

To a man, every one of us said there was no helvetin way we were going to haul the thing to The Cliffs by hand. Besides, I am fairly certain had we hauled the thing to The Cliffs, not one of us had big enough kiveksets to strap themselves in and jump from 75 feet up.

Skunk pointed to Jussi's dad's garage as a possible test for the glider. At it's peak it was maybe 20 feet high. Perfect.

Fortunately, Jussi's parents were out grocery shopping or some such, because I am pretty sure they would have put the lopettaa to the idea if they saw us wrestling the gargantuan kite up onto the garage roof.

That's exactly what we did. Two ladders on either side of the front of the garage, one boy on each wingtip, two in the middle, and one pulling from the rooftop, we inched the 'glider' upwards. By the time we got it up onto the roof, I was confident the stupid thing wasn't a glider at all, but rather an anchor. And I was sure it would fly about as well.

Finally, the moment of truth: who was going to be the test pilot?

We all feigned interest in the opportunity and argued good-naturedly back and forth as if we truly wanted the honor.

The matter was settled the way we often settled disputes: shooting fingers. Two boys faced each other, one called odd, the other even and on the count of three 'shot' out one or two fingers. The number of fingers, even or odd determined the winner.

One by one the boys fell to superior fingers, until it was between my brother and me. He called even, leaving me the odd man out. I could see fear in his eyes as we stood next to the kite. I knew he didn't really want to be the pilot.

I also knew he always shot one finger. On the count of three I shot two and was left standing the 'winner.' My brother tried to act disappointed even as relief was painted all over his face. I'm not going to pretend I wasn't scared.

Even as the others lifted the glider up to allow me to crawl into the middle and literally tie the leather straps around my waist, I was terrified and I could feel my legs quaking beneath me. Looking over the edge of the roof, it seemed impossibly high.

"What's the worst that could happen?" I recall thinking to myself. I also recall thinking, "Paska, this thing is heavy."

That was the moment I should have backed out and let one of the others take the trip. The wing tied to my back seemed impossibly heavy and not at all aerodynamic, and the wings drooped terribly. But there was no turning back.

Like a gunfighter in the old west, a boy in my time couldn't show cowardice or it could follow him through his entire adulthood thereby limiting his earning potential and likely his choice of mates. My nickname would be changed from 'Orava' (Finnish for 'Squirrel') to 'Ei Kiveksia' (Look it up). Dad would have to hang his head in public and probably come to wish I had been born a girl.

No, I was stuck, so I silently repeated the question, "What's the worst that could happen?"

Spud and Jussi both suggested waiting for a strong gust of wind before I jumped (as if I could have jumped with the behemoth strapped to my back). I used mental duct tape to silence the voice in my head, and I forced myself towards the edge of the roof by pushing up and out as hard as I was able and literally fell off the edge. The glider caught the breeze and seemed to float away in slow motion from where my friends were cheering.

"It's going to work!" I exulted in my head as I floated from the garage. Two feet. Three feet. I was free from gravity! I was flying! Five feet. I was the next Lindbergh! Parades and stuffy speeches from politicians lauding my greatness were in my future!

Then a moderately strong gust caught the wings of the glider.

Jussi was at least a decade away from earning his mechanical engineering degree from MTU and so he had a few things yet to learn, namely, the stabilizing leather straps (or, more accurately, the tensile strength of the baling wire with which they were tied) weren't sufficient to keep the wings from folding up like a sheet of writing paper, which, when the baling wire snapped, is exactly what they proceeded to do

The two massive spans lifted up and met high in the sky above my head and the contraption plummeted to the ground like an anvil, taking me with it.

As they say, it isn't the fall that hurts you...

When the dust settled and my four compatriots extricated me from the broken albatross, they had to do so gingerly, after cutting the strap from around my waist, because I couldn't move my left leg, and my left wrist was rapidly swelling. One of the pipes had wacked the side of my head and blood was leaking from my right ear and my eyes were staring in different directions.

Spud somehow kept his wits about him and ran to Jussi's neighbor who carried me to his truck, laid me in the back, and drove me to the clinic two blocks away, and then called my mother.

It turned out that while my wrist was broken, my left knee and ankle were merely sprained, and I had a concussion. The other bruises and scrapes were inconsequential.

Mom, to her credit, did not offer to kill me on the spot. She didn't even do so when the sawbones gave her the diagnosis. She did, however, dress me down a bit as she ferried me and my brother home in her DeSoto. As she pulled into the drive she leveled her big guns. "Just wait until your father gets home!" It was the most severe and frequent admonishment Mom ever used with me and my siblings.

I'm sure Mom and Dad were relieved that I'd survived but they tried to use me to set an example for the rest of their brood.

While they read us the riot act and grounded me and my brother for the remainder of July, I couldn't help think how loved we were. Even as they were doling out their harsh discipline I could see through Mom's tears and Dad's sternness. I could see they were only concerned for their sprouts.

Late that night I lay in bed reviewing the day waiting for sleep to claim me. I could hear Mom's and Dad's voices discussing their sons coming up from the kitchen through the vent. Mom was sure they were being too soft and that we were going to drive her to drink, but Dad was laughing and telling her that's what kids do. They get bumps and bruises, pick themselves up and hopefully learn lessons along the way. By the time I drifted off to sleep, they were both laughing.

I did learn a lesson from my brief flight, and no, it wasn't to always listen to that quiet voice in my head that suggested caution. I would continue to mostly ignore that voice for many more years until the falls and bumps and scrapes beat me into a state of reasonableness.

No, the lesson I learned is that there is no idea so stupid that someone, somewhere won't look at it and say, "Why not?"

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noffy96 · 2 years ago

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Errink fic: What death takes from us Chapter 3

Here it is, the final chapter of this fic, hope i managed to deliver on the ending!

What death takes from us:

Patience rewarded

Word count: 10359 (this chapter

Chapter (3/3) (Complete)

(first chapter)

Chapter Summary:

Error feels like something is off. And his worries get confirmed when he visits the Doodle Sphere. He has to find a creative solution to help his boyfriend, even if he doesn't enjoy it. But maybe something else was baking up

Link here to AO3

Or continue below the read-more line

He sighed as he closed the portal behind him. Something was off, really off. The feeling only got stronger as he headed towards the house Ink called his home. He had a feeling something had been off this morning. He should have called instead of believing Ink over Tekst. And the loud sounds coming from inside only confirmed his suspicions.

But he had needed a full day of rest. It had been a whole week, of being around way too many people. It was a wonder he hadn't somehow crashed. But he was feeling normal again.

Or as good as the new normal was letting him. Despite being back for six months now It was still not anywhere near how it had been before his little vacation to the afterlife.

He took another deep breath, as he listened to the sounds coming from the house. It could mean one of two things. And he hoped it wasn’t the same as two months back. Ink had been going through enough emotional turmoil lately.

He gave a light shudder as he remembered the normally bright room being covered in coats of thick black ink. The scream of pain he heard as he rushed up the stairs. His boyfriend's face stuck in that jack-o-lantern smile, with black tears streaming down his face.

If he closed his eyes he could still see the way ink collapsed when he came back to himself. He clenched his fist. It had taken everything not to wrap him up in a hug. It would have hurt, and only have made things worse.

He stood in front of the door and debated teleporting in, but decided against it. Didn’t need to get an attack thrown at his face today. He opened the door or tried to at least, but it got stuck. He pushed a bit harder, enough that he could slip through the opening. The door was pushed shut, the second he let go.

He glanced around the room and saw every surface of the room covered with different unfinished works. Canvases with half-finished sketches, different types of yarn work, paper craftworks, plants, sculptures, clay figures, and even more things he couldn’t name.

It was usually a mess, finding materials everywhere. But not covering the ground until there was no place to walk, not this unlivable. He didn’t even see a way for ink to move around by jumping from wall to wall. The sounds he heard from outside seemed to come from the kitchen.

Summoning his strings, he used them to fly over the mess. He grabbed a hold of the doorpost as he looked inside. Loud music was blasting from inside. All the counters were littered with different bowls, glasses, pans, and other appliances. It looked like Ink had started cooking and baking dozen of different recipes and not finished any.

Ink had ever since his death, tried to keep the balance. And lately, he had the feeling Ink was trying to tip it into his favor instead of his own. So the forces that be, were probably trying to make Ink create, no matter how he felt about it.

And right in the middle Ink was working on a cutting board. He managed to find somewhere to stand and checked over his boyfriend. Ink seemed to half throw something on a bit more haphazardly instead of his usual outfit. Some brown shorts and a white T-shirt with different art stains of god knows what. And more worryingly scarf nowhere in sight

Ink's eyes were shifting way too quickly through its symbols. Different spirals kept popping up, as he was mumbling to himself.

But he breathed a small sigh of relief to see that his eyes weren’t very cloudy. So this was most likely not a swallowing too much ink situation. And he had a feeling he knew what it was.

It was one of the worst feelings when the multiverse decided it had enough. And everything becomes so loud, so demanding. The only way for the painfully loud voices to stop, for him, was to destroy. Ink had told him, it was similar for him. Over the years both of them became good at fighting the instinct. But occasionally, it grew stronger and could overwhelm them.

The last time it took hold of him, he was destroying universe after universe, not really realizing which one he did. Popular or not.

Ink in contrast could start making so much, to fill the void up. It often happened when protecting alone wouldn’t be enough. And it could get really bad if all his colors were used up. Ink would forget to eat and drink. And just become a machine that just kept churning out artworks.

When he asked what was wrong with what he had created. Ink had called them ‘soulless’. In the months after, he had been destroying those artworks and universes one by one. Slowly as to not upset the balance and send ink into another spiral. Ink never mentioned it. It had been their little secret

Ink only had one that was so bad in the time they became friends. And to see his then-friend look at all the art he had made with such a sad frown on his face. It had ached something in him.

Ink did like to get feedback on his work. But never seemed to hate or even dislike anything he made. But then, well he never saw ink look so sad.

Now Ink was fighting that instinct, to go out there and make new AU’s. And seemed to be in a creative manic spiral. Listening to the creators to make something, but not being able to finish anything.

He knocked on the wall, Ink didn’t seem to react.

“Ink?”

Still nothing. He huffed, trying not the be insulted at being ignored, He used his strings to clear some space in front of the counter. Then jumped to the now free floor, putting his hands down

“Squid!”

Ink stilled for a second, then slowly looked up. Yellow flooded his eyes and face way too quickly.

“Ruru~! Good to see you! How was your rest?”

Ink's voice was a tad too loud. And he hid a flinch,

“Been fine, you’ve been busy”

Ink nodded happily, but there was a hint of purple in there too. And now that Ink had stopped cutting whatever he was working on. He was swaying lightly, he could also hear bones rattling just below the music.

He frowned and looked to the side,

“You mind if I turn that off?”

Ink turned his head towards the music player, confusingly looking toward it. After a few seconds, he shook himself out of his thoughts

“Oh yeah, that’s fine.”

There was a hidden strain in there, and he had a feeling Ink had put on the music to drown out the noise of the creators. But considering his confusion, it had stopped helping, and he hadn’t realized it was still playing.

Using an attack he quickly turned off the music. Ink"s eyes shifted through more symbols, and he came up with an idea.

“What are you baking?” Ink looked back at him, eyes blinking fast quickly.

“Uhhh..” Ink looked down at his hands.

“...cake?....” Ink started very confused. Eyes cycling a couple more times through his symbols, then looking up happily

“A strawberry chocolate cake! “

He kinda doubted that was what it started as, but he could see a way to quell some of Ink’s restlessness.

“Want me to help finish it?”

The of Ink slammed his hands on the table. Eyes turning to stars.

“You serious?! Yes!, yes, please! Thank you Error!”

Ink’s face flushed a happy bright yellow And despite the circumstances, he couldn’t help but give a small smile himself

Baking meant getting dirty, and if he hated something it was creating. But getting Ink to actually finish something, would probably quiet the voices for a bit. And he was willing to suffer through the unpleasant bits.

Ink’s tired swaying had become happy bouncing, as he took off his jacket and scarf, dumping them through a portal back to his home, not wanting to get them dirty.

“So what can I do for you Squid?”

Ink started looking around the counter space, picking up different bowls and pans. Before suddenly grabbing a box with a cake printed on it from beneath three measuring cans. And handing it to him.

He took it carefully, trying to avoid the sticky fingerprints all over it. But grimacing as the icing coated his fingers as their hands brushed together.

“That’s the one I am making! Can you do the wet ingredients, then I go do the dry ones after I finish with the strawberries “

And Ink beamed, going back to cutting up the fruits in front of him... This time it was a little less frantic, Still a bit too quick for his liking. But he knew he shouldn’t rush this. And with some careful maneuvering, he got around the counter, to grab what he needed.

He gave a nod

“Sure thing Inky”

After staring at the box with a glare for a few minutes, He let out a few curses and grumbles. Pulling out his glasses and putting them on. As he read the instructions he went over to grab everything from Inks fridge. Double checking if things weren’t expired, knowing his scatterbrain of a boyfriend.

When he closed it, he noticed that Ink was staring at him. Focussing on his face. Then he realized he was staring at him because of his glasses, he felt his face flush and quickly took them off.

Ink had seen them before why did he have to act like it was the best thing he had ever seen? He deliberately kept his gaze away as he cleaned off some measuring cups, and started adding the wet ingredients together.

Bringing his attention back to his boyfriend after he started searching for a mixer. Only for Ink to look quite lost.

“What is the last thing you did Kiki?”

Ink looked back surprised, back to the bowl he was holding, then up again.

“Added the flour…but I feel like I am forgetting a step”

He grabbed the box and wandered over to stand next to him. So he grabbed his glasses again. Giving a little warning glare to not say anything.

“So you did the flour and sugar?” Ink nodded

“Added the coca?” Ink shook his head, glancing around the room. Then back in the bowl.

“Got butter in here?...should that be?” He quickly scanned the text.

“Is like two steps down, but don’t think it’s gonna be a huge problem” He muttered, turning the box a bit more so Ink could read it. Who took the box gently and read it over, nodding along as he read it over.

“Okay, glad to not have ruined another batch”

Handing the box back. He got some of the batter that was stuck on Ink's fingers on his own as they lightly brushed. And he flicked it at him. Making Ink laugh and dodge out of the way. And he went to grab the mixer and went back to his own bowl.

He stirred everything together until it was good and ready. As he pushed the bowl next to Ink’s, so they could add them together. As he started to search for some chocolate, and as he was rummaging through the cabinets, he noticed something on his hands. There was still some dry icing on his hands.

From when his hand had brushed Ink’s

….

…

Their hands had touched.

…

And he hadn’t even realized

He turned around quickly staring at his boyfriend's back, who was happily kneading what had at this point become a dough.

He hadn’t helped bake anything since he came back. This should have been similar. He should have flinched away, been struck by pain…he wasn’t. All they had to do…? Was it just waiting? That just didn’t feel right.

He felt his body tremble, as he took a step closer. Because this couldn’t be happening. It wouldn’t have so suddenly just been over. For months they had to be careful with every interaction. Noticing how many of their routines now involved touching. Fuck only after losing it all, had they both noticed how big his progress had actually been.

That when they fell back into their routines, they had to work around the casual touches now.

And maybe he did glitch? Maybe he had just brushed the icing. He really shouldn’t be getting his hopes up. But he hadn’t felt that pushing sensation that had accompanied their interactions ever since that miserable first kiss. The feeling had weakened greatly over the last month. But it had been there before. He was getting his hopes up, but he couldn't stop himself.

He was just two steps behind Ink now. And his love raised his head,

“Everything alri-”

Ink stopped talking as he reached forward and wrapped his hand carefully around the other's upper arm. Just below the t-shirt sleeve. Feeling those bones for the first time in over half a year.

“Er-ror?”

Ink gasped and then he had frozen up, and so had he. Just that one moment of contact. It was still prickling as if he had slept on it. But it didn’t hurt, and it didn’t seem to hurt Ink either.

Throwing all caution to the wind he let go and Ink let out another surprise gasp.

He took the last two steps forward and warped his arms around Ink’s chest, Pulling him close against his body. Burying his face into Ink's shoulder. There was a clatter as he yanked Ink's body back, the bowl of ingredients falling over the floor in front of their feet.

For a few seconds, they just stood there, both of their chest heaving with scared quick breaths. His arms tightened as no pain came. Feeling those familiar ribs between his arms and chest. Struggling to hold in his tears.

A trembling hand reached up and rested against his arm…stroking up and down

Once

Twice

Then grabbing on tightly. Scared to let go. Ink’s breath grew labored and quick. Both their bones rattled as reality seemed to settle in over them.

His voice stuttered a bit, but for once it wasn’t the glitches.

“Got you…I’ve got you…”

The sound Ink let out was between a sob and a dry laugh. And then wetness hit his arms. He opened his eyes, raising his head a little. Just able to see yellow-blue tears roll down Ink's face, dripping down his chin. Then feeling them against his arms.

He squeezed a bit tighter. Fighting hard against his own tears.

“Ssshh..it’s okay…It is okay…No need for the waterworks Kiki…if you continue…I will start as well”

A laugh seemed to get punched out of Ink. Along with another sob. A second hand came up to hold onto his arms. In response, he nuzzled softly at Ink's neck. His own face felt warm at feeling that familiar body heat again.

Another sob tore out of Ink's throat. Then Ink started tugging desperately at his arms, making him loosen his grip lightly. Just enough for Ink to turn around. He caught a glimpse of the tears-stained face. Eyeshapes in the form of a soul and a teardrop. Yellow, blue, pink, and purple are all mixed into one.

Inks hands reached up and grabbed his cheeks, feeling it leave behind some more batter, and was pulled down roughly into a kiss.

The last time they kissed, it had burned so bad he had screamed. But now…now all he could feel was inks teeth against his own Just like he remembered how it should feel. Warm and welcome. But also, so very hungry.

Inks magic teased at the seam of his teeth. And for once he didn’t hesitate to open them. Consequences be dammed, as his own hand came to rest against Ink's cheek. Stroking that ink stain that seemed burned into his love's bones.

Tongues quickly rolling out one, by one. Each of which Ink happily devoured. His own tongue fighting so hungrily against his own. Their chest pressed together, their legs tangling together from how much they tried to pull each other closer.

They tumbled onto the ground with painful grunts but neither stopped their hungry kiss. As tears rolled over their cheeks, trying to pour in all of their longing.

Beneath his hands, he could feel Ink’s magic rushing. He knew what was coming, and he growled and pressed closer. Hopefully conveying.

Don’t stop

Let it happen.

Give it to me.

Give me all of you.

The familiar taste of ink hit his tongue. There was still a grossness factor to it. But now it was largely overwhelmed by the fact that it was just able to happen again. And he licked up every single bit that spilled between their mouths. With happy little grunts and groans. Then let his face fall in inks neck.

His boyfriend was now sitting on his lap. Arms looped around his neck and back. Legs warped around his waist, and he was trembling. He tangled around him just as tightly. His own arms held tightly onto Ink’s back, Bringing his legs up to further case him against his chest.

Fuck Ink was trembling so hard. He stroked his hand down the other's spine, trying to calm him. As his own soul hammered faster than ever within his own ribcage.

“Ruru..?” Ink’s voice was thick with tears, and he squeezed a little tighter

“Right here Kiki” Warm hands were gliding over his back. And he was really happy he decided to take off his coat earlier. One of the hands balled into a fist, holding on desperately. It felt so right to hold him close once again.

“Is…is this real?”

He sounded so scared, so fucking scared, and it just made him hold on tighter. Tight enough to hurt his hand, for it to probably bruise Ink's bones.

“I….I didn’t go mad…right?...this isn’t the universe trying to trick me into creating something…right?”

A couple of tears fell, landing against inks shirt.

“Dunno, how that would work Squid…but no…unless we both went mad”

Another sniffling laugh.

“With our track record, we just might have…”

He barked out his own laugh, and gently pinched inks hip bone, making him laugh and flinch away. So he kept doing it. Wanted to hear that laugh more now that he could feel it against himself.,

“What’s that Squid?! Would an insane person make you laugh?”

“Aahh, Nooo, stooop~! “

Ink let out a high shriek as he continued to giggle trying to fight back, but he crushed Ink against himself, making it hard to move

“Trying to undermine my sincerity, aren’t you?!,

“So-orry! Pl-please! S-stop “ Another high burst of laughter, that he could feel through every part of his body, his own face falling into an easy grin

“RURU!” he stopped his teasing fingers, and Ink was panting hard, giving him a soft glare.

He simply raised an eyebrow, and Ink kissed him, quickly and sweetly. Then resting their foreheads together as he tried to catch his breath.

“Thanks, Ru”

He trailed his hands back up Ink’s spine until he was holding onto his back. Giving a quiet hum as he stared into Ink’s eyes. The one teardrop shape had also transformed into a soul, and they were just shifting through all the colors.

But he quickly returned his hands thumbs stroking soothingly beneath his eyes. Eyes raking up and down. Still, a slight tremble in the other's smile.

Ink's hands raised up again, this time he felt them gently trace over the tear marks on his face. Until they hid the frames of his glasses. He blinked, having completely forgotten he had been wearing them.

Ink’s hands gently took hold of them, and with a quiet hum, took them off. Reaching up, and putting them somewhere on the counter, out of danger.

But that hadn’t happened, and now both of them were gonna take their time and enjoy this next kiss. He felt a tongue tease at his teeth, he slowly opened up. He had wanted to return only one. But his body didn’t seem to fully cooperate and summoned three of his tongues.

They both leaned in for another kiss. Half-hooded eyes keeping eye contact the whole time. He didn’t wanna miss a shift in those colors, wanted to see how hard he was affecting him.

Their first kiss had been desperate, trying to convince themselves and each other that it was real. Afraid it would be taken away just as quickly as this little miracle had been given.

Ink hummed happily as they invaded his mouth. His hands lowered till they held onto his shoulders. His own hands reached up to hold the back of Ink's head softly guiding them into a soft push and pull.

Ink’s mouth still tasted of the ink he puked up. But underneath that was the taste, that made ink, well ink. It always reminded him of artificial fruit flavors, this time it was strawberry with banana. It also always did taste kinda chemically, but it didn’t bother him, he was sure he himself was a bit static-y.

Breathing is a bit labored and quick. Ink’s eye lights fully pink. And with a trembling smile, his boyfriend hid himself in his neck. And he gently petted the other's spine once more.

His half-open eyes were still locked with Ink’s. The Pink flush on his cheeks slowly gained more and more colors.

Then there was a desperate little noise, and the hands on his shoulders tightened. In response, he pulled Ink as flush against him as he could. Summoning his final two tongues to tease at the edges of inks mouth. Not able to do more than kinda lick at Ink’s skull. Until, after a few minutes they both pulled away.

“I don’t wanna forget this….” Ink mumbled and he nuzzled the side of Ink's neck.

“You won’t” He breathed out with the utmost confidence This was too important, he just knew he wouldn’t forget.

“But-”

“You won’t” he interrupted. Giving the collarbone a little kiss, which made Ink let out a little surprised gasp.

“...C-could…could you…do something…to ease my mind…that i won’t forget…”

He gave a nod “Anything”

He felt Ink swallow, and his face became a little warmer

“C-could you…mark me?...”

Ink's voice trailed off and became very quiet, and he felt his own eyes widen in surprise, pulling back to look at his boyfriend's face. Which was covered with a pink-blue-ish blush.

“I…you didn’t like it when we tried last time”

Ink nodded. They had only tried once. About a week or two before his death. It had been a spur-of-the-moment thing. They had been making out, He had asked if he could try. Ink agreed but he hadn’t enjoyed the feeling of being marked up.

Ink had said that had liked seeing the mark, but he didn’t like the pain of getting one. He rather tries something different to try and get a similar effect. Like drawing on each other's bones, or hiding one of the thousands of bracelets he had made on his person.

Even if the possessive side of him was disappointed. Ink managed to hold up so many of his boundaries. He’d survive without biting and marking up his lover, it wasn’t the end all be all.

“I…” Ink started, fingers trailing down his arm, until they reached his hands. Then Slowly ever so slowly intertwining their fingers together. Which made his soul beat almost out of its chest. Despite having had their hands all over each other this one thing still felt so much bigger.

There was a soft squeeze which he returned.

“I know….But…I still want to. I want more than words written on my scarf…I…want that proof…something that can only happen because we touched”

Ink still didn’t meet his eyes. There was a pretty big flush on the other cheek, mostly colored blue and pink but it gained a hint of orange. He felt his own face heat up, as his eyes scanned the other's neck,

“Okay…” he breathed out.

Ink’s eyes shot up.

“Really?” He sounded so hopeful. And his own soul tried to beat out of his chest. When he gave a nod. Looking away from the sheer intensity of that gaze

“Where?

He asked if anything to make that gaze stop. He felt Ink pull back a bit, and when he glanced back. He saw Ink’s eyes darting around with a flushed nervousness. Seeing that made him calm down a little.

“A-ah…my neck…I guess…”

He gave a little nod and leaned closer. But then Ink pulled back and he looked back up surprised. Ink’s eyes widened realizing what he did.

“A-ah…sorry Error…I…” At this point, Ink’s whole face had become pink, and he pressed a kiss against his cheek before he could spiral too far.

“It’s okay..” He pressed another a bit lower And he heard his love’s mouth close with a click.

“Just…let me know if it becomes too much…okay?”

A little nod, and he pressed a kiss against Ink’s jaw, then one against the topmost vertebrate. Ink's hand tangled into the bottom of his shirt. The other hand also reached forward, but kept on kind of hovering between them.

He pressed a kiss, a vertebrate lower, Bringing one hand up to where Ink’s neck met his skull, gently guiding him to turn throat. His other hand tugged Ink's shirt out of the way, and then gently wrapped around Ink's spine just below the ribs.

He felt ink freeze up, and he held still himself. Before removing the lower hand and moving it up, gently resting against the scapula instead. And his lover seemed to relax more. He kept kissing down until he reached a little over halfway.

Placing a second kiss, and whispering.

“Here?”

In his own mind, it seemed perfect, Just high enough, that it could be partly obscured by the scarf if he so wished. But not low enough that Ink would not miss it if he glanced into a mirror.

He felt Ink swallow.

“If you think it’s best?” he sounded unsure but also was breathing slowly and deeply. Not something he was used to from his Squid.

His own heart hammered, but still tried to keep a calm voice. Ink seemed nervous enough as it was. And he nuzzled the other's neck softly.

“I can keep go-”

“NO-! “ Ink yelled then stuttered and pulled away., turning completely pink once more

“I..i just…you know how I am with this….stuff. It’s all the same to me...I mean to say..i…uugh. What I mean is..”

“Kiki…..breath”

Ink’s head fell forward burring himself back into his shoulder with a groan. And he kept on petting the other's back soothingly. He was no stranger to Ink’s troubles with emotions. The intimate kind especially.

“You’re okay..”

He breathed against his love's skull. They stayed quiet for a few seconds. Then Ink mumbled softly

“It’s weird to want stuff like this…and at the same time still feel…I dunno. It’s not scared? Abrasive?....something like that....”

He pressed a kiss against Ink’s cheek once more.

“You are allowed to change your mind Inky”

“I know! Like I said I want to….I really, really do…honest. Dunno why I suddenly pulled away…”

Even without seeing his face, he knew Ink was pouting, so he continued to pet his back soothingly.

“Emotions are weird Inky, we can just not dwell on it and try again if you want. Or we can sit and figure it out. Whatever makes you more comfortable in the end.”

Ink shifted around a bit, before pressing closer.

“Drop it and try again…don’t think I have enough paints to last me an emotional rollercoaster”

He gave a nod, gently guiding his love's head back again. As he started kissing back down his neck, until he reached, the same spot... But he decided against pulling back this time. Just kept giving soft closed-mouth kisses against the vertebrates. One hand gently stroking down Ink’s spine. Making him relax a tiny bit.

But he could practically taste the others nervous. He opened his mouth and Ink took in a sharp breath but instead of closing his teeth over the bones, he brought out two of his tongues and started licking them and the sensitive magic between them.

Ink’s breath stuttered out of him

“Er-ror?”

He pulled back just enough, letting his breath ghost over the now wet bones.

“Just…trying something...see if you enjoy it okay?, if not…I’ll stop”

Ink gave a tiny nod, with another sharp intake of breath. And he continued the kiss and lick at the artist's neck It wouldn’t turn tender like ecto would. But he did see Ink’s magic react, the paints swirling towards the points he made contact with misty clouds of pink and purple.

He could feel Ink slowly relax more and more into his arms. Even craning his head to the side more. Ink’s bones tasted a bit like paper he thought distantly. But most of his attention was on the bone beneath his tongue. After a while ink softly asked

“Higher?”

And he did without question, not able to hide his smile, as Ink let out another gasp. Giving the spot the same amount of attention. Then slowly he opened his mouth, resting his teeth against the points he was gonna mark and holding still.

Ink's body tensed again, but not by much, and mumbled a quiet.

“Go ahead”

And he closed his eyes. Focusing on his intent, he bit down slowly and carefully. Trying to pour all his feelings into this bite.

How nervous he was feeling, But also how excited he was. That he loved Ink so much and he was fucking ecstatic that Ink dared to trust him this much. Loving the way Ink just fitted into his arms so perfectly, and that soon everyone would know he was his. That no one could question it, not even Ink himself.

Ink’s breathing quickened beneath him, slowly getting more and more labored. He felt himself growing concerned. And he planned to pull away. But then felt a hand on the back of his head pushing him closer instead.

A surprised noise left him.

“Pl-please…m-more”

Ink’s voice was sounding surprisingly wrecked. Part of him wanted to pull back and check, but the grip on his head increased. And he felt a hungry flare rise up. Ink wanted him to mark him up. Show the world that he was his, so he was gonna give it all that he got.

He bit down a bit harder. And Ink let out a noise between pain and pleasure, that made the heat on his face rise higher and higher. He was pretty sure that along with the love, he was pouring that possessiveness right into Ink.

Mine

That feeling of

Love you

Mine

LOVE YOU!

MINE!

No one would take ink from him again. Not even his own body was gonna keep Ink at this much distance again. Not if he could fight it. They were gonna stay together like this forever.

His eyes widened but he had sense enough not to suddenly pull back and let go. So he slowly relaxed his jaw and summoned all his tongued to lick, over and under the abused bones.

Ink’s other hand was scrambling against his back, sometimes petting, sometimes grabbing tight. He was pretty sure he had felt the nails scratch through the shirt at his bones.

But he was snapped out of everything when he started tasting marrow.

Then he slowly pulled back to look at the damage.

His face lit up with dark blush at what he saw.

Oh, it looked so good, it was hitting him right in all his possessive tendencies. There was a perfect circle of where he had sunken his teeth in. Part of it held the blue sheen of his own magic.

Ink was gorgeous like this.

His T-shirt was pulled down so his shoulder was bare and panting harshly. Eyes half-lidded, but swirling with rainbow colors and little soul symbols. Even the slight tears in his eyes.

And then there was the mark.

But the wound was also colored yellow and pink. Ink’s current emotional state.

“Looks that good?”

He saw the little bit of blue on Ink's finger before he took it into his own mouth. He felt his whole face burn up.

His eyes snapped up to Ink’s, Who’s smile turned teasing, and he made a dry swallow.

Ink giggled and sat up straighter again. The hand that had held him to Ink’s throat, came down to gently stroke his cheek. Then seemingly wiping the corner of his mouth.

“Ink! What the fuck! Gross!”

Ink just laughed, dismissing him entirely, and dropped his hand tracing over his new mark. And he couldn’t help but go back and forth between his love's face and him tracing it.

“Is it always supposed to feel like this?”

He shook himself out of his stupor.

“What?”

Ink stroked over the mark again, seeming to press it a bit harder.

“Getting one of these…It felt so different from last time…is…is this how it is supposed to feel? Cause…cause that. I want more of that…But..”

Ink’s eyes dropped down, not looking at him anymore, but he could still see Ink’s smile growing every time he pressed into the mark.

He raised his own hand, settling it right next to Ink’s and pressing the mark together. Ink looked up back up Staring into his face with wide surprised eyes.

“I think…it might be a special moment kind of thing. Takes both you wanting it, and me giving. Last time… wasn't like that..was more…”

“Trying for the sake of trying,” Ink finished

He gave a nod, and Ink’s eyes widened slightly as he breathed out

“It only works, if our emotions align”

He closed the gap between their teeth with a small kiss.

“Makes it more special?… Don’t you think?”

Ink’s smile grew, then his eyes dropped down toward his neck

“Could….could I try?”

His face gained color again. And he was sure he heard his body buzz. Even if he didn’t feel it.

“You sur-”

“Yes!” Inks said leaning closer, before backing away with a flush.

“I... I wanna try making you feel like I did! I … I really want to try! “

He felt himself nod and Ink’s smile grew, and before he could comprehend. Ink was leaving kisses on his neck. his hands dropped down and hold onto Ink's arms.

Ink’s breath felt warm against his neck, his soul started beating fast out of his chest. And he felt a tongue join the action just like he himself had done.

His hands held on tighter and he feared he might even be leaving bruises. He didn’t know how long Ink kept kissing and licking at his throat. But it felt longer than when he had done it.

He felt his ribcage brush against Inks with every shuddering breath. The way Ink’s hands held onto him so tenderly. Like he was precious, The solid weight of him on his lap, it was making his head spin.

But then he could focus on the teeth he could feel against his throat. His body shivered, and he felt a wave of glitches pass over him. They stung lightly but luckily didn’t return.

It took him another long embarrassing moment to realize that Ink was waiting for some sort of signal, that he was okay.

So he moved his hands up to his love's shoulders, closing his eyes he breathed

“Okay”

He felt another hot puff of air, and then slight pinching pressure, that slowly, increased. That pain was familiar in a way. In a way, his body normally behaved. But he could also feel something different. It was weak at first, just a shimmer of it.

It was kinda familiar, and after a few seconds, it clicked as to why. It felt like Ink’s healing magic. Something so intention and emotion-based. It was often quite weak. But it was similar. But there was a uniqueness to it. Like it’s its own flavor. And the more he relaxed into it. The more he could feel it. Learn how to pick it apart.

As it slowly draped over him, like a warm crochet blanket. His rapid breathing slowed, as the pain crew. Gently he caressed the others back up and down. He felt a shudder going down Ink's back. And he let out a high-pitched sound, as Ink's teeth dug in deeper. For a second he could feel ink’s ecto body appear, then just as quickly disappear.

There was a fire in the action too, something hot and burning. Ink pressed himself a little closer, and he moved his head to the side, giving Ink all the room he could wish. As he tried to untangle these emotions that were being poured into him.

His face flushed as his bones began to ache pleasantly, His hand gently pressing into Ink’s back, hopefully letting him know how much he was enjoying this experience.

Eventually, Ink slowly pulled away with a darkly flushed face. When their eyes met his. boyfriend's mouth twitched up for a second. It felt like he saw thousands of emotions swirl inside those ever-changing eyes.

He reached his hands up to said face and pulled him into a firm kiss. Holding him close for a few seconds.

“Thank you, Kiki” He whispered against his teeth as he let go, and Ink’s smile was a bit wobbly. And he turned his throat a bit

“So tell me…how does it look?”

Ink stared at it. Then whispered.

“Gorgeous”

He preened at the compliment. Reaching up to touch it. Feeling the slight dend in his bones. It would heal with time, and might even become a bruise for a day or two. Not long. But there was something terribly exciting about having Ink so clearly mark him up.

It was a statement in itself. Cause nobody else would ever be allowed that close to him.

Inks hand hovered between them so he took it and brought it up to his neck just beside the newly made mark. The flush on Ink's face got a lot darker. He simply raised an eyebrow at his boyfriend. And after a few seconds of hesitation, he felt Ink’s thumb press slightly into it.

He had to swallow a moan, but couldn’t suppress the shudder. Inks glanced up, their eyes holding for a second. And Ink did it again with a little smile on his face. And he glared after holding back another moan.

He leaned forward and stole another quick kiss. When he pulled back, Ink was smiling brightly.

“Satisfied?”

Ink nodded. Arms raised around his back once more and pulling him into another hug. Ink tugged his face over his shoulder and he did the same. Glad to be holding Ink close.

“I ain't letting you go for the rest of the day, you know that right,” he muttered

Ink laughed and he could feel the rumble of it through his chest.

“Honestly…same. But…is that safe?…shouldn’t we…you know… try and tone it down so you don’t overload yourself?”

He squeezed Ink tighter

“If this is just a one-time thing, I ain't fucking missing out by toning it down ”

Ink nuzzled and kissed his jaw. Then he let out another laugh

“There is batter all over your face”

He returned the gesture with a kiss of his own, and a little growl

“And who’s fault is that?”

Ink let out another giggle, and then a deep happy sigh

“I missed this…”

The arms around him squeezed him gently.

“Me too…”

They happily stayed like that for a couple of minutes. Hands gently trailing over backs, hips, arms, their bare bones. With little nuzzling kisses placed here and there. It was almost sickeningly sweet, but fuck it. They hadn’t been able to do as much as hold pinkies. He was gonna indulge all he could for as long as he could.

But the kitchen floor was getting uncomfortable, he opened a small portal beside them to peek into Ink’s room. Happy to see it wasn’t such a mess as the rest of the house.

“Ruru?”

He smirked, and pulled back, placing a quick kiss on Ink’s teeth. And then opened a bigger portal beneath them. Making them fall through right onto Ink’s soft bed.

Ink let out a shriek when they fell, holding on for dear life. Then he angrily sat up and straddled him further pushing him into the bedding.

“What the Hell Error!! “

And he laughed loudly.

“That’s for dragging me into all your portals squid”

Ink gave a pout, and wriggled himself lower, until he was laying on top of him, instead of sitting.

“If you wanted to cuddle, you should have said. No kisses for this clever trick.”

He said while burying his face into his chest. Laughing softly at his boyfriend's slightly childish antics. And raised a hand up to pet, and then softly trace Ink’s skull. Ink let out a soft sigh and buried himself further in.

“Your soul beat…it sounds different…I think”

His hand stopped moving. Staring down at his boyfriend.

“Explain?”

“The beat…is different? Last time…it was… one, two, one, two a pause. One, two, three? And now it is more like..a quicker one, two three, one, two, three. And a longer pause? That… is not normal for souls right? I mean I know yours is not like normal souls..but for it to change?.... Are you alright?”

He could hear the worry creep in. And he craned his neck forward to place a kiss at the top of his skull.

“Dunno if it is or not…just know that the beat is irregular. Sci made no mention of it after he checked me out. So doubt it something serious”

He felt Ink’s arm tighten

“I didn’t like how much you were glitching after the check-up”

“Not much to be done about it, I sure as fuck didn’t like it either. But rather not die a second time because of something stupid”

Ink let out a sad hum.

“How are you doing with the voices by the way?” He asked Ink softly

And Ink let out a sad laugh

“Of course you noticed.”

He rolled his eyes

“Be hard not to Inky”

“The creators have quieted down. For now, I still...feel them. But…then again. They always seemed to leave me alone, when we do stuff like this”

He blinked a couple of times, a hand trailing down Ink's arm until he found his hand, intertwining their fingers softly

“You never told me that”

He felt Ink shrug.

“Didn’t want you to feel obligated to hug me if you were having a bad day”

He felt his soul squeeze in gratitude. But also regret.

“I am willing to fucking help you, you know that right? I can deal with a bit more discomfort than normal. If it helps, I know how terrible it can be when the pressure to do our job becomes too great”

Ink stayed quiet. And he had a feeling that Ink indeed knew. But still felt like this was his own responsibility. He didn’t expect this to resolve in one day. But he could work on this. They work on it together.

He nuzzled to the top of his loves head

“If they still screaming at you tomorrow,. I help you create some SU’s”

Ink shot up, staring at him. A mix of excitement and worry on his face.

“You don’t have to I know-”

He cut him off with a kiss

“YOU have been doing my job, when I was gone. YOU have kept doing my job to keep the balance even after. Because my glitches were so bad that leaving the Anitvoid was a fucking pain. I think I can return the last six months, no fuck, that's wrong, I've only been back six. So that means EIGHT months of work, for ONE fucking day Ink. I don’t like creating any more than you like destroying. But I am willing to do it for you. Just as you are for me. I am sick and tired of seeing you run yourself so fucking racked okay?”

There were some blue tears gathering at the corner of Ink's eyes. And he gently encouraged the other forward to bury his face back into his neck. He noticed the surprise gasp and felt Ink shift away. Ink’s face heated up, and he realized he pulled him to the side ink had left the mark.

“It’s alright Kiki. You have been wonderful, let me return the favor okay? “

Ink was shaking and he felt a slight nod. And he gently traced his hands over Ink's ribs. Trying to follow the patterns of where he thought the tattoos were.

“Ruru…I…sorry…didn’t mean to worry you..”

He kissed the side of his boyfriend's face

“No harm done, you know I love it when you only pay attention to me. But not at the cost of yourself,

“I’ll try…to be better”

He pulled back. Cupping Ink's face in his hands, staring into Ink's eyelights. A pink teardrop and a blue upside-down triangle.

“I Love you as you are, But your consideration is really appreciated”

Ink's eyelight shifted, to a star and heart. And he was pulled up into another soft kiss. He let his eyes close as Ink pressed closer and firmer. Letting himself be pressed back into the soft blankets.

Fingers were tracing up and down his cheeks, as their tongues met once again. Most of the Inky taste was gone, only leaving that artificial flavor that was so Ink. It had shifted as the colors had. It now tasted like watermelon.

His own hands kept trailing up and down Ink's ribs and spine. Stroking the bones through the thin t-shirt. Trying to make Ink let out more soft sighs. He wasn’t trying to rile him up. No, he was trying to find that perfect spot that would make Ink sink into him as if they could do this all day.

Fuck he wouldn’t mind if this is all they did the whole time they could still touch. Minutes ticked by with nothing more happening. Either their tongues were softly sliding together and sharing hot puffs of breath. Or they kept giving each other soft little pecks on the mouth and cheeks.

One hand was simply holding onto Ink's back, the other stroking down his spine. While Ink's hands weren’t letting go of his face. That was until unknowingly to both of them Ink’s shirt rode up a bit and he stroked the bare bone of his love's spine.

Ink let out a very surprised-sounding squeak, and pulled back, blushing madly. Tugging his shirt back down seemingly feeling embarrassed. Sitting back up and glancing away with a flushed face. He slowly raised back up onto his elbows

“You…okay?”

Ink gave a little nod, still avoiding eye contact. He decided gently rest his hands on Ink's upper arms rubbing them gently. Ink’s eyelights were quickly shifting through many symbols, most noticeably an exclamation point.

Ink never mentioned having had a problem with any kind of touch. But then again, he doesn’t remember ever seeing ink in a crop top. Maybe his spine was just super sensitive. Wouldn’t be the strangest thing.

Ink was looking panicked enough that he decided to drop it for now, and see if he could help him calm down.

“Sorry about that”

Ink shook his head,

“I-it’s fine…just…suprised thats all”

It seemed like a load of bullshit as Ink hadn’t really stopped his shaking. He gently tugged at his arms, and to his surprise Ink followed easily. Ink's head laid against his shoulder as he curled himself around his ribs.

Inks eyes seemed to linger on the mark, one hand coming up to trace his own. Still oddly quiet.

“I…just… too much I guess” Ink mumbled softly.

He paused at the admission, gently cradling Ink closer to himself. He understood that feeling perfectly. And he gently nuzzled the top of Ink's head, for now not making eye contact so his boyfriend could calm down.

“It happens Kiki. Anything I can do to help?”

Ink snuggled closer, rubbing his face against his shoulder like a cat would. With every breath seeming to calm down more.

“Can you just talk?”

He hummed,

“Did you check your phone today?”

Ink shook his head and his smile grew, he knew Ink would get a kick out of this news.

“Well, I got a text from Blue, so i am assuming you got it as well”

Ink shuffled around and pulled out his phone. The second it was unlocked he stole it out of his hands. Smiling as he saw that Blue had indeed sent the message to Ink as well so he wasn’t breaking a secret.

Ink tried to make a grab for it, but he just caught it in his strings and rose the phone to the ceiling.

“Uh-uh, no peaking, That’s no fun at all Kiki.”

Ink glared at him and crossed his arms and laid down on him again, seemingly trying to put all his weight on it. It was fine, he didn’t mind and wrapped one arm around his boyfriend. ,

“So, Blue gave us a status update Can you guess what it is about?”

One of Ink’s eyes turned into a question mark. And he was happy that this small discussion was already working on keeping Ink's mind off what just happened.

“Did…did he finally make it into the royal guard?”

“Wrong, sorry that would have been great for him though, you get two more guesses” And he held up two fingers

“Yeah he deserves it, but.. mmmm “ Ink looked around the room.

“Did he win that, ‘Best Sans in the multiverse poll’ thing that was going around?”

Ink gave a shrug that implied he didn’t care so much either way as he lowered one more fingers

He laughed hard

“Fuck I had completely forgotten about that shit, Dunno, check that later, weren’t you up against him?”

“Last chance to guess Squid”

His love closed his eyes and seemed to rack his brain deeply, and made all kinds of little vocal noises. That over some time he just had come to dub as thinking noises.

“Did his brother finally ask out, fell’s brother? “

He brought his fingers to Ink's forehead who went crosseyed following it, then he gave a firm push, making Ink bend backward.

“And wrong again, That was the closest you got through”

Ink rubbed at his forehead with a pout and sat up straighter again.

“Wait really?... I was close? Wait did he ask out someone else?! I was sure Stretch was having a crush on- “

He slapped his hand over Ink's mouth with a little glare.

“Hey no more guesses, you only had three you little sh- EW gross INK did you just lick me?!?”

He was surprised that no glitches sprang up from his angry outburst. Ink only stuck his tongue out at him. And he glared at his boyfriend, he didn’t want to think about how badly that could have gotten if that had activated his glitches.

He wiped his hand on one of the many blankets surrounding them.

“So do you wanna know or not”

He grumbled trying to get the gross feeling of his hand, while seeing Ink excitedly nod. Then his eyelight became an exclamation point.

“Wait!! Don’t tell me…?! “ A smile was growing on Ink's face, the eyelights changing into rotating stars. And he couldn’t help the grin of his own.

“Yup, he and Lust got into a relationship. A couple of months ago apparently”

Inks clapped his hands excitingly. Both had seen the pinning from their shared best friend. And his own case, both of those idiots during the Undernovella’s marathons. Sometimes those two were acting just like his beloved soap opera. It was only a lot more painful to watch it happen in real life”

“Oh, I am so happy for them. But why did they wait so long to tell us “

He chuckled, shaking his head

“Dunno, why didn’t you tell anyone, we were dating those first few months”

Inks eyes turned determined

“Because you didn’t want me….ooh…I see your point….that was insensitive of me wasn’t it?”

He raised his hand up so he could cup Ink’s skull again, placing a chaste little kiss on his nose ridge.

“Perhaps, at least they didn’t hear it”

Ink gave a nod,

“Can I have my phone back now so I can congratulate them properly before I forget?”

“We really aren't going anywhere hmmm?” he asked with a laugh

He chuckled again and lowered the phone, which Ink snatched out of the air, He unlocked it, but then he froze.

Gathering some blankets from around them, wrapping one around them and Ink snuggled up into his side as he texted with a smile.

Ink hummed.

“Wasn’t planning on. No. How about you grab some chocolate, and we then alternate between watching some Undernovella reruns and some art videos? You know….make this a proper impromptu stay-in date”

“Fuck, You read my fucking mind Ink”

He kissed just below Ink's eye, where a light flush still was. Opening a portal into a fell universe and took several bars of chocolate. Breaking off some pieces to nibble on as he warped his arm around his boyfriend's shoulders, pulling him closer to his side.

When he was about to pop the fourth piece into his mouth. His lover tugged on his arm, he looked down to see Ink look up with a little hopeful smile. He brought the piece to Inks' mouth who bit into it with a smile.

Then Ink held up his own little piece bringing it to his mouth. He made sure to lick at Ink’s fingers as he took it. And Ink dove after them for a short-but well loving kiss. And then snuggling back into his side.

After a few moments of silence on which Ink was scrolling through his phone to find a video

“This isn’t gonna last…is it..”

Ink's voice was sad, and low, He closes his eyes and didn't dare to speak louder than a whisper

“Most likely not…”

Ink held him a bit tighter

“You know I don’t blame you for-”

He leaned down for a kiss, cutting Ink off again

“I know, we keep fighting, remember”

Ink gave a soft nod, eyes a pale blue and he nuzzled closer

“Let's just enjoy what we have”

Ink gave a smile, as he started a video.

Later, much later. He woke up, The deep sleep was struggling to let him go. It had been a while since he slept so soundly. Nothing had woke him up in the middle of the night. Or whatever time it was in the Antivoid

But then he realized that he wasn't at home, he wasn’t lying on his bean back. No, he was lying on a bed that he had also come to be familiar with.

Ink’s

Ink and he had been able to hug, they had been able to touch. And by all likelihood.

Yup, there was still a weight on him. Ink was lying on top of him, and one of his hands was tangled in his shirt. His own arm was wrapped around his boyfriend's lower back, holding him to his chest. Their other hands tangled together in a loose hold.

His body didn’t feel as calm as it did yesterday. The second he moved the glitches would most likely start once again.

And he hated that, so he laid still. As still as he could to be able to have Ink in his arms for just a few seconds longer. And by the silence in the room he had the feeling ink was doing the same.

His breathing sounded like he was awake, they lay there, completely still for a while. What was it five minutes? Ten? Fifteen? He didn’t know but he knows they gotta end this at some point.

“Morning Kiki” he breathed out. Making sure his chest still moved as evenly as it could

“Morning Ruru.” Ink’s emotions were always more muted in the morning, as he ran low on paints. But his voice was quivering, dreading the inevitable as much as he, most likely all up on his blues.

He was afraid to squeeze the hand still tangled with his own, to breathe too deep and let their chest start moving out of rhythm. Afraid of the pain he knew would come.

He kept his eyes closed and mumbled

“I love you so much…thanks for yesterday..”

Inks breath hitched and there was wetness leaking into his shirt.

“Love…you to…” The words were quiet, so very quiet. But he knew they would be added to the tally.

He braised himself

“Okay…let’s do this”

“Yeah…”

He counted to three and then removed his arm from around Ink. Immediately his body started prickling and burning badly. Ink pulled away now free from his hold. Shuffling to the other side of the bed a safe distance away. He struggled through the pain feeling the cool air hitting it as the blankets got taken off.

But it was over relatively quickly, his head was buzzing, as were his ears. But he had expected the glitching to last much, much longer.

He slowly sat up and stared at his hands in wonder. Glitches were obviously going down his arms and legs. They were buzzing like crazy, leaving little shocks of pain like always. But it was more bearable,

If he had to rate it, he had been expecting nines across the board. But right now it was at seven. Still painful, quite a lot so. But..fuck he could grin and bear this.

He looked back up to his boyfriend. Ink had been staring at the mark on his neck. And when iInk noticed him staring flushed and then quickly started chucking his paints.

Their eyes met. Ink took a last gulp and gave him a sad smile. His mouth opened, but no words came out.

After a couple of false starts. Ink shook his head, moving to the edge of the bed.

“Well, I am sure you need a minute or two, I make us some toast okay?”

Ink tried to do business as normal, maybe so that it wouldn’t hurt as much. It made his soul sink at the thought.

“Wait!” he managed to get out, just before Ink’s feet hit the floor.

Ink looked back up, A question mark in his eyes.

He started at his hands again and held it out. Ink looked back at it, tilting his head from side to side. Before eyes widened with exclamation points.

“You sure?”

He gave a nod. Ink's hand reached forward. Slowly, tentatively. When their fingers almost touched. Ink pulled away slightly as if scared. A flash of orange came over Ink's eyes, and he closed the distance.

He let out a wince, but before Ink could retract his hand back, he intertwined their fingers. And held on. He closed one eye and bared through the pain for a few more seconds and then let go with a slight hiss.

Ink held his hands to his chest. Upset that the touch had hurt him. But also didn’t seem to be rubbing his hand like he had done for the last few months and they accidentally brushed together. A smile broke over his own face

“Yeah…fuck…that hurt…but…if that is how it is when I am agitated…if I rest enough…I think I’ll be able to hold your hand again.”

Ink started at him, eyes little pinpricks

“You…you…really?”

He nodded. Shaking his hand still, trying to cool it down.

“Yeah…maybe rest two? or three days? just to be fucking safe. But I am pretty sure. This feels like…you know a really bad day from before…Then...Yeah I am pretty fucking sure we are able to just-”

He was cut off by the noise Ink let out. Ink's hands had flown to his mouth, and he could see that he was restraining himself to not propell himself forward and hugging him once more

The tears that were flowing out of his eyes had a happy yellow sheen to them.

“I…this is…” Ink laughed sounding half delirious.

Ink closed his eyes tightly hand pressing closer to his chest

“I am trying not to get my hopes up…”

His soul nearly broke in two at the words, As fucking lovely as Ink’s consideration for his condition was. Both of them wanted this back so bady

“Ink…” he said slowly, waiting until ink met his eyes again

Then said with all the conviction he could muster

“I am sure, we won this one battle”

Ink shook, then the smile that broke over his face was large.

“I wanna kiss you…but I can’t so I am gonna do something stupid”

Before he could even make a face. Ink started blowing kisses at him, and it made him huff out a burst of surprised laughter. But Ink didn’t stop, and the giggling, sound of pure happiness was addicting.

So maybe…just maybe, he blew a few back.

Maybe they sat there doing that for longer than was strictly necessary.

But after all this time, when he felt closer to normal than he had in so very very long. Who cares that he was acting a bit silly with his boyfriend.

They earned it. And they were gonna damm well enjoy it. He thought as he stroked over the mark Ink had given him. Ink flushing and doing the same.

He wasn’t gonna let go, not if he could help it. They might not be back to before exactly but they made it.

They finally fucking won.

#noffys writing #errink #error sans #ink sans #fanfic #undertale #utmv #ink x error

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monriatitans · 8 months ago

Text

Ta-Da! List: Monday, June 24th

The image was made in Canva; check it out at the [referral] link here!

I share my “Ta-Da! List” every day so everyone gets a daily update and I have a reminder of what I’ve accomplished.

To learn more about “Ta-Da! Lists”, and other ADHD life hacks, check out @adhdjesse’s book Extra Focus: The Quick Start Guide to Adult ADHD.

Abbreviations

- MT: MonriaTitans - O&T: Opinions & Truth Blog - FBMR: Finished a Book! Mini-Review - WGS: The Weekend Game Show - ASO: Artist Shout-Out - IG: Instagram - BMAC: Buy Me a Coffee - TDL: Ta-Da! List

Ta-Da! List

✧ June 23rd: - Kickstarter: received a response to the ticket, ID #1974087, submitted on Jun. 17th: they are escalating it to their Trust & Safety team

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ✧ throughout the day: - kept emails manageable - loaded the dishwasher - filled out today’s TDL

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ✧ on the mobile phone: - Hive: shared today’s ASO

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ✧ on the bedroom setup: - WGS: shared the VOD for yesterday’s LPS$ Stream to the WGS Ko-fi - Movies: watched “The Nightmare Before Christmas” - O&T: shared today’s TDL to the WGS Ko-fi

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ✧ on the office setup: - WGS: gave a human artist, Claudio Fabietti, a shout-out by sharing it on O&T, Tumblr, and other social media; uploaded the VOD for yesterday’s LPS$ Stream to Rumble; in the WGS Carrd, updated the mini-gallery from 8 to 9, added the link to Bluesky, Medium, and Minds to the “Social Media” section, and a link to the #artist-shout-outs Discord Channel to the “Artist Shout-Outs (ASO)” - O&T: changed the publish date of “The Dangers of AI ‘Art’” and “If you are… don’t come in.” so they’re higher up the Home page; shared yesterday’s FBMR post to O&T, Tumblr, Medium, LinkedIn, Pinterest, creating a Section for it in the process, Bluesky, and BMAC; in the MT Carrd, replaced the MT Kickstarter profile link with the MT Goodreads profile link; shared today’s TDL to IG and various social media - Fable/Goodreads: wrote a review for “The Affinity Between Us” by Melissa Sweeney - Branding: in Canva, updated the “Finished a Book Feature Image” template to have the color scheme of the “Current TBR Tower” template and added “Mini-Review:” - Gaming: played “Final Fantasy XIV”; “Super Lesbian Animal RPG”

- YouTube: watched and/or listened to: 1. Ember Green’s video “Keto for Autism? A Candid Response” 2. Jim Sterling’s videos “Embracer’s Legacy: 44 Axed Studios, 80 Axed Games, 4,532 Axed Jobs”, “Subscriptions For Car Seats!?”, “Scam Turismo”, “A Video Discussing That Horny TayTay Movie Getting Patched”, “Naughty Dog Deserves To Spring Leaks Forever”, “J. Allen Brack’s Unrepentant Bullshit”, “Beg Like Dogs For Electronic Arts!”, “Konami’s Awful, Awful Soccer Game”, “Pissy People Protesting PlayStation PC Ports”, “Devil Nuns With Tommy Guns (Squirty Play)”, “Cryptovania”, “Is 17 Hours Too Short For A Videogame?”, “World Of Warsh*ts”, “EA And Battlefront II Really Fucked This Up”, and “EA Should Lose The Star Wars License” 3. The Book Leo’s videos “reacting to 1 star reviews of books i love 💔” and “new faves, leigh bardugo & vampire smut ⛈️ books i recently read ft a thunderstorm” 4. Philosophy Tube’s video “X Men: is Magneto Right? | ft NerdSync” 5. NerdSync’s videos “Why Are the X-MEN Hated?? (ft. Philosophy Tube) || Comic Misconceptions” and “Secrets of the WEAPON PLUS PROGRAM!! || Comic Misconceptions” 6. The Financial Diet’s video “Getting Sick: The Most Expensive Thing You Can Do In America”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ✧ chores and miscellaneous: - Food: had coffee for breakfast; had a bowl of cereal and grapes for lunch; partner cooked steaks for dinner, helped by heating the vegetables; had hot cocoa - Chores: washed the towels and rags; checked the mail

—

Well, these are all the updates I had for today! Thank you for reading!

May every decision you make be *in the spirit of fairness* and may the rest of your day *NOT go to $#!7*!

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

Enjoy what I do? Please consider supporting via Buy Me a Coffee (BMAC)! Like what you see and want to know when there’s more? Click here to subscribe for updates and/or hit the Follow button! This post contains affiliate links.

Watch MonriaTitans on Twitch, YouTube, and Rumble! For more about MonriaTitans, click here!

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writtenbywings · 2 years ago

Text

Battle Scars

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Draco Malfoy

Summary: Returning to Hogwarts as a professor, Hermione bitterly encounters Draco Malfoy as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, throwing everything into chaos.

Hatred and lust slowly begins to burn between them, though only as they recall their final, secret year at Hogwarts.

Chapter word count: 1.5k

Link: Battle Scars

SEXUAL THEMES AHEAD

Type: Slow burn romance

CHAPTER THREE

"Located on the offshore island of Moku o Lo'e– a Hawiian patch called The Mokulua Islands– three dragon eggs were found, all belonging to a woman named Dae-Ner-Eees. Can you guess what her legacy entailed?" Professor (Cuthbert) Binns asked, his phantom twinkling with the sunshine that streamed through the grand window.

A small girl in the front stuck her hand up, though gave the wrong answer.

A second tried, though to no avail.

Professor Cuthbert looked to the back, specifically to where I had been lumped together with a few Hufflepuff girls and a Ravenclaw boy.

I stared impassively through him, focusing on the trees that blew with the warm breeze outside.

"I… err… okay," He cleared his throat, "moving on."

Confidence wasn't an issue when it came to answering questions. I had read the text three times over, and knew the legacy of Dae-Ner-Eees seamlessly– or the lack thereof, as she was murdered tragically by her lover. Though I simply wasn't interested any longer in academia, nor what Hogwarts had to offer.

What was the point?

Why were we playing happy families when people were buried? When friends were laid to rest?

When Harry still woke up screaming?

Professor Cuthbert had charmed a few pop-quiz papers to our desks, and I glared with hollow eyes at the blank page in front of me, resisting the urge to walk out. To be compliant, I signed my name and looked emptily toward the front, trying to sift through my demons when one managed to manifest in real time.

Toward the left, Draco Malfoy's eyes were glued passively in my direction, observing every breath, blink and movement I made. Instinctively, I glared back, screwing my face into disgust at the simple thought of his attention.

Alas, he didn't look away.

I slumped my cheek into my hand and began dawdling answers, trying to ignore the piercing blue stare that was visible from the corner of my eye.

I realized my behavior was a little out of the ordinary, though it didn't need an audience.

I finished up the paper within ten minutes and charmed it over to Professor Cuthbert, giving a small wave to announce my leaving. He didn't say much, nodding without argument, seeming a little lost in thought himself. Without a word, and wand at my side, I waltzed out of the classroom and roamed down the deserted corridors– knowing Ron and Harry wouldn't be out just yet.

No, they had the substitute teacher for Potions, and not a lot was left to the imagination with her displayed chest and keen smile.

I'd asked to skip it altogether, knowing the perverted stares of my friends would end up irritating me more than any mock exam could.

The gardens were beautiful today, pruned by none other than Pomona Sprout and her endless supply of wild seeds. I admired their pretty flowers and crunched on a red apple, sitting on the window-sill that overlooked her cabbage patches and Hagrid's new flock of pumpkins.

Hogwarts had done its best to rebuild after the war, though there were still scorched patches where the death-eaters had come, and debris where chunks of the castle had crumbled to nothing.

Another sweet bite of apple skin and my mind was galavanting over the past month, and how Ron hadn't so much as given me a hug. He wasn't the most affectionate of men – something I actually enjoyed – though it was clear we were destined to be friends. The damage between us far too grave to heal.

I'm lost in daydreams about battle scars and pumpkin pie when a shadow disrupts my silence.

It's him again, though this time, he's not being shy about his unwavering stare.

"What do you want?" I scoffed, his presence a clear irritation to my day.

Draco nestled his shoulder against the wall, a handful of books in one hand and nothing in the other; his thumb absentmindedly playing with a signet ring of emerald green.

"What happened to you?" He asked, too curious to be polite.

Manners had never been his strong suit.

"That's rude." I objected, feeling the urge to leave. I wouldn't though – not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeming hurt.

"The incessantly knowledgeable Hermione Granger isn't here anymore. She's… troubled, anguished. Different."

I'm trying to disguise my glare, though its coming across piping hot. "And I suppose you think it's your duty to start a conversation with someone equally as damaged as you?"

I expect him to retreat from the sting in my words, though he smirks; his mouth all lopsided and smug.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" I ask, a little more exasperated this time.

"I'm concerned."

"You're concerned?"

"Yes. It's a mortal emotion that surfaces intense stress."

"I know what the definition of concern is. What I'm trying to say is, we're not friends."

"I'm aware."

My eyes narrowed, and I felt all the heat of the sun against my face – turning my skin all irritated and red. Or maybe that was the frustration coming out.

"I'm not in the mood for games."

"Who said I was playing a game?" Draco angled his head to the side, getting a better view of what he was so intensely staring at – me or my problems, I wasn't sure.

"Has your guilty conscience finally caught up with you after all these years?" I asked.

"Something like that." He replied to my surprise, with no hint of humor behind his words.

We remained in a loop of silence, both watching each other in a confused light – like two predators who had wandered into a lamb's den, expecting bloodshed though finding familiarity in fangs, scars and history.

There was… an understanding. Though I wouldn't so easily fall captive to his menacing ways.

The twelve o'clock bell tolled from Gryffindor tower, and students flocked from their sessions with an appetite for lunch. Myself included.

I tossed the half-eaten carcass of my apple into the flower den, and a swarm of 'fang fletchers' chomped hungrily down on the fruit, getting their fill.

"This has been nice," I readjusted the bag strap over my shoulder, "though I'm going. I'll see you."

As I turned to leave, Draco's hand snared around my wrist, keeping us close.

"You're losing it." He said below his breath. "The others won't see it because they're too wrapped up in their own drama, and you've always been the independent one who doesn't need a shoulder to cry on or a helping hand. Though you're a thread away from cutting all ties to who you used to be."

His words burnt like a midnight sun, and I tried to yank myself free– though his hold wouldn't loosen.

"And how would you know?" I said spitefully through my teeth.

Draco twisted his grip and exposed the written scar on my forearm– 'mudblood' seared into my flesh forever, thanks to Bellatrix and her gift of the Cruciatus Curse.

I looked down at it with haunted eyes, though also toward the death-eater tattoo that possessed most of his milky skin. Another form of abuse… another manipulation from Voldemort's uprising.

I freed my arm away, scared and silent– forced to face the underbelly of my nightmares, of the pain that had ensued so many months prior – a torment that would stay as long as I drew clean breath.

"Let's not forget who gave me that scar." I snapped, feeling the sob build in my chest. "You will always be an enemy to me."

I left him standing in the dark shadows of the corridor, racing past the great hall and to my chambers.

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

"Miss Granger, is everything alright?"

"Hm?"

"You didn't touch any of your dinner."

Professor Mcgonagall had invited me into her private quarters– a desk, a quill and some scattered paperwork all that separated us from the elephant in the room.

"I've had a long journey." I excused myself, forcing a gentle smile.

"Of course, of course." She nodded, though clearly had a little more on her mind. "How is home life?"

I was taken aback, though obliged her all the same. "It's okay."

"And Mr Potter? Mr Weasley?"

"Causing havoc in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

Minerva smiled, clearly pleased that the trauma hadn't stricken them of their mischievous ways.

"I'm sorry I didn't inform you about Mr Malfoy's position, it was very last minute."

My smile went stiff, though it didn't fall. "That's quite alright."

"I know you and Mr Malfoy have a… difficult past," Minerva adjusted in her leather chair, "though I was hoping you could use this time to patch up a few old wounds."

I couldn't help myself– my face reading as clearly as my thoughts spewed.

"Close your mouth Miss Granger, I beg."

I didn't even realize it had popped open, though I pinched my lips together all the same. "I haven't seen Mr Malfoy in a very long time, and I must admit… I was 'surprised', should we say, at his aversion to me."

Minerva straightened. "Ah."

"Yes."

"Well, may I propose you both work together? Slytherin and Gyffindor will be joining classes this year for Charms and Defense Against The Dark Arts."

My stomach knotted.

Joy.

"Really, Miss Granger. You need to work on your facial reactions if you're to work with children."

"Sorry, Professor."

"Very well."

I returned to my bed chambers a little after midnight, and found my case neatly packed on the bed.

The room was sizable, with burgundy interior and gold trim– the view from the window granting access to the back of the castle, and a peak of the grounds.

As homely as I remembered it all to be.

I cranked open the glass-paned doors and opened up the room to the breeze of the balcony, letting in the sweet smoke of the fresh forest and the fizzing smell of practical magic. Lilac dressing the sky and the moon winking from above.

I thought about him intimately for the first time in forever– not allowing myself to truly remember what we were, and how he made me feel, until this very moment.

Why did he hate me so much?

Why was I no longer the thing that made him weak?

I unclipped my hair from the long braid it fought in and my curls sprung freely to my waist– a little damp from the rain, though still as chaotic. My lilac robes shortly followed, landing as a sodden heap on the floor– needing to be washed at some point, though not now. No, now I wanted time alone to myself– a moment to breathe, to mull over the day… to speculate my newfound hatred for Draco Malfoy.

I felt thirteen again.

I approached the balcony in my silk undergarments and breathed in the night air, resting my elbows on the stone wall and letting my hands lull lazily over the edge– my curls dangling just as freely.

"Hermione," I could almost hear him say now, his tone having always been aggressive, always cruel. He had a meanness to him that could make the hardest heart recoil. Though in the comfort of a quiet chamber, that darkness softened into light– and his growled words became panted, weak ones.

"Hermione," his voice now moaned in my head.

"Put your hands behind your back like a good girl."

A flutter shot through my stomach and I opened my eyes, staring breathlessly into nothingness.

I needed to be careful. I couldn't let myself fall back into the toxic trap that we once found ourselves in.

That I, Hermione Granger, became submissive to.

I stepped away from the wall and happened to look down as I did– catching the edge of a jacket as it snapped around a corner. Disappearing into the goodnight.

It was him, I knew it.

He had been watching me.

Don't fight me, he had once said.

We're meant to be together.

#dramione #dramione fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #emma watson #tom felton #draco #draco malfoy #hermione granger #hermione #roleplay #slow burn #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #hermione x draco #draco x hermione #draco smut #hermione smut

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husbandohunter · 4 years ago

Note

May I request a Childe X Reader fanfic where the reader has been pushing herself too hard lately and so Childe has to forcefully get her to rest? ty

By my side [Childe x Reader]//Genshin Impact

Synopsis: You were an artist and he was an adventurer. Two people from vast backgrounds and Childe just wants to spend some time of his busy life with you. However, things didn't really go his way...at first.

(Childe x F!reader. Its all fluff)

(A/n): Perfect request anon. I too, would like to have a Childe in my life. Been getting 5-6 hours of sleep on average 😃😁. Yeah kind tossed some extra ideas with artist s/o, its a perfect reason for anyone to be busy.

============================

Once recieving the permission to take a week off from his diplomatic duties, the first thing Childe thought of was none other than his lovely significant other.

The harbinger knew quite well what lays ahead of his ventures to Liyue. During his quest for the archon's gnosis, he encountered many interesting events, such as meeting the rumoured traveller hailing from afar and a broke yet courteous man who turned out to be the ultimate ruler of this very country he walks upon then there was the battle against a dead god until he revived it using the sigil of permission. All of them were great additions to his story as Ajax the hero, something he always wanted to pursue since childhood. In which, also gave him something nice to write about when preparing letters for his siblings living back home. But little did the harbinger know that he'll one day bump into the heroine. A little too soon. Through your little art shop, he met you, a sweet and audacious woman with plenty of humour. That was how it all began.

While he strides down the streets between Liyue's exquisite buildings, Childe suddenly stops in his tracks and looks up to the sky. There, was painted a scenery of an evening dusk, sun rays relfected across until red and orange hues cast a river stream that led to the ends of the world. He watched the birds follow that streak like it was a path made for them to fly towards. A new adventure. You would have loved to captured this in your pictures.

And then he wonders, what might you be painting right now?

"Hey babe, I'm home~"

In a sing-song voice he calls out to you by your nick-name. You knew that Childe was an active member of the Fatui and that his time was limited, hence he made sure to write to you as well. Of course long distant relationships only makes the waiting more anticipated. When he does pay a visit, you'd run straight into his open arms, leaping off your feet to engulf him in one enourmous embrace. Then his hands will hold against your waist as he spins your round and around in the air, stealing the laughter out of your lungs before planting you back on the floor. Sometimes Childe would consider that being far away wasn't be such a bad idea as long as he was able to experience this, the harder the battle, the sweeter the victory. However...

"That's great."

He was met by a response similar to the wintry grace of Snezhnaya.

Huh?

All the fantasies he had from earlier shatters in the background as he stands there frozen. You didn't even spare a glance to the entrance, eyes still glued to the large canvas displayed at your front, too busy to even care. Childe clicks his tongue between the awkward silence with an uncertain expression. When there was no signs of initiation on your part, he shuffled his way to where you were and observes from behind.

"Well you're particularly quiet today," he muses to himself, placing a hand over his hip, "I guess that painting of yours must be really important then."

It was obvious that he was trying to nudge you into his favour. Something that you've found endearing was how quickly your boyfriend can be when he's in a needy state. So you quickly twisted over to peck him on the cheek before going back to work.

"That's better," Childe satisfiedly grins, "So who is this project for?"

"It's a commission requested by a wealthy family serving the Qixing. They're really influential in terms of the market and can really give me a competitive edge. I have to get it done in five days."

His tone flactuates as he squints his eyes, "Five days you say," he disliked the news of your schedule taking over his own, Childe only managed to take a week off and after that, he'll be away for quite some time, "Why don't you take a break? From the looks of your progress, it seems to me that you've been working on it for hours. I've got plenty of interesting stories to tell and you know, nothing can compare to sharing a warm meal within your company," he leans down to your ear level, "How does that sound?"

Several seconds went by as he waits for some sort of reaction, "Oh. Right," you blurted out and the harbinger only smiles, "I made some food earlier this morning. You can go help yourself if you're hungry."

Today was not his day.

Childe pulls out the wooden chair and slumps into the seat, a defeated huff escaping his mouth as he stared at the crystal shrimp placed on the table. It was hastily wrapped by plastic, most likely cold for a while, just like the romantic evening he had planned in his head. Normally you'll be sitting on the otherside while listening to the many tales he went through along the way. Although painting was your passion, it was undeniable that you also enjoyed his kind of lifestyle if you ever had the choice. He was rather surprised on how someone ambitious like him would end up with such a simplistic person but quickly accepted it as life was meant to be unpredictable, just the way he likes it. As Childe entertains you with his stories, he'll listen to your giggles amidst eating the homecooked meals that you both prepared together.

"I wonder if she ate already," he mumbled to his lone self. You most likely did but Childe knows you well. Artists are obsessed and they can go as far as to neglecting their own health for the sake of their masterpieces. Hence, he made sure to remind you to eat properly through the letters he wrote to you.

The harbinger takes a quick glance around the kitchen. It was a mess. The cupboards were slightly opened, metal pots were still displayed on the stone stove and the stench coming from the sink....

Childe pushes himsel up to see what was the cause.

Not even the dishes were washed.

Running his fingers through his bangs, he sighs wearily, "Old habits die hard huh?" And above all else, when artists are obsessed they also forget how disorganized they can become. Childe begins to roll up his sleeves before taking off his gloves. At times like this he'll have to pitch in and take care of it for you, "Looks like I'll be here for a while."

Throughout three sunsets and three moonrises, Childe had no option but to observe you from afar, minus the few attempts he made to regain your attention again. How you would go to bed much later than him, waking up before he opens his eyes and the effort he put into making your food only left with too many leftovers. It wasn't that you were unappreciative, instead, your mind had become too focused that your body was considered a second priority. Like anyone else, Childe genuinely thought you possessed great talent and supports you wholeheartedly. He loved it when you painted pictures just for him as if they were scenes coming out of his hero story, reminded by his adventures, capturing every detail. However he also needed to learn how to deal with this stubborn side of yours.

"Hey babe, I just finished preparing our dinner. Don't you smell that? Such a rich aroma, you should go eat."

"I'm busy."

Your diet were just small bites, the rest being substituted by coffee. Childe could clearly tell that you weren't getting enough sleep either as there were dark circles forming underneath your eyes and slowly, he was starting to become a little irritated.

Three hours passed midnight but you were still awake in the same place doing the same thing. Childe leans against the doorframe with arms folded, already changed into his sleeping clothes. He clears his throat to break the silence, "Ahem."

Your wrist hangs in mid air by the sound of a strange visitor, it was your boyfriend. Gaze in a daze, you lazily turned your head, "What time is it?"

"Way passed the sleeping hours as you can see," he points with his thumb at the table clock in a half-hearted manner, "You should already be in bed by now and don't think you can coax yourself out of the situation this time," his eyes parted in slits as he added with a smile, "Otherwise I might just have to force you myself."

You shook your head, "Give me one more hour? There's some finishing touches I really want to add so," clasping your hands together, you beamed sweetly, "Pretty please? I'll finish up soon."

"Oh really?" Childe challenges, head tossed back like he was interrogating you instead, "I believe that was also what you told me yesterday. And the day before? Adding up all of those days that would be.....four in total?" He deliberately counts upon his fingers before facing you again, this time his expression was slightly more serious, "As much as I find your determination remarkable, there are moments when you need to consider a sufficient amount of rest and this just isn't going to cut it."

"Four days already?!" You exclaimed, "Jeez, I don't even know if I'm halfway done."

Pressing his lips together, Childe glares in an acutely deadpanned countenance, it was also his time too, "Can't you ask this commissioner to extend your due date to next week? In your case, mora shouldn't be the issue since, well...you're dating me anyways."

It's true. Childe was the main reason why you didn't have to live as a starving artist. He had all your expenses fully covered from the marketing aspect to your residence, you simply chose to work out of pure will.

"I don't want to always rely on you so much," you confessed, "This commissioner could turn my whole career around. If I'm able to gain his favour, maybe I'll get promoted to a court painter for the Qixing! Who knows when there will ever be a chance like this again," pumping your fists, you spoke purposefully, "I'll pull an all nighters if I have to!"

Childe brings his hand to his forehead, you looked as if you were nearly about to collapse and yet still considering the option of an all-nighters? The harbinger should've detained you days prior before.

"Hm? Childe, what's wrong?" He suddenly falls deadly quiet and you watched him walk closer towards you, "What are--"

Hooking an arm behind your knees and the other at your back, your boyfriend lifts you up in one full swoop as he tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Guess we'll have to do things the hard way," he remarks cheerfully.

"W-Wait," you flailed your arms and kicked your legs but to no avail. Childe was an experienced combatant indeed, "Put me down! I have work to do."

Your protests fall upon deaf ears as the harbinger carries you to your room. You were oddly lighter than the last time he carried you, the strength less vigor than before, it was obvious that your body was in need of relaxation. He suddenly thinks there was a possibility that you would maintain this habit while he was absent.

I should probably visit more often.

Using his free leg to nudge the door open, he places you upon the shared bed in a gentle manner. You winced at the impact of the soft sheets, surprised by how much it affect you.

"There we go. All done. Man, you really are a stubborn one, aren't you. Makes me a little worried since I can't spoil you all the time."

He quickly invited himself to the empty space on your bedside and wrapped his arms around your figure, pulling you close and feeling you whole. Childe made sure there was no escape once putting his chin above your hairline so that you could feel his warmth as much as possible.

"This is--" you stuttered. His tactic was enough to make your limbs soften and you could almost hear him smirk into the distance, "This is cheating..."

"You think so?" He comments as if pledging innocence, "I don't know babe. Where I come from those who take the initiative are the ones who end up claiming the prize," pulling back, Childe takes the opportunity to observe your pouty face, "I don't make the rules. It's just how it goes."

You wanted to argue back but he suddenly took the bedsheets and covered both of your bodies with, completely trapping you with his presence. He snuggles into you further as if you were a bear made of linen and you felt the drowsiness taking over your mind. The way he gently pats down the back of your head was enough to instantly lull you into a deep sleep.

"Cheater," you mumbled.

He laughs softly, the rumbles emitting through his chest, "I love you too babe."

Even after you've let go of your resistance, Childe continues his actions until he was sure that you were resting. He had been longing to touch you like this since living a chaotic life only made peaceful moments much sweeter, "You're such a hard-worker you know that? I'm proud of you but you have to know when to call it a day," he whispers, "If not, how can I go on trips while knowing that you're still refusing to eat properly?"

You closed your eyes and said nothing in return. All your senses were too cloudy to come up with a reassuring response. Childe listens to the way your breath evens as you intake his scent during the process. It smelled like the soap you used in the showers, lotus leaves mixed with his own unique musk. You could only focus on him. His comforting embrace. His slightly accelerating heartbeat because you were together with him.

Letting out one final yawn, you succumbed to his spell and allowed your energy to drift away.

The corners of his lips tug upwards, "Sleep well princess."

Childe reaches over to your desk drawer and shuts off the alarm clock before turning over to face you again. He couldn't fall asleep immediately, not when he had to consider taking care of the commissioner who gave you an impossible deadline. But that will be saved for another day, for now, he observes in silent serenity.

If he were to quit his job for a year, what would his life be like?

Peaceful. Something opposite of what he was living right now. Something similar to the life he had back home. As you arrange the many paintings in your little home, he'll offer to help you among the places you couldn't reach. Without a doubt, Childe was far taller in comparison. Taking strolls into the streets and trying the new dishes the merchants came up with. Then in the evenings, you'll both go to dinner dates while listening to the storyteller revealing the rumours of the legendary Tianquan Qixing. Although Childe loved the adventurous life he led, he had to admit that your domesticity and family-bringing atmosphere was a tempting idea.

Maybe one day.

He lightly takes a strand that had fallen over your nose and tucked it smoothly behind your ear. The soft snores coming out of your parted lips caused his gaze to melt. And so he steals them with his own, placing a chaste goodnight kiss.

One day I'll be sure to bring my family here with us.

Closing his eyes, he joins you in your slumber, hoping to see all that he envisioned in his dreams.

#genshin impact #childe x reader #childe genshin impact #genshin childe #childe #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia #genshin impact childe #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin scenarios #genshin headcanons

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emeren · 4 years ago

Text

speed racer- eren jaeger

pairing: eren jaeger x fem!reader

word count: 6k

content warnings: nsfw, smut, 18+, smoking, degradation, overstimulation, breeding (w/o baby talk)

notes: 100% inspired by the official art, like mmm yes please. also i know absolutely nothing about how car racing works, but that’s not important. this is unedited because my brain turned to mush writing it. enjoy!! <3

SUMMARY: eren’s a semi-professional car racer, who has a tumultuous friendship with the reader. after losing a race, eren sets out to win something else in his life, much to the reader’s surprise.

“took you long enough!” sasha called out, holding her hand above her eyes in an attempt to block out the bright sun. you dished her a smile, weaving your way through the throngs of people in the stands, attempting not to step on anyone. your eyes briefly flitted to the track, the assistants distantly getting their cars ready. they were hardly visible from here; merely faceless figures idling around. you heaved out a sigh as you reached sasha, the brunette gingerly patting the spot next to her.

“you couldn’t have gotten better seats, sash?” you asked as you sat down, pushing your sunglasses on top of your head. sasha waved her large bag of popcorn in front of your face, an exasperated expression on her features.

“the line was long, and what’s a race without popcorn?” she grinned, offering you the bag. you rolled your eyes but took a fistful of the bright yellow snack nonetheless. “plus, if you really wanted that good of seats, you would’ve come early yourself.”

“i did come here early,” you retorted, your voice muffled by the popcorn. sasha raised a questioning brow, her elbow nudging you in the side.

“getting here early just so you can poke around the racer’s quarters is not the same thing,” she singsonged, a girlish smirk on her face. you scoffed, turning away from her as you felt heat race to your cheeks. “c’mon, everyone knows you and eren are totally into each other. i don’t understand why you guys don’t just go for it.”

“i wasn’t poking around, and i am not into eren,” you said, shifting uncomfortably as the words left your mouth. it was true, to some degree. the two of you had been friends in high school, back when eren was just some skinny kid with anger issues. now he was a semi-professional racer, and the rivalry between the two of you was palpable, to say the least.

you’d been in the same friend group and for some reason eren just loved to pick on you whenever he got the chance. you suspected it had something to do with his repressed daddy issues or whatever, and he’d known mikasa and armin far too long to be so catty with them. initially they were just playful taunts, but as you got older, they started to become more personal. with age came your own unchecked need to banter and argue with him.

somewhere along the way the arguments turned to sexual tension. a sexual tension that for the most part, the two of you were happy to ignore. it allowed room for a more sassy friendship, at least.

“uh huh, suuure,” sasha responded, seemingly unconvinced. she must’ve sensed your discomfort, deciding to change the topic. “who’s who?”

your eyes traced the track, analyzing each vehicle. “armin’s in yellow, mikasa’s in red, eren’s in white, and i believe levi is in green.”

“levi’s racing? isn’t he getting a little old for that?” sasha laughed, squinting. you chuckled.

“it’s just a small fundraiser race, plus he’s a crowd favorite over here,” you explained. sasha nodded as she processed the information. the sun was hot, beating down on your back. “i’m honestly surprised this many people came out.”

sasha tossed more popcorn in her mouth, halfway done with the bag despite the race still not having started. she offered it to you again. “mhm, this is the same type of crowd that we’d see in the underground.”

you thought back to your days of attending the illegal races, late at night and under the cover of darkness. though you were just a junior in college, it felt like those nights freshman year had been decades ago. that was before eren showed real promise in the professional circuit. it was also where levi scouted him out to be his successor.

as if on cue, you could see the figures of the racers emerging from the port, each headed for their respective cars. you couldn’t help the way your gaze immediately followed the tall, brown haired racer adorned in his white racing jacket, checkers on the side. the crowd erupted into cheers at the sight of the all the racers, one from each color of the rainbow. eren walked with a certain confidence, his adamant determination being one of the only things that followed him from high school.

though you couldn’t clearly see his face from where you sat, you knew he was smiling. eren had always loved the adrenaline rush before a race.

“alright ladies and gentlemen, we welcome you to the annual shiganshina fundraiser race!” the reporter boomed over the intercom. sasha squealed in her seat, excitedly gripping your arm and pointing towards your friends. you felt a mix of excited nervousness waft over you, giggling along with her. “today we’ve got racers from all over the circuit, and each one has volunteered their precious time for the cause. can we get a round of applause?”

the crowd erupted in yet another ear deafening round of applause as the announcer read off the names of each of the racers. you and sasha made sure to scream your loudest when armin, mikasa, and eren’s names were read off.

you hoped they knew it was you, your throat scratchy as you sat back down. there was no need to be loud for levi; the entire crowd went absolutely feral at the mention of his name.

the announcer read off the conditions of the race, as well as the reasoning for the fundraiser itself. you and sasha chatted quietly about the after party while the racers put their helmets on and got in their cars. before too long, the announcer was gearing up for the start.

“alright everyone, we’re about to start. get yourselves ready.”

you and sasha stood, hollering and cheering for your friends as the cars all lined up. you knew you’d be happy if any of them crossed the finish line first, but it was undeniable that it would be eren. it wasn’t armin or mikasa’s passion like it was eren’s; they viewed it more as as fun hobby. nevertheless, you dreaded how smug eren would be once he added another win to his already growing list. he really was a bastard sometimes.

“racers ready your cars. 3... 2... 1... go!”

they were off, levi’s green car easily settling into first place, cruising past the other cars as he whipped around the first curve. you held your breath, eyes scanning the other cars placements. eren was in fourth, armin in fifth, and mikasa in second. sasha yelled sporadically, reaching out and squeezing your wrist tightly.

as they rounded the circuit for the second time, eren passed the third place racer, coming up behind mikasa’s red car. you held your breath. “c’mon eren...”

“shit! he passed her!” sasha screeched, jumping up and down. you smiled as he whipped the corner, nearly cutting the edge of the median.

“levi is still so far ahead,” you commented, trying to pry sasha’s death grip from your wrist. your eyes glanced to the clock, realizing that the race was near its finish. levi was cutting the third corner and eren was quickly gaining on him.

“looks like it’s gonna be clo-” sasha’s voice was cut off as a large man tripped over the bleacher behind you, effectively shoving you into her side. “shit, the popcorn!”

you regained your balance, giving the man behind you a dirty glare as you turned to sasha. she frowned at the popcorn that’d been spilled all over the ground. “what a waste!”

looking back up at the track, the crowd broke into screams of excitement. you expected to see eren’s face on the big screen to the side as confetti streamed through the air, but were surprised to see levi’s unimpressed stare.

eren lost?

“you’ve gotta be shitting me,” sasha gaped, her face slack in shock. you shrugged, shaking the feeling of disappointment from your shoulders. serves him right.

people started to vacate the stands, shoving their way past you as you turned to sasha. “let’s go find connie and jean, sash.”

she nodded, still frowning. the two of you climbed down the steps, going against the flow of the crowd as you weaseled your way down onto the spectators path. you could see all of the racers shaking hands, congratulating each other. your mind briefly considered whether or not eren was going to be upset, but you decided not to dwell on it.

you watched as the racers disappeared into the tunnel, eren’s tall figure no longer in view. just then, connie and jean came walking out from the service booth, both wearing their maintenance coveralls.

sasha wildly waved her arm, grabbing your hand and pulling you through the remaining stragglers towards your friends.

“hey guys!” she smiled, the boys jogging to meet you halfway.

“why were you guys in such shit seats?” connie asked, skipping over a greeting. you let out a small laugh at sasha’s expense. she merely shrugged, turning to jean.

“we going to your place?” you questioned before she had the chance. jean nodded, adjusting the backwards baseball cap on his head.

“yeah, just gotta wrap some things up, then we can head out,” he replied. you grew happy at the thought of kicking back with your friends, enjoying a nice night of fun. parties at jean and connie’s place were always the best.

***************

“some race that was,” connie groaned, leaning back and bringing the beer bottle to his lips. so far it was just you, sasha, connie, jean, and a bunch of random drunk people who’d come from the track. sasha scoffed from her spot on the worn, brown couch.

“you could say that again,” she grumbled. “we didn’t even get to see levi cross the finish line ‘cause some guy rammed into us.”

jean looked at you from where he leaned against the wall, a bottle in his hand and his eyebrows raised. “wait, for real?”

“yeah,” you sighed, drinking whatever bitter liquid sasha had poured into your red solo cup. “didn’t even say sorry.”

“how many times do i have to tell you guys, just come work maintenance with jean-boy and i,” connie suggested, wrapping his arm around sasha’s shoulder and giving a squeeze. she rolled her eyes and shoved him off. “you guys would get to watch the race from the track itself.”

“i don’t know the first thing about cars,” sasha laughed, you nodding along with her.

“and you think we do? i just said that so we could get the best seats in the house,” connie snorted, taking another swig of his drink. you chuckled at his idiocy, unfazed by yet another one of their stupid stunts. “where’re the big racers anyway?”

“they should be here soon,” you responded, glancing out the window. jean was unironically blasting the fast and the furious soundtrack, something he’d done after every race for as long as you’d known him. by now the songs were ingrained in your brain.

“who wants to bet jaeger is in a pissy mood?” jean snorted as he moved to sit down on the arm of the chair you were planted in.

“when isn’t he?” you sneered. connie and sasha hummed in agreement. both you and jean loved nothing more than to push eren’s buttons. you knew jean’s motives stemmed from some boyish fun, whereas yours felt a little more personal.

the sound of clapping began to compete with the music, your neck craning to look past jean into the hallway. eren, armin, and mikasa came into view, people cheering them on and patting them on the back. they each wore their racing jackets over their street clothes.

you felt a familiar sensation burn in your stomach at the sight of eren. his dark hair was pulled back per usual, wispies framing his tan face. The white jacket stood out against his black t-shirt and black jeans; key necklace he always wore glinting against his chest. as your gaze travelled up from his body, you were startled to make contact with his teal eyes. you quickly glanced away in embarrassment.

“well, well, well,” jean cheered, raising his bottle to the trio. “how’d it feel to lose to a short, old man, eh jaeger?”

eren scowled, obviously peeved. “if i had to lose to anyone, i’m glad it was levi.”

connie snorted at that. “man, professional circuit has you soft.”

“whatever you say, baldie,” eren smirked mischievously as he came to sit down on the couch. connie defensively rubbed his head. “at least i’m making money in prof.”

“i still can’t believe you have people that actually want to sponsor you,” you snipped, a playful expression on your face. eren lazily looked towards you, the familiar irritation laced in his eyes.

“i’m sorry, what was that? i wasn’t listening to you,” eren retorted, looking as unbothered as ever. you glared at his words, but caught armin’s disapproving eye and decided to stay quiet.

as the night carried on, you watched your friends relax and reminisce about previous races and the days spent in the illegal ring. it seemed crazy that your life was so centered around car races, when you weren’t even a racer yourself. but you supposed you were just happy to be supporting your friends.

at some point you got up out of your chair to refill your cup. the large hoards of people had started to dance; the house feeling hot and humid as you shoved your way to the kitchen. luckily the room was empty, save for armin who was drinking water out of the kitchen tap.

“thirsty?” you asked, amused. his head snapped up, surprised by your voice. it took one look to tell he was absolutely trashed, face red and eyes half lidded. he smiled goofily and nodded his head before stumbling back out into the crowd of people.

you quickly filled your cup, following the direction armin had gone. as you stepped out of the kitchen, a body came out of nowhere and smacked into you.

eren jumped back, trying to avoid the liquid that sloshed out of your cup. “hey, watch it!” he hissed.

“you watch it, casanova,” you snapped, irritated by the sticky alcohol that dripped down your hand. eren’s eyes narrowed at the nickname, his arms defensively crossing his chest.

“i told you not to call me that,” he bit back, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. you rolled your eyes, instinctively bringing your hand to your mouth in an attempt to lick the drink off. eren watched you, his gaze clouded with an indiscernible emotion. you knew what you were doing.

“hm. too bad,” you quipped, dragging your tongue down the side of your hand, popping your pointer finger in your mouth. eren glowered at you as you let out a giggle. “see ya, loser.”

“whatever, brat,” he huffed, shaking the tension from his pants as you sauntered off into the crowd. he hated the effect you had on him.

you’d already decided not to get shit faced. while the rest of your friends had chosen otherwise, you danced alongside them, your resolve wearing thin much faster than theirs. jean and sasha bounced happily up and down, screaming the lyrics to whatever song it was blasting from the speakers. connie and mikasa were playing beer pong, and you had no clue where armin and eren had gone.

you heaved in a breath as a sharp pain shot through your side, signaling the end of your dancing career for the night. your two dance partners were too far gone to notice, waving goodbye to you as you stepped out of the sweaty crowd.

slipping your phone out of your pocket, your eyes nearly popped from your head at the time. two thirty?!

only slightly tipsy, you decided to find jean’s room and call it a night. he’d just have to sleep on the couch. with one hand dragging on the wall, you made your way through the house, past armin who was doing body shots with a couple of strangers, up the stairs and down the dark hall. it was quieter up here, but you could still hear the music and knew it’d be awhile till sleep visited you.

shoving jean’s door open, you were surprised to see none other than eren laid back on the bed, puffs of smoke coming from his mouth. the strong scent of weed hit your nostrils, nose scrunching up in reflex. he propped himself up on one arm upon your entrance, eyeing you.

“oh, sorry i’ll just- wait a minute,” you paused, narrowing your eyes at him. “you aren’t supposed to be smoking on your sponsorship.”

eren let out a loud laugh at that, more smoke spilling from his lungs. “thanks, mom. i know.”

you stood in the doorway, not really sure what to do. “jean’s gonna be mad if his room smells like weed tomorrow.”

“yeah, why do you think i chose to do it in here?” he leered, bringing the blunt to his lips and deeply inhaling, sharp cheekbones protruding with the action. you sucked in a breath, not wanting to acknowledge just how gorgeous he was. his jacket was off, black shirt tightly gripping his muscular yet slender arms as he propped himself up. he blew the smoke from his nostrils this time, making your face heat. “wanna hit?”

you sighed, weighing the options. jean’s bed was a lot more comfortable than connie’s. you could just wait till eren was done, and then pass out. “no, but i’ll wait with you till you’re done.”

“suit yourself, brat,” eren hummed, flopping back down on the bed as you shut the door behind yourself. you came to sit by him, looking down as he heaved in a sober breath. he really is beautiful, you thought.

your eyes scanned his face. “you really shouldn’t be smoking, you know. you could lose the sponsorship.”

eren rolled his teal eyes, giving you a side glance. “i’m aware. i’m also aware that you aren’t going to rat on me.”

“and what makes you so sure?” you asked playfully, your voice low. eren’s gaze shifted to you, placing the blunt between his lips as he sat up, face inches from yours.

“because. you can act like you hate me all you want,” smoke blew from his lips as he spoke, slowly inching his face closer to yours. you swallowed, eyes struggling to maintain contact with his dark stare. “but i know how badly you want me.”

you blinked, heart rate accelerating as he glanced at your lips. “speaking from experience?”

eren’s mouth quirked up in a smirk at your words. “something like that.”

you watched with desire as he brought the bud of the blunt up to his lips, deeply inhaling the toxic smoke. he lifted his free hand, pointer finger gently tracing your jaw as his thumb came up to caress your chin. he tapped softly against your face, as if asking you to open your mouth.

you weren’t sure what part of you was wanting to submit to his every move. maybe it was the alcohol. or maybe it was the accumulation of sexual tension. something told you it was a deeper itch that needed to be scratched. an itch only eren could reach.

you parted your lips, eyes fluttering as eren leaned forward and carefully brushed his own against yours, dumping his lungful of smoke into your mouth. you breathed it in, fighting the urge to cough and whine as he pulled away.

“good girl,” he breathed, leaning away to snuff the bud out on jean’s bedside table. you heaved out as much as you could, shocked by your own willingness. you were mainly surprised by how much you enjoyed whatever that was.

you stared at him expectantly as he turned back to you, a serious expression on his face. “eren.”

“yes?” he asked, leaning heavily on his arm, eyes unashamedly focused on your lips. his other hand came up again, lightly ghosting your jawline. you could feel yourself growing wet between your legs; the way eren was fucking you with his eyes sending an unwelcomed throb to your clit.

acting on impulse, you lurched forward, latching your lips onto eren’s slightly chapped ones. he wasted no time in kissing you back; hungrily pressing himself closer to your body. his lips were warm and tasted like weed and coca cola, his tongue wiggling its way into your mouth where you happily welcomed it.

you brought your hand up, wanting to run your fingers through his hair, but were stopped when they got caught in the bun. eren grunted, kissing you harder and bringing his own hand up to yank the tie from his locks, letting his soft hair fall to his shoulders.

your fingers were quick to glide through the brown strands, scratching his scalp in the process. some throaty sound emitted from his chest, the noise making your cunt ache in need. how is he so hot?

eren’s hands came to your waist, roughly shoving you down onto the bed, so that he hovered above you. your lips continued to meld together, saliva coated mouths wetly intertwined. you removed your hand from his hair, bringing both hands to run down the expanse of his arms that were on either side of your head. you squeezed his biceps, surprised when he suddenly pulled away.

“is this okay?” he panted, breaths labored. his pupils were dilated, all seriousness behind his gaze. you nodded your head without hesitation, practically begging him to continue. “words.”

“yes, yes. i want this just as much as you do,” you responded. eren smirked from above you, his dark hair swirling around his face as his key dangled in front of your chin.

“good, because,” he leaned down to your ear, lightly nibbling the lobe as the cold key rested against your throat. “i’m going to punish you for all these years of torture.”

your eyes widened, the words sending a desirable chill down your spine. “torture?”

eren’s hot mouth travelled slowly from your ear down the side of your neck, lightly peppering the skin with lustful kisses. his tongue came out as he reached your collarbone, dragging the wet muscle up the front of your throat, leaving a trail of saliva in its wake. a small whimper involuntarily left your mouth as he pulled back, grabbing your chin in his large hand.

“all of the nicknames,” he pressed a kiss to your lips. “the quips,” and another, your chest tightening. “the stunt you pulled earlier with your hand. oh god. it’s like you were practically begging me to bend you over and teach you a lesson.”

he pulled back, dark eyes boring into yours. the desire was palpable, your breathing shallow as he stared at you. it was like he was waiting for some silent agreement.

you held eye contact, tilting your chin back ever so slightly in his grip. “good thing i learn fast.”

your words flew straight to his cock, throbbing uncomfortably behind his jeans. eren let go of your chin, his lips hungrily reconnecting with yours as his hands pinned your wrists to either side of your head. his tongue was quick to invite itself into your mouth, warm and erotic.

you wanted to tug on his hair again; wanted to hear his primal groans and feel him vibrate against your mouth, but you were pinned to the bed. desperate to hear eren moan, your teeth grazed his bottom lip, the action making him yank his head back.

“tsk tsk, none of that,” he growled, wet lips glinting in the low light of the room. “this is your punishment. guess we’re going to have to do something else.”

you frowned as he let go of your wrists, lifting himself from the bed and standing. you propped yourself up on your elbows, eyes laced with desire as eren swiftly pulled the black shirt over his head, key pendant resting on his newly exposed chest. he was dangerously attractive like this; dark hair disheveled on his shoulders, only adding to the feral stare he was giving you.

he leaned forward, grabbing your thighs and yanking you to the end of the bed, legs dangling from the side. you watched in awe as he dropped to his knees, fingers coming up to toy with the button of your jean shorts.

“these little shorts make your ass look so good,” he grumbled, tapping the button. “be good and take them off for me.”

you wasted no time in lifting your ass off the bed, struggling to yank the denim down your legs without hitting eren in the face. he watched your every movement, licking his lips as you wiggled them off.

without thinking, your hands gripped the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head to reveal a black bra. eren’s pupils dilated further at the unexpected sight of your breasts.

he helped pull the shorts from your ankles, tossing them aside as you sat back down, just in your panties and bra. you paused for a moment, unsure of what he was planning to do.

“watch me,” he demanded, staring at you through his brows. you nodded your head, breath hitching as he placed an open mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh, tongue swiping against the smooth skin.

his eyelashes fluttered as he licked up your leg; just the way he looked at you being enough to have you creaming in your lace panties. your teeth tugged at your bottom lip, the burning in your face mirroring the way your clit throbbed along with your heart beat.

eren’s tongue trailed until he reached the edge of your underwear, eyes never failing to stay connected with yours. you swallowed as he lifted his head, placing his tongue flatly against your clothed clit.

it was a warm, muted feeling, your body all too aware of the beautiful man between your legs. eren brought his fingers up, hooking under the fabric and pushing it to the side.

“so wet for me already,” he hummed, a smile on his face. you blushed in embarrassment, the feeling of his breath on your glistening pool of moisture making you shiver. “’m gonna eat you so good, little bitch.”

you gasped as eren rapidly brought his face down, burying his head between your legs. the sensation was like no other; a swirling feeling in your stomach as his tongue hungrily swiped against your clit. your hands flew down to his hair, tugging as his lips wrapped around the bud, suckling softly.

a moan escaped your lips, the sound causing eren to groan out in reply. the vibration of his vocal cords against your center amplifying the pleasure.

a distinct feeling began to burn in your chest, the sloppiness of eren’s tongue licking up your slick causing your legs to squirm, tightening around his head. “fuck.”

eren pulled back at the pressure against his skull, a smack sounding through the air as he released his suction on your wet cunt.

“i told you to be good,” he hissed, lips coated in your sheen. you knew the image of eren’s face between your legs, hair disheveled and mouth swollen, eyes dark and lustrous, would be burned into the back of your brain.

flustered, you nodded your head, spreading your legs so they weren’t pressing against his face. he nodded in content, arms coming up to wrap around your thighs to keep you steady.

and he was back; eating your pussy like he hadn’t been fed in years, a primal desperation. he pressed his tongue down harder, the cry ripping from your throat at the sensation only egging him on. you struggled against his grip as he abused your clit with his mouth, sucking and tracing his teeth over it so good.

his tongue slid down to your entrance, shoving itself in without invitation. the fullness wasn’t like having sex; it was a heated, swirling feeling. the wet muscle circled around your spongey walls, your face beginning to burn and hands growing clammy in eren’s hair.

you threw your head back as his ministrations sped up, your hips attempting to grind into his face. the warmth in the pit of your stomach building like a loaded gun, ready to release itself.

all it took was the added pressure of his hand wrapping around your thigh so that his thumb could press against your clit, feverishly rubbing. you came crashing down, your eyes screwing shut as the wave of dopamine stretched to every part of your body, legs jerking against his hold.

eren pulled his head back again, a smile on his wet face as he licked your release from his lips. “tasted so good, so good for me.”

you breathed out in reply as he came back up above you, gently taking your chin and bringing his mouth down to yours.

the kiss was small and simple, your eye lids growing heavy. you could taste your bitter release on him, the unfamiliar flavor not completely unpleasant.

“sleepy?” eren mumbled against your lips, coming back to look at you. you nodded your head, eyes catching on the key that dangled from his neck. “too bad. we aren’t done with your punishment yet.”

you frowned, your body suddenly more awake than it was before. “huh?” you asked, sitting up as eren shifted to pull his jeans off.

you weren’t sure what you expected when he yanked both his jeans and boxers down; you guessed you’d always thought his anger issues were compensation for something. the realization dawned on you that eren had nothing to compensate for as his cock sprung from his pants, the sheer size making your mouth water.

a smirk crossed his face as he stepped from his jeans. “enjoying the view?”

“what? no,” you scoffed, averting your gaze. eren crawled back over you, his bare length pressing into your stomach as his hands came up to unclasp your bra.

“don’t be shy, this is your punishment after all,” he whispered, pulling the cups from your chest. his eyes unashamedly scanned your breasts, a smile tugging his lips as he gave them a generous squeeze.

you tried to ignore the imprint of him on your stomach; but it was nearly impossible. you could feel the spot between your legs grow wet again, arousal already weaseling its way back into your system.

eren brought his lips to yours once again, the kisses much sloppier and desperate than before. he grunted as you shifted to lay back down, his exposed dick rubbing against your stomach. “can’t wait to be inside of you,” he mumbled against your lips.

you whimpered at his words, his lips melding with your own while he simultaneously tugged your panties down your legs. he propped himself up with one arm, the other positioning the tip of his cock at the entrance of your already throbbing cunt.

you took a deep breath as he slowly eased himself into you; the sheer stretch making your eyes lull back in your head. eren moved his hips slowly at first, loosening you up. he was watching your expressions; his eyelids heavy and mouth slightly agape.

“shit, you’re so tight,” he groaned, hips starting to move faster as he gazed down at you. you swallowed, closing your eyes as he sent one particularly hard thrust, cock nearly ramming your cervix. “you good?”

“mhm,” you responded, bringing your hands up to grab his hair. “just so big.”

eren let out a breathy chuckle at that, eyes traveling down to your pelvis where his dick was visibly creating a bump with every thrust. he placed his hand on your stomach, pressing down as he bucked his hips violently forwards. he was so deep.

you cried out at the feeling of his length sliding in and out of your cunt, your walls clenching around him as your hands clawed at his muscular back.

he was filling you up so good, a moan leaving his lips as your enhanced arousal unexpectedly brought your second orgasm down, tears pricking your eyes. eren kept abusing your pussy, his thrusts growing senseless before he buried himself deep within you, releasing his load inside of your exhausted center.

both of your breathing was labored, eren looking up at the ceiling. his face was flushed as he recovered, you laying limply beneath him trying to regain your composure yourself.

“that felt so good,” you admitted, bringing your hand up from his back to caress his angular face. eren frowned at your words, large hand grabbing your wrist and removing it from his jawline.

“m’not tired yet,” he said seriously, your eyes widening as he placed a chaste kiss to your lips. your fucked out face beneath him had his dick already hardening again. “m’not gonna be tired till i win.”

he suddenly pulled up, hooking his hands under your knees and pushing your legs up by your head. the action strained your muscles, the feeling of eren’s cum dripping down your ass filling your head as he readied himself to fuck you senseless.

he stared at your cunt; at the way his cum was oozing out of it, the abused pussy ready to take him in again. he used his fingers to catch the drip, forcing it back inside of you. the thought of filling you up all nice and pretty sent him over the edge, his hand shamelessly guiding his cock back inside of you.

eren was meaner this time; each thrust was deep and deliberate, hitting your cervix and making you cry out in pleasure. the burning sensation in your clit was overwhelming, your mouth hanging open as eren slowly fucked you stupid.

“good, pretty girl” eren breathed out, ramming his hips into yours. “took her punishment like such a good girl.”

you tried to nod your head, but you couldn’t move. the feeling of hot, sticky tears rolled down your face, eren’s cock deep within you almost too much to bear. he grabbed your chin, tongue swiping up your cheek as he savored the salty flavor on his tastebuds. this man and his licking.

“tell me, did you learn your lesson?” eren grunted in your ear, hand still gripping your chin. you tried to form a sentence, fucked beyond words. “hm, use your words and i’ll let you cum.”

one more deep thrust and his dick stopped its strokes, pausing within you. “yes... yes.”

“yes what?”

your tongue was heavy in your mouth, pussy all too aware of eren’s length within it. “i learned my lesson, you won.”

he smirked, aggressively bucking his hips into your weak cunt, the action making you cry out as he rammed your cervix. the tears continued to roll down your cheeks as eren’s dick twitched, spurting the his seed into you. your third release followed his, your clit spasming from the overstimulation.

eren heaved himself out of you, collapsing deftly onto the bed. the two of you sat in a heated silence, your face sticky from the tears. eren glanced to you, eyes trailing down your body.

“i’ll get a rag,” he mumbled, shoving off the bed and walking into jean’s bathroom. you were beyond exhausted and knew that you’d be sore tomorrow. eren reemerged, quickly cleaning you up and handing you your shirt.

your eyes lazily watched him as he walked over and locked the door; brain too tired to form a sentence.

he must’ve noticed your concern. “we can sleep in here tonight; i don’t think you’re in any shape to move.”

you carefully crawled into the sheets, not even bothering to put your shirt back on. eren followed suit, climbing in behind you.

“night,” he whispered as he shut the bedside light off. your lids were growing heavy, a smile on your lips as you began to fall asleep.

“night, casanova.”

<3 <3 <3

#eren jaeger #eren jeager smut #eren jeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren #eren x reader #eren smut #eren yaeger x reader #eren yaeger smut #eren jäger #this is so bad im sorry

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crown-anon · 4 years ago

Note

aah i thought of a req!!!!! could i maybe request one shots or hcs (separate) w dream, sapnap, n wilbur with a s/o (preferred he/him!!) who draws a whole lot,, n one day they catch him drawing him?? tysm :]

@ghcstbnr asked

gn i just realized i made a typo i meant cc catching reader drawing them- but ty again :)

of course! it's kind of long, sorry about that

I took a little creative liberty with the notion of "catching you drawing." also Sapnap's looks kind of long but it's also dialogue heavy. if you want me to redo it, I will. hope you like it 💗

& a note to everyone else, I don't write for Wilbur yet! I only write for the dream team at this time. sorry about that! this will probably change in the future, though, so look out 👀

CW: swearing

format: one-shot

people: dreamwastaken, Sapnap

pronouns: dreamwastaken's piece is ambiguous, Sapnap's piece uses he/him

edited 27 April 2021

—

dreamwastaken

since he doesn't use his camera, you find yourself with your boyfriend in the studio more often than not. when he's gaming casually, you play together, or one of you will cheer the other one on. when he's streaming, sometimes you interact with the viewers, or read donations for him; sometimes you just sit next to him, soaking up his energy and warmth. when he's working long days and long nights to edit videos, you're content with just relaxing together in the same space. at times you have to drag him out to the kitchen to eat, or help him to bed if he passes out, but…he's really cute when he's focused. (and you're starting to think he does it on purpose just so you can dote on him.)

today is a little different. he's recording for a manhunt that's meant to drop in a couple days. you're quiet, trying to avoid disrupting them. you're perched up on the loveseat, staring fondly at him across the room. he's so animated, the way his eyes shine when he talks to his friends, how he tears up when he laughs…

Patches mews at you from the arm of the couch, as if to say, disapprovingly, I cannot believe how sickeningly sweet your inner monologue is.

and you try to understand where she's coming from, you really do, but the sun's starting to set, and the gentle rays slotting through the blinds are shifting from white to gold.

he looks so divine, you decide. it's unfair. how could I not love him? he's seriously pretty. and before you can stop yourself, you're sketching him out on your tablet. you glance up at him fast to get the details right, and look away just as quickly. he never meets your eyes. soon your whole page is covered in little Clays, capturing the way he feels, the way he acts, the way you feel about him. Patches jumps off the chair, with all the moving. and before you know it, you've drawn up a whole page of concept art of your unfairly beautiful boyfriend. Patches was right about me, you muse to yourself.

fuck. Patches. the same Patches who's been meowing at you for the better part of an hour, now sitting patiently at the door? there's no way Clay didn't pick up on all that noise, you fret. but he's still playing, looking intense as ever. relief washes over you, replacing the guilt.

come here, girl, you think to yourself, knowing Patches wouldn't have even understood you if you spoke. sorry to keep you waiting. and you rise, slipping quietly out the door with his cat in your train.

—

you're coming back to the studio. Patches, fed and sated, is napping in another room. opening the door, you have to stop yourself, you freeze. your boyfriend's kneeling on the ground, sitting on his heels, right next to the door—you'd have hit him if it opened any further.

"baby, what are you…" the words die on your tongue.

my book. my sketchbook. my sketchbook full of drawings of him. shit, he's gonna think I'm such a simp! the embarrassment, the shame, the fear, it's overwhelming you.

you hear your voice break. "…what happened to recording…?"

"finished half an hour ago," he says simply.

and that was that. for the first time in ages, the silence hanging between you was thick and heavy with tension. you wait. and wait. and wait. you wait for the criticism, the hate, the argument that never comes.

suddenly, he seems content with what he's seen, when he looks up at you adoringly, and takes one of your hands, giving it a soft squeeze. "is that…me?"

you've lost your voice, all you can do is nod.

"you…you think I'm beautiful?" he glows.

ah, I suppose I did write that, somewhere in there. you look away. all the things I've said…

he brings your hand up to his lips and leaves kisses on your knuckles.

you sound small. "do I not tell you that enough?" you pause. "that you're beautiful? that I love you?"

and just like that, his nervousness dissolves into euphoria. you both start laughing at the same time.

"oh my god—" he wheezes. "—you're so sappy."

"only for you," you blurt out, and start laughing harder. but he quiets, he hesitates.

"only for me," he repeats.

you sink down onto the floor next to him. he's staring so fondly at you, you can't help but smile back.

"only for you," you affirm.

he rests his hands on your knees, pulling himself closer to you. he's so close to you, you can feel his blush. you let your eyes close, softly.

but the kiss never comes. instead, you're met with a "then what about all those drawings of Patches?"

laying on the floor, tangled up in each other, in hysterics, you distantly think I hope he remembered to leave the call from recording earlier.

—

over dinner, you meet his gaze, and he gives you that look. that stupid, handsome look; the one with the smile and the danger behind his eyes. he makes a point of pausing mid-bite, but it takes you a minute to notice that he's stopped eating.

"what's up, honey?" you ask, sounding a little more concerned than you should have been.

he shrugs dramatically. "oh, nothing…just figured you'd appreciate a muse." there it was. the teasing. you knew it would happen eventually. but the tone, it's kind, it's tempting; gentle, unlike a serious jab.

so all you do is roll your eyes, but you can't help the way your mouth quirks into a smile. "you're so dumb," you murmur with affection, and shake your head at nothing in particular.

Patches curls her tail around your ankle as she passes you by.

—

on the couch hours later for movie night, you're the last one up. Patches is curled up in Clay's lap, purring. Clay, in turn, sleeps soundly in your lap. (you think if he could purr, he would, but he settles for humming softly when you play with his hair.) you might think it's funny looking back on it later, but it feels so tender and vulnerable now. you like calm evenings like this one. Studio Ghibli plays quietly on the flatscreen; you don't know which one, you're not really paying attention anymore.

you're busy tracing the contours of Clay's skin, feeling more than seeing his shape in the dark room. mapping him out in your mind, learning his figure like you're seeing him for the first time again. you think you understand him a little bit better, every day you spend together. and with confidence, you make your first stroke, illuminated by the moon.

—

Sapnap

you only barely stop yourself from drawing a big "X" across your paper. exhale, and start erasing furiously. don't rip the paper—well, we didn't need that sheet anyway. ball it up and throw it at the dark, cobwebbed corner of the room. along with the rest of your mistakes.

you're trying. you're really trying. but those lips. his fucking lips. fuck.

your boyfriend smiles at the camera as he gets a donation with a sweet message on it. it should be so easy. he's right there. right here.

you check the time. it's been an hour. you've been trying, and miserably failing, to get his lips right for an entire hour. today, at least. you scoff at yourself, your misery, and pinch the bridge of your nose. it isn't fair.

his camera's on, and he's live, so you know you can't be in there with him. nobody knows you're together, and you don't want know what kind of backlash to expect if people found out. so you've been avoiding his streams…the whole room where he streams, really.

you've kept yourself busy by drawing. and you've cycled through many subjects in your life, and eventually, been able to draw whatever you put your mind to with enough time and effort. the problem is, your sights have been set on Sapnap, even for months before you got together. okay, maybe that isn't the problem. the actual problem is that you fucking suck at drawing him.

you get going, start it out, do an okay job, but midway through screw it all up somehow. to make things worse, your reference is his 2D image. he doesn't…know that you draw him. you're terrified to say. so you can't use the real life Sapnap as a reference, like you would prefer.

ugh, and this one's ruined too. you rip it up and throw it at your growing pile of paper balls, but being tiny confetti-sized pieces of paper, they don't make it very far. great, something else to clean up later, you huff at your own thoughts. it isn't fair.

—

"[name]?" he calls for you. you're one step ahead, already opening the door. you can't remember when you got here and decided to brood outside his room.

"hey, do you think you can—" he tears his eyes from his camera, his waiting audience, to look up at you expectantly. when he sees you he stops immediately, looking concerned, standing to meet you.

"what is it?" your voice is flat.

out of view of the camera, he mouths, are you okay? you only shrug and avert your eyes.

he falters, contemplates, sits back down at his desk and starts to talk to his viewers. "hey guys, I'm sorry for the short notice, but I gotta cut this stream short. my…" he glances at you for approval, only to see you motioning with your hands as if to say, no, don't.

(you yourself don't really know what for. no, don't end the stream for me? no, don't out us like this?)

he looks back. "…my friend…something came up with my friend. I have to take care of it. it's really important." you can tell he has trouble finding the right words. you can tell it throws him off, he's acting out of character for his internet personality. do you blame him? isn't this your fault? "sorry again. bye guys!"

the second he made the last click, he gets up and pulls you into a hug. it's unexpected, it knocks the wind out of you. you're certain he feels the tension.

"babe…what's wrong?" it's muffled by your neck and the sweater you're wearing. you just hold him, saying nothing.

he pulls away and holds you by the shoulders. "look at me. what's wrong?"

you feel all the more embarrassed. it's so silly to be upset about. "I…I…well, it's a lot."

he shakes his head, to say I'm not going anywhere, but his expression softens, his grip loosens. "do you want to talk about it?"

you sigh. "it started as 'I can't draw for shit', then it became 'why am I afraid of asking you for help?', and finally, worst of all, 'why the fuck can't we be seen together?' it isn't fair. it's never been fair. I'm sorry."

he thinks about it for a second. "okay, what makes you feel like we can't be seen together?"

"are you joking?" you snap. "we're two fucking boyfriends. in this society." he didn't look hurt by the outburst, but the guilt crept in anyway. "…I'm sorry."

he shakes his head, "do you really think I'd let that happen? I wouldn't ever let anyone hurt you, darling. remember that."

"I know, I know…" you don't know what to say. "it's easy to forget, I guess."

"what are you afraid to ask me for help about?"

"I…" shit, you guess you have to tell him. close your eyes, breathe, "I've been drawing you. trying to draw you. but I can't, it never turns out right."

you peek, and he's red in the face, stuttering. "me? you draw me? of all the hot people out there?"

you furrow your eyebrows at him. "don't give me that shit. you know you're cute."

he shakes his head incredulously. "are we talking about the same person here?"

"dude, your smile is literally the most radiant fucking force of nature I have ever seen."

"you're hot too! why are you coming after me?"

"I'm not 'coming after you', you're being defensive about your looks, when you shouldn't be! you're gorgeous, baby."

you're both giggling like girls at a sleepover, the anger and frustration long forgotten. now it's a war of who can be more grossly in-love with the other.

"what part of me," he manages between laughs. "are you having trouble drawing?"

"oh god," you groan, remembering yourself and your dilemma. "your lips."

"my fucking lips? you would think that—"

"no," you warn. "shut up. don't say it. don't you dare say it."

he leans in close, his hands have moved up to cup your face. you shiver.

"don't worry," he grins. "I won't."

the kiss is long and sweet, nothing like the ones you've shared in the past. he takes his time, you savor each other. you feel time stop ticking, you feel your heart stop beating, you feel the way he tilts his head. you grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him in. and when you part, you're breathing heavy, in tandem.

"thanks," you manage. "but I needed to see your lips, not kiss you into next saturday."

"nah," he laughs. "I think you needed that too."

you choose your words thoughtfully. "do you need me, too?"

he hums, and—

ding!

dreamwastaken donated $69!

you could die. you could really, seriously die.

the response is instant. you don't even see Sapnap move from you to the PC, flushed down to his neck, apologizing, apologizing, and apologizing again. "change of plans, guys, we're doing an art stream!"

the chat is filled with "huh?"s and "what?"s.

"huh? what?" you didn't have the time to process what just happened.

karljacobs: I thought we were doing a make-out-with-our-secret-boyfriends stream :(

he smiled warmly at you. "yeah. my lovely boyfriend is going to draw me! he's been wanting to for a really long time, and his art is really good. let's go get your stuff."

you're in so much shock that he makes it past you and out of the room, while you stand there waiting. after a pause much longer than you intended, you hurry after him.

—

down the hall, in your room, he's got your sketchbook tucked under his arm, closed. you're sure you left it open when you came out.

you only barely get the words out. "um, did you…go through it? please don't laugh."

your heart sinks when he laughs heartily, but he grabs your hand, resting it on your book, about to hand it off. but he holds you there for a second. "of course not. I respect your privacy." he ponders for a moment. "I respect you."

you can feel the sigh of relief when you let it out. "I…love you."

your holding your book now, as he moves to collect the boxes containing your pens and pencils and colors. he gets them all together, but before he picks them up to head back, he turns around to face you. "is this too much?"

you absently reach for a hand, tracing over the lines on his palms. and you think about it. am I okay? is this too much?

"I don't think so. not with you. I'm okay."

he moves to open the door and grab the rest of your things. "well then, let's not keep them waiting!"

—

edited 27 April 2021

#dreamwastaken x reader #dream x reader #clay x reader #sapnap x reader

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yespolkadotkitty · 4 years ago

Note

So I read Elixir and I love how you write sex pollen and I was wondering if you could do one for our other federal agent, Marcus?

Jump Start

Warnings: smut. A lot of smut. Unbeta’d writing; soft Marcus.

Words: 3,500

Summary: What if Marcus only went to DC for a while? And what if he came back for you?

Marcus: Still game for tonight?

You: Are you kidding? Cho and Lisbon have bigged up that Aladdin’s Cave for months. I’ll be there.

Marcus: You sure this is what you want for your birthday?

You: Yes.

Marcus: Okay then… Bring a pillow because I’ll probably bore you to sleep with all the art stories.

When the elevator doors part to reveal Agent Marcus Pike, you’re standing by the door to the lock-up. A smile lights up his face when he sees you, and your heart bumps hard in your chest. He slides his hands in his pocket, a blush creeping up his neck.

“Happy birthday.”

“Thanks, Marcus.”

He ducks his head, a little shy. You know he isn’t always. You’d seen him in the interview room a few times last year, when your team and his had co-run a case. Watched his eyes go hard, his face stern. He’d slammed a file down on the desk inches from a suspect’s face and the surprisingly rough side to him had made you shiver.

Lisbon had sent you a knowing look and you’d ignored her.

She’d had her chance and she’d blown it, and frankly you didn’t want to know what she and Marcus had shared; how close they’d been.

Marcus had gone to DC after that. A year’s undercover work has helped him heal, you think. Get his head back in the game.

He came back for another co-op case, and thankfully, Lisbon and Jane had been away on honeymoon then.

You and Marcus had worked this one together, sometimes late into the night, sharing take-out and anecdotes from other old cases, and then, you’d started hanging out, a little.

He’s interesting. Funny. Friendly. Panty-melting gorgeous.

Heart-stoppingly gorgeous.

Cho dropped that it was your birthday at last week’s after-work drinks, and then Marcus had texted offering you a tour of the art lock up. You’d been rota’d off the day Cho and Lisbon got to see it, last year.

Patrick Jane hadn’t been allowed in. Marcus had muttered something about sticky fingers when you’d asked him about it.

“You ready?” He ducks his head to buss your cheek and you meet him halfway, breathing him in, minty gum, sandalwood, and the gourmet coffee he hides in his office. He shared it with you once and it’s like him, memorable, decadent, addictive.

“Ready.” You pull away, reluctantly, wanting him, but he’s never given you any overt hints that he sees you as anything more than a colleague.

He and Lisbon are cordial to each other when they meet, but for all you know, he’s still pining over her.

You daren’t ask; you don’t want to know the answer.

Marcus punches in a code to the first gate, then plucks the rings of keys from his pocket and opens the dinner door of the lock-up, a smile playing on his scruffy face. He grew the patchy beard during his time in DC and it really suits him, highlights his beautiful jaw and makes his soulful eyes a deeper brown.

This time on a Saturday, no one else is around.

“A private museum,” you breathe as you see all the paintings, sculptures and other art set carefully in frames or on desks or custom made plinths.

“Yeah, I always feel like Aladdin.” He scoffs at himself. “I say that every time. What a dork.”

You turn and grin at him. “I like it. You’re an art geek. It’s sexy.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them.

Marcus’ brow wings up. “That so?”

“Um, sure.” You duck your head, embarrassed. “So. Tell me some art stories, Special Agent Pike. What’s new here?”

He brightens, soulful chocolate eyes going wide for just a moment. “Well. There’s this equine sculpture. Maker’s mark is Italian but we seized it during a raid for paintings. Wasn’t expecting it.” He snaps on white gloves and offers you a pair, then gently turns over the statue to show you the swirling signature on the bottom. “We’re still not sure where the other two are.”

You trace a gloved finger over the horse’s detailed mane, wrought perfectly in cherrywood. ��Other two?

“Sure. This is part of a set. You can tell here-” he points out a divot in the base that you wouldn’t even have noticed, and another on the opposite end. “And here. The two connecting statues are missing - other horses, I’d guess.”

“Wow.”

Marcus sets the horse down and meets your gaze. “You bored yet?”

“Nope! More!”

He chuckles indulgently. “Okay. Why don’t you choose.”

You wander around the various lock-up cages for a while, examining instruments, more statues, even a huge quilt that looks woven with gold.

After a few moments, a painting about your height catches your eye. It’s an orgy, but tastefully done, painted in shades of amber and gold, the bodies fluid, enchanting.

“I’ve never seen such a… soft depiction of a group bang,” you smile.

Marcus’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “That came in last week. Rumour has it, the artist was quite the lothario back in the 1800s. A steady stream of, ah, callers to his penthouse in Florence. The accounts of his sexual prowess are something else.”

“I bet.” You eye the curves of the women in the painting; she looks soft, welcoming, her eyes closed in ethereal bliss. “So, how’d you get this?”

“Allegedly, found in an attic. We went to the house to pick it up. The man who gave it to me - said they just moved in - seemed kinda high.” Marcus’ brow furrows. “Very mellow. Pretty sure he’d been smoking something. He was half-dressed.”

You crouch, examine the painting more closely. “And you didn’t… arrest him?”

Marcus shrugs. “Art’s our deal. I did note the address with a colleague in the DEA, so if it gets flagged again, they’ll investigate.”

Something about the painting keeps you enraptured. You spy a little notch in the frame. “Do you think something’s hidden in here?”

Marcus bends next to you to examine the area you point to. He’s been working today, so he still wears his suit, the red tie the little bit of flash he allows himself on the job. His scent weaves around you, the lick of coffee, the gasp of mint, and something uniquely Marcus.

“It looks like something…. Comes undone?”

You both lean in together, and you edge your gloved finger along the groove in the ornate gold-effect frame.

Marcus does the same from the other end. “Wow,” he breathes. “A hidden compartment?” Then his eyebrows shoot up as part of the frame depresses under his finger, clicking. He grins hugely. “Well, now I really do feel like Aladdin.”

“Don’t suppose you’ve got a little monkey wearing a fez around here, do you?” You tease.

“Maybe a magic carpet. I-”

He’s cut off when a hissing noise pops from the painting. You and Marcus both lean in to try and hear it more closely, and just when you get close, powder sprays from the frame, light gold in colour and smelling faintly musty.

You cough, reeling back, your hands over your face. “Gross.”

Marcus steps back too, wiping a gloved hand over his face and examining the golden-hued powder on the cotton fabric. “What the hell-”

You slowly sit down on the floor. “I feel… sort of dizzy. Hot.”

Marcus crosses to you, crouching in front of you, and if you didn’t feel so discombobulated, you would appreciate the closeness of him, the amber shot through his irises, the slight curl of his cowlick. “I’ll go get help. Maybe some water?”

You’re burning up. A slow dance starts in the pit of your belly, something that you think was always there, maybe, but intensified now Marcus is so close. “Please don’t go.”

His brow furrows in concern. “Of course.” He smoothes a gloved hand over your hair, and then you see it; the change in his eyes, the way they go dark and hot. “I… what the fuck is this stuff? I feel…”

You clutch at his forearms, feeling the play of lean muscle under his suit. “What if…. What if this was the reason that painter was such a, um, lothario?”

Marcus’ gaze has dropped to your mouth and at your words, he blinks. “What? Oh. Oh.”

“Yeah,” you say slowly. “Marcus, I…”

He stands up, backing away. “I can’t be near you. Not when I want… I can’t.”

You reach out to him. “What if you stayed?”

He gazes down at you, longing in those bottomless eyes, and now you can clearly see the outline of the powder’s effect on him. “I can’t. Can’t do that to you.”

A flash of hope pierces the haze descending on you. “You want to? Because of the.. Stuff,” you finish lamely.

An expression of half desire, half pain, sketches itself over Marcus’ features. “I’ve wanted to for a while. That night we worked late.” He’s half-panting now, the fingers of one hand curled around the wall of his side of the lock-up. “Wanted to take you over the desk. I - fuck- can’t do it.”

You make to move. “Marcus-”

“Not like this,” he groans, that voice of sin and sex dropping half an octave, California with a lick of the drawl of Texas. “Not… like this.”

“Don’t go!” You beg. Your insides are burning up for him. If he’d just touch you. Just for a moment.

Marcus is shaking his head, fumbling with the door on this section of the lock-up. You lunge for him but he pulls the door closed, locking you in and him out.

He turns the key, then tosses the ring across the room.

“I’m sorry. I can’t. Not like this. Goes against everything.”

“But I want you,” you say. You crawl over to the fencing separating you. “At least… touch my hand.”

You pull your gloves off, slide your fingers through the holes in the mesh.

Marcus takes his gloves off too, tangles his fingers with your the best he can. He sighs deeply. “I had this whole date thing planned. Dinner at an Italian that reminds me of a place I ate at in my gap year.”

“Marcus,” you whisper. “So you do really like me.”

He groans. “Sweetheart, I haven’t been able to think about anything but you since I got back from DC, and there you were, pretty as a picture, working late with me, sharing Chinese food. Making me laugh.”

You swallow, wanting him so badly it hurts. Every inch of you burns for him.

“I wanted to go slow,” he rasps out. “I know I jump in. Get overexcited. But with you.. I wanted to do it right. Fuck.” With his free hand he, almost unconsciously, palms himself through his suit pants, his eyes rolling back. “What the hell is this drug?”

You hungrily follow the path of his hand with your gaze. “Lothario, remember?”

“I remember.” Marcus groans, pressing the heel of his hand against his erection. He’s sitting awkwardly. “Bastard.”

“Marcus.” You squeeze his hand. “I want this. I want you. It’s lonely up on that white horse.”

He shakes his head, vehement. “It’s….not… not right.”

You press against the caging and just the pressure of the mesh on your breasts makes you moan. “So I can’t touch you, and you won’t touch me, but you also won’t leave me.” You watch him squeeze his eyes shut, look at the tent in his suit pants. “Touch yourself.”

His eyes pop open. “What?”

“If you won’t leave and you won’t… give in to whatever this is, although I want you more than I’ve wanted any man, ever…. Let me see you.”

A bead of sweat rolls down his forehead as he looks at you, big brown eyes considering. He’s weighing every option. Marcus is thoughtful, considered. Considerate. He always thinks two steps ahead, encompasses everyone in plans and strategies.

But he’s blindsided by this, and you can’t say it isn’t sexy as hell to see him unravel this way.

“Please,” you add, holding his gaze.

He squeezes your fingers and the air changes between you, and then he leans heavily against the mesh and you take the opportunity to stroke his hair, a little, and it’s so soft. Feels like silk, and you have to touch more of him, but maybe you’ll get to at least see more, so you will your breathing to calm, just a bit, as he fumbles one-handedly with his belt buckle and then slides the zipper of his suit pants down to reveal plain grey boxers, darkened in the centre by a damp patch, and your throat is so dry.

“Have you…” your heart bumps hard, the rush of seeing new parts of Marcus making you even dizzier. “Ever gotten off in this evidence locker before?”

“Can’t say I have.” Marcus’ gaze stays on your face, earnest. “I can go. I can just go.”

“Please. Please don’t go. Come in.”

“Can’t do that.” He closes his eyes; looks like he is silently praying for the power to resist you. His fingers curl into the parted edge of his suit pants.

“Let me see you?”

He sucks in a deep breath, then exhales shakily. “This is not how I planned to seduce you. Just so you know.”

Your pulse rabbits. “You seduce me every moment, Marcus. With every sweet text. Every time you smile at me. All your art stories. When you say my name. Your voice, oh God.”

Marcus’ hand trembles as he holds your gaze through the wire mesh of the lock-up, and he finally, finally parts the opening of the plain grey boxers and draws himself out, and you just drink him in with your eyes, the shape of him, the swollen tip, his length and girth, the curling hair at his base. It looks as silky as the hair on his head and you hear yourself groan needily.

“Marcus.”

He fists himself, his gaze hot on yours. “Not how I planned this date,” he repeats. “I feel like I’m on fire for you.” He rasps out your name and you watch his hand move, and suddenly it’s too much, the heat between your legs cannot be ignored, and you shove your skirt up and mirror Marcus on the floor.

His head jerks around. “Fuck,” he hisses.

“Never knew you had such a potty mouth,” you half-gasp, half-tease.

“For you, I’ll do whatever you want with my mouth.”

You groan at that as you circle your clit with a finger.

Marcus almost growls “Underwear off, I want to see.” His voice, that voice, is gentle-rough, and you think of the day you watched him in the interview room.

“Whatever you say, Agent Pike.”

“Christ.” He’s jacking off in earnest now, his gaze riveted to you as you pull off your underwear with one hand, letting it fall wherever. Your skirt is rucked up around your hips and the fact it’s Marcus watching you is a huge turn on, but honestly you’re not sure if you could have stopped, for anything.

Your combined pants fill the space. You’ve never been so wet. When you slide two fingers inside yourself the sound is obscene.

“It’s.. a wonder.. He ever got… any painting done,” Marcus grits out.

You laugh. “Now? You wanna talk about art now?”

He huffs. “Art is the reason we’re here. Like this.” Then he sucks in a breath and you look down at him, his balls drawn up tight, his cock wet with his own pre-come.

“Marcus Matthew Pike, I swear to God, if you don’t get in here right now, I will never ever speak to you again.”

He hesitates.

“I swear on Van Gogh’s ear,” you add, your internal muscles fluttering.

Marcus half-yanks up his pants, scrabbles for the key. The seconds feel like hours until he appears again, boxers and pants around his knees, shirt tails hanging, and he opens the mesh door and you yank him in and kiss him and you tumble to the floor together, and Marcus grabs both your wrists and pins them above you with one hand, his face dark and determined, and it makes your heart pound.

“Please,” you grate out. “Marcus. I need you.” You spread your legs and try to hook your feet over his calves, but he shakes his head.

“Not yet. Sweetheart, not yet.” He curls your fingers into the wire of the mesh. “Hold on. Don’t… don’t touch me. I wanna make it good for you, first.”

You hear yourself keen his name as he shucks off his clothes from the waist down, then slides down your body and puts that gorgeous mouth to work. Your favourite thing he did with his mouth until now was talking, but this-

Maybe he’s writing his name, maybe he’s writing a sonnet, but whatever it is, the way he curls his tongue is obscene, and you don’t know if it’s partly the drug, but when he puts two fingers inside you, you come so hard you almost black out. And then lust rears its head again and you grab for him, carding one hand through his hair and cupping him with the other, and he’s slick in your palm and the ridges and heat of his cock feel so good.

“Marcus.” You fist a hand in his hair, pull a little, and he groans and pants, and you take the opportunity to pump him in your fist until he swears under his breath.

"Condom. Oh fuck. Condom."

He hesitates, then drops a soft kiss on your lips - your first, you think, a bit giddy - and you taste yourself, and he licks into your mouth and whispers your name and it's pure, unadulterated bliss.

Then he extricates himself, rummages in his suit pants, and as soon as he has the foil square in his hand you grab for him, pulling him down on top of you.

"After this," you murmur, "you're gonna bend me over the desk." And you roll the condom down his dick and he lets out a long, slow breath and pushes inside you and it's everything.

Everything inside you quiets for a moment that stretches as he starts to move, caging you in with his braced forearms, and you look into his dark chocolate eyes and his heart is on his face, with Marcus it always is. It's your favourite thing about him.

He nibbles at your lips as you make love to eachother, and you hook your legs around his hips to stop him pulling out too much. You want him close, want to feel his skin under your hands. The buttons of his shirt rasp against your dress, and if you were more aware you might think it's ridiculous, him bringing you to orgasm with you both half dressed in the floor of the art squad lock-up, but you can't care. Not when his cock hits you right there, and then you're keening his name and he tumbles over the cliff edge with you, pressing hard in those final thrusts as your muscles milk him.

You curl around him. "Marcus."

He sighs, presses his forehead to yours. "Was that… are you okay?"

You chuckle lazily. "I've never been more okay."

He cuddles you close, nosing at your cheek, murmuring sweet nothings. "Christ, what is this stuff? I could go again."

At his words desire rears its head. "There must be a desk in here somewhere, right?"

And his eyes go hot.

And that's how you find yourself bent over a desk recovered from an abandoned shipping off, the edges intricately gilded. You cling to them as Marcus fucks you hard and fast, just the way he'd fantasised about, and it's so good that you sob his name over and over.

Afterwards he cuddles you so gently, stroking your hair as he whispers praises about how good you felt around him, how next time he's gonna give you a bed covered in rose petals.

You shake your head, kissing him deeply, helping him into his jacket. "You're all I want, Marcus. Any way I can have you."

A flush colours his cheeks as he cups your cheeks. "Dinner? Let me take you out to dinner."

"I'd rather have it in bed. Have you in bed."

His eyes go wide for a second. "The drug.."

"This isn't the drug and you know it." You loop your arms around his neck. "It just jump-started us. Never been so grateful to a horny nineteenth century painter."

Marcus laughs out loud, hugs you, then releases you to hold your hand, tug you towards the elevator. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me. You know that, right?"

Happiness unfurls slowly inside you. "I could stand to hear it again."

Tagging the Pedro pals! @soldade @beccaplaying @heatherbel @mourningbirds1 @alldatalost @songsformonkeys @agirllovespasta @nelba @chews-erotically @mrschiltoncat @gamingaquarius @alienprincesspoop @dornish-queen @lackofhonor @agentpike @jaime1110 @thegreenkid @pedropascallion @mrsparknuts @buckstaposition @winters-buck @oloreaa @mstgsmy @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @holographic-carmen @cryptkeepersoul @alwaysbethewest @poenariuniverse @starlight-starwrites @keeper0fthestars @alwaysbethewest @kindablackenedsuperhero @abuttoncalledsmalls @f0rever15elf

And @arch-venus25 did you wanna be tagged in Pedro stuff?

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amayawolfe · 4 years ago

Text

Teacups (Illumi x Fem.Reader)

(A/N: mild fluff, pregnancy, angst, nudity, cross dressing (sorta?), bathing together, emotional struggle)

Word Count: 5755

Name Key: (o/d) = older daughter (name) (y/d) = younger daughter (name)

(Summary: You come from a small, yet formidable clan of shinobi assassins and have been married to Illum Zoldyck as a way to create a bond with one of the most powerful assassin families in the world. Even though it had been an arranged marriage, you have come to love and care for your husband deeply.

Seven years have passed since your vows were spoken and you are now five months pregnant with yours and Illumi's third and forth child. You've grown concerned with the lack of bonding between Illumi and your two daughters and suggest a "father daughters' day" while you visit family. Shortly after your return home, you are surprised in how far Illumi has taken your suggestion.)

Taglist: @to-move-on-means-to-grow

"So tell me, (y/n), how have the girls been doing?" your mother asked you over her cup of tea.

The two of you where sitting at a table just outside your favorite little café in the city nearest Kukuroo mountain. With the sun shinning down on you brightly, warming your skin and clothes, you should have felt relaxed and stress free for a change. However, your mother had a bad tendency to get under your skin.

You took a sip from your own teacup and leaned back into your chair, rubbing your round pregnant belly as you did so.

"They're doing well. (o/d) has started her training and is fairing far better than I hoped she would have," you said with a proud smile. "(y/d) has been watching (o/d) and is getting excited for her own training to start."

Your mother smiled, happy and proud that her granddaughters were showing such keen interest and progress in the family art.

"I'm so glad to hear that," she said, lightly clapping their hands together in excitement. "They will make wonderfully talented shinobi." She took another sip from her tea before she continued. "And what are the little darlings doing today since you are taking the day off from teaching? I had hoped you would have brought them with you. I haven't seen them in such a long time."

"Oh, they're having a 'father daughters' day' day with Illumi," you replied nonchalantly.

Your mother's smile fell away from her lips. She had not been happy with your father when he had made the arrangement with one of the world's mostly deadly and powerful families of assassins. The youngest of eight children, you were her only daughter. She nearly killed your father when she found out that you were to be married off to the eldest Zoldyck child, Illumi. But by that point the deal was made and there was nothing that she could do.

Despite being nervous, if not a little scared, you were more than willing to do the deed. Your clan was suffering from lack of work due to over competition. Having ties with the Zoldycks held promise of a more steady stream of jobs. Your clan was highly skilled in their ways and made formidable allies. It was a win win situation.

The first meeting with your future husband had been an awkward one, to say the least. He was quiet for the most part, and shown less emotion than a corpse. At one point you had giggled at the thought that if he were anymore tense, and just held his breath, he could pass for one.

Your mother had always said you were a strange child.

"You mean, they are spending the day with those butlers?" she asked in a condescending tone.

Mother didn't like the idea of the butlers either. She was one of those that believed you should take care of your own home. To be honest, you secretly believed she was jealous. Having a butler when you had eight children would have been welcomed help, surely.

"Mother, please be nice," you chided. "You know I consider the butlers to be friends and family as well."

Out of the corner of your eye you could see the dark skinned young woman, Canary, smile a little as she pretended to read the paper. While she may have looked like she was laid back and inattentive sitting there, you knew that every one of those sharp senses of hers were alert and on the look out for any potential threat to you.

In truth, you were perfectly capable of defending yourself; pregnant or not. Having been one of the top shinobi warriors in your clan, you were skilled enough to put many of the experienced clans men face down into the dirt. Allowing Canary to come along was to help put Illumi's concerns at ease more than anything else. That, and you enjoyed the young lady's company. She wasn't quite as uptight as most of the other butlers.

"And I really wish you would give Illumi a chance," you sighed as you refreshed your cup from the decorated cast iron pot that was sitting on the table. "He's been working really hard to improve himself and isn't the same person you first met."

Your mind flashed back to when Illumi had arrived for yours and his first meet. Mother had tagged along to make sure you would not be killed right on the spot, something you still rolled your eyes at to this day. He had been extremely formal in a robotic and monotone way.

In the most deadpan manner you had ever seen, he had held up his hand and said, "Hello (y/n)'s mother, I am here to take meet with your daughter to make sure we are compatible before we are married." It was kind of cute, in an odd psychopathic kind of way.

You were pretty sure your mother had spied on the two of you through out the rest of that day.

"And no," you continued the conversation with a small shake of your head, "I meant what I said. I've pointed out to him that he needs to bond with the girls more and made the suggestion for him, and him alone, to spend the day with them."

"Is that man even capable of 'bonding'?"

There was a loud "tink" and the sudden sensation of burning washed over your fingers. You had broken your teacup. Your building frustration and anger towards your mother's comments had caused you to squeeze it too hard. The delicate little cup had no chance in the powerful grip you had placed around it.

Canary stood instantly and began cleaning up the hot liquid before you even had a chance to blink or fully register what had happened.

"Are you alright, mam?" she asked, honestly concerned. You let out a frustrated sigh and shook the remaining liquid from your scalded fingers.

"Yes, dear, I'm fine." Your gaze locked with your mother's, "If you can't speak kindly about my husband, mother, then I'm afraid that we are going to have to call it a day." A cold, deadly tone harbored within your voice.

Your mother sternly held your glare for a few seconds before she closed her eyes and sighed, her body posture crumpled a bit.

"I'm sorry, (y/n)," she said, slightly shaking her head, "I guess I still feel bitter that your choice on whom to marry was taken away from you. And, I still wo-"

"Worry about me and the girls?" you interrupted. Canary had finished cleaning the mess and brought you a fresh cup. She gracefully filled it from the same pot you had just used then turned and bowed to you ever so slightly. You thanked her and asked her to return to what she had been doing.

"Mother, that always seems to be your excuse for your rudeness," your tone was accusatory; your face, stern. "It's been over seven years since Illumi and I were married and I honestly can't think of a time I've been happier."

Your mother grimaced.

"Even though our marriage was arranged, he treats me as his equal. Together we have worked on slowly undoing the countless years of damage his parents did to him since he was a child. He's made huge progress, but he will never be what you and I would consider 'normal'. Emotions will always be something difficult for him to understand. Not to mention feel or show. But believe me when I say he does love and care for me, as well as his children."

Upon saying your last sentence your mother had begun to open her mouth to make a retort, but you already knew what she was going to say and help up a single finger to silence her.

"Before you even say 'a man who loves his children shouldn't have to be told when he needs to bond with them', keep in mind that his parents never bonded with him. Or at least not in a healthy, loving manner. The fact that he was willing to listen to me, understand what I was telling him, and put in the effort for today speaks volumes."

You had to stop and take a deep, calming breath. The rising volume of your voice, along with your rising blood pressure and heart rate, was starting to upset the twins within your belly. You could feel them kicking frantically and moving about as you angrily defended their father from your mother. Taking another deep breath, your forced yourself to relax the best you could and began to rub your belly again.

"I know your weren't entirely happy with your arranged marriage with father," you continued in a calmer state, "but I am. I love Illumi, mother, so very much. I'm sorry that you and father couldn't find a way to love each other the way Illumi and I do. But please, do not try to insert your bitter, negative emotions into our lives. If you can't be happy for me and respect my family as a whole, then I am afraid we will simply have to go back to writing letters to one another until you can learn to do so."

A glowering expression was now etched upon your mothers face, your own had become deadpan. The two of you stared at one another in silence for a few minutes as the town's normal hustle and bustle of people continued to flow passed you.

Your mother's lips scowled as she took a deep breath through her nose.

"Well, in that case, I do believe I will be heading back home," she flatly announced. Your mother removed her napkin from her lap and tossed it onto the table as she rose from her seat. With hands shaking from her own anger, she quickly gathered herself together and started to turn to walk away.

"Farewell, my daughter," she called back over her shoulder, "do contact me when my grandsons are born, will you? I think you will find that I am right by that point."

You watched the back of her head as she walked away until she disappeared into the crowd. You continued to glare at the spot you had last seen her, the edges of your vision began to turn red and your body began to tremble with seething rage.

The sudden feeling of your teacup being plucked out of your hands snapped you out of your downward spiral. Looking over, Canary was standing beside now holding your cup.

"I'm sorry, mam, but I did not want you to burn yourself again," she informed softly. You looked down at your hands just in time to see the last of the white fading from your knuckles and fingers. You must have been squeezing it without realizing it again.

With a sigh your shoulders drooped and you leaned all the way back into your chair, allowing your head to fall back. You watched the clouds lazily drift across the sky above you as your mind turned.

I'm sorry father... I tried to mend things with her, but, she's just so damn stubborn and bitter!

"Shall we call it a day, mam?" Canary asked.

"No," you lifted your head to look into her gentle grey eyes, "I'm not expected home for another few hours. And to be honest, I do not wish to return home while in such a foul mood."

"Understandable," Canary set the teacup back down in front of you. "What do you propose?"

Taking a sip from your still hot tea, you mulled things over in your head a little. Looking at the scenery around you, you hummed in thought and lightly tapped a finger nail on your cup.

"Ah!" you exclaimed. "How about we have a girls day and do a bit of shopping together before we get something to eat. It should be about time to go home by the time we're done. Maybe we could even get something for your lady friend, Amane" A sly, knowing grin graced your lips and you winked at her.

"Eh!" she started and looked down, her cheeks darkened a little. "You.. You really don't have to do that, mam."

"Oh, come on," you laughed lightly, "you know you're the closest person I have to a friend besides Illumi. And shopping with him isn't the same as shopping with you!"

"I have got to admit," Canary added softly, "Master Illumi does have some interesting tastes when it comes to his choice in outfits."

You laughed a little louder.

"That he does, my dear. I suspect he may be getting some influence from that clown friend of his."

You paid for the drinks and the two of you were off.

Since this was the first time you were having boys, you wanted to get some new things for the nursery. Most of what you needed or wanted was going to be ordered online, but you still enjoyed going from store to store looking at what each one had to offer.

After a few hours and many a shopping bag later, you and Canary eventually stop to have dinner. You were more than ready to get off your feet for a little while. The first two times you were pregnant you didn't tire so easily and your feet were not as quick to swell or become sore. Carrying twice as much baby, the case was a little different this time round.

While waiting for your food, you decided to text Illumi.

You: We're stopping for dinner before we head home, should I bring anything for you and the girls?

You nibbled on an appetizer while awaiting your husbands response. It didn't take him long as he sent a picture with a blurred portion of his face in the shot and the girls making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with chips in the background. It seemed they were both making a bit of a mess, and was that peanut butter on Illumi's cheek?

Illumi: No, we're good, thank you. See you soon.

You laughed and showed the picture to Canary who smiled and chuckled lightly. Peanut butter and jelly with chips most definitely would not have been your first choice for dinner. But seeing as Illumi had very limited experience with cooking, it was probably the safest route to go. Most importantly, it looked like they were having a good time.

Idle chit chat was pleasantly shared between you and Canary as the two of you enjoyed your food. Once dinner was done and paid for, all the shopping bags were packed into the car and the two of you were on your way home.

It didn't take long for you to start dozing off a little. The combination of a roller coaster of emotions, having been on your feat, being pregnant, and then having a nice large meal had really drained you. The gentle motion of the car was no help either.

Before you knew it, Canary was calling out to you.

"Lady (y/n), we're home."

With a mild start you became fully alert. Blinking, you looked out your window and saw your family's home. Separate and a fair distance from the Zoldyck family mansion, the large house was built for you Illumi just before (o/d) was born.

You got out of the car and stretched, then turned to Canary.

"Could you please take those bags to the nursery? I'll go through them later."

"As you please, mam," Canary replied with a slight bow.

Thanking her, you turn and head up the stairs to the front door. Upon entering your home, you removed your shoes, set them aside and hung your purse on it's hook. Your ears were alert for the sounds of your daughters and husband. The house was quiet.

"Illu? (o/d)? (y/o)?" you called.

"They're in the girls' room, lady (y/n)," a familiar voice replied from the kitchen. Coming round the corner, you found Amane cleaning up the dinner mess your husband and children left behind.

The mess wasn't terrible. Bread and chip crumbs, smeared jelly and peanut butter on the counters as well as some spilt milk. The sink was filling with soapy water for the dinner dishes to be washed, dried, and put away since their wasn't enough to run the dishwasher. The girls had most definitely made larger messes in the past, but you felt a little guilty none the less.

"Ah, Amane, I'm sorry. Illumi should have known to clean up after they were done."

Amane just shook her head.

"It's alright, mam. There really isn't much to it."

"I know, but still.." you smile and laugh lightly, "Thank you."

You continue further into the house towards the girls' room. As you got closer, you could faintly hear your daughters' voices. Curiosity took hold of you and you brought your stealth training into play. Slowly creeping up to the open door, you carefully leaned in and peaked into your daughters' room.

You blinked once. Twice. Several more times as your mouth slowly fell open in complete and utter shock.

Your daughters were sitting in their small chairs at a low, round table made for children while you husband was sitting on his knees. There was also a large stuffed dog that looked a lot like Mike sitting in one of the children's chairs at the table. (o/d)'s pastel colored plastic tea set was set up about the table. Little plastic plates held evidence there had once been treats upon them as there were cookie crumbs left behind.

The girls were dressed in pretty kimonos, gifts from grandmother Kikyo, and were wearing makeup. To much eye shadow and rouge, messy lipstick, you recognized (o/d) handy work. They were having a conversation with Illumi occasionally adding in a comment or answering a question when one was directed to him. Every so often, one of them, including Illumi, would take a sip from their plastic cup.

But, it wasn't just the sight of your fearsome assassin husband playing tea party with his two beautiful little girls that had caught you so off guard. No, it was how he looked.

Illumi was wearing one of your fancy kimonos over his clothes. The size of his chest and shoulders prevented the front from closing properly, but the three of them didn't seem to mind. His long, luxurious hair was tied into several messy braids of which varied in size. Each long braid ended with a pastel colored ribbon tied into a bow.

Copious amounts of makeup in the same manner as the girls was proof that Illumi's face had also been a canvas for (o/d)'s application practice. Jade green eyeshadow nearly reached his high sitting eyebrows and went as far down as tops of his cheekbone. The eyeshadow nearly blended into the large amount of rose pink rogue that practically covered the entirety of his cheeks. Dark plum colored lipstick was messily applied to his thin lips in a manner that reminded you of a comic book villain from your childhood. Illumi honestly looked more clown-like than his friend.

Once your initial shock had faded, you found yourself smiling from ear to ear. Quietly, you pulled your phone out of your pocket and brought up the camera. You made sure to keep your movements slow as you carefully aimed your phone lens towards your family.

Just as you were about to take the picture, (y/d) caught sight of you.

"Mama!!" she happily cheered.

Her actions caused both (o/d) and Illumi to glance at (y/d) then look in the same direction she was. That's when you took the picture. It was perfect.

"Oh, hello dear, did you just get home?" Illumi inquired.

"I did," you replied. You came into the room and smiled at each one of them in turn. "I'm sorry if I interrupted your tea party my darlings."

"It's okay mama," (o/d) said, "we can move Mike Jr. and you can join us!"

Before you could respond, (o/d) started to get up to move the stuffed animal. But then Illumi held up a hand, causing her to stop.

"Actually, I do believe it is close to yours and your sisters bedtime. The two of you should get ready for bed."

"Awwww," both the girls cried out in disappointment, causing you to let out a soft giggle.

They really must have been having fun if they don't want to stop. I'm glad.

"But, we wanna keep playing, papa," (y/d) whined. She was starting to get tears in eyes. It was a sign that she actually was starting to get sleepy, even though she didn't really show it. (y/d) only really ever cried anymore when she was starting to get tired.

"Now, now," Illumi reached over and patted (y/d) on the head. "We can play more tomorrow after lunch when (o/d) is done with her training. I don't have to leave for my mission for another couple of days, so we have plenty of time to play."

"You promise?" (y/d) sniffled.

"I promise," he assured his littler girl in his usual expressionless tone.

"Alright then, girls, I'll help you wash up for bed. Illumi? Would please take the dirty dishes to Amane? She's in the kitchen cleaning up right now."

"Yes, I can do that." Illumi stood and started to collect the dishes when (y/d) suddenly grabbed one of his arms.

"Papa, please read our bedtime story!"

Illumi's eyebrows rose a little. He had never been asked to read their bedtime story before. This prospect excited (o/d) as her little face lit up and she eagerly grabbed her father's free arm.

"Yeah, papa! Please? Could you read us a story tonight? Please?"

You laughed at your daughters' enthusiasm. The sight of them begging their father like this was just too cute. Illumi looked over at you and you wave your hand palm up and gestured to the girls as if to say, "well?"

He looked back down at his daughters and gave a single nod. "Very well then. Go with mama and I will read you two a story when you are all cleaned up."

"Yeeaaahhh!!" the girls cheered together and bolted out of the room for the bathroom. Illumi watched as they ran out, a small, barely noticeable smile was on his colored lips. His dark, wide eyed gaze then turned to you as you wrapped your arms around one of his now vacant ones.

"I take it you three had fun today?"

"Yes, I do believe the mission was a success."

You suppressed a laugh which caused you to make a noise akin to a snort.

"Bonding with your daughters is not a mission, my love, but it is a worthy goal. And it seems that today was a good step towards that goal."

"I do not see much of a difference, but I will take your word for it."

You rolled your eyes and went to kiss him on the cheek, but quickly stopped yourself when you remembered the thick layer of makeup and kissed his nose instead.

Upon hearing the girls starting to make a ruckus in the bathroom you released your husband and turned in their direction. Illumi took this as his cue to continue collecting the dishes for Amane to clean.

A few minutes into helping the girls clean up their faces a startled cry from the kitchen nearly made you jump out of your skin. You became alert and listened carefully for any signs of a fight starting. There where none. However, you could hear the voices of Illumi, Canary and Amane talking in a light hearted manner.

"I think papa scared Amane," (o/d) giggled. You blinked at her and quickly pieced together what she was thinking.

With the way Illumi looked at the moment, his face and hair done up and wearing clothes in an odd fashion, Amane may have not recognized him right away. You couldn't help but chuckle a little at this realization.

"I think you're right, (o/d)."

Once the girls were cleaned up and in their night clothes they both jumped into (o/d)'s bed just as Illumi was returning. (y/d) had already chosen the book for the night and was excitedly waving it in the air. It was "The Big Book of Bedtime Stories".

Illumi settled down between the girls who snuggled up to him and got comfortable as he turned to the right page.

"Alright then," Illumi cleared his throat to begin the story, "Once upon a time, in a forest thick with trees and dancing with life, there was a small family that lived in a cottage by the river."

Illumi continued reading in his steady, monotone voice. It was soothing, if not somewhat hypnotic. You even caught yourself dozing off while seated at the foot of the bed. Looking over at your family, you found yourself smiling once again. It had not even been ten minutes and they were both sound asleep.

Normally, it would take around 15-20 minutes before the girls would even start to fall asleep. But with the constant activities of the day with their father and his steady hypnotic tone in his story telling, it was almost like Illumi had cast the perfect sleeping spell.

Your husband had not yet realized the girls so you took out your phone and snuck another picture without him realizing it. You then reached out and gentle squeezed his foot in your hand. He paused and glanced up to see you pointing at your daughters in which he followed your direction. Looking down at the sleeping figures, Illumi's usual deadpan expression softened ever so slightly and the corners of his mouth turned up into a tiny smile.

Looking back up at you, you gave him a thumbs up and stood up from the bed. He carefully scoot down between the girls to reach where you had been sitting. Once there, he too stood up from the bed then turned and carefully scooped up (y/d) in to his strong arms. Without producing even the slightest of sounds he strode across the room and tucked (y/d) into her bed as you tucked in (o/d).

You followed Illumi out of the room, turning off the light as you went. Once a little ways from the room, you spoke.

"I didn't expect them to fall asleep so quickly. Maybe I should have you read to them more often."

"Hmmm, perhaps," he said thoughtfully. "Although I am sure having a long day had something to do with their tired state."

"Oh, I'm sure you're right. But still, I think you did a really good job." Illumi actually smiled at your praise. "Now, lets head to our bathroom, I'll help you get cleaned up."

The two of you headed into the bathroom where you went straight to your vanity to retrieve your makeup removal products.

"Oh," you heard Illumi exclaim causing you to look up at him. He was leaning across the vanity and looking at himself closely in the mirror. After a few moments he turned towards you with his usual expression and pointed to his face.

"(o/d) really did a number on me, didn't she. I can see how I startled Amane. I'm hideous."

You blinked, then burst out laughing. Illumi was somewhat startled by your reaction and he turned to look at himself in the mirror again while still pointing to his face.

"I honestly don't see what's so funny."

"I'm sorry, dear," you gasped between bouts of laughter, tears in your eyes," I- It's just- Are you just now seeing your face?!"

"Well, sort of. (o/d) put this on just before the tea party. She showed me with one of their toy mirrors, but I figured since it was a toy it didn't show very well. It appears I was wrong."

Your laughter died down and you carefully wiped your tears from your eyes.

"My love, I think your wonderful." You smiled at him. "You're an amazing man that made his daughters the happiest children in the world today. And for that, you are absolutely beautiful."

Without moving Illumi simply closed his eyes and a smile of accomplishment and joy spread across his lips. You let him bask in the praise for a few more moments before you reached out and turned him face you. You sat him down on the vanity stool then set to work wiping off the frighteningly large amounts of makeup away with a removal wipe.

"How did things go with your mother today?" Illumi asked. You paused in what you were doing a little to long, causing him to open his eyes. His large, obsidian orbs gazed into your smaller (e/c) ones. "That bad?"

You sighed and continued what you were doing, "Yes, she refused to be nice once again. I probably won't even bother to contact her again until the babies are born."

"That's right," Illumi remembered, a slight sound of excitement in his voice, "you had an appointment this morning before you were to meet your mother. How did that go? What did you find out?"

Your mother's voice echoed through your mind. Her response to the news you gave her when you had first met for tea that afternoon.

"Once he finds out those babies are males he's going to insist on training them the same way he was trained. Brutally, and without love or compassion. The traditional Zoldyck family way."

She's wrong! you thought bitterly. But a shadow of worry made your stomach twist into a small knot.

"(y/n)?"

You blinked, you had stopped cleaning his face again while in thought. You weren't sure what expression you had on your own face at that moment, but you could see it was causing your husband to worry.

Taking his hands into yours you brought them up and placed them on your round belly. A warm, loving smile graced your lips as you peered into his eyes.

"My love, you will soon be the proud father of two sons."

You nearly cried when you saw actual joy show on Illumi's face. He leaned forward and brought his head down, touching his forehead to your belly. You cupped the side of his face with one hand and gently began to stroke his head with the other.

He was silent for a few minutes, living in the moment. Then Illumi shuddered a little as a multitude of feelings surged through him. Joy, fear, excitement, concern, love, anger. It was overwhelming to him.

"My sons-" he choked on the emotional overload. "My sons, they will be the ones to break the cycle. They will not go through what I went through."

A surge of relief washed through you causing tears of joy to form in your own eyes. You gently turned Illumi's head upwards to face you and was stunned to see there were actual tears in his eyes as well. Leaning down you planted a warm, loving kiss to his colored lips. Not giving a damn about the lipstick that was now smearing all over your own lips. You then touched your forehead to his and nuzzled your nose against his own.

"I'm so proud of you, Illu," you spoke softly, "You've come so far. I love you so much, my husband."

"My wife," he whisper back, his breath brushing your lips, "I couldn't have come this far without you. Thank you, (y/n), I love you, too.”

You broke away slowly, peering down at your husband with so much love you didn't even know you could emit. His smile was still on his lips as he reached up and brushed his thumb across the smeared lipstick on your lips.

"Yeah, you're still a mess," you laughed lightly. You grabbed a fresh wipe and set back to work. "Once I am done here you just need to give your face a quick wash. I'll start us a bath then help you take out all of the braids."

"I would like that," Illumi replied, still smiling.

By the time you have cleaned the majority of the makeup from his face most of his deadpan expression had returned. The only difference from the norm was that he still had a shine in his eyes and a small smile on his now clean lips.

He quickly washed his face with special soaps then set to work untying the ribbons from his hair, carefully undoing the long braids. You started the bath. Holding your fingers under the running water from the bath faucet until it was the right temperature, then set the plug. You added yours and Illumi's favorite essential oils before going over to help him with the braids.

You couldn't help but smile at how he was practically glowing. The two of you made quick work of the braids. You were amazed how not a single hair tangled even in the messiest of braids. Secretly, you believed your husband somehow used some of his nen to keep his hair from becoming tangled and knotted.

Once Illumi's hair was free of braids and put up into a bun, the two of you stripped to nothing. Illumi climbed into the bath first and settled down without making even the slightest ripple in the water. He held out a hand for you to use for balance as you climbed in next. You settled between Illumi's legs and leaned back into him with a sigh of pure contentment.

Leaning your head to the side and back onto his shoulder, you felt the warmth of the water seep into your muscles causing your body to relax completely against Illumi's body. Illumi moved his hands to rest on your belly and leaned his head against yours. The two of you relaxed in silence for a few minutes. Both lost in their own thoughts. For once, it was Illumi that broke the silence.

"(y/n)?" You hummed a response. "Have you thought of names yet?"

You chuckled, "Not yet, dear. Do you have some ideas?"

Illumi went into a long list of names and the meanings behind each one. You would comment here and there but mostly just let him talk. It was so rare for him to talk this much voluntarily. And as he rambled on about names and what fun things he wanted to do with all his children, you couldn't help but smile.

You were wrong, mother, you thought to yourself, My husband may be flawed to you, but he's absolutely perfect to me. And that's all that truly matters.

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smcc212 · 5 years ago

Text

Normal

Pairings- Arthur Shelby x male reader(platonic), Polly Grey x male reader(platonic), a little bit of Isiah Jesus x male reader

Word count- 1,969

Warnings- Period-typical homophobia, internalised homophobia, underage drinking(is that a warning??), swearing. I think that’s it, let me know if I’m wrong.

A/N- Soooo Instead of writing things people have requested I’ve written this, I might write a part two(if people want one). Anyway! Enjoy some accepting Arthur Shelby, lads!!

I started working for the peaky blinders a few months ago, they never made me do anything dangerous, they always said I was too young. I went to them after getting kicked out by my parents. My father had caught you kissing another boy, dragged me home and told my mother. They disowned me immediately. With tears streaming down my face, I went to the peaky blinders in hopes of finding a job. Taking pity on me, they let me work in the betting shop. I’d be forever grateful.

I never told them that I was homeless. They didn’t need to worry about me, they’d helped me enough, in my books. They knew my parents disowned me, but that was all they knew. They thought I was staying with an uncle. Until...

After a long day of work, the Shelby’s invited me to the Garrison with them. They allowed me to have a few glasses of whiskey. However, while no one was looking I stole a bottle of whiskey, placing it in a hiding spot. After I’d finished the whiskey they said I was allowed, i was stuck drinking water, but I really didn’t mind.

I left about fifteen minutes before shutting time. I went into the alleyway next to the Garrison and started to drink the stolen whiskey. At some point tears started cascading down my cheeks. I couldn’t help the thoughts that plagued my mind. How much easier life would be if I liked women. How I wished my family never found out that I don’t. Thoughts of ending it all, however, were the loudest.

I was so caught up in my head and thoughts that I never noticed Arthur Shelby sitting next to me. I was close with Arthur. He’d taught me how to fight, he’d talk and joke around with me, and he was always there if I needed to talk to him. I knew that I couldn’t go to him with the thoughts I were having though, or...at least sober me did.

“Why’re you crying, lad?” He asked, voice surprising soft. He was also surprisingly sober. “Eh? Come on, you talk to me.”

“I’m not normal, Art,” I mumbled, loud sobs escaping me, shaking my body. Arthur rubbed my back soothingly.

“Whatcha mean by ‘at, eh?”

“I don’t like women,” I cried, too drunk, too overwhelmed to remember to lie. “I like men.”

“And? I asked how you’re not normal.” I looked up at Arthur, shocked by the fact he didn’t start beating me.

“That’s what wrong...” I trailed off, staring at him in disbelief.

“Why’s that’s wrong? You like a bit of cock? So what? Doesn’t matter to me, does it?” I couldn’t respond, too taken aback by his words. A couple minutes passed before Arthur realised I wasn’t going to say anything. “Where’d you stay? I’ll walk you home.”

“No, it’s fine,” I quickly said.

“You’re far too drunk to walk home, let me help you, kid.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Where’d you stay?”

“Leave it.”

“No. Where?”

“Wherever I fall asleep,” I murmured sadly.

“What does that mean?” Arthur’s voice was thick with concern.

“I don’t have a home...” My tears, that had started to slow down, sped up again.

“Right then.” Arthur stood up, dragging me up with him.

“What’re you doing, Art?”

“If you don’t have a home, then you’ll stay with me until you do,” He said like it wasn’t it a big deal. How could he not see how big this was?!

“Th-thank you, Arthur.”

“It’s fine.”

The next day, I woke up to the smell of coffee.

“Up and at ‘em, sunshine,” Arthur said from his seat at the table. I smiled at him before I remembered what I’d told him last night. I jolted up, staring at him with wide, panicked eyes.

“Arthur, please, please don’t tell Tommy,” I begged. “I need that job! Shit, please don’t go to police! Please-“

“(Y/N), calm down, lad. ‘m not gonna tell anyone, alright?” He cut me off, speaking slowly to make sure I understood.

“Thank you, Arthur, thank you. I-I’ll get out of your hair, thank you, Arthur.” I stood up and started to make my towards the door, but Arthur’s hand wrapping around my wrist stopped me. I froze. This was it, he was gonna beat.

“You’re not going anywhere,” He said. I froze, tears burning my eyes as I tried to accept my fate. “For fuck sake, (Y/N), I’m not gonna hurt you. I don’t care if you like men, doesn’t effect me, does it? But for the love god, you’re not leaving, you don’t have anywhere to go.”

“Wh-what?” I stammered, turning around to face him. “You’re not... disgusted?”

“Disgusted?” Arthur let out a chuckle. “No, I’m not disgusted that you like something I don’t.”

“O-okay.”

“You’re gonna stay with me, yeah? Just until your old enough to get your own place, okay?”

“Okay,” I breathed out, still not fully believing that he was so excepting.

“Great! Now drink your coffee, have a shower and then we’ll go to the shop.” I nodded. “I’ll get you some new clothes today while you’re working,” He said as I sat down.

“It’s fine, Arthur, you’re already doing so much for me. Thank you.”

“First of all, stop thanking me. And secondly, you need some new clothes, kid. Don’t fight me on this,” He concluded, voice firm.

“Okay, Arthur. Tha-“ I cut myself off.

“Good.”

Work was the same as it always was, except, after Arthur talked to Polly, she was looking over at me the full day. Something in eyes...pity? Either that or something akin to it.

“Tommy! I’m gonna take my break!” I shouted.

“Aright, lad!” He shouted back, I stood up, put my cap on and started to head for the door. I was gonna go to the boxing and see Isiah. I fancied the Jesus boy too much, even though I knew he liked women. He was just amazing. Polly however had other plans and she stopped me, asking if we could talk.

“(Y/N), Arthur told me,” She said once we were alone. My eyes widened, I subconsciously took a step back. “Calm down. He told because he knows I don’t care, everything to do with my family’s illegal.” She laughed at the end of her sentence. I smiled softly at her.

“Okay, why are you talking to me then?” I asked, confused by the turn of events.

“I want you to know that if you need anything, I’m here. Also, if anyone says or does anything to you because of it, tell me, or Arthur, and we’ll sort it out, okay?”

“Okay, thank you, Polly.” I smiled widely at her.

“You’re welcome. Now fuck off,” She joked.

“Yes, mam.” I jokingly saluted before heading off, her laugh following me down the hall.

I stood ring-side watching Isiah box Finn, well... really I was looking at Isiah’s body, his arms-

“(Y/N), you alright there, mate?” Isiah laughed. I’d been so caught up in my own head I hadn’t realised the ‘fight’ had ended.

“Y-yeah, sorry, bit out of it today,” I laughed, hoping he hadn’t realised I was staring at him.

“It’s fine, mate, come on. I need to get changed.” I followed behind him. Once Isiah was dressed, we left, and once we were alone he turned to me. “Like what you see?” His voice sounded smug.

“Wh-what?”

“I saw you staring at me, when I was in the ring, did you like what you saw?” He chuckled, cockiness oozing off him.

“I-I-I.” I didn’t know what to do or say. The honest was yes, obviously I did, he’s gorgeous. The safe answer, however, was no. Fuck, what do I say?! Fuck, I need to say something! Anything!

“I’ve seen you fighting before,” Isiah began, moving ever so slightly closer to me. “I liked what I saw.” My thoughts were racing. Did he actually like what he saw, or was he trying to figure out if I liked men? Did he like men? Did he like me? Or was he going to beat me for liking men? Fuck! Why can’t I just like women! “So, did you like what you saw?” Fuck it, you only live once, right?

“Yes,” I breathed out. He smirked at me, moving closer, backing me up against the wall of the empty alleyway. Fuck! Why did I say yes?! This is it. This is how I die. I closed my eyes, trying to be ready for his first punch... but it never came.

“Good.” I felt his breath against my face. “One day, I’ll let you see all of me. Unfortunately, we can’t do that in an alleyway, love,” He sighed. I slowly opened my eyes, his staring into mine. He placed his hand on my cheek, brushing his thumb across it. “One day, I promise you, pretty boy.” He looked around, making sure no one saw before placing his lips on mine. “See you later, pretty boy.”

“Bye,” I murmured quietly as he walked away. I smiled to myself as I walked back to work.

The rest of the day went by pretty easily after that. I couldn’t stop thinking about what Isiah said. He liked me, right? Or did he only like my body? Who cares?! Isiah Jesus, the preachers son, wanted to, at least, fuck me.

“(Y/N)!” I heard Arthur’s booming voice, tearing me from my thoughts. “Come on, we’re going home!” I nodded, grabbed my cap and followed him to his home.

Once we got in, Arthur made me a coffee and poured himself some whiskey.

“So... What did you get up to today?” Arthur asked, smilingly knowingly.

“Nothing much. Same as usual, why?” I stared intensely at the coffee in my hands. It’s one thing to say that you’re okay with a man liking other men, it’s another to actually be okay with it.

“It’s just... You went to the boxing, yeah?” I nodded. “And Isiah was there?” I nodded again, slower this time. “Right. Then the two of you came back to the office with this...this glow about you.”

“Glow?” At this point I was starting to question Arthur’s sanity.

“Yeah. Not literally glowing, obvious, both of you just seemed the have something on your mind.” That smile. That smile on his face, it was genuine. Almost like he was truly happy for me.

“Well, it was a good day,” Was all I said back, because, well what else could I say?

“I’m sure,” He chuckled. “Anyway, while you were off having your ‘good day’, I sorted out your bedroom.”

“My bedroom?” My eyes widened as I realised he was serious about me living here.

“Yeah, s’only small, but it should do for now. Tommy’s coming into some money so we’ll probably be moving,” He shrugged. A smile spread over my face.

“I know you said to stop, but thank you, Arthur!” I beamed, and, without thinking, leaned forward and wrapped my arms around Arthur. He seemed taken aback for a moment, but then he hugged me back.

“You’re welcome, (Y/N). You’re clothes are in your wardrobe. I’ll be honest, I got Ada to help me with the sizes. I’ll get some dinner on while you wash up, yeah?” He said, pulling back.

“Yeah, yeah. Thank you!” I shouted back as I ran upstairs.

After showering and changing into some clean clothes- not a full suit, just an undershirt and some trousers- I went downstairs to eat dinner with Arthur. It may not have been the best food in the world, but I loved it. It was a full meal and I hadn’t had that in a while. Then both Arthur and I went to bed. Tomorrow was the start of the rest of my life, a good life; a normal life.

Tags:

@the-makingsofgreatness

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candythemew · 4 years ago

Note

So, can you riddle me why the person, who was outed as a homophobe and a racist in tdc fandom, not only received sketches from you recently, but also called you a friend?

Oh hey it’s you again. I thought you apologized in your last ask but I guess not. Not too many people are gonna like that. And congrats! Because you didn’t have the courage to talk to me like a normal person after I literally cried and begged to you, anon is getting turned off for everyone. If we’re not gonna settle this like gentlemen, don’t even contact me at all. What is there to gain? I have literally nothing to offer you. But to answer your question, be more specific. I’ve drawn for a lot of people and I’m not gonna know everyone’s story. I used to Idolize many people in this fandom, some you probably know and adore yourself. There was someone who cheated on his S/O multiple times and stole “special” designs from a good ol’ buddy of mine. There’s someone who tried to force my friend into a polygamous relationship with said person, there’s a few people who disapprove of my best friend’s current relationship with his boyfriend, (Two of which I wanted to be like when I grew more talented) And a certain person you may or may not know who condones and fetishizes child exploitation in their art and fics. With a rather large following at that. Lesson here today is: Never Meet Your Heroes. If you’re talking about that one oc lady, I’d consider her an acquaintance. And although she has some issues, she’s at least trying to make an effort at improving. Am I justifying her actions? Absolutely not. She’s done some things to make me absolutely uncomfortable, and she said something to a close friend of mine that in all honesty I’m still not over. But as for the drawings themselves, there’s one of her oc from way back in like August-September that I made for her before I knew too much about her. And then a recent one I made during an art stream. During art streams I host, when I’m getting ready to finish I do cooldowns. Basically I ask whoever’s in the call (Be it 2, or 7 people) if they want anything. They ask, I provide. Simple as that. I’ve probably sketched something for pretty much anyone who asked me at this point. I have a bit of trouble saying “No.” to people. Me answering your ask is proof of that. Also, just saying, there’s a lot of people right now who don’t think too kindly of you either due to your continued harassment towards me. You denied me privacy, and now sadly no one else will get that same privilege because of you. If anyone has a personal issue with me please dm me, don’t hide behind anon and threaten me and my friends. I’d rather be told that something I’m doing is wrong, than continued ambiguous and publicly made harassment meant for baiting me, and drawing in negative attention. I hate doing this, I really do, but I don’t like shallow promises and gaslighting. Some of which you did on your last ask.

You were the one who said to delete it! Also, I don't like spreading misinformation that can be easily debunked. I did approach my “Copycats” personally and further below is an example of it. Although names have been censored. Also, It was written to her a full month before the hot take post I made was written.

And I did what I said in this reply to you. I edited the original post, but I became so guilty over my mistakes that I deleted this, and the original edited post like you wanted me to. Because I was distraught over being a bad person, until my friend’s picked me up, and reassured me I wasn’t. Also again, don’t make accusations that are easily debunked, provided in the screenshots below is a segment of the original post, as well as the previously mentioned conversation.

Also just FYI The “AWW TY!” Is in response to a very sweet story she made about how they were two ocs we have were separate, and how we’re still friends and her generally just being a total sweetheart about the situation. We still talk to this day and honestly she’s a great person. Sorry for letting this all out here, I didn’t want to come off as so blunt, but since you didn’t listen to me literally beg you to stop, here we are. I hope your questions were answered. If you’d like to continue, I suggest contacting me privately.

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teruthecreator · 5 years ago

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Red Lines, Blue Hearts

hi friends! remember how i keep saying i’m going to write something, and then i do anything but? today’s “anything but” is brought to you by this epic and emotionally laboring art by matt (@accesscodex), as well as his chaos!fitzroy au which injures my soul. i don’t feel like putting this on ao3 but!! my ao3 is always available if you would like to see my other graduation crimes.

reblogs > likes and i hope y’all enjoy!!!

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The first thing Fitzroy sees when his body is released from Chaos’ grasp is red.

Pinkish-red scars litter nearly every inch of his body, permanent reminders of the power he let consume him. Some follow the pathway of his veins, like the ones on his legs. Others are large patches that once revealed the pearlescent skin Chaos manifested underneath, like on his face and back. There are a few that look to be a result from fighting, puncture marks or slashes in odd spots across every plane of skin. Along with the dull pain that persists for weeks after, they leave Fitzroy feeling mangled and ugly. Like a porcelain doll shattered by a rowdy child, glued back together but never looking quite the way it once did.

His friends have done a good job keeping his mind off the changes. Rainer comes over every week to repaint his nails and catch him up on what’s happening outside the safety of his room. She always extends the offer for him to meet at her place, but he always refuses. The wounds of what he did under the control of Chaos are still too fresh, and he’d rather spend months in solitude than force the people around him to relive through any of the destruction he caused.

Buckminster and Leon (now restored to his human form) also visit with new cloaks and waistcoats for Fitzroy to try on; the excuse being they accidentally bought a size too small or large, even when the garments look ill-fitting for the pair at a glance. The brothers will then sit on Fitzroy’s bed and demand a fashion show, Leon politely clapping as Buckminster narrates each outfit with overabundant dramatics. They never ask for anything in return, nor will they accept the gold Fitzroy shoves into their hand each time.

“It’s what friends are for!” Buckminster will say, patting Fitzroy on the back heartily (yet gently, so as to prevent any flare-ups of pain).

Althea Song stopped by once, meekly peeking into Fitzroy’s room with a large bag in hand. He later found out the bag contained a number of hair and skin products for people with sensitivities. They spent the next hour smelling lotion scents and talking self-care. Admittedly, Fitzroy had pretty much stopped both his hair and skin routine after his faculties returned to him; the thought of even staring at himself in the mirror for that long gave him the shivers. So it was nice to have an excuse to start trying to mend the damages done to his body, even if he had to cover his mirror for the time being. At the end of her visit, Althea nervously extended her arms for a hug, which Fitzroy hesitantly allowed. The moment was a little tense, but overall nice. Althea murmured some encouragement that was lost to Fitzroy, who was too in his head to hear.

Althea smelled of maple and charcoal. Just like his mother.

It is a few days after this visit that Fitzroy sees something else, something he lost in all the constant red lines and marks.

Blue roses, delicately painted along the skin of his left wrist. Marred by two lines of red, crossing out the pristine image permanently.

The sight broke Fitzroy’s heart in twain.

The tattoo was, admittedly, a bit of an impulsive decision. After spending nearly every day with the other two Thundermen, the roses on Argo’s right arm became a bit of a focal point for Fitzroy’s dazed stares. There were...quite a few reasons why his gaze always seemed to drift to the genasi, as loathe as Fitzroy was to admit to that, at first. But the roses were different; they were beautiful, matching Argo’s complexion perfectly and complimenting the rest of the art painted up that arm. After a while, the flower became synonymous with Argo. Fitzroy would pass by a rosebush and suddenly images of Argo’s sharp-toothed smile would flash through his head. He would smell rosewater and hear Argo’s boisterous laugh echo through his skull. The two became intertwined--land and sea, beauty and beauty.

So, when Rhodes invited him to New Hope to touch up one of her forearm tattoos, he felt compelled to get the roses. It was only after the deed was done--artist paid, skin wrapped in a tight plastic, and instructions handed to him on how to care for the new ink--that Fitzroy realized how weird this was. Him and Argo weren’t even an item, yet!

Not that they would be, or that Fitzroy even wanted them to, but--

You know what? Never mind.

He couldn’t hide the tattoo forever, at the very least. The topic would have to be breached. Would Argo be offended that Fitzroy copied his tattoo without asking? Would he feel weird that they technically have matching tattoos? Would he...like it? Would he find it sweet or endearing that Fitzroy thought of him so much he wanted a tattoo to match?

After two weeks of hiding it and a week of teasing from Rainer (after she saw it during one of their study sessions), Fitzroy randomly showed it to Argo. He attempted to not be weird about it--simply rolling up his sleeves while he did homework with Argo in their common area--but Argo only noticed after a handful of dramatic coughs and awkward arm movements on Fitzroy’s end. Once he saw it, though, his eyes lit up with delight. He immediately reached out to grab Fitzroy’s wrist, leaning across the table to admire the artistry on his skin. The contact lit a fire in the pit of Fitzroy’s gut; a fire that continued to burn for months after.

A fire that doused in the wake of seeing his roses ruined.

Instinct overrides rational thought as Fitzroy stands up from his bed, maimed wrist planted firmly at his side to hide the truth from his eyes. His legs carry him to Argo’s room, who was in bed studying. Argo’s head shoots up just as Fitzroy’s body leans and collapses into the embrace of the genasi. The tears unconsciously streaming down his face continue to fall as Argo’s arms come to envelop him.

“F-Fitz? What’s goin’ on?” Argo asks, his voice gentle but concerned. Fitzroy hiccups a few sobs, feeling weak and helpless and utterly broken, as he leans back to show Argo his wrist. It takes a second for Argo to pinpoint the problem, but once he does he lets out a soft, “Oh.”

“I-It’s broken,” Fitzroy whimpers, leaning his head onto Argo’s right shoulder. “I-I ruin--ruined i-it!”

“Aw, no, hey,” Argo says, gently carding through Fitzroy’s platinum locks. “This isn’t your fault.” Fitzroy stubbornly shakes his head, face still pressed into Argo’s shoulder.

“Y-Yes it is because I a-allowed them to do this to m-me.” Fitzroy’s voice warbles with his cries. “I-I wanted p-power, and they knew that, and th-they used me to g-get what they wanted because I didn’t stop them. A-And then they hurt you, and Master Firbolg, a-and Rainer, and the school, and the town, a-and nearly the world if--if you hadn't stopped them.” Every point of contact with the rogue is both a soothing salve and a knife to his skin. He burns with the broken, defeated rage of man with nothing. “A-And they’ve broken me, Argo! I--I can never return to normal, I can never be who I o-once was, I-I’m ruined!”

“Hey!” Argo’s voice is stern, yet his touch is gentle as he pulls Fitzroy’s head off his shoulder to look him in the eye. It’s then Fitzroy can see the glimmer of tears in Argo’s eyes, along with the scattered lines of light-blue permanently streaked across his face. He moves the hand holding Fitzroy’s head to gently rub along his wrist, the other still firmly wrapped around his waist. Fitzroy’s mind unhelpfully provides only one thought: He’s beautiful.

“‘M not gonna sit here and let ya kick yourself while yer already down, alright?” he continues. “I know this is all really...really hard for you t’handle. You spent--gods, felt like years, but was really only a couple’a months under Chaos’s control. And, yeah, things did get massively fucked because of that. But...But that wasn’t you!”

“I-It was, though--”

“--Will you let me finish?” Argo stares at Fitzroy until he sheepishly nods. “Thank you. What I was sayin’ was that the destruction wasn’t you! It was Chaos--they had most of the control of yer body during that time! And, sure, maybe you did allow them a little access in the beginning because y’wanted power. I-I get that, though! You...You didn’t have the nicest childhood. You’ve been constantly pushed down and made to feel lesser--so have I, if I’ll be honest. It’s a natural reaction to wanna get some power in return, to finally get what’s yours, as the saying goes. B-But you didn’t ask to be hurt like this. You didn’t ask to hurt me! Or anyone else! It just...it just happened. And we gotta just start...tryin’ to move beyond it, I guess. Not really a ‘live and let live’ situation, but more of a… ‘you got hurt and so did I, so let’s just try and move on together’ sorta thing...Y’get what I’m saying to ya, Fitzroy?” He carefully pulls Fitzroy’s wrist up and closer to his face so Fitzroy can see.

“Yer not broken, Fitz. This,” he gently shakes Fitzroy’s arm to emphasize, “isn’t ruined. It’s just...new! A different take on life! A different take on art! But yer still you, Fitzroy, even with all the new. I still...I-I still think you’re gorgeous, if I’m, uh, bein’ honest. You, uh, always have been...to me…” The genasi’s cheeks flush as he breaks eye contact, bashfully looking towards the floor as the words flood Fitzroy’s head. It seems so silly--the smallest, most asinine fact out of Argo’s whole speech--but hearing Argo call him gorgeous makes the burning rage within turn to a melty, gooey, warm mass of fondness.

“I...Thank you, Argo.” Fitzroy mutters, feeling his own blush start to climb up his face. “You, uh, you’ve always been...there for me. H-Helping me. And I, uh...truthfully, I do not know where I’d be if it was not for you and your kindness, and humor, and cunning...ness. And...you’re, uh...I-I think you’re handsome, as well.” The last part he’s barely able to get out of his mouth, but Argo still hears it because he looks back to Fitzroy. The half-elf smiles nervously and shrugs. “I...thought I made that obvious on several occasions, but, uh. I’ve always thought you were handsome.”

Fitzroy and Argo’s relationship has been difficult to understand, to say the least. The two have been dancing intricate circles around the truth of their feelings for so long it feels almost like instinct. Yet, despite their hesitations, the pair have been drawing ever closer in their rotations. Now, in this moment--their bodies pressed close together, their hearts beating in unison--it’s natural what happens next.

Argo smiles, full and big, and leans down to press a kiss to Fitzroy’s wrist. And Fitzroy, lost in the sensation, makes no move to pull away.

They spend the rest of the day in this embrace, sharing few words and even fewer kisses. When the Firbolg finds them later that night, he smiles softly at the two wrapped in each other’s arms and quietly heads to his leaf bed.

And when Fitzroy wakes that next morning, the first thing he sees is blue. Beautiful, beautiful blue.

#taz graduation #maplekeene #taz grad #taz fitzroy #taz argo #sir fitzroy maplecourt #argonaut keene #taz sir fitzroy maplecourt #taz argo keene #ignorance cloud on #chaos!fitzroy au #accesscodex

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