#i dunno what prompted this it just popped into my heads

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

A family thing

Written for the September pop-up challenge of the @steddieholidaydrabbles blog

Prompt: Anniversary

Rated: T

Tags: Post-Vecna; Everybody lives; Recovery; Disabled Eddie; POV Wayne Munson; Good uncle Wayne Munson; Implied sexual content; Domestic fluff; Found family

The sounds coming from the kitchen pull Wayne from his sleep much earlier than he'd like after a night shift. He lies awake for a while, cursing the government. Sure, they covered Eddie’s medical bills and bought them the new trailer, but would it have killed them to get one with thicker walls? He doesn't need to hear everything the boy gets up to. 

He's almost managed to drift off again when a clatter and a string of swear words make him shoot upright. He barrels out into the corridor that separates the living space from the bedrooms, almost colliding with Steve, who has just barged from Eddie’s room. His eyes are bleary, his hair a tousled mess. He's wearing boxers and a familiar guitar pick necklace, and that is it. 

“Ed?” Wayne asks, ignoring how Steve freezes at the sight of him. “What happened?” 

Eddie, on the kitchen floor in a heap of gangly limbs and fallen crutches, groans. “Wayne! You weren't supposed to wake up.” 

“Yeah, you're making that kinda hard,” Wayne mumbles, eyeing the shattered plates and spilled food on the ground. Toast and bacon and pancakes. There's something stuck in Eddie’s hair that looks like scrambled eggs. 

“What the hell?” Steve mutters, bridging the few steps into the kitchen and dropping into a crouch beside Eddie. Wayne stays where he is and watches. The way Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist to pull him up, careful not to hurt him. How Eddie slings bony arms over Steve’s shoulders, fingers grazing the scars on the boy's back. 

“Why didn't you ask me for help?” Steve asks. The rising sun basks the kitchen in oranges and golds, and for a second, Wayne is overcome by the thought that he mustn't blink, or they'll vanish. “I could've-” 

“What, on this highest of holidays?” Eddie asks, gesturing dramatically as Steve lowers him into one of the kitchen chairs. “Have you no respect for tradition? It is my responsibility and my duty to do this alone.” 

Steve blinks, then looks over at Wayne. 

“Okay? I don't get it.” 

Eddie cackles, gently pushing him aside to beckon Wayne closer. 

“Happy Uncle's Day!” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Wayne grumbles, bending at the hip so that Eddie can hug him, but there's an annoying sting behind his eyes. For a moment all he can think is how close he came to losing all of this.

“What the fuck is Uncle's Day?” Steve asks. He's eyeing the calendar on the wall like he's expecting it to spout an extra holiday. 

Eddie scoffs. “Only the most important holiday of the year? You need to stay up to date on-” 

“When Ed was nine years old,” Wayne explains, making his way over to the coffee pot, “he came home one day, seething and spitting venom, ‘cause his teacher had them making Father's Day cards.” 

“Why would I be making that asshole a fucking card?” Eddie grumbles. A pink blush has erupted from the collar of his shirt, but Wayne isn’t sure if it's because of the childhood story or because of the way Steve has pulled out the chair next to his and is finger-combing bits of egg from his curls. “The only thing I should've given him is a kick in-” 

“That's exactly what he said back then,” Wayne says, pouring himself a cup and leaning against the counter. “So we came up with an idea.” 

Steve frowns at Eddie. “Uncle's Day?” 

Eddie beams. “The anniversary of the day Wayne took me in.”

“Dunno if took in is the right term,” Wayne hums around his first sip. “You pretty much let yourself in and refused to leave.” 

Eddie waves him off, as if to say that he won’t argue about the technicalities. Steve’s eyes, meanwhile, have grown large. 

“Wait,” he says. “That's today? Why didn’t- … I’m sorry, I had no idea.” 

Eddie cocks his head at him, smile bright and incredibly fond. It makes a familiar warmth spread behind Wayne’s collarbone, one that has nothing at all to do with the coffee. “Why would you be sorry?” 

Steve gestures awkwardly at the mess that is the kitchen. “This is a family thing. If you’d told me, I’d have left you alone.” 

Eddie laughs. On the tabletop, his fingers find Steve’s. 

“Exactly,” he says. “This is a family thing. You're right where you belong. Ain't he, Wayne?” 

Wayne regards them - two men littered in battle scars, leaning into each other in the hazy morning light - and thinks of a hurt little boy who was too scared to let anyone in. 

“Can't argue with that,” he says. 

Steve's face lights up as if he'd just invited him to spend Christmas morning. 

“I- … thank you,” he stutters, and Wayne gets a feeling that he, too, is still learning to let people in. “Let me clean this up, and then I'll make us new-” 

“Stevie,” Eddie says, and hooks one finger into the necklace to pull him back. His next words are a murmur against the shell of Steve's ear, so low Wayne almost misses them. “Maybe get dressed first, darling.” 

The last thing Wayne sees of Steve as he flees into Eddie’s room is the blush coloring his neck and shoulders. 

“Do you have to tease him like that?” he asks, starting to gather the broken plates off the ground. 

Eddie shrugs. “He can take it. I think that's a basic requirement for joining this family?”  

His eyes find Wayne's, searching for a reaction. 

“Ed,” he says, picking up the crutches and handing them over. “My only requirement ever was for you to be happy. I think your boy has long proven himself in that regard. Now, run over to the Mayfields and ask if we can borrow some eggs, yeah?” 

As Eddie bolts out with a blush matching Steve's, Wayne settles into the newly vacated chair, allowing himself a long sip of coffee and a content sigh. 

It's gonna be a good Uncle's Day. 

[ariseur]

“are you wearing flavored chapstick?” with yuuji

✧˖° idk if i like this one, giving ooc vibes because i got major gojo energy from this idea.. i hope it’s still okay ☹️

“is that,” yuuji smacked his lips together as his eyes darted around his peripheral to try and decipher the foreign flavor. “.. flavored chapstick?”

“mhm!” you hummed, smiling as you watched his tongue dart out to further find the flavor. he thought for a moment before he looked back at you with a sheepish look. “strawberry?”

“yes—! i wanted to do a trend i saw online.”

he had cocked his head, “what’s the trend?”

so here you are; an assorted array of flavored chapstick tubes next to you as the salmon-haired boy covers his eyes, awaiting the next fruity flavor that’ll settle on his lips once yours meet his. then cues the five minutes afterward of him trying to guess, when really, he’s just trying to make you laugh.

(“uhm, grape?” he’d ask, full knowing that it was orange. to which you’d giggle, “yuuji, no—!” and correct him, leaving him with a triumphant smile as you showed him the tube, where he’d feign an oblivious, “ohhh!”)

you hum for a second before going for the mint one, eyes flitting to your boyfriend to ensure that he’s not cheating. his lips quirk into a grin as he hears you pop open the cap and twist the bottom to let the light green, almost transparent balm of the product peek out.

“okay, turn around,” you chime, and yuuji can already hear the smile in your voice.

once he turns around to face you, he spends no time before smushing your cheeks and pressing an exaggerated kiss to your lips, huffing in amusement through his nose as your delayed reaction.

you only break the kiss to laugh, allowing your hand to rest on the nape of his neck as he smiles at the sound of your giggles. a heavenly sound, yuuji could die happy knowing he had made you laugh.

“so eager, aren’t we?”

“‘s not my fault i have an awesome girlfriend,” he grins boyishly. he gets an eye roll and a forehead flick at the comment.

“you’re supposed to guess, yuuji!”

his lips part into a small ‘o’ shape as he taps his chin. you can tell he’s really thinking about it, maybe because he put in too much effort in that one kiss that he didn’t take the time to actually savor the flavor.

that’s it, he thought.

“i dunno,” he hums. “i think i might need another taste.” he drags the ‘a’ out mindlessly, watching as your brows quirk up at the idea. now you’re holding a hand to your chin, crossing your arm under the other to hold it up as you think.

“one more only, okay?”

he nods, placing his hands and fixing his posture eagerly. you chuckle as you lean in once more, memorizing yuuji’s big brown eyes — the way they flit around your face before fluttering closed. memorizing the way his lips manage to slot so perfectly into yours despite only being taught a few months ago. you had commit all of his habits to memory absentmindedly, oblivious to the fact that he always did the same.

he hums before you break away, evoking a soft pout from him as you quirk a brow as a silent question. “oh—!” he mutters before growing silent. he looks at the ground, then back at you, and repeats the same motions until finally,

“i think i need another one.”

“yuuji!”

𐙚 dottie’s 500 event - 🍡 ( dialogue ) prompts!!

𐙚 taglist ; @sad-darksoul @kasumitenbaz @2ukika

𐙚 non-500 requests are closed — august twenty-first, 2024

[hotshotsxyz]

love dresses up in many ways

(buddie)(8x07 spec)(881 words) how about a little not-evil spec? as a treat title from yet another bastille song

“Buck,” Eddie says flatly as soon as he opens the door.

Buck pastes on his most charming smile. “Eddie,” he replies.

“I’m one person.” He steps back to let Buck in anyway.

“One person that’s choosing joy!” Buck reminds him sunnily, kicking the door shut behind him.  

Eddie grins and leans against the wall. “I am,” he acknowledges. “Pretty sure I don’t need to overdose on baked goods to achieve that.”

“Sure you do!” Buck exclaims. “Besides, this one’s focaccia. There’s like, a vegetable in it.”

Eddie snorts and rolls his eyes. “Oh, well, if there’s a vegetable…”

“See, I knew you’d come around.” Buck makes his way into the kitchen to drop off the focaccia (and the pound cake and the brownies, but shh, who’s counting?).

“Grab a couple beers?” Eddie calls after him.

He opens the fridge and finds a six pack of a fruited wheat beer he’s never seen before and grins. It’s not that he’s actually all that excited to try You’re My Boy Blueberry Wheat Ale, but man, it’s hard to put into words just how much he likes seeing Eddie try news things just for the fun of them. There’re a few familiar sours in there, too, but fuck it. Buck grabs two of the blue-labeled bottles and heads back into the living room.

“I reserve the right to pour this out and get a new one if it’s weird,” Buck announces, popping the top off Eddie’s and handing it to him.

“Mm,” Eddie replies. He takes a tentative sip, then his face blooms into one of those easy smiles Buck’s seeing more and more of these days. “S’not weird,” he says. “It’s good.”

“Yeah?” Buck asks.

Eddie shrugs. “Guess you’ll have to try it for yourself.”

“Guess so,” Buck murmurs before taking a sip of his own.

To his genuine surprise, it is good. Better than he expected. Like maybe-his-new-favorite-beer better.

“Okay, yeah,” Buck says, dropping down onto the couch next to Eddie. “Not weird.”

Eddie grins at him, so bright that Buck kind of wants to look away, but also maybe never stop looking.

“So what inspired today’s round of baking?” Eddie asks, knocking his knee against Buck’s.

Unbidden, an image of Eddie’s bare thigh pops into Buck’s head. He brushes it away because—

Anyway, he brushes it away.

“I dunno, Eds,” Buck says with a sigh. “I just— I think I’m a little stuck. In—in my own head, I mean. About, you know, all of it.” He waves his beer around to emphasize his point and narrowly avoids spilling it. “It’s not even about him, you know? It’s what he represents.”

“Which is…” Eddie prompts.

Buck settles back into the couch and wraps his non-beer-holding arm around himself. “I don’t know. Finding whatever it is I’m missing, I guess.”

Eddie hums and takes a long sip of his beer. “What makes you think you’re missing something?” he asks finally.

Buck frowns, nonplussed. “I mean,” he says, gesturing vaguely.

“What, a couple of not-forever relationships and there’s something wrong with you?” Eddie asks and—

“Five,” Buck says dully. “Five not-forever relationships.” Yeah, he’s pretty sure there’s something wrong with him.

“Buck,” Eddie says softly. From anyone else, it would feel chastising. From Eddie, it’s just… comfortable.

“Well what do you think it is?” Buck asks.

“I think,” Eddie says slowly, “that I’m probably the least helpful person you could possibly ask for relationship advice.”

Buck rolls his eyes. “M’not asking you about relationships, I’m asking you about me.”

“Ah, well, in that case,” Eddie says teasingly.

Despite himself, Buck smiles. “Just—what is it that makes me so—” Easy to leave? Hard to love? He can’t quite bring himself to voice either thought.

Eddie frowns like he heard them anyway. “Whatever it is, I like it,” he says with a shrug.

Buck blinks. “You… like that I keep getting dumped?”

“No, obviously not, Buck,” Eddie says, turning to shoot him an exasperated look. “I like you,” he continues. “Whatever it is your exes were too stupid to love about you, I do.”

All the air seems to leave the room. It’s—one time, in high school, Buck was slammed into the ground so hard during a football game that for a few seconds, he was literally incapable of breathing. This feels a little—a lot—like that.

“Eddie,” he croaks.

He shrugs again, like he didn’t just say the most insane, incredible, intense thing Buck’s ever heard.

“I like you the way you are,” Eddie reiterates. “You don’t need to make yourself less to be loved. The right person will get that.”

Buck swallows. “You think?” he manages.

“I know,” Eddie says emphatically.

Buck opens his mouth and closes it again. It’s just—it isn’t something he hasn’t heard before. Hell, Eddie’s said it more that once before. He just feels—

It’s like there’s something in his chest that’s dying to break loose, some incredible revelation that’s just around the corner. But for all he pokes and prods at it, it won’t come any sooner. There’s something, though.

Maybe he does just need to let the universe do it’s thing. In the meantime, he’s sitting next to Eddie on the only couch he’s ever really felt completely comfortable on. It’s enough.

[darknight3904]

Through the Years

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: ᴀ ɢʟɪᴍᴘꜱᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ ɢᴏᴊᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ᴄᴜʀꜱɪɴɢ. ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ/ᴋɪʟʟɪɴɢ. ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴠɪʀɢɪɴɪᴛʏ (ɴᴏ ꜱᴇx) ɴᴀᴏʏᴀ ᴢᴇɴɪɴ (ʜᴇ ɪꜱ ɢʀᴏꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴇᴇᴅꜱ ᴀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ)

ɪ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀꜱ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ ɪɴ ɴᴏᴠᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ. ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ɴᴏᴠᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ʙᴀʙʏ. ɢᴏᴊᴏ x ᴢᴇɴɪɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: ᴏᴠᴇʀ 5ᴋ (ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍʏ ʙʟᴜᴇ ᴇʏᴇᴅ ᴋɪɴɢ)

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ /ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

December 7, 2005 (Gojo: 16 You: 15)

"You know you're practically a senior citizen now."

Gojo's head whips around, insulted at the idea of being called old. Sure he's got white hair but he's just turned 16, not 61.

"You're only a year younger than me, y'know. You'll be 16 soon too." He grins

Gojo grins as you roll your eyes next to him.

"At least I don't have white hair already." You point out

"Whatever, at least I'm not two inches tall." Gojo laughs, resting an elbow on your head.

"I'm still growing!" You defend, angry at the idea of staying the same height forever. "Get your ugly arm off me!"

"I'll have you know my arm is gorgeous," Gojo says, blue eyes catching the sunlight as he easily matches your pace.

"Mmhmm." You roll your eyes

To keep it simple, Satoru Gojo got under your skin. Perhaps it was that annoying smile or maybe the fact that your clan notoriously hated his. All you knew was that he drove you insane and you wished he'd just disappear so he could never bother you again.

"Where is everyone? I thought we agreed to meet here at 4," Gojo whined next to you.

"Worried your boyfriend stood you up?" You tease. thinking of the dark-haired boy who was usually joined to Gojo's hip most days.

"Suguru would never do that to me." Gojo smiles, unwrapping a lollipop he had stuffed in his pocket.

"I dunno, what if he finally got sick of you, Gojo?" You say, knowing it was impossible.

A soft ding interrupts your conversation with the boy and Gojo fishes his phone out of his pocket.

"HA! Told you he'd never stand me up!"

Gojo's phone is obnoxiously close to your face as he prompts you to read his chat with Geto.

On our way. Nanami needed to be convinced.

Another ding sounds and a picture of your fellow first years pops up Haibara is dragging Nanami down the sidewalk by his arms.

"Idiots." You murmur

"I see that smile! You got a crush on Nanamin?" Gojo's voice fills your ears as his pointer finger pokes at your face

"Piss off, Gojo." You groan "I hope one of Geto's curses eat you."

April 2006 (Gojo: 16 You: 15)

"You totally just cheated!" You accuse the blonde across from you

"Have you considered that you're just terrible at Jenga?" Nanami asked

"Have you considered that you just moved the table during my turn so you'd win and not me!" You groan

"It's just Jenga, Zenin. We can just start over." Haibara points out

"Not with a cheater playing." You roll your eyes

Haibara smiles as he begins to pick up the fallen blocks from the floor. You had been on edge for a few days now and your temper was beginning to get a bit out of hand. He had asked Nanami what he thought was the matter and the two of them had come to the conclusion that it had to do with your visit with the head of the Zenin clan.

"That's enough for today. I'm going to take a nap." Nanami declares

"Ugh, what a party pooper." Haibara teases, elbowing you.

"In case you forgot, Zenin here did me the favor of hitting me hard enough that I nearly passed out today in training." Nanami reminds the two of you.

Ah right, that. You had gone a bit too hard today sparring with Nanami.

"Oh, I forgot about that," Haibara says

"Yes. You should let Zenin get some rest. Her technique is draining, she's said so herself.

Sure, Phantom wasn't exactly easy to pull off but you wanted to keep playing. You wanted to kick Nanami's ass in Jenga.

"Alright. Let's eat dinner together tonight though. I have these awesome cookies in my room you'll both like." Haibara declares before following Nanami out of your room.

Perhaps Nanami was correct, a nap did sound enjoyable right now. A quick nap and then maybe you'd cook something to share with the boys tonight. Perhaps a couple of rice balls or maybe some chicken.

No sooner had you gotten comfortable under your blankets that your door swung open and Gojo was running into your room, Geto close on his heels.

"Satoru, you should always knock on a girl's door before barging in." Geto scolds his friend for you.

"It's fine, Suguru. It's not like she's getting changed or anything." Gojo grins looking down at you who had remained buried under your covers.

"And what if I was?" You scowl from your blankets

"I would've screamed in horror and asked Suguru to exorcise you." Gojo says flashing that oddly charming smile of his.

You're sure he could get away with murder if he just flashed those pearly whites.

You ignore the flutter of butterflies in your stomach as you sit up.

"I was about to take a nap but I guess it can wait." You say

"A nap? What are you four?" Gojo teases

"Yeah probably." You agree

"Not everyone is as energetic as you are Satoru." Geto reminded the white haired boy

"Yeah, what Geto said. Not everyone is a walking ball of energy." You say

Geto had always been your favorite of Jujutsu High's strongest duo. He didn't call you short or try to steal your food. Or maybe it was his long hair that seemed to always look better than yours.

Plus then there was that time Gojo snuck into your room to try and shave your eyebrows off. Sometimes you swore the elders of the Gojo clan were sending the six eyes user after you on purpose.

"Whatever, loser." Gojo said trying to reach and mess up your hair.

"Would you stop that! I'm not a child!" You groan

"Then why're you the size of one?" Gojo laughs

Even Geto laughed at that one as you shove Gojo out of the way.

"Why are you two even here? Can't you go bother Shoko for once?" You ask

"Shoko said you've been in a bad mood the past few days." Geto started

"So we've come to cheer you up!" Gojo finished

You watched wide-eyed as Gojo dumped the bag he was holding onto your bed. Every possible sweet fell out accompanied by different DVDs.

"For the record, I told him it was too much candy but he didn't listen," Geto says as Gojo riffles through the movie choices.

One DVD case catches your eye as Gojo argues with Geto about his sugar choices.

"Are you a Rachel McAdams fan, Gojo?" You ask as you hold up Mean Girls.

"Duh." Gojo grins before swiping the case from your hand to pop it into the player you had

"Raise your hand if you have ever been personally victimized by Regina George."

"Y'know you're kinda like Regina, Satoru," Geto says observing the movie.

"Am not." Gojo rolls his eyes sipping at his soda

"Sure you are." Geto smiles

"Yeah right." Gojo scoffs "Whaddaya think, Zenin?"

Gojo looked at you for an answer but was met with you asleep next to him, head resting on one of those massive stuffed animals you kept. You're drooling a bit and he can't help but think that you're a bit cute like this.

He reaches to shake you awake, determined to get your opinion on whether or not he is like a spoiled teenage girl.

"Let her rest. I heard that her and the other first years went pretty hard today training. Nanami took a big blow to the head from her using her technique." Geto stopped his best friend

"I wish she'd show me her technique. She explained it to me once but I still don't get it." Gojo huffed

"I'm pretty sure Phantom just multiplies her and then she closes the distance with her real body. I watched her use it on Haibara a few months ago." Geto explains

"Whatever...I still want to see it with my own eyes." Gojo declared

The TV hummed softly as they sat in silence while Regina George got hit by a bus after rushing out of her school.

"Why do you think she's been in such a bad mood recently? I heard her yelling about Jenga earlier." Geto asked

"I'm not entirely sure but I think it probably has to do with Nabito Zenin." Gojo said "His archaic way of doing things is probably upsetting her. I heard that she had some meeting with him recently."

Geto lets out a soft hum of acknowledgment.

"Nabito is probably trying to stick her in some arranged marriage. I wouldn't be surprised if it was with his own brat, Naoya." Gojo elaborates

"You know a lot about the Zenin Clan, Satoru," Geto points out

"Well the last Six Eyes and Infinity user was killed by one of them, so I think I'm entitled to a little knowledge. " Gojo defends

"Yeah, yeah. Maybe you should try to be a little nicer to her though, especially if you know what might be going on with her clan." Geto suggests

"I'm perfectly nice." He defends

"Yesterday you said you were going to shave her head in her sleep because she ate one of your french fries."

"I was joking!"

November 2006 (Gojo: 16 You: 16)

"Happy Birthday, Zenin!" Haibara called "Have fun with your family!"

You smiled and waved at Haibara and Nanami as you got into the car that had been sent to pick you up.

Fun. This trip would be anything but fun.

Snow was falling as you entered your childhood home. The soft scent of lavender filled your nose and calmed your nerves.

"You're back! I'm still cooking!" Your mother exclaimed as she emerged from the kitchen

"Yeah, there wasn't much traffic." You reply, trying to release yourself from her bone-crushing hug. Seriously with her strength, she'd probably be able to exercise curses.

"Go wash up. Your father will be back soon and he is bringing Nabito-san and his son." Your mother says

Dinner is quiet. Or rather you're quiet next to your mother while Nabito and your father discuss something about cursed techniques and something about Toji Zenin's kid.

"Your face is plain." the boy across from you suddenly says

Your mother momentarily freezes but quickly regains her composure.

"Yes well, sometimes plain features are best. Just think you wouldn't want every man looking at your wife." Your mother says

Did she just agree to you being plain featured? You looked like her for crying out loud!

"Whatever," Naoya mumbled before shoving more rice into his mouth.

What a pig.

You're not entirely sure why it's happening. Perhaps it was the dinner with Naoya that had your brain going crazy. But ever since you got back from your parents' home you can't stop staring at Gojo. Was it because he represented everything your clan hated? Or maybe it was because he was insufferably annoying? Whatever the reason, you swore he was drawing you in.

"You should stop staring. You might put a hole in his head." Shoko says

"I wasn't-"

"Don't lie to me." Shoko smiles knowingly

You definitely weren't staring at Satoru Gojo. Nope. Not in a million years. And you definitely didn't get butterflies whenever he looked your way. That would be ridiculously, ridiculous.

August 2007 (Gojo: 17 You: 16)

"I don't get why I wasn't assigned with you two. I mean we're always going on missions together." You grumble

"They probably need you to help Gojo train more. Your technique is perfect for him to strengthen his Six Eyes, Zenin." Haibara points out

"It's just a grade two. We'll be back before sundown." Nanami assures

"Yeah, then we can watch a movie and get fat off popcorn," Haibara says

"I'm choosing tonight. I don't want to watch another Pirates of the Caribbean movie." Nanami declares

"But Jack Sparrow is so sexy!" You groan

Haibara laughs in agreement with you.

"See you later, Zenin! I can't wait to bully Nanami into watching Pirates of the Caribbean with you tonight!" Haibara declares

See you later, Zenin!

See you later.

You should've gotten into that damn car with them. Your technique was better than both of theirs. Maybe if you had...just maybe you wouldn't be staring down at half of your friend.

Geto was next to you, looking down at his body, He was silent, long hair blocking his face from you.

Nanami sat behind you, a damp cloth over his eyes.

"You need to rest for now, Nanami," Geto suggests, his soft voice filling the silence.

"Damn it. I should've gone with you two." You say, your voice dripping in regret.

"You could've gotten killed too, Zenin." Nanami sighs, his voice is tight like he's holding back tears.

A soft summer breeze blows through your hair as you sit on a bench. You had left Geto and Nanami with Haibara, not wanting to see the bloody sheet he was under anymore.

"Hey."

You glance up from where you had been picking at your nails, willing yourself to hold it together.

Gojo stood over you, hand stretched out with a piece of candy in it.

"I heard what happened." He said sitting next to you as you unwrapped the candy and popped it in your mouth.

"You wanna talk about it?" Gojo asked

"Not really." You sighed

"You don't seem too sad," Gojo said quietly

"I think I will be...later on. Once I'm alone." You say

"Yeah, me too." He replied.

Silence enveloped the two of you as you focused on the taste of the candy in your mouth.

"I gave you the green apple. It's my least favorite." Gojo said

"Thanks." You reply

September 2007 (Gojo: 17 You: 16)

In accordance with Jujutsu regulations, Geto Suguru is sentenced to death.

For once in his life Gojo Satoru is not buzzing around you like an excited puppy. You can see him, sitting alone on the steps of Jujutsu High.

The deaths of 112 people including his own parents rests on Geto's hands. You couldn't believe it when Nanami read the report to you. But now, seeing Gojo alone confirmed it.

You don't know what you're going to say to Gojo as you approach him. What do you say to the person who's just lost their best friend to a life of being a curse user?

"I know you're lurking back there," Gojo says

Damn it.

"I wanted to give you this." You mumble tossing him a lollipop before sitting next to him, probably a bit too close for someone who swore you weren't interested in him.

Gojo softly smiles and accepts the candy.

"Did he say what he wants to do next?" You ask

"He wants to exterminate all non-sorcerers from the world," Gojo says

An unattainable goal.

"That's impossible." You say

"That won't stop him." Gojo points out

A soft weight taps you and the sweet scent of Satoru Gojo's shampoo fills your nose as he rests his head on your shoulder.

"I'm sure you'll see him again. Even if it's not for a long time, you'll talk to each other again." You assure him.

"Yeah, I hope so," Gojo admits

His voice is a whisper in the breeze, a prayer for the future.

Christmas 2009 (Gojo: 20 You: 19)

"You have to stay quiet, Gojo!" You groan looking at your friend next to you

"This costume is so itchy though! The beard is gonna make my skin all red!" He whines

"Suck it up." You command

Gojo lets out another groan but helps you finish arranging the copious amounts of gifts he had ended up buying for Megumi and Tsumiki.

"Alright, it's perfect. Now go stand next to the tree."

Gojo listens to you and lets out a huff of embarrassment when you snap his picture.

"That better be for your eyes only." He says

"Oh definitely don't worry about it." You brush him off before quickly sending the picture off to Nanami and Shoko. They're sure to get a kick out of it.

"Remind me why I asked you to help with these brats again," Gojo says as he notices you sending his picture.

"Cuz' these brats would be dead if you were the only one watching them, Gojo." You say

"I'm a great caregiver." He says

"You wanted to get Megumi a pink tutu for Christmas." You say

"He would've looked great!" Gojo defends

"He would've set his Demon Dogs after you." You say

"Would not."

"Would too."

"Would not!'

"Would too!"

"What's going on?"

You and Gojo stop your bickering to see sleepy-eyed children hovering on the steps, dark hair out of place and a frizzy mess atop their little heads.

"Santa and I were just arguing about what cookie is best!" You grin

"That's not Santa. That's Gojo in that costume you ordered off Amazon last week." Megumi points out. "I saw the order details on your laptop."

Who the hell does this kid think he is?

"What? No! This is the real Santa from the North Pole!" You scramble

"Megumi, just go with it!" Tsumiki whispers to her little brother, "They obviously don't know Santa's not real!"

Is it a crime to toss a child out a window?

"The jig is up!" Gojo declares beside you as he rips off his fake beard. "Now let's get to the real fun stuff! Mistletoe!"

Gojo grabs a sprig of mistletoe from between the couch cushions. Curse him and his hiding spots.

"Pucker up, hot stuff!" Gojo says as he reaches for you and wraps an arm around your waist to pull you close.

"Gross." You say pushing his face away from you, you hope he can't see how red you are.

Why the hell was he like this? The past few months Gojo had been all over you. Be it flirty gestures or just plain Gojo weirdness, he was consuming every bit of you and you weren't sure if it was a bad thing.

"You're blushing," Megumi says

"Aha! I knew you wanted a kiss from me!" Gojo exclaims chasing after you as you try to escape up the stairs.

Seriously, is it a crime to toss a kid out a window?

March 2011 (Gojo: 21 You: 20)

The harsh slam of the front door wakes Gojo from the peace that had taken over the house. Megumi and Tsumiki had gone to bed and he was kicked back on the sofa, face mask on and Harry Potter was running on TV.

"I'm going to seriously kill that asshole one day." You groan as you rummage through the fridge

"I take it the meeting with Naoya didn't go well," Gojo said

"Didn't go well is the understatement of the millennium." You groan sitting down next to him a slice of cold pizza in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.

"Tell me about it," Gojo says pulling your feet into his lap.

He listens to you vent about your "fiance" and how annoying he is. Naoya wants you to cut your hair a certain way and to stop wearing the color red. Apparently, you also need to start wearing lipstick now according to the man as well.

"Honestly I hope he gets hit by a bus tomorrow." You groan "And what the hell is wrong with my hair?"

"Nothing. I think it suits you nicely." Gojo smiles, knowing it's true. You're as pretty as a picture even when you're mad at the world.

"Thanks." You sigh "That wasn't the worst of it though"

"Oh? What else did the scumbag say this time?" Gojo asked, genuinely curious

"Well beyond my appearance, he asked if I was still a virgin today." You say

"Are you?"

"Ow!" Gojo yelps as he rubs his arm where you punched him

"Yeah, I am you idiot!" You seethe, placing your wine and half-eaten pizza on the coffee table, "He's only asking cuz' he found out that I'm spending time around you and I guess he's worried about impurity."

"We're just friends," Gojo says "Besides who cares if a girl's slept with someone before? I know I wouldn't."

His words feel like glue in his mouth. Can you tell he wants to be more than friends?

"I know that, and you know that. But he must think I'm whoring myself out to you in exchange for a place to live." You say sadly

Gojo can sense that Naoya's words are under your skin and bouncing around in that pretty head of yours. A head that should only be filled with the happiest of thoughts, preferably ones with him in it.

"Hey, forget about him. It's none of his business what company you keep and what you look like." He assures, reaching his arms out to pull you into his side.

"He's technically my fiance y'know." You sigh as you let him reposition your body so your head rests on his chest. "I'm supposed to want to please him since he's a man."

There's that stupid Zenin clan mindset, that Gojo can't stand.

"Screw that! Pleasing someone just cuz they're a guy is so 200 years ago." He says

"Tell me about it." You groan

"I could just send a hollow purple his way if you want." Gojo suggests, fully serious "Just a small one. It would be the perfect way to get rid of him."

"And what? Start a full-on war between two ancient clans over me?" You laugh

"Of course," Gojo confirms, pulling you closer to him

To him, you're worth starting a thousand wars if it means you'll finally let him be by your side all the time.

"By the way, is that a charcoal mask?" You ask

"Yup. Got it from the mall today, gotta stay hot for the single ladies out there."

"Gojo?"

"Yeah?"

"You're a really weird guy."

December 2011 (Gojo: 22 You: 21)

"We have to stay quiet, 'gumi." The girl reminds her little brother

"What's the point? How do we even know they'll like this?" He asked

"Who wouldn't enjoy breakfast in bed?" Tsumiki asked

She had a point.

"Yeah, but Gojo and Zenin don't even sleep in the same room. So are we surprising them separately?" Megumi asked as he poured orange juice into cups, he didn't think he had the balance to make it up the stairs with a tray of food.

"Nope! I checked Gojo's room before I woke you up. They're in his room together. I think she had a nightmare or something last night." Tsumiki says, "And we're not supposed to call her Zenin, remember? She said we could just use her first name."

"Oh, right," Megumi says

The couple? No, friends? Whatever they were, the two individuals that had taken him and his sister in were odd. Megumi was sure that Gojo was insane or maybe missing a piece of his brain. Just the other day Gojo had dangled him out the window for asking why he owned pink underwear as a 22-year-old. It was a genuine question on Megumi's part. As for you, you were definitely his favorite. You didn't try to dangle him out windows or mess up his hair, and most importantly you didn't constantly ask about his cursed technique.

Gojo was definitely the more annoying out of the two of you. How you put up with him was a mystery to Megumi. Tsumiki had once said that there was a "budding romance" between Gojo and You. Megumi thought she was reading too many of those romance books you bought her. Of course, he understood why she was saying that. You and Gojo were clearly close to each other, not to mention sometimes you even slept in each other's bedrooms. And then of course there's the many times when you're cooking and Gojo would wrap his arms around you from behind.

Alright, fine maybe Tsumiki was right about the romance.

"Alright, they're done. What do you think?" Tsumiki asks as she places two plates of something on the tray that sits in front of him.

"What are they?" He asks

"They're pancakes." Tsumiki blinked at Megumi as though it was obvious

"Right, of course." Megumi didn't want to make her angry, after all the last time they got in a fight Tsumiki pulled his hair so hard he swore he was partly bald in that spot for months.

"Ok lets go. You get the silverware and the drinks." She says

Gojo's bedroom is so dark, that Megumi nearly trips on his own feet as he blindly follows his sister.

Tsumiki carefully set the tray of food on the desk that was covered in various papers and candy wrappers. Why was Gojo such a slob? Tsumiki pulls the curtains open so the morning light can invade the space.

Megumi carefully observes the pair in bed. Gojo's arm is wrapped securely around you and your head rests on his chest. Megumi finds himself wondering if his father and mother were ever like this. Not that it matters since he can't even remember either of them.

"Surprise!" Tsumiki shouts and Gojo's eyes fly open

"Whaaats going on?" You ask groggily

"We made breakfast!" Tsumiki smiles placing the tray in front of the two adults.

"I have orange juice." Megumi mumbles

"Oh wow!" You smile, rubbing at your eyes, and immediately sit up.

"What is it?" Gojo asks, white hair messier than usual.

Megumi knew it wasn't obvious that they were pancakes.

"Pancakes of course!" You smile at them and Megumi doesn't miss how you pinch Gojo and whisper "be nice" to the white-haired man.

"They have blueberries in them," Megumi says

Gojo's face falls at the idea of a breakfast lacking sugar.

"And chocolate chips." Tsumiki chimes in

Gojo's face is all smiles again as he cuts into the food.

"How is it?" His sister eagerly asks

"It's wonderful. Delicious. Thank you, Tsumiki and Megumi." You compliment

A wide smile breaks out across his sister's face and she grabs Megumi by the arm.

"Alright, we'll let you two eat in peace then." She smiles, practically skipping out of the room.

Just before Megumi closes the door, hushed voices reach his ears.

"Can I spit this out now? I don't think it's edible." Gojo asks

"I think mine has some eggshell in it." You reply

Hushed laughter follows and Megumi smiles to himself. Sure, the two of you were crazy but he wouldn't trade it for the world.

February 2012 (Gojo: 22 You: 21)

Gojo was sure he was actually insane. What the hell was he thinking buying this for you?

The ruby red box felt like a lead weight in his pocket as he approached you while you were slicing vegetables for tonight's supper. Maybe he shouldn't do this while you had a knife in your hand. What if you stabbed him? Well, his infinity would catch it, but still.

"Can I uh...talk to you?" He asked, well...no going back now

"Yeah, what's up?" You ask

"Can I talk to you without the knife in your hand?" He asks

"Satoru Gojo what did you do?" You accuse, immediately focusing on you

"Nothing! Why do you assume I did something?!" He cries

"Because the last time you started a sentence with "without the knife in your hand" You had encouraged Megumi to fight his school bully and then you got a call that Megumi punched a girl two years younger than him." You say

Oh right. He forgot about that.

"Alright well, no children were harmed this time. Now put the knife down." He said

You listen and he takes a big breath, he's going to need all the oxygen for this one.

"Look it might be stupid and I know Valentine's Day was last week but I got you something and I wanted to give it to you. I've actually had it since December but I keep chickening out" He explained fishing the box out of his pocket

"If that's an engagement ring I'll get the knife back out." You say eying him suspiciously.

"What? No! That would be crazy." Gojo laughs, he can feel his face burning. Fuck...he must be bright red.

"Alright good." You say taking the box

Gojo fidgets with the string that's sticking out of the sleeve of his shirt as you look at what he's done.

"Do you uh like it?" He asked

"I do. Why'd you get it for me?" You ask

Wasn't it obvious? He'd buy the whole universe for you if he could.

"You really don't have any idea?" He asks

"No...I don't." You say

Your face is relaxed, you're definitely not lying to him. You seriously have no idea that he's totally obsessed with you!

"Are you gonna say it? I still have to cut some carrots up." You sigh

Gojo lets out a noise that's so insane sounding he swears he got possessed by some evil spirit.

"I got it cuz' I thought it'd look great on you!" The words are coming out of his mouth like vomit, " And I really uh...uhm...I like you."

The last bit is so quiet he's sure you didn't hear it.

"Wow did I just get a shoujo romance confession from the Satoru Gojo himself?" You tease as his gaze remains fixed on his feet.

"Whatever. If you don't want it I'll take it back tomorrow." He grumbled

Silence falls over the two of you like a blanket and Gojo wishes he could bury himself alive. Of course, she's making fun of you! She's engaged! She's been engaged since she was 15! One necklace won't change that! Sure, her fiance was a total buttwipe but still...

"Satoru,"

His first name coming from your lips for the first time ever has his gaze snapping back up. He wishes that you'd say his name like that forever.

"I'm only teasing you. I like you too. I have for a while." You admit

"How long is a while?" He prods, suddenly filled with confidence

"None of your business, mister. Are you going to help me put this on?" You gesture to the box

Gojo is as gentle as he can be as he clips the necklace behind your neck.

"How do I look?" You ask

"Perfect." He smiles and pulls you towards him.

"I smell, Satoru. I haven't gotten to shower yet and I exrocsied a curse at a school earlier." You softly say

"Mmm, you smell good to me." Gojo says "You're always absolutely perfect. And now you're all mine."

An elated giggle leaves his body as he finally gets to kiss you for the first time. If only his 17-year-old self could see him now.

"That's disgusting."

You jump away from him and he wishes you hadn't.

"Megumi, how was school?" You ask and Gojo doesn't miss the way you're obviously flustered.

"It was good. Until I came home to see that." He says

"Well get used to it cuz' you'll be seeing a lot more of it." Gojo grins as he pulls you towards him and tosses an arm around your shoulders.

"She's all mine now, little man. You're not allowed to give her a Valentine's Day card ever again!"

"Satoru, stop that!"

"So are you two finally dating?" Tsumiki asked hopefully

"Course' we are. You don't come home to two people sucking face and expect them not to be officially a couple."

Gojo deserves the punch to the stomach you give him before resuming your vegetable cutting.

Next Part

Series Masterlist / My Masterlist

[dadvans]

omg i don’t know if you do prompts, but i would literally cry so happy if you wrote a little scene of Buck feeling kicks when the tones go off!!

A call comes in mid-afternoon, and it's like the tones set off something inside Buck. It's like gas, bubbles, low in his gut. In the engine he leans forward to eye the others, see if he's the only one feeling some weird sort of churn. "Hey, is lunch not settling right for anyone else? I was just hit with the weirdest wave of gas."

"Buck," Hen says warningly.

"No, not like"--he starts, stops. "Cap, what did you put in that casserole today? Or maybe I pulled something, I dunno. It felt like bubbles popping in my stomach just now."

"Should we be rolling down the windows?" Eddie asks.

"Nothing unusual in the chicken casserole you've had a hundred times, Buck." Bobby looks back at all of them over his shoulder a little unimpressed from the front of the cab, but when his eyes land on Buck, he tilts his head, considering. "How far along did you say you were?"

Buck's only just told everyone, and it's still strange to talk about it out loud without feeling like he's jinxing something. "Uh, seventeen weeks? You think it's a pregnancy thing?"

"Sounds like it could be kicks. Marcy didn't feel Robbie until twenty weeks along, but he was always the shy one. Brooke, on the other hand, Marcy felt her for the first time much earlier. We always used to say she was going to grow up to be a dancer." His smile goes slight, eyes distant for a brief second. "I think you might have a wannabe firefighter riding along."

"Kicks, huh," Buck repeats, feeling a little dumb with the realization. It makes sense. He's maybe been a little obsessive about tracking every change and milestone--Tommy has all but banned direct mention of TheBump at home--he's been expecting it, but even after the tests and the ultrasounds and the morning sickness, something about it hasn't felt really real in the way that this does. He puts a hand on his stomach, looks down at where a life is growing inside him. And kicking, apparently. "That so, little Probie? You heard the alarms go off and you wanted to get out there, just like your dads."

So faint, like the baby is listening, Buck feels a twinge in response.

[ronearoundblindly]

Hi!! I just found your blog and 😭😭 you're so talented, like, what?? I def need more!!! I dunno if this is how it works, or if you're still doing the dirty asks game, but I was thinking maybe E,K,U and S (or Z!) for Johnny?

Have a lovely day!! oh, and well, happy new year 🙂‍↕️

Prompts are from this ask game and part of my ongoing list of answers! You can also find A, B, C, D, and V already answered for this boi.

Warnings for...well...they are dirty asks so be prepared for sexy and sexual content 😉 including (but not limited to) discussion of oral, somnophilia, ummmm tickling? emotional unavailability? and idk other stuff. MINORS DNI.

Happy New Year! I love ya! I appreciate you taking the time, dearie 💜 Happy reading... 😈💋

K - Kissing

So this...implies some romance that's not typical for Johnny. His kissing is less emotional and more intense and deep--but seriously, it's not an indication of his longterm interest or level of affection. (There is an exception to this which is Johnny has no problem giving hickies. He will mark. you. up. ((He can't be marked in the same way due to healing.))

HOWEVER, those small, nonchalant pecks--if Johnny ends up smooching you and it doesn't lead to sex, it wasn't in the middle of sex, or especially if there's no one around to see it,--that's THE REAL DEAL. Something utterly devoted has sparked inside him if (and when) Johnny slows down to kiss you. Or slows for any reason, really.

In regards to where Johnny likes to kiss or be kissed? Again, he's not much of a kisser. He's big on touching and groping and tickling, since he's a goofball and true 'player,' i.e. Johnny is nearly always playful, but once there's a connection made with you, he...

okay, so, the thing is, he actually does like to be kissed, and the place that drives Johnny wild is above his dick, right at his adonis belt, that v-cut, the pubes. This is so ridiculously intimate/possessive/reverent; he can barely handle the conflicting drives to melt beneath or conquer you. Strange thing...he would have thought the proximity would just make him want a blowjob but instead he's a goner.

U - Underwear

Commando. Easy-Access Man. Next question.

LOL, just kidding. Mostly, Johnny wears nothing, certainly not with his Human Torch second skin. He used to wear boxers but lost too many of those to a smoldering heap. No point.

On women? Crotchless panties are his favorite, but there's this new trend of booty shorts--he's very, very into them. Generally, he would have thought anything less-is-more would be best in his eyes, but there's this kinda *pop* in the stretchy fabric when it jumps over the swell of your ass...mmhmmm IT'S GOOD.

S - Sleepy Sex

Sleepy morning? You are 100% welcome to wake him up with some head or ride his cock to your heart's content, but Johnny himself doesn't usually start stuff first thing. This goes hand in hand with him being unable to slow down much. He's all about releasing tension before bed though. A good romp to tire him out and calm the mind? Absofuckinglutely. No, he doesn't particularly care if you were already asleep. You'll thank him later. Don't worry. It's always worth your his while.

Z - Zones

Classic man. Go for his neck or his crotch. Johnny is a #basicbitch in this respect. It feeds his ego to be touched all over--duh, he's got this glorious bod, you should want to touch him,--but he has never been a fan of biting, on him or on others. Since he's just about always in the mood, it does not take a lot of foreplay to get him ready.

E - Extra Info

Unpopular opinion: I imagine that perhaps the ultimate show of love/devotion/possession to Johnny is not marriage and all that normal stuff but, instead, if you let him brand you.

He works hard and focuses to not burn people, so you allowing him permanently claim you as his--which he would not do in a casual way, not with random hookups and one-night-stands, not until he is sure that word won't get back to Sue who would kill him--shows a level of trust he didn't believe he would want much less earn.

Johnny is aware he's a ridiculous and kinda stunted man-child emotionally. He's smart enough to know that. Johnny will never stop being grateful to the woman who can stick around, see past it, and grow with him...playfully, of course. You should never stop roasting him about the man-child-ness.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Dirty Asks Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[goldierey]

🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡

i adore you, enough to get dizzy (leo valdez x child of hecate!reader)

in which? leo and reader adore each other.

what are we listening to? adore u, seventeen.

words? 422.

notes? this was a prompt given to me by a nonnie! thank you for your sweet words! <3 here is the prompt - "hiii I loved your Leo fic, could you do something for Leo x a daughter of hecate? or something to the song Moves by Suzi Waterhouse? I don't mind I just love your work <3 <3 <3"

🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡

Illusions have always been your specialty, but maybe not this specific one. 

Lou-Ellen has asked you to try and conjure an illusion of a house. She says it’s to practice holding an illusion, but you think it’s because she misses her father.

Your eyes are screwed shut, your hands twitching as you put the finishing touches on the living room. You’ve tried to make the place look a cozy chaotic mess, but doing that is not easy when your boyfriend keeps asking ridiculous questions.

“Babe, would I look good with blonde hair?” Leo asks, twisting again in your lap. 

The vision of Leo as a blonde pops in your head, effectively ruining any sense of control you had on the illusion.

The fake house cracks and shatters like glass, and when you open your eyes and peer down at Leo, he’s got a grin on his face.

“Mi vida!” he cheers, his hands reaching up to pinch your cheeks. “You’ve come back to me!”

“Leo,” you say patiently, “I need to practice.”

“Okay, but you didn’t answer the question.”

You stare at him, narrowing your eyes playfully. He mimics your face. “No, you wouldn’t.”

He gasps, “Baby!”

“What?” you laugh. “You asked!”

“Mi vida, you were supposed to say yes,” he whines.

“Do you want me to use the Mist to make you blonde?” you ask. “Why do you want to be blonde anyway?”

Leo shrugs, bony shoulders digging into your thighs. “I dunno. I was just thinking about it.”

“Well,” you say as you caress his face, “I think I prefer you brunette.”

A little smile blooms on his face. “You think so, baby?”

A responding grin appears on your face as well, the force of it scrunching your eyes. You’re so immensely fond of this silly, silly boy.

“Yes, my love,” you whisper, dipping down to kiss his lips, once, twice. His hand flies up to your hair, tangling his fingers in it to keep your lips on his. You pull away with a short but content huff. 

“Corãzon,” he says lovingly, pretty brown eyes staring at you full of wonder. 

You’ll never know what you did to deserve him.

“Yes?”

“You should illusion us a house. Ya know, I want something kind of big, with a huge couch because I love couches and-”

His rambling goes on for a while, but you’ll listen to it for as long as you can. You love that boy. 

You’d listen to anything he has to say as long as you’re by him.

[lenreli]

The Red Line

[AO3]

E, 6.3k. Hob gets a new life - and a new job. Dream begins to appreciate it, in his own way.

-

Dream steps into the Waking, more following Hob’s presence on the Earth, steadfast for centuries ― and looks around, Canadian wilderness reaching his senses. Hob did say, last time they met, that he’s overdue faking his death. 

Blinking, he knocks on the door in front of him, once. He knows Hob’s not asleep, and still Dream worries if he’s intruding, even with the way Hob had said― 

“My friend!” Hob beams, the door opened while Dream was pondering, “come in, come in!” Hob says brightly, gesturing him in with an arm. “This’ll be the first time I’ve seen you outside of jolly ol’ Landon, actually,” Hob says, excitement all but palpable as Dream looks around at the small house, Hob talking more about other places he’s lived in. Hob’s swearing a knitted sweater and jeans, matching the rustic insides of his new home. 

And Hob talks about ― friends he misses, moving to Canada, and so on. With no mention of his job, which Hob is usually happy to tell him about. “And what of your job?” At that, Hob pauses, “or have you decided to not get one this time?”

“No, still many things I want to do,” Hob says, voice suddenly quieter, and Dream frowns, unused to the other’s almost―evasiveness. 

Dream gives Hob a narrow look, suspicious. “Do you have an abhorrent trade, like in 178―”

“No! Never again! Definitely not!” Hob shouts, arms in the air as he shakes his head, eventually sinking into his blue sofa with a sigh. “No, not. It’s just. I don’t know. We’re not the friends to talk about this, and I don’t know how you’d react, so I haven’t,” Hob mumbles. 

Dream keeps silent as Hob pulls at the edge of his sweater, and eventually Hob heaves a sigh. 

“Fine. I’ll bite the bullet. I’m a sexline operator,” Hob says and Dream blinks, unsure what the problem with speaking about is, as he searches the subconscious for Hob’s new job. “I dunno, we’ve never talked about that before, and the prudishness of this century probably got to me a bit. I talk people into giving themselves orgasms, and it’s fun,” Hob mutters, shrugging as he explains. 

“I fail to see the problem.”

Hob laughs and rubs his face, “of course. Just ― weird human customs. My new job is usually more of a raunchy punchline or scandalous, terrible thing for some people.” 

“It’s not the worst job you’ve had,” he points out, and Hob laughs again, a bit more manic. 

“That bar’s in the Earth’s core, Dream,” Hob says, face hidden by a hand. “The literal fucking burning lava core,” Hob grouses, and Dream follows Hob into a small kitchen, windows letting light in as Hob puts on an electric kettle, leaning against the kitchen counters. “It’s been a thing, getting used to living here, and my new job, which is a more night-shift job than I was used to with teaching. At least seeing you again is helping with all that.” 

Dream swallows, emotions sticking in his body at the way Hob’s smiling at him, that he’s helped Hob. “I am here to help.” 

Hob laughs again, shaking his head as he gets a mug and a teabag. “Not just as your entire thing, but you, as my friend,” Hob clarifies. “Didn’t even realise how weird I was getting in my head until you popped in.” 

“You are the most normal man alive,” he replies dryly as the kettle whistles, and Dream smothers the smile he can feel as Hob laughs once more. 

=

Dream ― hasn’t been curious, knows what it requires, on a sexline. A discreet orgasm, or a filthy one, operators being given prompts, or not, until the one who pays is satisfied. 

However, he’d like to know, Hob on a sexline is a different thing, one he can’t help thinking about idly. And so, slipping into the Waking, into Hob’s new house, which is ― quiet. Soundlessly, he walks around until he reaches a closed door. The study, Hob showed him, and Hob behind the doors, imagining waking up early to go to the market. 

And Hob is speaking, words muffled by the door, so he leans closer, ear to the door ― and Hob may be thinking about market produce, meeting vendors, but the words are filthy, talking to someone. 

A woman, matching that voice to―strong hands, pressing inside herself, all the right spots as he moans, Hob’s speech rolling over her in waves of pleasure as she imagines. 

The door is cold against his body, but Dream’s only half-there as he makes the man’s hands coarser, marks and scars of Hob’s hands, hairier as she gasps. Closing his eyes, Dream smoothes out the man in her imagination ― green eyes changed to brown, grey at his temples, stubble and body hair, as the man ― Hob ― speaks to her to come, coaxing her along softly. 

Suddenly, the lack of imagination, daydream having served its purpose leaving him against the cold door, body hot as he listens to Hob laughing, him and the woman talking. And Dream wants to―phase through the door, has a hand on it, melt through the flimsy wood to reach Hob, body aching in arousal. 

Pressing his cheek to the refreshingly cold wood, he stops as the call ends and there’s a sigh. There’s shuffling around, and soon footsteps, a shadow moving to the door and Dream moves away with a soundless step as Hob starts to open it.

Hands twitching, he steps back again before going back to the Dreaming.

-

It happens again. Dream in front of the study, door shut as Hob speaks into the phone on the other side. He can’t even muster up any internal protests, that he was sure that Hob would be free, and not like some part of Dreaming wasn’t dedicated to keeping an eye on the time, on when Hob wouldn’t be working or sleeping. 

The door is cool as he touches it, pressing his ear against the door as Hob’s voice washes over him ― and in another province, a man is hearing the same voice. 

This time, Hob is vaguely thinking of pale skin and dark hair― 

Dream moves his focus to the other man, insides hot as the man fingers himself, Hob’s voice making him whine as he has vague images in his mind, nothing concrete and more focused on Hob’s voice. 

And he can’t help it, tweaks the vague image into Hob’s visage and the man whimpers as he imagines Hob going inside, and Dream shivers, can feel it in the imaginings of it. The man comes with a cry and Dream stares at the wood of the door, can feel it under his nails with how hard he’s grabbing it, body pulsing in arousal but unable to end it, just out of reach. 

Dream takes an unneeded breath as he thinks of melting through the door, where Hob is now laughing with the man, wanting to, wanting to feel more than illusory touch, can go insane with wanting the reality of it― 

No. he forces himself back, can only see the trail of ruin that’d leave Hob hating him, as he steps back into the Dreaming.

-

“Uh, boss,” Matthew says and Dream looks up from his census, then pauses, taking a moment before he stands up from the steps. Hovering in front of him, a large bubble, the transparency of it showing a red phone box, glass-panelled windows and a phone ringing.

Reaching out, he relaxes, can feel Hob’s ― daydream, behind it. “It is my friend,” he says softly, smiling as he walks into the bubble, and he pauses as he’s encased in warmth. Matthew and the throne room melt away as he opens the box, phone ringing still as he closes it. Reaching out, the phone stops as he picks it up, putting it to his ear. “Hob?”

“Woah,” on the other side of the line, Hob breathes, voice crackling as Dream presses the phone more against his ear. “Wasn’t sure that’d work. That’s really you?” Hob asks, voice getting slowly more excited. 

“It is. Matthew alerted me to ― you,” he frowns, the daydream brightening in vibrancy with Hob’s excitement, a joyful sound coming from the other side of the phone. 

“I dunno, I’ve been using phones so much lately with work, and so I thought what if. Well. This,” Hob says, voice crackling over the line and Dream smiles, happy to hear from him ― and reminding him guiltily, of why he hasn’t visited lately, “and like, I’m getting new friends here of course, and getting used to it all, and I just hope you’re not too busy with, uh. All that you do.” 

Dream sighs, resting against the glass behind him, “I am sorry, I―”

“No, it's fine! I get it, you’re a busy, hard-working entity and before we only met every century! Even with us being friends and everything―”

“Hob,” he cuts in, smiling as Hob stops, “I am glad you called,” he says, and Hob lets out a sigh, can feel the warmth of Hob’s home, his presence of the daydream around him, a balm for his tired self. 

“Didn’t even call for anything important. Just that I found a place that sells the best poutine I’ve ever tasted. Have you had poutine?” Hob asks and Dream can’t stop his smile, bright emotions fizzling inside him at the inane question. 

“I have not,” he answers. 

“It’s really good,” Hob says, words trailing into a groan, making Dream feel slight heat at the sound caused by the memory of good food,  “one time when you’re here we’re going to get poutine. Also, the moose here are insane. Recently I saw one as big as a car and it was so beautiful. And terrifying. Was just walking down the road! This is why I love moving all the time!” 

Dream looks down, fingers curling around the red curled line of the phone as he listens to Hob talk.

-

Somehow, Hob’s house always feels so welcoming, the immortal somehow infusing his home in the short time he’s lived there, compared to The New Inn, as well as the flat he had nearby in London. As Dream sits on the sofa, he can feel himself unwinding as Hob gets a cup of tea, the book he was reading left flat on the coffee table, revealing the summary and Dream hums at the sci-fi. “Aren’t you usually doing something at this time?” 

Hob lets out a sound, partly indecisive and partly thoughtful, “I do plan on going to a music festival tomorrow, so I’m getting things ready since I’ll be out all day,” Hob offers as the kettle whistles, and Dream blinks as Hob comes back over, sitting next to him and getting a coaster on the table to put his cup on. “Planning to go with some friend’s, so it’s just like. Water, and money, especially for merch and food,” he shrugs. 

“What type of music?” 

“Metal festival! Speaking of, I need to figure out my―wait, you can help me decide!” Hob says, getting up and rushing to his room, and Dream smiles, staring at the cooling mug on the table. 

“Your tea is cooling,” he points out as Hob moves around in his room, eventually coming out with a pile of clothes in an arm, as he pointedly stares at him before drinking half the mug. Hob’s throat working is ― mesmerizing, and Dream can’t make himself look away as he has half-thoughts of touching the other’s beard. 

“Okay!” Hob says and Dream doesn’t twitch, mind still stuck on the edge of the other’s stubble on his throat to notice that he’s moved back, holding up a mesh shirt and ripped jeans in one hand, “so, this?” Hob tugs out his other clothes, revealing a dark blue shirt and a different pair of trousers, black with studs and chains, “or this?” 

Dream tilts his head, thinking about the choices, “the first one.” 

Hob beams, nodding as he puts the clothes back into his room. “See, that’s what I was thinking too. Plus one of my leather jackets, since it’ll be cold, but also I will be in the moshpit, but eh,” Hob mumbles, voice lowering in frequency as he comes back out, sitting near him as he drinks the rest of his tea. “I’m so excited!”

“I can tell,” he replies dryly, and Hob’s brightness doesn’t even dim as he picks up his book, practically vibrating next to him. 

-

He does try to come after the festival. 

He doesn’t try hard enough as he stares at the closed door, can hear Hob’s low voice, muffled but getting clearer as he presses against the door. “And I would,” Hob pauses, and Dream tenses in anticipation ― and on the other end of the line, a man lets out a small whine, close to the edge from Hob’s voice. “Eventually, I’d let you come.” 

The man whines and Dream shivers, can almost feel the firmness of Hob’s voice in his body as he takes an unneeded breath. 

“The anticipation of it, it’d be worth it, don’t you think?” Hob asks, and the man agrees blindly. Dream swallows, body flooded with arousal. “I’d take you to the edge, again and again, until your mind is nothing but me, the way you’d beg for it,” Hob continues, voice dropping even lower as the man cries out ― and Hob thinks of pale skin, daydreams of― 

Dream forces himself out of it, would be sure that his face would be a fierce red if ― the wood doing nothing to cool him down as he presses into it, a hand lightly gripping the wood. There’s the taste of it on his tongue, like he can replace it with Hob’s confident words, the ease he can feel from the other side of the door. 

“Please,” the man begs, sobbing in a way that Dream can feel, wants to be the one crying it out. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll get what you want. You’re touching yourself for me, aren’t you?” Hob breathes and the man lets out a cry and blurbled yes. “Just relax into it, into my voice,” Hob soothes and Dream shudders, a hand reaching into his robe as he soundlessly pants against the door. “Follow the flow, you don’t want to resist.” 

The man keens, mindless and full of Hob’s voice ― like Dream. Who wants to reach through the door and hang Hob up, wants those low tones focused on him, as he strokes himself, can feel how close to the edge he is― 

―Of making a mess of Hob’s door, and the thought is cold water as he pulls himself away, taking his hand off himself as he forces himself back to the Dreaming.

-

Dream doesn’t keep a solid track of time, but even he knows that this is a bad day. Pinched annoyance at himself for not visiting Hob, basking in the comforts of his home ― and not when he’s working, and so just sticks to the Dreaming. 

And today, an envoy of planets and galaxies, relatively small, which is the only good thing over all the fake politeness and the exhausting politicking. 

The bubble appearing to life in the room is the icing on the cake, Hob’s daydream-call as the celestial bodies look over at the phone box with worry. “It is nothing,” he grounds out, and feels even more exhausted as he pops the bubble, crunching it into nothing.

After, he promises himself as he forces the conversation back on track, and Dream feels vaguely like screaming.

-

It’s days before he shows up at Hob’s ― reasonably sure that Hob’s not working as he knocks on the front door. Dream feels tense, every non-existent bone in his body clenched as he waits, and as he thinks that Hob’s gone out, the door opens. “Dream!” Hob smiles and ushers him in, and it feels like his teeth grind less as he enters the other’s home. 

“I apologise. For not taking your call,” he recites stiffly as he sits, and Hob freezes, then smiles, sitting next to him, warmth radiating off of him in a way that makes Dream want to curl into him. 

“Felt a bit weird when that happened, but you are a busy entity. Nothing to apologise for, of course,” Hob beams, and Dream swallows the sound as the smile dims, expression becoming concerned. “Your hair,” Dream blinks―and wonders when his hair became long, it feels like ― stress, the weight of the envoy, of his actions last time he was here. “You seem a bit,” Hob bites his lip, “tense.” 

“I am fine,” he replies, and Hob gives him a skeptical glance. 

“Dream,” Hob says softly, a hand coming up to hover over the ends of his hair, “may I?” Blinking, he looks at Hob’s earnest expression, “I want to help. I’ve heard I give a pretty good head rub.” Dream blinks once more, then nods stiffly, and he watches as Hob moves around ― lighting candles that smell of lavender and getting some food before sitting back next to him, turning on the TV as he does. “Any preferences?” Hob nods to the TV, and Dream shakes his head. 

Dream tenses as Hob’s hands move slowly, making their way to his head―and Dream lets out a sound as a fingers stroke and dig into his scalp. The other hand joins in and Dream can’t help but cry out in relief, the touches unlocking some tight part of him as he can only manage to plant his face on Hob’s thigh, who doesn’t object, hands stroking and petting, massaging his scalp and hair. 

“You’re perfectly fine, just relax,” Hob whispers and he shivers, can feel the stress and tension melting away from him as he goes boneless on the sofa, breathing in the musk of Hob underneath him. Every pass and press of Hob’s fingers, nails into him releases even more tension, and he― 

Unfurls, the black mass of his body, tentacles flopping onto the floor, the machine creak of a black metal tail, as well as various other appendages, can feel them stretching out onto the carpet. Hob makes a sound but doesn’t comment, only taking a hand away and Dream looks up, seeing Hob eat some of his biscuits before Dream shuts his eye. 

“I’d rather not get another record player,” Hob says, and Dream doesn’t get why he says it until he opens his eyes, a feathered limb knocking said record player, and Dream makes a sound, softly moving his limbs around the coffee table, tentacles and a limb of black teeth curling around it until they circle to Hob’s feet. “Much appreciated.” 

And even with the stress lifting, his hair seems to grow, can feel it falling over the sofa as Hob doesn’t stop, seemingly happy to massage his scalp, other hand stroking his hair. 

-

Dream opens his eyes with a jolt, confused as he looks around, mind lagging from― 

The sleep. He had. He can’t remember the last time he slept. It was probably while the Earth was still a mass of dust and rocks, still to be pulled together. 

And now, one of Hob’s hands is still in his hair, touching it softly, the other arm touching his chest as he blinks. Can feel Hob in the Dreaming, can feel the night sky above him, the TV still playing softly as he huffs, relaxing back into the hold, putting his face into Hob’s hip. 

The hand in his hair pets him, fingers stroking through the long strands in some automatic motion, Hob still dreaming even as the fingers continue their movement. 

Dream allows himself more of it, hoarding the feeling of having Hob’s body so close, hands in his hair, then he sits up, Hob’s body heat still sticking to him as he turns the TV off. Hob only groans as Dream picks him up, carrying him bridal style to the other’s room, and Dream smiles, patting Hob’s hair as he puts the immortal under the covers. 

“Thank you,” he says softly, stroking the grey of Hob’s temple, making sure Hob’s dreams will be full of the feelings he gave Dream, the warmth and calm. “I feel much better now, my friend.” 

-

“I’m not boring you, am I?” Hob asks, voice cutting out over the phone line, and Dream hums, relishing in the familiar comfort of Hob’s presence inside the daydream, phone to his ear. 

“Of course not,” he says, making Hob do a skeptical noise. 

“Feel like I’m boring myself with this line of thought. Instead ― I always imagine you with a smartphone when we’re like this,” Hob says, and Dream blinks. 

“It is not a smartphone for me,” he replies, “it’s a phone box.”

“Like in Doctor Who?” Hob asks, voice curious, daydream brightening with the emotion. 

“No, a red one,” he clarifies, and huffs as he reaches out to the connection between them, “I will show you.”

Dream knows when Hob can see it ― can see him, can feel the invisible eyes on him as Hob lets out a breath. “Oh. Hello,” Hob speaks softly, and Dream gives him a small smile. “Cosy. I like it.” 

“It―“ feels like you, the bone-deep comfort, Dream doesn’t say, lulled into the sense of it, “it is beyond adequate for when we converse.” 

He gets the feeling that Hob blinks as he takes a moment, “I’m glad for that, then. Beyond adequate is one of my favourite descriptors about me,” Hob says teasingly. “Don’t think I would’ve done the black glass though.”

Dream looks at the sides, surprised to see the clear glass replaced with black glass, opaque and matte. “I didn’t realise,” he frowns, not touching on why he’d want to change the glass, what feels like the part of him still in that cursed basement. 

“How about stained glass, then? That’d be nice,” Hob offers, “just an idea.” Dream stares at the glass, the squares changing to varying hues, mixed in with the black glass. “Beautiful.”

-

Dream stares at the door, at the quiet behind it ― which soon changes as Hob gets a call, and Dream comes closer, pressing an ear to the door. Hob talks to the person ― his higher-up, most likely. The conversation is loud, Hob joking and laughing as he says that sure, I can do another.

The person greets Hob nervously once they’re connected, but Hob easily makes them feel at ease, and Dream feels a pang of envy for those who interact with Hob throughout the days, wanting to keep it all to himself, but knowing he can’t. 

And it’s not like he thought of Hob doing his job in detail, but as Hob gently coaxes out a fantasy, light-hearted and soft, Dream can feel the words prickle under his skin. A part of him thought that Hob would ― list out fantasies, easy to pick and choose from a menu.

His hands ball on the door, unwilling to move as Hob talks, as the person’s imagination sparks, and Dream holds himself back from changing the figment of imagination meant to represent Hob, keeping still. 

Hob’s words, practised and filthy, wash over him as he considers what Hob would coax out of him, can’t even fathom it as the person whines, getting louder in their cries, and Dream presses his forehead to the door, can’t even fathom the thought of Hob doing that to him. 

But still, he wants it, can taste it as the person comes, Hob gently coaxing them on, and Dream vanishes back to the Dreaming before he’s aware, mind sticky with thoughts.

-

Hob isn’t saying something, Dream can feel it in the way the daydream of the phone box twists and pulses. “Feeling an urge to go back to England ― not permanently at this point. More of a holiday, but I’ve been over there too long, so,” Hob grumbles, then sighs. There’s a pause, and Dream waits for Hob to speak.

“Hob?” He asks, straightening up on the glass panel, can feel Hob’s gaze on him. 

“Do you know,” Hob says quietly, the words careful and measured, “you have a presence?” 

“A presence?” He echoes, brows furrowing, and there’s another pause, can feel Hob putting the words together carefully. 

Hob hums, and Dream gets the impression of nervousness, “when you come here. To the Waking. Never noticed it much when we were at the White Horse, probably because of all the people and alcohol, but since we’ve met up outside that, I’ve noticed it. There’s a certain ― change to the gravity, to the air around you, when you’re here,” another pause, another drawn out sigh. More silence. “You’ve been listening to me. While I work,” Hob states, and Dream freezes. “Can feel you, on the other side of that door.” 

Dream swallows, thoughts screeching to a halt, too thrown off to even comprehend saying anything. 

“Why? Eldritch curiosity?” Hob asks, and Dream shuts his eyes, grabbing the out offered with both hands. 

“Yes,” he says, voice scratchy, “I am sorry for. Overstepping.” 

There’s a tiny laugh on the other end of the line, “I don’t care. How am I? Any critiques?” Hob asks, voice lightly teasing, and Dream takes an unneeded breath as he relaxes against the glass.

“You are adequate,” Dream says gravely, and Hob laughs gleefully. Dream intimately understands the meaning of dodging a bullet as Hob begins to talk about something else ― dinner, Dream catches, and he takes another useless breath. 

-

Dream does truly forget this time, as he looks around at Hob’s house, then pauses at the closed door, can faintly hear Hob speaking and Dream pauses. Can feel you, on the other side of that door rings in his head, and Dream ― reaches out, can feel how he changes things, presses onto the fabric of reality as he pulls it inside of himself, like a flower folding back up. 

Can feel the particles and dark matter buzzing inside his form as he walks closer and presses his ear against the door, closing his eyes as Hob’s soft voice washes over him, the laughter warm. 

And the other side of the phone ― Dream blinks, brows furrowing, because she’s a regular. A regular not there for sex, more for companionship, the familiar English accent of Hob’s voice, easing her homesickness. 

Sometimes she does get her self off after, but it’s more ― casual, Hob talking about recipes and both of them missing home. Serendipity of one day her wanting someone to masturbate to, and being struck by hearing the familiar sound. Crying and feeling embarrassed as Hob soothed her and made her laugh. 

Dream frowns, feeling put off, hackles rising as they talk and―Dream swallows, can feel the presence of him straining, not used to it, now that he’s aware of it, crawling under his skin― 

And on the other side of the door, Hob laughing and talking, and Dream can feel anger building, expecting ― filth, not this, which he can’t articulate why he hates it. 

Taking a deep breath, he steps back into the Dreaming, his presence blooming into nothing as dark clouds rumble in the sky. 

=

Dream slowly blinks, aware of a sound in his ear as he looks around ― the red phone box, black and rainbow-coloured glass, the phone’s curled line leading to the phone next to his ear, a dial-tone as it.

Tries to connect to Hob, Dream’s aware of, unable to feel Hob’s warmth, or his unseeing gaze as he sits on the floor of box, holding his knees with his free hand. He’s so tired. The bone-deep weariness, the work on keeping the Dreamling stable even when he doesn’t feel it. 

The way he ― didn’t contact or go to Hob, anger soon fading away, but by then there was political talks and treaties, a flurry of people counting on him, when he just wants to tend to his Dreamers, wants to make new dreams and nightmares, but can only manage nothing. 

Sighing, he presses the phone to his ear, dial-tone still ringing, and Dream considers that―”Dream?” A voice connects, confused as the daydream lights up, warmth infusing it and Dream relaxes at the sound of Hob’s voice. “So that was―you were calling me,” Hob says, voice confused and giving way to awe, and Dream smiles. What feels like his first smile in a while. 

“I was not sure it would work,” he says quietly, feet pressing against the corner of the box as he holds the phone closer to him. “I am sorry if I interrupted.”

Hob laughs, and Dream lets the sound wash over him, “nah. Just had some groceries to get ― then had this peculiar pushing feeling, like a knocking, which I ignored until I got everything home and put away. And it was my precious friend calling me,” Hob says, and Dream can easily see the smile with how Hob speaks. “You seem,” Hob pauses, and Dream looks up at the ceiling, can feel the other’s gaze, the concern and worry palpable. “Out of sorts,” Hob settles on. 

“I didn’t even realise I was calling you at one point,” Dream offers, and Hob makes a distressed sound. “It is nice to hear your voice,” he says with a sigh, curling around the phone. 

“And it’s nice to hear yours,” Hob says softly. “Anything I can do to help?”

“You already are,” smiling, he rests his chin on his arm, can feel Hob’s affection pouring through the daydream wrapping him up in heat. It intensifies and he shivers, can feel it press into all the empty and dark places, the bits of him still in cold and glass and pain―”I want to escape,” he blinks, only aware of the sentence after he said it, “but I cannot leave.”

Hob hums, and Dream can feel the phonebox flickering as Hob thinks, “a story, then? If you want,” Hob says softly, and Dream nods, the phonebox flickering, the red phone and it’s red wire only staying, “you said that to a friend, and this friend ― cares for you, can see how you need to get away,” Dream hums, falling into the highs and lows of the other’s voice easily. “And so, they kidnap ― nicely, taking you to some far-away cabin.” 

The phonebox changes, expands, becoming a wooden cabin ― a fireplace on the wall, fire crackling, a huge bed and Dream smiles, any kneejerk reactions fading into nothing at the constant warmth, Hob’s invisible gaze on him. And a shadow person, standing in front of him, hand outstretched, and Dream takes it to stand up from the carpeted floor, can feel Hob’s touch in the shadow. 

“Always working too hard, can see how it burns you out, putting too much on yourself, just wants to let you forget about it for a bit. It’ll all be there after, of course,” Hob says as they sit down on the bed, and Dream soaks up Hob’s voice, putting his head on the shadow’s shoulder, an arm moving around his own shoulders. “But you’re allowed time away ― especially with your friend, who took you so nicely, implored you to leave with them.”

Dream hums, can feel the Hob’s hair brushing against the back of his neck, the beard on his jaw as he presses his nose into the shadow’s neck, pleasantly scratchy. “Hob,” he breathes, insides twisting and hot, can’t help but to ― kiss him, and the daydream―Hob, hitches a breath. 

“Oh,” Hob’s voice is lightly strangled, but the shadow still kisses him back, hands on his jaw as the daydream heats up even more, can feel prickles of Hob’s growing arousal. “And―well―that is,” Hob stumbles, voice more breathless than before as Dream’s hands go into dark hair, thumbs stroking the grey of where Hob’s beard would be, and Hob lets out another sound. “Of course, your friend―that is,” a cough, “has wanted you, but wasn’t expecting this, was happy for just―” 

Hob swears as Dream licks into the shadow’s mouth, can feel hands going down to grip his hips as they kiss, can feel Hob’s gaze on him, hooking under his skin as he presses into the void-of-his-friend, can feel the other’s hard cock in jeans as he bites the shadow’s lips. 

There’s a gasp, a keen as the shadow’s hands go under his shirt, nails scratching up his torso. Hob lets out another sound, a tinge frustrated and the shadow moves, tugging him down onto the bed, pressing him against as Dream whines, shivering at the lips and stubble as the shadow bites marks into his neck. “This friend thinks you shouldn’t be working even in this,” Hob says, voice octaves lower as the shadow touches his robe, his shirt vanishing under it, “should focus on feeling good, on how maybe,” Hob’s voice cracks. 

“Maybe?” He purrs, can feel the other’s intense stare as his pants vanish, hands reverently going down his hips to his thighs. Can feel the daydream shaking with arousal ― Hob’s arousal, can feel the Dreaming beyond the little black bubble this is all placed in before he focuses back on the shadow, the room and Hob. 

And the shadow, fingers slick as they trail up his inner thighs, can feel Hob’s gaze zeroing in on him, focused to a point as he shudders, grasping at the shadow’s soft hair, “as a courtesy,” Hob rasps, voice deep as the shadow licks at a nipple, hardening under it quickly, and Dream gasps as a finger slowly enters him, pressing against walls with heat, “you should be fucked, taken care of, until you can’t think anymore.”

“By you?” He asks, keening as another finger enters him, stretching him slowly ― even though he doesn’t need it, body loosening around them easily and Hob whines, more fingers entering him. 

The shadow kisses him, beard rough against his face as they kiss, and Dream gasps, staring at ceiling as fingers graze his prostate, and Dream can only dig into the shadow’s shoulders, arching up into the feeling as thoughts vanish, the shadow moving down to nibble marks into his collarbone. “Yes,” Hob says, voice rough as the beard that scratches against his skin. “Would be happy to do that, for you, until you’re only just pleasure.” 

Dream groans, squirming under the shadow, wanting it so desperately as fingers continue to press that spot, and Dream grinds down on the feeling, chasing the orgasm in front of him, hearing Hob pant and moan. “With only your fingers?” He asks, voice tripping over itself, and he shivers as they crook inside him.

“To start with,” Hob answers, voice low and gutter-filthy, “a start, to get you out of your head, out of your work,” Hob says, fingers twisting and stretching even more, and Dream lets out a wail, arching into them mindlessly, body shuddering with pleasure. “With me.”

He comes with a cry, white coating the shadow’s front as Dream holds on, the press of warm nails verging into over-stimulation, into a shuddering, maddening amount of bliss. The fingers leave and he groans as he’s turned around, face pressing into pillows as the shadow forces him up by the hips, arse in the air. “Hob?” He slurs, can feel a nose ghost against his spine, thumbs digging into his waist. 

Hob lets out a breath, and he shivers as a tongue comes out, hot against his spine as it makes it’s way down. “There’s still so much to do, and there’s time for it all,” Hob promises.

-

Dream comes back to himself pleasantly, form faintly twinging as he stares at the wall of his bedroom, a stained glass window showing golden light that keeps him warm. His mind is clear, only one thing ― one person ― occupying it as he stands up, loose black robe forming around him. 

It’s only once he’s stepped into the Waking, and knocked at Hob’s front door, that maybe― 

Just a fantasy, Hob’s job, a one-off, his mind spirals as he crosses his arms, feeling the cool air with only his thin robe― 

“Dream!” He blinks and the door has opened, revealing Hob’s smiling face, and Dream relaxes at the sight. Hob doesn’t show any signs of what happened, which―of course, since it was a daydream. 

As Dream sits on the sofa, a part of him settles that if this doesn’t―become anything, he might be content with that. Since Hob didn’t throw him out at first sight, he can be happy with Hob’s friendship. 

“You, uh,” Hob says, tone faltering and Dream stares down at himself, at the small black robe. At the marks and beard burn he can feel on the inside of his thighs, the bruises on his neck. Hob’s face gets redder as he stares, brown eyes wide. 

Wide, and interested, can feel echoes of their daydream ripple through the air, Hob licking his lips and Dream’s form tingles, wanting. Not just a shadow, not just a daydream, wants to see Hob’s eyes get darker, like they are right now―and Dream surges up, grabbing Hob’s threadbare shirt to kiss him roughly. Dream’s hands clench as they go up, and he moans at the feel of the other’s beard, of the way Hob leans into the kiss, automatic― 

Hob breaks the kiss with a gasp, eyes wide with wonder, a hand in his dark hair, fingers curling around Dream’s dark strands. “Curiousity?” Hob asks, breathless. 

“No,” is all he says before going back in for a kiss, Hob’s other hand quickly grabbing his waist as Dream spins him around, pushing him onto the sofa. Hob gasps, hands tugging him down onto Hob’s lap, and Dream shivers at the affection and want he can feel coming from the other’s daydreams, Hob just as hungry as him as he grinds into Hob’s lap. 

[Fin]

[imagines--galore]

||The Thread of Fate|| Part Ten

Summary: Soulmate AU. They say the Thread of Fate connects you to your one true love. It may tangle. It may stretch. But it will never break. Wrapped around your little finger it tightens when it feels your soulmate is close and loosens when they are far. And becomes visible with the colors of your soulmate’s Nation when you finally fall in love with them.

Pairing: Zuko x OroraOC (ATLA)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Adventure.

Previous Chapters - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine,

A/N: This one is an absolute doozy! Be prepared for a lot of feels people! And a scene that literally popped up in my head as I wrote this. I dunno I just wanted to include it! Please excuse any mistakes I made!

"This place is huge!"

Thats it. Those were the only words Orora could think of to describe Ba Sing Se.

Once they had crossed the Inner Wall she had felt her mouth open in amazement. Rows and rows of houses, as far as the eye could see. The chatter of more then a thousand people echoing in the air as they went about their daily lives. She had never seen so many people in one place. Not even the Northern Water Tribe had this much population.

Iroh chuckled beside her, amused by her reaction. "That is an apt description for it, my dear." They had stepped onto the platform, after making sure they had their belongings with them. They were really only small packs containing objects that had some sort of sentimental value. And money of course.

"Woah!" The young waterbender breathed as she gazed around from the raised platform they were standing on. The wind played gently with her hair, prompting her to push the strands behind her ears. Iroh stood just beside her while Zuko stood on the opposite side. He hadn't said anything the entire train ride, though she knew he had been just as amazed by the sheer magnitude of the city as she was. His eyes had widened slightly. A rather subtle movement, but then again she had started to notice everything subtle about him.

Only because of her observation of him. And not because she had stared at him out of the corner of her eyes on more then one occasion.

"Now! The first thing we should do is get some clothes. After all we are no longer refugees but citizens of Ba Sing Se." Iroh stated, leading the way down the platform with the two teenagers following after him.

"I'll have to find some work to earn money for that." Orora muttered to herself, thinking back on just how little coin she had left. Iroh turned to her, frowning. "And what makes you think I will not buy clothes for you as well my young pupil?"

She stopped short, prompting Zuko to almost walk into her. Orora ignored the glare he threw in her direction as she blinked at her smiling Master.

"Y-you..." She trailed off unable to find words. Iroh's expression turned to one Orora had seem him give Zuko when comforting him. "You are my responsibility Orora, and I care for you just as much as I do my nephew."

They were standing together, the three of them, with Iroh and Orora facing one another and Zuko standing to the side. His attention had been at a nearby weapons shop but a soft sound had him turning his head to look at Orora.

She had a tight grip on the strap of her water satchel, as if to keep her hands from trembling. But that was not what caught his attention. It was the fact that for once her icy blue eyes had a warmth to them he had never seen before. And they were swimming with tears. The soft sound he had heard, was her giving a small gasp as she tried to control her emotions.

Though she was failing at it, because even as he watched, a tear escaped her eye, sliding down her cheek.

Crying people had always been a weakness of his. He had no idea how to deal with them. Crying girls was even worse. But seeing Orora cry, at something so insignificant as his Uncle buying her clothes, had him feeling equal parts awkward and..........concerned.

Laughing softly to himself, Iroh reached out to take her still trembling hand and placed a pouch of coins in it. "Why don't you go ahead and buy your clothes my dear? I'm sure we will all benefit from having a pretty young maid such as yourself as our companion eh Zuko?" That last part was directed at him, prompting the banished prince to snap out of his stupor and stare stupidly at his Uncle.

"Wh-what?" But neither Pupil nor Master heard him as Orora quickly engulfed the old man in an embrace that reminded Iroh of the ones his son would give him as a young boy.

"Thank you...........Uncle." If he was surprised at her calling him that he did not show it. Though he did show his pleasure at being called thusly by her. "Now go buy your new clothes and do something about your hair. I shall meet you both here in two hours. And you also buy anything that catches your fancy."

"Wait! Both?" Zuko barked out. Iroh nodded. "Yes both. This city can be dangerous my boy. Especially for a young lady. And though I know she can protect herself, I would much rather she have you with her. For my peace of mind." He finished giving his nephew a look that clearly said, do not argue.

Pursing his lips, Zuko gave a small nod. Though there was no pleasure in his stance as he took his own pouch of coins from Iroh. "Enjoy yourselves then."

With a cheerful wave and a wink he was off to do his own shopping.

Zuko sighed to himself, pocketing his pouch and turning to Orora who was now tear free and already looking around at the different shops on either side of them.

Good, he preferred her tear-free.

Shaking his head, he pursed his lips before speaking.

"Come on. I think we can find a shop that sells clothes for us both." He had already started to move, prompting Orora to follow him with quick steps to catch up.

While Zuko had been of the opinion that their impromptu shopping spree would be awkward, it was anything but. Orora having never been in a city before, was flitting from one stall to the next shop. Eagerly pouring over the wares the shop keepers were selling, though she didn't buy them. Zuko was left to follow after her, trying to keep up with her surprisingly fast pace.

"Would you slow down!" He finally puffed out after loosing sight of her for a good few minutes, nearly making him panic before he had caught sight of her entering a weapons shop. She turned to look at him, a slightly apologetic look on her face.

"Sorry, I'll try to slow down but I just saw these and they reminded me of the swords you had when we met in the forest." Zuko looked to where she was pointing. And indeed it was a pair of dao swords, much like the ones that had been confiscated from him a good while ago.

Apparently there was a strict rule of no bringing weapons into Ba Sing Se. However you could buy them once you were inside.

A stupid rule really.

Still he had managed to hide the dagger Uncle had given him, but the swords had to go.

"They do look the same." He agreed with her. Before he could stop her, Orora had reached out and was lifting both of the swords from the stand and holding them out for him. "Well try them out. If its a good fit then you can buy them." She suggested giving him a small smile.

Maybe it was the fact that they were back in civilization. Or perhaps it was the interaction she had had with Iroh that had resulted in her being in a pleasant mood. Whatever it was, she had no desire to ruin it by squabbling with Zuko. Besides it wasn't that difficult to be nice to him.

Zuko glanced at her briefly, before reaching out to grasp the handle of the swords. His fingers briefly brushed against Orora's prompting them both to freeze momentarily. But he quickly shook off the feeling, turning his attention to the swords.

The weight was perfect as was the balance. Obviously they were of fine craftsmanship. Feeling that familiarity one felt when picking up a weapon they knew, Zuko swung them around to test further. After a couple more swings he stopped, seemingly satisfied.

Lifting one of the swords to eye level, he stared at the blade, watching his reflection stare back. "Well? What do you think?" Tilting the blade slightly he was able to catch a glimpse of Orora as she stood behind him.

Maybe it was the familiarity of the swords, or perhaps it was the soft yet hopeful look that he caught in Orora's expression which made him give a small nod.

"They're perfect."

                                           ————————–

The next step was finding new clothes.

And as soon as they entered the shop each teenager was whisked away by an employee. Orora was guided towards the female section of the shop, while Zuko went the opposite way.

A little annoying since he was supposed to be keeping an eye on her. However he did keep a sharp ear out, in case she called out for help. He made no complaint as the shop assistant began to pull out clothes that would be perfect for someone his size. Zuko stared dismally at the various shades of browns and greens that greeted him. He missed the red, black and gold colors of his Nation. For a brief moment he wandered if he would ever get to wear them again.

The thought had a sting of bitterness running through him, prompting him to pick out the first garment the assistant showed him. And he would've bought it as it was if the Assistant hadn't insisted that he alter it to his size. Something about the shop not looking good if he sold frumpy looking clothing. It would take some time though, so Zuko marched to the entrance of the shop to sit in one of the waiting chairs.

With his arms crossed and a grumpy expression on his face, any passerby would assume he was there against his will.

While Zuko seemed to be having a miserable time, Orora was having the time of her life. She had always adored dressing up, as typically feminine as it was and while she would've preferred to dress in the blue of her Nation, she wasn't opposed to wearing green so long as it got her out of her baggy clothing. She figured she didn't have to hide the fact that she was a girl in the city so, why not go all out?

"This color would look lovely against your complexion." The assistant, who had introduced herself as Hana, placed the green fabric against her shoulder to better assess the color alongside her skin. Like any member of the Water Tribe, Orora's complexion was darker then of those around her. And given that she had been traveling under the sun for so long, it had only darkened more. The color did stand out, and the fabric was so soft.

The young waterbender hummed. "Well I have an idea in mind. If I could explain it to you, would you be able to find something for me?" Hana grinned. "Its always good to have a customer who knows exactly what they want." She praised, picking up a writing utensil and paper to write down Orora's instructions.

"What did you have in mind?" She asked, looking like a woman on a mission. Orora grinned.

                                           ————————–

Fifteen minutes later, she walked towards the waiting area with Hana beside her.

"We have everything you just asked for Orora. I just have to alter it to your measurements, but that won't take long." Hana said with a reassuring smile to which Orora nodded. "Thank you for all your help Hana. If I may ask for one small request."

So saying, she quickly darted forward grabbing Zuko by the arm, and pulling him from his chair to stand beside her. Zuko, who had been busy examining his new swords, and pretending not to eavesdrop, was more so surprised at the sudden motion that there was no resistance on his part.

"My friend and I have to be at a dinner party tonight, but we do not have a place to bath or clean up. Do you know any bath houses around here?"

There was no way she was about to wear her new clothes without cleaning herself up first. She hadn't had a chance to bathe since the desert, a thought that had her shivering in disgust. Zuko glanced at her. "Is that your subtle way of saying I stink?" He asked to which Orora smirked.

"Subtle? I must be loosing my touch. I meant it to be more direct." She grinned at him before turning her attention back to the softly laughing Hana. "Luckily for you two my brother owns a bath house. And it is not so far from here." She moved to the door, gesturing for the duo to follow. "Just go down this street then take a right. First door on the left." She instructed. "I shall have both of your clothes delivered there within the hour."

"Thank you." The ever polite Orora said, even as she poked her elbow into Zuko's stomach to remind him to do the same. He did so, albeit in a rather grumpy manner. Still it was better or nothing.

Once they had paid for their clothes, the two set off down the street as Hana had instructed.

"You know we could've cleaned up at the new place we will be staying at." Zuko suggested, to which Orora gave him a disgusted look. "Zuko, we're filthy. We've been traveling for days. If you want to wait and dirty your new clothes, go right ahead." She made a hand gesture to that effect, but s topped midway as her blue eyes caught sight of something.

Zuko followed her line of sight and groaned loudly. "I have to buy one more thing." So saying Orora quickly made her way to the display of pretty hair accessories that had caught her eye. She yanked Zuko along with her, not having dropped the hold she had on his arm where she had looped it through his earlier.

A fact that neither of the them noticed.

At least Orora wasn't like other girls who would spend hours poring over pretty trinkets only to not buy them in the end. It wasn't even ten minutes later that they were once again making their way towards the bath houses, with Orora admiring the new hair comb she had bought.

"Isn't it pretty?" She sighed, watching how the blue stone set in the middle of the comb caught the mid-morning sunlight and shimmered beautifully. "And its so detailed, just look at the dragon." She held it to his eye level. He gave it a brief once over and, reluctantly, nodded. It was a pretty piece of jewelry there was no denying that.

"I thought I should get something blue to represent my Nation." Tucking away the comb in her pouch. Glancing up she saw him clench his jaw even tighter. At this rate he would grind his teeth to dust. "Maybe you should do the same?" She suggested her voice soft as they reached the bath houses.

His gaze snapped in her direction, startled and surprised. That was certainly not what he had been expecting her to say. Glancing around from the corner of her eye, Orora met his gaze with a look of understanding. Reaching out, almost hesitantly, she grasped his wrist, stepping forward so she could whisper the next words to him. "I don't condone what they have done. But they are still your people, and I know you miss your home."

She had to lift herself up on her toes slightly to be able to whisper to him properly. The action allowed the front of her chest to press against his slightly. To any onlooker it would look to be nothing more then a lover's embrace. To Zuko, the barely there embrace, was one of comfort. Something he did not realize he had needed for so long. He closed his eyes, but only briefly, before he gave Orora a small nod. While he wouldn't voice his appreciation for her act, he could acknowledge it.

Orora smiled softly before she stepped back. Turning she quickly walked into the bath house, and after a moment Zuko followed.

                                           ————————–

Steam curled from the water as Orora stepped into the square space in a robe, having gotten rid of her clothes as soon as she could. Locking the door securely behind her, she turned her attention to the tub in the middle of the room. It was just big enough for her so she eagerly shrugged off the robe and settled into the warm water. A sigh of utter contentment fell from her lips, feeling a sense of comfort as the water surrounded her. Quickly submerging her head, the girl picked up the sweet scented soap that had been left for her and began to scrub her hair and body. The water itself had some sweet smelling oils in them, and if it were up to her, she would stay there for hours.

Once done cleaning herself, she bended the water separating whatever dirt she had scrubbed off herself. Casting the dirt aside, she allowed the water to settle back down into the tub. Orora had barely leaned back to rest her head against the back of the tub when the sound of voices from the other side of the wall had her listening in curiously.

"You can wash up here." Said an unfamiliar voice. She heard the sound of a door opening on the other side. Make sense that the room next to her was also a bathroom. "I'll leave your clothes outside the door once they arrive."

"Thank you!"

The waterbender sat up straight, water sloshing around her as a small squeak of surprise fell from her lips. A sound the echoed in the otherwise quiet space, and since the wall on her left had more then ample space between itself and the ceiling, it was clearly heard by the person who had just entered the bathing chamber on the other side.

"Orora?"

It was Zuko.

Spirits help her! Zuko was in the room next to her own.

The thought alone had a blush stealing across her cheeks, and she could feel it as it traveled down her neck to her shoulders. How that was even possible she had no idea.

"Orora is something wrong?" His voice sounded closer now, like he was standing right next to the wall. And his voice sounded urgent. Clearing her throat she shook her head, even though he couldn't see her. "No, no everything is fine." Her voice sounded strange even to her ears.

On the other side of the wall, Zuko's brief flash of panic dissipated and the reality of the situation started to set in. He blushed just as brilliantly as Orora did, a fact that was unknown to both of them.

"I'm going to ask for another chamber." Zuko stated, already moving towards the door. The sound of water reached his ears followed by a two words that made his heart stop. "No, wait." Silence followed her soft exclamation as he waited for her to continue. Finally, after a rather lengthy silence, in which Orora was berating herself for speaking out like that, she spoke. "These two were the only bath chambers available on such short notice. Not to mention they'll charge extra since they have to warm the water again and get a new chamber ready so just.............stay."

Despite her affirmation and assurance, there was no denying just how awkward the situation was. Orora could hear every splash of water as Zuko settled into his tub, and Zuko was acutely aware of the fact that she could hear everything. So he just decided to sit in the water once he had hastily scrubbed himself clean.

The one fact that neither of them were even allowing themselves to think on was the state of undress they were both in. To distract herself, Orora began to create small patterns using her water bending, while Zuko made the water as hot as possible without letting it evaporate completely.

The silence and the awkwardness of it was slowly grating at Orora's nerves. She had always hated silence, it reminded her too much of the time when she would spent all those hours in her room while her father entertained guests. Why? Because a proper young lady said her greetings before excusing herself to her rooms.

Her patience only last five minutes before she finally snapped. "I believe we have reached a whole new stage of awkwardness then." Zuko didn't respond, though her acute hearing and bending sense did pick up on the water moving. Indeed, Zuko had been a little startled at hearing her voice, having supposed that the two of them would remain quiet for the remainder of their bath.

"And since they can't get any more awkward I'm just going to come out and say something I've been thinking since we reached Ba Sing Se." More silence, and for once Zuko was sure she actually wanted him to speak, as opposed to all the times she had told him to stay quiet.

"Whats that?" His tone was soft and his voice low, matching her in almost perfect pitch as he leaned his head back against the back of the tub, looking at the ceiling above.

"I know that we have a lot of differences between us." The statement had the young prince letting out a small unexpected chuckle. "Thats putting it mildly." He interrupted her, he could practically picture her pursing her lips at being interrupted. "Well yes, but I don't want to make you any angrier then you already ar-"

"Who said I was angry?" Zuko protested, half rising from his position to glare at the wall. Clenching her fists Orora shook away her annoyance before continuing. "As I was saying, I think tha-"

"I can feel other emotions beside anger you know. I'm not angry all the time an-HEY!" His exclamation was followed by a loud splash as the bubble of water Orora had bended over the space between the wall separating them splashed on his head. As Zuko spluttered and shook his hair out of his eyes, she started again.

"I know that we have a lot of differences between us, and that we would never see eye to eye. And I'm sure not a day will go by where you do not vex me, or I annoy you in some form." Hugging her legs to her chest, the young waterbender hoped the Fire Nation prince wouldn't reject her offer of peace.

"But since we will be living together until...........well we don't know when." Zuko's heart twinged at the reminder, but he stayed quiet. "I thought we should have a truce of some kind? Where we don't fight, at least not all the time, and try to get along."

That dreaded silence once more. Though this time it was heavier, weighing down on her just as much as it weighed down on him. She heard him stand up, prompting a sigh of defeat to echo in the two rooms. She could hear him as he opened the door and took his clothes where they rested on the floor. Zuko's mind raced as he dried himself off and began to pull on his new clothes.

After a few minutes, and accepting that perhaps she had humiliated herself enough, the girl quickly stood from her bath tub, bending the water from her body. Her new clothes rested on the floor in front of her door the same as Zuko. She quickly took them inside and unwrapped the items. Despite the sorrow tugging at her heart, she gave a small smile at the sight of her new clothes.

They were perfect.

Neither of them spoke as the dressed. Though Zuko finished first, and quickly exited the chamber. Orora took a few extra minutes, adjusting her clothes properly, before moving to stand in front of the small mirror and combing her hair with her new comb. Picking up a small section of her hair from her temple, she adjusted them so that she could place the hair comb through the strands. Now with the loose unruly tendrils out of her face, she was able to see her face properly in the mirror.

Satisfied with her appearance, she exited the bath just as she finished adjusting her water satchel, and promptly bumped into Zuko who had been standing right outside her door.

Her hands came up to steady herself, which he quickly caught to keep her from falling. Whatever insult that had been about to fall from her lips vanished when she saw who she had walked into.

Ice blue eyes widened, as she took in his newly dressed state. The clothing suited him, but what caught her eye in particular was how long his hair had gotten and how the strands at the front fell over his forehead. She had to physically restrain herself from reaching out and pushing them back. Not only because she wanted to feel how soft his hair was, but also because she wanted to see his pretty gold eyes properly.

Eyes that were now taking her in. The first time Zuko had met her she had been wearing her blue parka that had been blood stained and rumpled from her run in with the Fire Nation soldiers. Other then that, he had only seen her in shapeless short kimonos and pants that were dull in color and hid the fact that she was a girl.

The outfit she wore now did not hide any aspect of her being a girl at all.

She had opted for a light green Cheong dress with no sleeves to allow her arms to move better. The shirt she wore under it had long sleeves though, sitting snugly against her skin. The sides of the dress opened starting from her hips down the entire length of the dress which stopped a few inches below her knees. The edges of the dress had a pretty swirling design to add a hint of flare to it. Underneath it she had chosen a pair of pants that was dark green, the ends of which was tucked into her new leather calf length shoes.

She had styled her clothes exactly like the fashion of her Nation, except in green and lighter in material.

It had been perfect, though the dress was still a little loose on her. So Orora had taken the green sash the garments had come tied in and wrapped it around her waist. Not only did the dress look much better, but the belt accentuated her waist and made her look almost as if her body had an hourglass shape.

And while Orora was not the most vain girl, she did like looking pretty.

And for once, after so many months, she looked, smelled and felt pretty.

And Zuko was acutely aware of all three facts as he continued to stare at her. It wasn't unnerving in any form. There was no malice in his eyes. Only an emotion that she had never seen on his face before. Which was why she was having a hard time to place it.

She could puzzle over it later, she figured as Zuko released her hands and stepped back. Blue met gold before the latter disappeared behind closed lids briefly. But once they opened, there was a determined look in them.

And Orora saw the reason for it when her eyes dropped to the hand he held out to her. A beat of silence, in which Orora felt her breath hitch in her throat and a bright smile to bloom across her face as she reached out to grasp his hand between both of her own. And this time, when blue met gold, Zuko gave a small smile back.

"Truce."

                                           ————————–

The two teenagers had barely reached their destination when Iroh suddenly appeared at their side. Holding a vase full of flowers.

"I just want our place to look nice, after all, we have a rather pretty young lady living with us, do we not?" He gave Zuko a nudge with his elbow, though his smile was directed at Orora who blushed and smiled in return.

"You look lovely my dear." He complimented, though it would seem Zuko had reverted back to his moody self as he spoke. "This city is a prison. I don't want to make a life here." He sounded so bleak and hopeless about his situation that Orora frowned.

"We don't have a choice." She kept her voice soft so that no one would overhear her. "This was the only way to ensure our survival in the long run."

Iroh, sensing his pupil's rising annoyance with his nephew, quickly spoke. "Life happens wherever you are, whether you make it or not." Without pausing for breath he continued. "Now come on, I found us some new jobs, and we start this afternoon!"

Zuko stopped short, staring in disbelief. "A job?!"

Orora snorted to herself, clapping a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing, earning a glare from Zuko. Watching a Prince who had probably never worked a day in his life do an actual job?!

Oh, she was in for a treat, she thought smiling wickedly.

                                          ————————–

It came as no surprise when Iroh led them to a tea shop.

"And here I was thinking you had gotten a job at an apothecary shop." The young waterbender teased as she followed after her Master. Iroh simply grinned in reply. The two of them didn't bother to see if Zuko followed. He stood outside the shop, staring glumly at it before heaving a resigned sigh and following after his two companions.

It wasn't long before Pao, the shop owner, had handed them matching aprons and was telling them everything they needed to know about the shop. He prattled on as Orora finished tying the string behind her back.

"Argh, ridiculous." Zuko muttered under his breath, looking just as annoyed as he sounded. Orora nudged him with her elbow where she stood at his side. "Be grateful that we will have a steady income. Do you even know how hard it is to get a job in such a big city?"

He turned to glare at her. "This is humiliating. I'm not meant to be working as a servant. I'm supposed to have people working for me." He gritted through clenched teeth.

The girl gave him an unimpressed look. "Well I'm not meant to be here at all. I'm supposed to be married by now and living a miserable life." She caught sight of the surprised look that crossed his features, but continued to speak. "I wouldn't trade my current predicament for anything in the world." With that she turned her attention to the shop owner, who was still speaking with Iroh.

After a good few minutes of feeling Zuko's stare at her, she looked at him, raising her eyebrow in question. "You were supposed to get married?" His voice sounded hoarse and strange, even to his own ears. Orora nodded before giving a shrug. "It was arranged by my father. I had no say in it." She stated shortly, her eyes flashing with that iciness that served as a reminder to him to never cross her.

"Uh, does this possibly come in a larger size?" Iroh, who had been struggling to tie his apron finally spoke up. Pao gave a nod. "I have extra string in the back. Have some tea while you wait!" Before leaving he quickly poured hot tea into three cups and handed them out to his new employees.

Orora glanced down at the contents of her cup, making a face at the questionable color of the liquid. Iroh seemed to share her sentiment since he barely took a sip of it before his face contorted to one of disgust. He held the cup away from his body, as if it had done him some personal offense. "Blech! This tea is nothing more than hot leaf juice!" He declared. Zuko gave his Uncle a dead-panned look. "Uncle, that's what all tea is."

But the old man wasn't having it as he gave a look of utter disappointment and heartbreak. "How could a member of my own family say something so horrible?!" He exclaimed before a look of determination crossed his face. "We'll have to make some major changes around here."

"Well lets hope our boss doesn't fire us for taking over his shop." Orora stated softly, setting aside her cup and glancing around the bare shop.

"Though this place could do with some decorating."

Zuko groaned. Between Iroh's fanatic obsession with tea, and Orora's stubbornness to get her own way, he knew he was going to have his hands full.

                                          ————————–

Tag List - @wavesofchaos​ @violet-potter​ @rennysketch​ @emma-andrea1 @lovesammikinzz @fuzzyfestcat @msrawog @notsaelty

[stevesjockstrap]

Digging Holes

@steddiemicrofic prompt ‘hole’ | 404 words | rated G

cw: implied past child abuse • read on ao3

Steve watched the kids playing in their backyard, digging happily in the sandbox Uncle Wayne had made for them. The neighbor boy had come over, and his girls sometimes needed to set some boundaries with him but otherwise everything usually went well.

He brought them juice boxes or granola bars from time to time but tried his best to let them play uninterrupted. Eddie always claimed he was a helicopter parent, but he felt he was more than entitled to a little paranoia.

Smirking as his youngest again reminded the neighbor to not fling sand around, he watched as she looked around the backyard for him. Once she knew he was just on the patio, she went back to playing. That was something else he enjoyed, that his girls knew to keep an eye out.

Eddie snuck out of the house and slid in beside him.

“How are you going to helicopter from all the way over here, babe?” He teased, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“I am not helicoptering. How are you going to rile them up from all the way over here?”

Things seemed to get tense all at once, both of his girls’ heads popping up to locate their dads.

“We reached the bottom of the sandbox! How are we going to dig a hole to China?!” The neighbor kid yelled louder so the adults could now hear him.

Suddenly Steve was back at recess as a small kid, watching a classmate with shorn dark hair and a black eye explain that he was digging a hole to China with his spork from the cafeteria. He had taken one long look at the kid and grabbed a nearby stick to help him.

“Woah,” Steve whispered, shaking himself out of the thirty year old memory he had completely forgotten about (suffering several head injuries since then).

“What?” Eddie looked at him strangely.

“I dunno. I just remembered, I think. Helping you in, like, elementary school, maybe the same age as they are… dig a hole to China? You were using a spork?”

“Oh my god,” he breathed, eyes taking on a faraway look. “That was you?”

Steve nodded.

“Everyone always thought it was really weird. You were the only one who helped. I, uh, really wanted to get away. That was before, um, before I went to Wayne’s.”

He squeezed his hand on his knee. “I’m glad I helped.”

“Me too.”

[peachhcs]

being oblivious | the wonder years

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

the guys find out will knows samy & demand to meet her!

word count: 1.9k

i’m writing this as if they were 16 so that’s why the dialogue might be kind of silly, but anyways. i imagine them being very fan girly about meeting samy & also excited so here’s their origin story :) p.s. i’d love any prompts or ideas for little blurbs or imagines for them so if you have any send them my way :)

au masterlist

the boys agreed to a slow and lazy sunday with the first day of ntdp practice tomorrow and no one wanted to be too bent out of shape. drew and aram's voices were the only ones filling the living room as they argued over mario kart together while everyone else just tuned them out. will was splayed across one of the chairs mindlessly scrolling through his phone when someone nudged his leg.

the blonde's gaze found ryan's whose eyes were wide with disbelief. "what?" will mumbled as ryan flipped his phone so his friend could see what made him look so surprised.

his screen was a photo of will and samy hughes standing next to one another at the beach with wide smiles. not understanding ryan's shock, will raised his eyebrow in confusion.

"you know samy hughes?" ryan finally got out. his words caught the attention of the rest of the guys sitting around them. their heads spun in will and ryan's direction, waiting for a response.

"uh..yeah? you guys didn't know that?" will wondered, gazing at everyone else.

"no? how do you know her? do you know luke, jack, and quinn too?" ryan continued, excitement now in his voice.

"we're family friends. we grew up together. i grew up skating with her brothers," will had to laugh. he for sure thought it was common knowledge that their families were close and spent every summer together since they were babies.

"you're lying," ryan countered, disbelief on all of his features.

"no, i'm not. you see the picture. that's obviously me," the blonde chuckled while the rest of the guys started crowding around to see the other pictures ryan had dug up from mrs. smith's facebook account.

"why on earth would you keep this information from us?" aram muttered.

"i didn't know you guys didn't know. i dunno. it's not that big of a deal," will shrugged some, falling back into his chair.

"not a big deal? are you serious? you're family friends with some of the best hockey players in this country," ryan exasperated.

this was quite amusing to will. sure, he knew how popular the hughes family was, but it never really mattered to him and he never really thought about it until now. he's always just hung out with them every summer and that was so normal for will that he didn't realize it was a big deal to other people.

"wait, ann arbor is like..thirty minutes from here. do you think we'll ever run into samy?" drew exclaimed after the realization. a few of the other guy's faces lit up too and they all looked to will for an answer.

"uh..i don't know? maybe?" the boy shrugged. he didn't really know what samy did during the school year besides go to school and play soccer.

"wait. do you think we can meet her because you know her?" ryan's head popped back up.

"erm..i don't know. maybe?" will mumbled.

"what do you mean maybe?" gabe raised his eyebrow and suddenly will felt like some teacher with kids surrounding him waiting for answers like the guys were surrounding him with wide eyes at the idea of meeting samy hughes.

"i mean..we're close, but not that close. she hung around with grace a lot, so i don't really know how she'd feel about a bunch of guys wanting to hang out with her," will shrugged again.

"dude, you know samy hughes and grew up with her and you're telling us she doesn't wanna hang out with you?" aram deadpanned.

the blonde rolled his eyes and huffed out a sigh, “okay, i’ll ask, chill out.” the guys grinned, pumping their fists at the idea of meeting samy.

will immediately got a response after sending a brief text samy’s way. she was very much up to the idea and agreed to talk to her mom about letting them drive down to ann arbor for the day. after some more final arrangements, will, gabe, ryan, drew, and aram were all stuffed into a car together driving the 30 minutes to samy’s house.

the entire car was filled with excitement and chatter as they discussed samy and her brothers. will just kept to himself, still thinking how amusing all of this was and how much these guys were simping over samy.

they rolled into the driveway and will spun around in the driver’s seat, “just don’t be too weird, okay? don’t make her uncomfortable.”

“roger that, smitty,” ryan teased making everyone snicker but will. the five boys clamored out of the car and followed their friend up to the front porch, letting will do the honors of knocking.

some footsteps could be heard until the front door swung open and a very smiley samy stood before the five boys. all of them but will suddenly became shy under the girl’s bright smile. “will!” the girl exclaimed and immediately pulled the blonde into a tight hug.

“hey hughesy,” will chuckled as he squeezed her back. the two embracing missed the looks that came from will’s friends as they watched the interaction unfold.

“come on in. jeez, i can’t believe you’re gonna be in michigan for the next two years with me,” samy continued talking as she led everyone into the foyer.

“i bet you wish it was grace instead,” the blonde teased making samy roll her eyes. “whatever. it’s so cool to meet some of you guys. i guess you already know who i am,” the brunette chuckled as she turned her attention to will’s friends who still stood silently and awkwardly behind them.

“it’s nice to meet you. i’m ryan, that’s gabe, drew, and aram. we kind of begged smitty to meet you,” ryan spoke up, sticking his hand out. samy giggled as she happily shook ryan’s hand.

“wow, i’ve never had fans before. it’s always been my brothers,” the girl smiled.

“don’t let the ten year old girls hear you say that,” will mumbled. samy flushed before ignoring his comment.

“is that will?” a new voice came into the mix. the boys looked up and saw mrs. hughes walking towards them with a large smile on her face. the older woman tugged her arms around will’s frame, squeezing the boy tightly much like samy did.

“hey mama el, it’s good to see you again. thanks for letting us come over,” will chuckled.

“of course, anytime. you know you’re always welcome here now that you live 30 minutes away. i know i’ll be expecting a lot of visits from you. all of you, actually. our home is your home. my boys have all been through the dev program, so we know what it’s like,” ellen smiled towards the other guys.

“i’m sure that’s the only reason why they came over is to see quinn, jack, and luke’s baby photos,” samy giggled in a teasing tone. some of their faces flushed in response.

“come on, i’ll show you guys around,” the girl started further into the house leaving the boys no other option but to follow her.

after the extensive grand tour of the hughes family home, the six sat around the deck enjoying the remaining bits of summer weather. “what are you guys most excited about for the dev program?” samy wondered, trying to get to know everyone else some more.

“probably just getting to hang with these guys all the time. we’ve all gotten pretty close already,” aram chuckled as he reached over to tussle up drew’s hair. the other boy squirmed away, quickly fixing his hair.

“new people, new place, new coaches. lots of things to start learning,” ryan added in.

“is it weird being away from home? my brothers never had to go far since we already lived here when they all did it,” samy wondered and most of the guys nodded.

“for sure, but it’ll be a good experience, you know?” ryan said and samy nodded.

“well, at least you guys have one more friendly face around here. you’re all welcome to come to my soccer games this season too,” the girl quickly beamed.

“right, i forgot you switched sides,” drew said.

“if you guys ever play with her, you better hope she’s on your team,” will cut in making samy flush and the other guys chuckled.

“uh oh, she better than you at soccer?” gabe snickered, pushing at will’s shoulder.

“she’s better at me in everything,” will nodded.

“remember that time i scored 3 goals on you and luke on the ice? ugh, i still think about that day and how you two had to pay me each $10,” samy laughed.

“don’t remind me. you cheated anyway,” the blonde crossed his arms, eyeing the girl beside him.

“i did not! you guys were just mad a girl was better than you at your own sport,” samy quickly defended herself.

“whatever. we’ll get our redemption this year,” will huffed. the girl just rolled her eyes and the two once again missed the looks from everyone else.

the entire time they’d been there it was nonstop flirting from both samy and will. they expected the two to be close, but they didn’t expect the amount of teasing and very painfully obvious to everyone but them flirting. will’s cheeks reddened anytime samy poked fun at him and they saw the way samy’s gaze lingered on the blonde when he wasn’t paying attention anymore.

no one said anything until they were back in plymouth that night. all of them kept glancing at the blonde, wondering if he’d say anything, but nothing came from him as he stretched out on the couch and started scrolling through his phone.

ryan eyes bounced from gabe’s to aram’s and then to drew’s. will didn’t realize the silence until he noticed the guys lingering by the entryway occasionally glancing at him.

“what?” the boy laughed, confused by their behavior.

“you and samy are a lot closer than you led on,” ryan started causally as he leaned down on the couch.

“i guess. she’s like a sister,” the blonde chuckled, clearly not understanding the deeper implication trying to be made. the family zone. it definitely did not look like a sibling relationship to the guys.

“a sister? you flirt with her like she isn’t,” aram finally got to the point, a teasing, shit-eating grin on his lips as he took one of the chairs.

“flirt with her? what the hell are you on about?” will grew confused.

“dude, be so serious right now. there’s no way you don’t see it,” ryan laughed.

“see what?” now will was getting frustrated with the laughter coming from his friends.

“you guys were literally flirting with one another the entire time, it was disgusting. there’s no way you haven’t had feelings for her or some shit,” aram cut in again.

“for samy? no way. we’re friends. we always have been. i could never see her like that,” the idea even made will shudder. all he had ever seen her as was another sister to get annoyed at and bother him whenever he was doing something.

“mhm,” gabe mumbled.

“jesus, you guys are so annoying. i kind of regret bringing you along,” the blonde rolled his eyes, refocusing his attention on his phone.

“you say that, but i give it a year at the most and then you’ll realize what we’ve been saying was right all along,” ryan snickered with another annoying grin. the other guys nodded in agreement.

the only thing will could do was ignore their comments because none of them were true. him and samy were like brother and sister. there were no feelings nor would there ever be.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Merry whatever

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 25

Prompt: Christmas

Rated: G

CW: none

Tags: Fluff; Getting together; First kiss

Notes: Continued from day 5

Steve is just putting the last of the cookies into the oven - stars and trees and gingerbread men with little vampire teeth - when there’s a cacophony of swears and noise from the roof and a giant letter X crashes into the snow outside the kitchen window. He wipes his hands on a towel, slips into his boots and coat and makes his way outside. 

“Eds? You still alive up there?” 

“Barely!” 

Eddie pops his head over the edge of the roof. He’s wearing the Santa hat again, the one they found in the attic together with the letters and the rest of the decorations. 

“Your roof is a fucking ice rink, Harrington. Veritable death trap up here.” 

“Hey,” Steve sloshes closer, almost trips over a plastic elf protruding from the snowy lawn like a tiny, cheerful goblin in a striped hat. “Don’t whine at me. I told you it was a bad idea, getting the letters up in that weather.” 

“Yeah, yeah, mom!” Eddie snarks. “Now get that thing back up here.” 

“Of course,” Steve rolls his eyes but still tucks the fallen letter under his arm and clambers up the ladder. “No fun if we don’t break both our necks.” 

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Eddie takes the letter from him as soon as he’s within reach, then extends a gloved hand to help him onto the roof. The wool is scratchy against his skin, but Steve still revels in the warmth of it, the firm press of Eddie’s fingers entwining with his. “Didn’t survive the literal apocalypse to be taken down by some holiday decorations. Now help me put this- woah!” 

He slips on the icey roof, teeters dangerously close to the abyss, eyes comically large and arms ruddering in the air for balance. Steve does what he does best and flies into action, bodily lunging himself at him and pulling him against his chest. He goes down on the shingles ass first, Eddie sprawled on top of him. By some Christmas miracle, Steve manages to grab a hold of the X before it can fall a second time. 

Eddie’s breath is warm against his neck, hands clawing into his coat, and oh shit, they’re close. So very close. Much closer than two buddies who just happen to be spending Christmas together should be. 

“You okay?” Steve says over the sound of his own blood roaring in his ears. 

“Peachy,” Eddie pulls back, shoves the Santa hat out of his eyes. His very brown, very pretty eyes that Steve has caught himself thinking about an absurd amount lately. There's a bright pink flush coloring the bridge of his nose - probably from the scare. Or the cold. Yup, the cold, that’ll be it. “Reckon you’ll ever get tired of saving my ass, big boy?” 

“Never.” 

The word is out before Steve can bite it back. And maybe it comes with a little too much force, a little too much conviction. The smile slips off Eddie’s face and he blinks. Gulps. Disentangles himself from Steve and takes the letter from his hand. 

For a few moments, the only sounds are those of the wind on the roof and Eddie’s struggle to put the letter in its proper place. 

“Still feels weird sometimes, doesn’t it?” 

“Huh?” Steve says lamely. 

Eddie chuckles and slots back into space beside him, shoulder-to-shoulder and knee-to-knee. 

“That it’s all just … over like this? That we’re here and get to do all this boring, normal stuff like baking cookies and putting up lights and celebrating Christmas?” 

One of his hands finds Steve’s knee - a light, reassuring touch. 

We’re here.

We’re both here. 

“Dunno,” Steve shrugs. The sky is turning dark and Hawkins is spreading out under them, a sea of twinkling lights slowly coming alive. “I like normal.” 

I wanna do a million normal things with you, for a hundred years. I don’t think I’d ever get tired of it. 

“Yeah,” Eddie hums, a low and content sound that Steve feels in his own body, close as they are. “I'm starting to get the appeal.”

Then, before Steve can say or do anything stupid, he bends down to retrieve something from somewhere by their feet. He reemerges with a toothy grin, a plug and an extension cord. 

“Okayyy, let's get these babies lit up, shall we?” 

Steve turns as the neon lights flicker to life behind them, basking them in their glow and- 

“Oh,” says Eddie. “Whoops.”

The words sparkling down at them, bright and cheerful for all of Loch Nora to behold, read MERRY SMAX. 

The laughing fit hits Steve so hard that, this time, Eddie needs to grab him before he can fall off the roof.

“You asshole,” he wheezes into the leather of his jacket. “You did that on purpose!” 

Eddie gasps through his own laughter, tries to put on a serious face. “What? Stevie, you wound me! What do you take me for? A troublemaker? A fiend with no respect for the honored tradition of this fine, Christian holiday?” 

His eyes are large and round with mock-offense, Santa hat flopping around with the force of his own laughter, face alight with that gorgeous toothy grin of his. He’s ridiculously pretty, so fucking pretty with the lights twinkling all around him and Steve’s brain just sort of short-circuits. Not for long. Just for a second. 

Just long enough to lean in and press his lips to Eddie’s. 

When he pulls back, Eddie isn’t laughing anymore. Instead, he’s staring at him, mouth aghast and eyes wide. 

“Shit,” Steve blurts. “I mean- Sorry, I dunno what that was, I-” 

Something flickers across Eddie’s face, something needy and raw. 

“I’ll show you what the fuck it was,” he growls and pulls Steve back in. 

This time, it takes the blare of the fire alarm from the kitchen to break them apart. 

MERRY SMAX, everybody!!!

Part 3

All my holiday drabbles

[vodika-vibes]

Hi, love~ I am back with request #7 (last one)

This time, I'm choosing Fox, with an opal, and at midday. He needs some love. Some *good* love. Real good love. The kind of love that makes him realize he's worth loving. Give this man the bestest love for me 🫶🏻

Please and thank you 💚💚💚

@the-bad-batch-baroness

Not A Question Of Worth

Summary: You remind Fox that your love for him isn’t conditional.

Pairing: Commander Fox x Reader

Word Count: 744

Prompt: Opal - Faithful Love

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I'm not sure if I hit the prompt for this one. I had an idea and I wanted to write that, but maybe I also did? I dunno, I'm getting sick and it's making everything hard. Also. If you wanted to send me a prompt for my baby boy Dogma I would love you forever and a day. 🥺

You know when Fox has had a bad day.

Partly because Thire and Thorn and Stone, sometimes all of them, will shoot you a message giving you heads up. But also because you know Fox. And you know his moods.

So when you get a message just before you leave work for the day, a warning from Stone that Fox had a really bad day, you’re already planning on what you can do to make his evening better.

On your way home, you stop by his favorite restaurant and grab the food you ordered in advance, you pop into the florist and grab a bouquet of his favorite small purple flowers, and you dip into a bakery to buy a premade cake.

If you’d had more time, everything would have been individually ordered, but such is life you suppose.

You hurry home, and you’re not surprised when you step into the home you share with Fox and you hear the shower running. If the day was as bad as Stone implied, your Fox will want to wash the day off his skin before he sees you.

Your perfect man seems to think that if he touches you after a bad day, he’ll do nothing but hurt you. Which is silly, but if it helps him feel better than you’re not going to question it.

In any event, the fact that he’s distracted, means that you’re able to get the room ready. The flowers are put in a vase and set on the table. The curry is removed from the containers and placed on the fancy china that your mom gave you when you moved out of her house. The cake is put on a fancy platter and cut into slices. Two scented candles are lit and set a safe distance away from the flowers.

And then you dart into the bedroom and peel off your work clothes for something more comfortable. 

And you managed to do so in less than five minutes.

You’re doing one last check of the kitchen, making sure that everything looks perfect, when the shower stops. You turn to the bedroom door and, only moments later, Fox steps out of the bedroom clad in his sleep pants and nothing else.

It takes everything in you to not swoon for him. He really is so handsome that you just want to cry.

“Cyare,” Fox’s voice is rough, “Welcome home.”

He looks exhausted, you note. You’re glad you prepared everything before he got out of the shower. Now he just has to enjoy it.

You walk over to him and slide your arms around his waist, “Stone sent me a message and said you had a rough day.” You stand on your toes and kiss him, “Did the shower help?”

“A little.” He leans his forehead against yours, “I meant to have dinner ready for you-”

You beam at him, “You’re so sweet!” You lightly pull back and take his hands with yours, “Luckily, I took care of it.” Gently, you tug him into the kitchen, and he pauses in the doorway.

You watch him scan the room. From the flowers and candles, to the food and the cake, and then he focuses his gaze on you, “What’s all of this, cyare?”

“Well, Stone said you had a rough day, so I thought I’d try to make it a little better. Do you like it?”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then he turns to look at you, “I’m not worth all of this. I didn’t do anything for-”

You reach up and press your fingers against his lips, gently interrupting him. “My love is not conditional, Fox. You don’t have to do anything to earn my love. You have it anyway.”

He stares at you, and you can’t help but hope that maybe, this time, he’ll believe you when you say that. Though you’ll repeat it as often as you need to. 

Fox sighs and presses a kiss against the pads of your fingers. “I’m not worthy of you. You should be with someone brighter…like Cody.”

“It’s not a question of worth, Fox.” You kiss him gently and then kiss him again and again, “I love you. I choose you. It’s as simple as that.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then he ducks his head and kisses you deeply, “I love you” He says against your lips, “Thank you for loving me enough to try and make my day better.”

[penvisions]

once more with feeling {frankie drabble}

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Reader

Warnings: flirting with a stranger, language, kissing, suggestive language

A/N: this was a fun little drabble for the fic title prompt game submitted by the lovely @burntheedges

drabble masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

It started off as a chance encounter at the convenience store. Picking up a prescription and a bag of sour gummy candies. But of course your wallet hadn’t been inside the chaos of your purse. The cards hadn’t been rattling around amid the pens, gum wrappers, scraps of paper with lists, or the lighter that had somehow ended up in there either.

“Shit.”

The cashier rolls her eyes, popping a large bubble she had just blown out from the wad of gum in her mouth. An arched brow her silent judgement.

“I don’t have my wallet.”

“Okay.” She begins to slid the items away before a figure closed in on your right side.

“I’ll cover it,” A deep voice rumbled and you turned to meet a pair of startlingly wide brown eyes. They were set in the face of a handsome man. Your own roved over him, from the patchy scruff lining his jaw, the plush set of lips set under a thick moustache, the curls tamped down and curling around a cap tight over his head, the aviators slung in the collar of his grey t-shirt. But what really stole your breath away was the toothy grin he was flashing at you as he set down the items in his arms and reached to retrieve his worn wallet from a back pocket. “Gummies are an essential, can’t let ya go without them.”

Another bubble popping startled you, making you realize you hadn’t said anything in response. With a chuckle the man was gently corralling you away from the debit machine, a card between his thick fingers. He swiped it, nodding his head to the cashier as she held out two different plastic bags for the man to take.

“Thank you, that was very kind of you-“

“Fransisco, but Frankie is just fine.” He held out a hand, the bag with your items in it. You took it as you walked along side him out the sliding doors. You offered your name along with a thankful smile. All too aware of the large hoodie you had thrown on over a pair of shorts in your rush out the door. You only lived across the street, but of course you would run into a stunning man on your put off and then rushed errand.

“No problem at all.” He didn’t move toward the parking lot and neither did you, both rooted close enough to catch the scent of each other’s perfume and cologne. You could feel his eyes watch you as you tore into the bag of gummies, twin cherries. You held the open bag out to him as you brough one up to your lips. He smirked as he brought one to his own mouth.

“Cherries, that your thing? Cause you smell like ‘em and I bet you taste like ‘em too, now.” An eyebrow raised, though it was anything but a judgment like it had been on the cashier’s face. It was a flirty challenge and you couldn’t help the pull of your lips to match his energy.

“I dunno, why don’t you find out?” You swallowed, the candy sweet on your tongue and tangy. Your breath hitched, betraying your nerves as he reached a hand out to gently hold the back of your head and pull you toward him. His lips were plush against yours, so soft and faintly flavored from the candy. He didn’t try to push it past a chaste connection, pulling back after a few seconds.

“Mmm, seems like I need to do a little more research.”

“Seems like you do.” The flimsy handles of the bag slid down to the crook of your elbow as you reached up to cup his face. Leaning in, you kisses him with more intention. Allowing for him to lick into your mouth, licking the flavor from you as if he was starving and it was hist first taste of food in a long while.

You hummed, pulling him closer to feel the front of his body pressed up against your own, his hands going around the small of your back. Pleasure pooled in your middle, lighting you up as you stood in front of the convenient store and shared kisses with a beautiful stranger.

Sharing a breath, his fingers twitched around you as your lashes fluttered. His eyes were already watching when you opened them back up.

“Cherries were always my favorite.” He kissed you again and somehow you knew it would lead to a cherry frosted cake and the sharing of vows.

[gosmigenergy]

KINKTOBER 2023 / Day Eight

( Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x F!Reader x Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia )

SEX POLLEN/FUCK OR DIE / CHASTITY / SEXUAL COMPETITION

Summary: Coming home from work, all you want to do is collapse on the sofa with Frankie and snuggle but a mystery package makes your evening a little more interesting.

Day Eight of @absurdthirst's fabulous Kinktober prompt list!

Warnings: Mentions of food and drink, sex powder/pollen, arguing, Santiago and Frankie being dom if you squint, biting, oral - female receiving/male receiving, fingering, squirting, P in V, unprotected sex (use protection irl please), rough sex, choking, three-way, MMF, spit roasting, Santiago gets a little soft, no use of Y/N

(If I miss anything, please say and I’ll adjust)

Word Count: 4.5k

Notes: I originally planned to write a Leash and Collar story with Santiago on Day Six but never got the chance, that storyline however is alluded to here. Maybe I’ll write it someday.

You were ready to go home and collapse on the sofa after a long day at work. It was Friday night so Frankie would have order some form of take out, the fire would be on to take the edge off the chillier evenings and he probably would have stashed some snacks away from his daughter. All signs would point to a good night in, though your interest peaked when you opened the door to see Santiago also sitting at the kitchen table.

“Hey.”

“Oh, hey, Santiago.”

Francisco was hidden behind the fridge door, “Drink?”

“Please.”

You pull off your coat and step further in, your cold nose immediately being alleviated by the warm orange glow filling the room.

“Your pizza’s getting cold.”

You scramble to get your shoes off, hurrying to make your way to the kitchen table, a cardboard box still steaming. Frankie always ordered your favourite, he knew each variation of your takeaway orders from the Chinese down the block to this, the pizza place just on the edge of town.

Sitting down, you open it up and sigh as the cheese stretches apart.

He places a beer in front of you.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“How’ve you been, Santi?”

He snorts, “See, Fish, that’s how you welcome a guest.”

Frankie rolled his eyes, “Hey, I’m used to you coming and asking for a favour, hermano.”

“I’ve been fine, honey, just making sure my favourite pairing were ok.”

Actually, he was seeing if Frankie still had the hump about getting you a collar, everyone in the kink scene knows what a collar means and Santiago doesn’t necessarily own you. He’s put Francisco through too much shit to do something like it again.

You glance to Frankie, “It’s all been good.”

“You didn’t tell her how pissed you were, did you?”

“Of course, not. We’ve settled this, quit talking about it.”

You never questioned what they spoke about in their native language, it was clear they didn’t want you to know, it was also apparent that Frankie was annoyed and Santiago was fucking lapping it up, a smirk on his face.

“Now, now boys.”

You chew your food with a smile and the atmosphere calms.

They continue to ask about your day and all the usual tales about an ordinary suburban life before you can’t bring yourself to take another bite. As you tidy everything away, plating up a couple of slices for tomorrow, you catch an unopened parcel addressed to Francisco on the side.

“What’s this?”

Picking it up you see Benny’s handwriting.

“Why’s Benny sending you something?”

“I dunno, it’s Benny, he’s probably found something he thinks is funny.”

“Are you gonna open it?”

“No.”

You tilt your head, “Can I open it?”

Frankie shrugs, “Sure.”

Santiago has a glint in his eye, all he wants to do is take a jab at the fact he’s letting his girl open his mail. He chooses to keep his mouth shut because he doesn’t need Frankie throttling him this evening.

Popping the parcel on the table, you rummage for a knife to break the duck tape.

“Any ideas?”

“Nah, man, knowing Benny it’s some sort of odd sex thing. You sure you want her to open that?”

Frankie honestly couldn’t care less, Benny had sent him some shit in the past, including a fake letter with lacy underwear hanging from the seal. Benny thought he’d have a laugh however he used it as an excuse to move and never come face-to-face with that postal worker again. It was small, what harm could it do?

You press the blade along the sides first before gently cutting the box along the middle, then the next part, is a little bit of a blur.

Your soft touch meant the box didn’t quite do what it was intended to until your face was close. Whatever way Benny rigged it, the lid of the item inside exploded off like an overenthusiastic Jack in the Box, sending a smoke plume of pink.

You heard a chair scrape heftily on tiled floors, felt the pressure of hands grabbing your arms as your back met the countertop behind. Frankie spewed a variety of profanities, both in English and Spanish, as you choked and spluttered on whatever had come from that package.

“I’m going to kill him.”

You blinked, the pink still in your vision.

Frankie brought his hands to your cheeks, callous thumbs rubbing, his big brown eyes searching your face. There was a tingling sensation that spread down your face pleasantly, it wasn’t scary just unusual.

“Everything alright?”

“I - urgh,” you process your words. “What the fuck was that?”

To your surprise, Santiago was still sat down, brows knotted. Benny wouldn’t be this stupid would he?

He draws the box closer, pulling out two pieces of paper. The first reads ‘Have fun you two ;P’, and the second is a pamphlet in a pink equally matching the cloud that escaped.

“Shit.”

“What?” Frankie’s query came from deep within his throat, your pussy clenched.

“I’ve heard of this, it’s just hit the market.”

By the way he says market, you know he means a kinky one.

“Pope, I swear -“

“It’s a powdered aphrodisiac…”

Both you and Frankie look at him with confused expressions, he would never tell either of you how adorable you looked or maybe it’s because those tiny potent particles are in the air.

“And our girl just got a face full of it.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Oh,” you say quietly.

That tingling in your face had travelled, you could feel it in every limbs, running through your veins, pooling in excitement. You wrap your fingers over the edge of the countertop to steady yourself, swallowing hard.

Frankie swipes his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Oh no.”

You try to focus on your breathing, slowing down your increasing heartbeat but it’s seeming impossible, you can feel you legs turning to jelly. All you could think about was getting out of the space, containing your building ecstasy out of the vicinity of two men who, right now, were not burning with desire.

You take a couple of steps and Santiago is on his feet.

“Stop,” he comes forward.

“What, no, we’re not doing this,” Frankie blocks his path.

You try to make your escape as they start to argue.

“Are you serious, Fish? She’s got to get this out of her system.”

“There’s gotta be another option.”

“This isn’t the sort of thing that just wears off when she goes to sleep.”

You can’t remember their argumentative tones sounding this fucking good before. You were salivating at the thought of their heated bodies almost pressed up against each other, their hot breath teasing each other’s skin, muscle taut. The image wouldn’t leave your mind and you froze.

The noise that you released was both a cry of pain and pleasure.

Their voices hush before Frankie cautiously called your name.

Turning round, you pull at the edge of you skirt, your body vibrating. It was like you’d been called out at school, you couldn’t look either of them in the eye.

Santiago stood there as he does when things get serious, hands on hips, head hanging low. His eyes are dark.

“On the table.”

Frankie’s cock twitched, mouth hanging slightly agape and he looks back to you.

“Do as he says.”

He could be authoritative when he needed to be Frankie and it made your situation worse. You shuffle, the friction of your thin underwear threatening at your clit. Following their instruction, you pick yourself up onto smooth wooden top, feet dangling.

Santiago took the lead.

His touch sent electric shocks through your knees, pushing them wider. He lifts up your skirt and sees how dark your panties are, he hisses.

“You’re fucking soaked.”

Your lip quivered, “I’m scared.”

He picked up your chin, delivered you a soft smile.

“We’re going to help you, don’t worry.”

You laugh, built up nervous energy does that to you.

He waits for it to pass.

“Lay back for me.”

You continue to do as you’re told, your back meeting the table.

Santiago throws your skirt up and out of the way, fingertips grazing your thighs as he knelt at your feet. He trailed kisses up your leg, starting soft before growing heavier, his teeth nipping at your flesh before he soothed with his tongue.

Your breath was shaky.

“You’re going to be such a good girl for us, aren’t you honey?”

Frankie watches how you shiver, how your chest rises and falls as you steady yourself. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up and the sensation goes straight to his hardening cock, he can’t look away as his friend brushing the tip of his nose over your mound.

You mewl as he presses his lips against that built up bundle of nerves and groans.

“Feel free to step in whenever you like.”

Santiago glances over his shoulder, lips pouted, wet with the residue of your pleasure.

You pick up your head drunkenly, wondering why Santiago had stopped but also to look at him, eyes glossed with held back tears. The corner of your lips curl with a feeble smile, you’re worried about him.

“Just concentrate on what you’re doing.”

Frankie comes over and crashes his lips onto yours, your head falling back with the force of his action. You gasp, only allowing him to slip in his tongue and roam your mouth, yours working in tandem. He fumbles to undo your shirt buttons before his hands claw at freshly exposed skin, his thumbs following the curvature of your breasts.

Santiago hooked your underwear to one side, the tip of his tongue licking along the creases of your outer lips with careful precision.

You moan into Frankie’s mouth and he gladly accepts.

He pulls your shirt further open, catching the elasticated straps of your bra and running along the edge to free your breasts from the cups. He grabs them in handfuls, breathing in every delicious noise that escaped you.

Santiago’s cock was straining against his jeans, the air he was breathing thick with the scent of your juices. Letting go of your hip, he carries on licking you whilst his free hand pulled at his belt, popping open the button and unzipping with a satisfied sigh. He was throbbing, his balls feeling heavier than usual, he was going to take you on this fucking table if it was the last thing he did on earth.

Frankie finally let you come up for air but it didn’t mean he stopped.

His kisses ran down your neck and along your décolletage, his patchy whiskers scratching. You ran your fingers through his brown curls, nails digging into the scalp, raising his face up. His Adam’s apple bobbed as the saliva built against his cheeks, the colour of his eyes no longer visible.

And Santiago?

Santiago didn’t like not having some attention.

“Fuck!”

You cry as he presses his tongue flat against your cunt and licks in one lengthily swoop, your legs clamping around his head.

“Santi.”

Your shoulders fall back as he takes another lick.

If looks could kill, Santiago knows he’d be dead, the glare Frankie delivered him was enough to do that but it only made him smirk behind you. He chose to ignore the other man, taking two fingers and slipping them into your folds.

You moan, back arching as the spark ignited.

Frankie’s brows furrowed, expression stern but Santiago had only brought you closer.

Returning to your neck, he locked himself tightly into the crook, sucking hard.

“Shit.”

He was going to leave a mark.

His teeth grazed your chest, he moved down the middle before his slopping nose nudged your one breast. He pursed his lips before taking your nipple in his mouth and biting gently.

You hissed through gritted teeth, your hand reaching for the back of his head once again.

You were fit to burst.

Santiago was ruthless, pumping in and out of your weeping cunt at an alarming pace whilst Frankie was playing and nuzzling at your breast like a wild animal. You couldn’t see yourself but you know their brown eyes were dark, hungry to soak up every piece of pleasure you had to offer.

You weren’t going to last much longer.

The fever had entered every fibre of your being, ran hot through your veins and vibrated every muscle, your stomach coiling. Your skin was tingling, the pink film over your eyes lifting, bursting into white spots. Your walls were fluttering around Santiago’s digits and he knew exactly what he had to do then.

He straightened up, the tip of his cock notching the edge of the table as he continued to stroke you. He watched in delight as you dug your nails further into Frankie’s scalp, your neck taut as you gasped for air.

His fingertips curled, pressing into that soft sweet spot, thumb closing on your clit.

You screamed, snapping your legs closed yet you still didn’t give him what he wanted and that only coaxes him more.

He draws circles with his thumb as you visibly shake.

“Santi, please,” you whine.

You want him to stop, the sensation overwhelming, the blood rushing to your ears. Your hips rise to try and alleviate the pressure but he’s having none of it.

“You know what I want.”

His voice was low, gravely.

You sob. You were rarely a brat however you knew if you let yourself go, the flood gates would open and with the powder in your system, you had no idea of the outcome. But all three of you knew it had to happen eventually.

“Honey,” Santiago grazed his fingertips over your stomach, “Cum for me.”

He spread his hand and pushed you flat to the table, digging his fingers deep into that spongy spot and you unravelled. Your juices gushed, coating his hand as he removed it to rub over your clit and help you ride out your orgasm.

This is the first time Frankie has seen you squirt.

He finds himself unable to concentrate as he separates from your chest and watches your arousal soaks the kitchen floor.

“Fuuuck, querida.”

The comedown sent shocks through your body, toes and fingers curling.

“I’m sorry,” you say as you gasp for air.

“You don’t need to apologise.”

He kissed your lips gently and that’s all it took for the powder to take effect yet again. You deepen the kiss, placing both hands on his patchy jawline to keep him there.

Santiago unzips his top before desperately pulling it over his head and throwing it to the floor. The sweat already clung to his chest, pre cum already leaking from his cock as he shred his trousers too. Tucking his hands underneath your hips, he hauled you closer to him in one motion, ripping you from Frankie.

He balanced your lower half on the edge of the table.

“Wouldn’t you prefer the bedroom?”

“I need you here…”

He shook his head, focusing on playing with your clit against the radiating tip of his cock. It sent a shiver down your spine, a ragged breath falling from his lips as he stroked your folds. Your hands gripped the wood for dear life, you were in trouble.

“Now.”

And he pushed himself deep in one vigorous snap of the hips.

Santiago groaned, his chest rumbling against you as he brought your body to his.

“Still so tight,” he slurred to Frankie.

“Even after that? You’re losing your touch.”

You have time to catch your breath, walls pulsating around him.

“Eh, I’ll make sure you eat your words later.”

“We all know you’ll be the one with a dick in your mouth.”

Santiago squinted at Frankie to gage whether he was lying through his teeth except the man kept a straight face. Santiago had seen Frankie’s cock in the showers during their years in the military, he knew he’d be a decent size when he was hard, he’d gladly take him.

Ok, now this conversation was taking too long. You groan, “Please, hurry up and fuck me.”

The boys share a laugh.

Neither of them were used to you being like this. Sure, you always wanted sex when it came to it but this was desperate and needy and that mouth of yours, Santiago couldn’t get over it. You were normally so pliant and good for him that he may have to ensure he puts your mouth to good use later.

He swats your ass, sending a shockwave that bucks your hips.

“Been as you asked so politely.”

His grip on your hips tightened, fingernails digging into hot flesh and the thought of your trouble got worse, you were in real fucking trouble now.

Santiago had always fitted in you, his length perfect, his girth enough to stretch you but pleasurable and with the powder, you were riding high. He wasn’t like his usual, meticulous self, he had lost as much sense as you.

It was fast and rough, his cock gliding through your slick.

Everything within you burned, the sounds filling the room, the grunts of Santiago and the moans of you a musical unison.

Frankie couldn’t believe what he was hearing or seeing, every detail crystal clear like he was watching a film against a cinema screen. How every thrust of Santiago’s hips sent a ripple through you muscles, boobs bouncing, your knuckles turning white as you held on, your expression scrunched as he pushed you closer to your next release.

Then there was his cock, hard and constricted against his jeans, he had to get involved before he blew his load.

He scrambled to get his clothes off, the heat now radiating from him.

He was never a selfish lover so he found it surprising that how Santiago dominated you was a bit of a turn on. Maybe that’s why you agreed to their offer when the four of you met that evening, each one of them were different and you liked every single one of them for just that reason.

Though the blood was pumping quickly through his veins, Frankie approached the table cautiously.

Santiago caught him out of the corner of his eye and slowed, he needed to because he knew he was close.

Frankie took your chin, soothed you as he brushed his palm across your face, a thumb rubbing your cheek bone. Your expression relaxed, head falling to the side so you could drunkenly look at him and he smiled.

“Think you can handle me too?”

His thumb crept to you mouth and Santiago stopped, drawing circles on your thighs, cock steady inside you. He waited to see if you’d answer, he knew when you got overwhelmed or had a face full of aphrodisiac powder, your brain would get foggy.

“Yeah.”

It’s quiet, only enough for Frankie to hear, he leans down and delivers the lightest of kisses. You chase for him yet he pulled back, wrapping his other hand around his cock and bringing it to your lips. Much like how Santiago’s looked, the tip was flaming bright, the veins that ran his length bulging at the work of the powder.

Your tongue flicks over your bottom lip before you lick the precum off his tip, he hisses at the touch. Flitting your eyes to his face to check he’s ok, you carry on, taking the end into your mouth and circling the ridge where his skin had pulled back.

The shiver travels through him, a strangled moan that has Santiago’s cock twitching.

“Did you teach her that?”

Frankie laughed cracking under the pressure of two sets of eyes on him.

“No, she does that all by herself.”

“Fuck, how is she so good?”

“I wish I knew.”

Santiago really did because if that was just natural, he was jealous.

You circled Frankie’s tip once more before loosening your jaw and took his length in your mouth, the edge of your nose tickling at his matching brown curls at the base.

Santiago watched you pull back and match the rhythm with his hips.

As you guided yourself back down, Santiago pushed himself back in, your moan travelling along Frankie’s cock. He wrapped his hand the back of your head, fisting your hair as he helped you take what you could, your walls flutter.

“You two are gonna be the death of me.”

You and Santiago shared a look, Frankie unaware as his eyes were screwed shut.

He picked up the speed as you did you best to keep up, humming as your lips tightened around Frankie who steady you more. Santiago took both your ankles and placed them over his shoulder, practically folding you in half as he brought his weight down on you. He couldn’t keep it up much longer and if he was going, he was taking you both with him.

His next thrust hits deep.

The notion knocked the wind out of you, Frankie’s cock falling out of your mouth as you came for air.

Santiago din’t care, the way your cunt reacted to him was so intoxicated and he wanted that over and over until he filled you. Frankie couldn’t blame him either, he needed you to take him more so he could cum down that throat of yours.

They both knew you had it in you but right now, the room almost spinning as the fiery sensation entered every bone.

Frankie guided his cock back to your mouth, pushing gently at the back of your head.

Santiago was relentless, his balls shrinking as they seemed to overfill. His legs were cramping, his knees protesting yet he couldn’t stop. His grunts were now animalistic in nature, the chase for his release timeless.

You couldn’t tell how long the three of you were in that position, could only tell when they were both close and beginning to falter.

Frankie’s fingertips came to your stomach with a featherlight touch and you open your eyes to see his, irises so blown they were black. He pawed at your breast, squeezing a puffy nipple between his thumb and forefinger, your cunt holding closer to Santiago’s cock.

“We’re not gonna last much longer,” Frankie says.

You hum a response before he brings you down his cock and presses you into his belly, your throat constricts and he slides you back. He relaxes his hand on your breast and draws his hand up you décolletage, resting it at the bottom of your neck.

This is his tell.

He pumps you up and down his cock, noting the stutter in Santiago’s hips.

“Ready?”

Frankie puts his hand around your neck and applies light pressure before forcing your head down to the base of his cock. Every part of your body becomes tense, your walls trapping Santiago’s cock deep within you.

“Shit,” he chokes.

He comes thick and fast, his chin falling to his chest as he holds your hips up, his seed spilling messily out of you folds.

You whimper, your legs shaking as your orgasm washes over you.

Frankie felt your back beginning to lift from the table and he knows he’s got a fleeting moment to notch himself a little further. He squeezes your neck more, brings you closer and you feel him at  the back of your throat. That immediate muscle spasm causes his cock to twitch and you suck as he groans.

The salty tang fills your mouth, Frankie’s grip loosening against the back of your head.

You slide back, milking his cock as much as you can before you removed him from your lips with an accompanying pop, a string of your saliva trailing.

He snapped to his senses and cupped your face in his hands, “I’m sorry, querida, are you ok?”

You look up at him with swollen lips and glossy doe eyes, fluttering your lashes, dumbfounded.

Santiago stroked your ankles then pulled himself out of you, the cum pooling onto the table. You body shudders from the lose and he presses a smile to your skin before lowering your legs to the table.

“I’ll get you some water.”

He knew you were cock drunk.

“Querida?”

Frankie brushed his nose to yours, teased the hair that clung to your forehead.

It was like you were under water, their voices were muffled and the scenery was swirling, light brighter from the refraction.

“I’m ok,” you mouth was drying out.

He kissed you softly, laying you back against the cooling wood.

“There’s some bottles out in the garage.”

Once you all made it to the bedroom, you were there for the night so Frankie saw it best to stock up. He took the full glass from Santiago, who continued to saunter around the house nude, his soft cock already beginning to harden.

“Are you serious, what is up with you?” Frankie gestured.

“Fuck you.”

He knew the other man would let him too.

Returning to you, Frankie helped ease you from the table, getting you to sit up straight. You took the water from him and chugged it down, he immediately got you another one.

Santiago came back into your view.

“Can we go somewhere a little more comfy?”

“Of course, honey,” he kissed your temple.

Your cunt clenched around nothing. Though you were loving the attention Frankie and Santiago were paying you, you prayed it would end soon just for your pussy's sake.

“D’you want me to carry you?”

Frankie’s fingertips grazed your hip, gently coaxing you to come with him. Your eyes flit down to his cock, his desire apparent, and he looks away sheepishly. A smile drew across your face as you entwined your fingers into his.

“If you don’t mind.”

Sure, the night wasn’t the quiet night in you expected but thank god Frankie and Santiago were there to alleviate you.

—

“Can’t sleep?”

Santiago sat in the glow of the television, volume low.

You shake your head.

He smiled, “Apparently you might be the only person who’s ever had a face full of Aphrodite’s Powder.”

“Is that what they’re calling it?”

He hummed in response.

You hadn’t moved from the nook in the hallway, your focus on playing with the sleeve of Frankie’s flannel shirt you wore, legs fidgety.

“What’s wrong, honey?”

“Frankie’s out cold and I’m… still itchy.”

Santiago put his phone down and beckoned for you to go over. You scuttle, legs aching and settle into his lap. He coils an arm around your frame, pressing a shoulder to his, your head resting against his temple. With his other hand, he drops two fingers to your clit and draws careful circles.

“I don’t have the energy to fuck you.”

“I know,” you kiss his salt and pepper hairline, “this will do just fine.”

Everything about the evening became a blur, they pushed you through one orgasm then another then another before you’re sure you blacked out. You wake up to the stillness of the house, the calm of the morning sun breaking through the kitchen window. The television had switched off on it’s own accord and Santiago was sleeping softly, his hand resting between your thighs.

Yes, this will do just fine, you thought, nestling back under his jaw.

[frostyhelltime]

I See You

(ft. HuskerDust)

Warnings: Little bit of angst on Angel's part, but this is mostly just hurt/comfort.

Prompt: "I see you. I see you, I always have and I always will." Prompt from @unfriendlywriter

Set before they're dating, but sometime after 'Loser, Baby'. I had a lot of fun making their graphics for this as well. Hope everyone likes it!

There's a blissful silence in the air as Husk polishes glasses behind the bar. No static that would allude to Alastor being near, no Nifty obsessively cleaning, no Charlie planning new group activities. Just. Peace.

Until a certain tall spider comes lumbering in, shoulders slumped low, and head pointed towards the ground. Husk doesn't even think Angel Dust is even aware of the weary sigh that leaves them as they trudge in, barely having the energy to even shut the front door behind him.

Husk is already grabbing a bottle and a glass for him but as soon as he pops the top off he hears Angel speak.

"I'm good Whiskers. I just...I just wanna go to bed. Maybe tomorrow." Angel waves him off sluggishly with two arms, which only makes Husk furrows his brows as if trying to analyze him.

"That bad huh?" He offers as he puts the lid back on the bottle, hesitating only a moment to see if Angel changes his mind and wants a drink after all. When Angel just sighs and keeps walking, Husk does finally put the bottle away.

"Wanna talk about it? People don't have to buy a drink to sit at my bar." He says before giving Angel a toothed grin.

"Least you don't anyway."

He's speaking genuinely, but also hopes the remark might make Angel chuckle even just a little. He doesn't, but he does let out a huff of air that Husk thinks could be close enough to a laugh that he thinks he's successful.

He does manage to get Angel to crack a smile with that one, though it is weak. But still, a smile is a smile.

"Maybe...I dunno. I don't wanna take up ya time and space if someone else comes in." Angel shrugs, looking for excuses for Husk to not comfort him. It's something foreign, having someone care about how he's doing. He's used to people only pretending to care to get what they want, usually his body or whatever it is they need. So his instinct is to try and dodge those attempts at care because it's hard to handle when they aren't genuine. He certainly wouldn't be able to handle it if Husk's care wasn't genuine. But that's a whole other issue to dig deep into as he's falling asleep.

But Husk doesn't hear any of Angel's thoughts, only what Angel says, so this time he waves Angel off with a lazy wave of his wrist.

"Most everyone is out as far as I know. And if someone does come in I can always take a break." He assured the taller one, who shifts nervously from foot to foot as he considers maybe...it would be okay to show that vulnerability to Husk again? Just this once of course. Husk busies himself with cleaning more glasses to not make Angel feel pressured into a decision one way or another.

"...Maybe but...I dunno. I just...talkin' out here in the open where someone can walk in...Maybe another time but thanks." Angel stumbles over his words until eventually he talks himself out of it and even Angel winces at how lame it sounds. Husk eyes him a moment, as if analyzing him like a math problem. He's trying to figure out how far is too far to push, but he doesn't feel good at all about letting Angel go in this state.

"...Break time it is."

"W...Wha?"

"I've decided it's time for a break. Let's head somewhere quieter to talk. Problem solved."

Husk says it so casually with a shrug of his shoulders that it just confuses Angel even more, as if it was natural to stop what he was doing to help him. By the time he processes what his feline companion has said, Husk has already put things away and is standing next to Angel, waiting only a little impatiently.

For the first time tonight Husk looks a little anxious standing next to him, hands in his pockets and waiting to be directed on where they're going to go.

When Angel comes back down to earth, he blinks a few times, standing up a bit straighter.

"Right. Yeah. Uh. We can talk in my room I guess?" Angel says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Husk only nods and gestures for him to start walking.

Neither Angel nor Husk can tell if the silence between them as they walk is peaceful or awkward, but either way they're happy to reach the door once they get there.

Angel goes in first, plopping down to sit on his bed as Fat Nuggets immediately crawls onto his lap, nuzzling into Angel eagerly to try and cheer him up.

Husk lets out a small chuckle at the admittedly adorable display and he shuts the door behind him, taking a seat right next to Angel Dust.

"Alright. So what's bothering you?"

"...The Big V. Who else?" He scoffs venomously, looking away.

"And Charlie enjoys singing. I figured that much. What did he do this time?" Husk relaxes as they begin talking im earnest, leaning back a little bit and getting comfortable.

"I just...I don't even know how to describe it. He makes....he makes me feel so worthless. Like all I'm good at and good for is his stupid fuckin' shoots." Angel grits out, hands pausing on Fat Nuggets a second.

"And when I can't even do that right..." He trails off, letting the end of his sentence go unspoken.

"I just feel...so damn invisible there. Even when all eyes are on me it feels like no one is really looking at me."

Angel hates that his voice takes on a choked sounding quality the further he talks, the tears welling up in the corner of his eyes. He turns away from Husk as if that would actually keep him from finding out.

It takes a moment for Husk to figure out what to say and then he reaches out to place his hand on top of one of Angel's, hesitating halfway there eventually deciding, fuck it, and placing his hand on top of his and giving a small squeeze.

"I see you."

It's the softest Angel Dust had ever heard Husk speak and it's so jarring he snaps his head back to look at Husk, forgetting he was trying to hide his tears moments ago.

"...What?"

Husk clears his throat, giving him his best comforting smile.

"I see you. I always have and I always will." Husk speaks with a little more confidence.

The tears that were only beginning to gather begin to flood now and Angel doubles over as his body is wracked with sobs, unable to stop himself, especially after the day he's had. Somehow it was both exactly what he needed to hear and also what pushes him past the tipping point. He doesn't know why it makes him snap, he just knows it does.

Maybe it's because he really is starting to believe Husk could be genuine, and somehow placing that vulnerability in another person's hands is terrifying and overwhelming.

But Husk doesn't judge him, just sneaks his free hand around to rub soothing circles on Angel's back as he lets him get it all out. Neither of them says anything for the duration of it, Husk out of respect and Angel out of shame.

But eventually Angel's cries do settle down into sniffles and he sits back up again, wiping what's left of the tears off his face before looking at Husk again.

"Yeah. Sorry. I...I don't know what came over me." He mumbles apologetically but Husk just shrugs. Angel only barely sees it in his peripheral because he's looking anywhere but at Husk.

"Nothing to be sorry about." He assured him, his voice soothing and neutral.

Husk's words just keep ringing in Angel's head over and over again though.

'I see you. I always have and I always will.'

Angel can't help but snort out a laugh now.

"Fuckin' liar. You didn't always see me. You hated me when I first showed up here." Angel laughs, although he still appreciates the sentiment.

But Husk just smiles like he knows something Angel doesn't.

"... Technically I didn't lie. Back then I saw you were hiding your real self. I didn't know why but I knew the you that you were presenting wasn't real...and I was right." Husk is appropriately wearing a mischievous Cheshire grin as he leans over to playfully poke Angel in the chest.

"So I still saw you, even if I was annoyed you weren't being honest." Husk's grin only grows wider when he sees the flush of red that finds itself on Angel's cheeks.

Angel opens and closes his mouth a few times as he struggles to think of words to say. But he comes up empty.

"...I...I...Thank you." Angel eventually whispers, smiling at Husk, genuinely smiling. It's a tired and exhausted smile, but it's genuine and it makes Husk relax, smiling back.

"Anytime. I'm going to head back to the bar and let you sleep." Husk pats his back as he stands up and Angel realizes how cold the top of his hand feels without Husk touching it and he's immediately standing too, Fat Nuggets letting out a small squeak of surprise before he lands on his feet on the ground. He only lets out one small huff before he seems happy again, his tail wagging, so Angel isn't too worried.

"Well since I feel better...maybe...a nice drink to relax after work doesn't sound so bad?" Angel isn't even sure what he's saying, he just knows he wants to follow him.

He thinks Husk knows it too because he flashes Angel the smile of a gambler on a winning streak and it makes his heart race.

"I'll make something extra good for you when you come down. See you in a few minutes?" He offers, wanting to allow Angel time alone to collect himself before going if he needed it.

"See you in a few." Angel nods, confirming their plans as he sits back down on his bed a moment, watching Husk wave goodbye as he leaves, shutting the door behind him to give Angel some privacy.

He can't help the goofy smile on his face as he fixes himself back up to look presentable before he heads back down to meet Husk at the bar, who is already standing there, waiting with a knowing grin and some bright pink concoction that suits Angel Dust perfectly already sitting in a glass on a napkin, waiting for it's owner to take a seat.